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“Only that he’d told Director Ross he thought it was a bad idea to go poking around in the private business of private citizens.”
Rapp was pleased. Maybe this Gordon would be a good influence on Ross.
“So tell me the story.”
“Well,” Rapp paused a moment to remember exactly how it had unfolded. “When I walked in it was Ross and Gordon and two other people. I started off real polite, and then things turned ugly pretty quick.”
Kennedy closed her eyes and asked, “What happened?”
“I looked down on the conference table and saw a surveillance photo of Coleman’s warehouse and I lost it. I realized they were talking about Coleman. I told the two people I didn’t know to leave, and then I reamed Ross pretty good.”
Kennedy still hadn’t opened her eyes. “And how did he take that?”
“Not well.”
“He got angry?”
“Yeah.”
“Which means you got even more angry.”
“Pretty much.” Rapp cocked his head and chewed on his lower lip.
“Please tell me you didn’t hit him or threaten him with bodily harm?”
“Ummm…I didn’t really hit him. I kind of cuffed him across the head with Coleman’s surveillance file. It was either his surveillance file or his tax returns…I don’t remember which.”
“Oh, Mitchell.” She opened her eyes. “What in the hell are we going to do with you? The man is the director of National Intelligence. He is my boss. Doesn’t any of this mean anything to you?”
“To be honest, Irene, no. It’s all a distraction. His job is a distraction. His new agency is just another couple hundred suits doing exactly what is already being done by at least three other agencies. Scott Coleman is a good man who has put his ass on the line more times than you or I could count, and I’m not going to stand by while Ross fucks with him, just so he can send us a message that there’s a new sheriff in town.”
“I’m not going to disagree with you, but there were better ways to handle it.”
“How?” asked Rapp indignantly. “How could it have been handled any better? The problem is solved, Ross has been sent a message, and Coleman and I can get back to targeting extremists.”
&n
bsp; “And if Ross didn’t get the message? What if all you’ve done is make him angry?”
“I could care less if the guy likes me or not.”
“You’re too reckless, Mitchell.” Kennedy shook her head. “Jonathan Ross is a man you might want on your side someday.”
“I don’t need men like Ross on my side. I just need them to get out of my way.”
30
WASHINGTON, DC
T he day did not go exactly as planned. Right after Anna Rielly finished her first live shot, Claudia was hit with another wave of nausea. Louie barely got her across the street before her breakfast came back up, literally at the feet of the great Jean-Baptiste-Donatien de Vimeur Rochambeau. Gould’s father would have been very disappointed that she had not made it to the statue of Andrew Jackson. Louie cared only that they got away from the myriad of surveillance cameras around the White House. When Claudia was done heaving, Louie helped her back to the hotel. She almost made it without having to stop but she was overcome again just a half a block from the hotel. Louie stood guard while she placed one hand on a light post and the other on a newspaper box. He rubbed her back and smiled sheepishly at concerned passersby. One older woman actually stopped. Louie explained that Claudia was pregnant, and she’d just been hit with a wave of nausea. The woman understood completely and went on to tell Louie how she’d had it something awful with all four of her kids. Every morning without exception she’d get hit with two or three waves of it. She would have had a fifth, but she couldn’t bear the thought of going through the morning sickness again. She told Louie he needed to keep her in bed. Make sure she got plenty of rest. There was nothing the little darling could do but ride it out.
Louie thanked the older woman for her sage advice and helped Claudia up to the room. This time they took the elevator. She sat on the edge of the bed while he took off her shoes. She didn’t bother with the rest of her clothes, electing instead to crawl under the covers and clutch the blanket around her neck. She began shivering and her normally beautiful skin had taken on a pasty pallor. Louie stood there helplessly, wondering what he should do. He did not want to seem insensitive, but there was a lot of work to be done and he honestly didn’t know if she needed him to stay by her side. Almost as if she could read his mind Claudia told him to leave. She would be fine on her own. All she wanted was sleep.
Gould changed out of his walking clothes and put on a white shirt, tie, and dark gray suit. After unlocking his suitcase he carefully pried his fingers between the liner and the hard outer shell. Slowly, the layers began to separate. Gould retrieved a new set of credentials and put them in his breast pocket. A small clock radio sat on the desk. He flipped it upside down and removed the false bottom. Two items roughly the size of a pack of playing cards fell out, as well as a tiny circular object the size of two stacked nickels. All three items were black. He stuffed them in his pockets and checked on Claudia one more time before leaving. She was fast asleep. He took the stairs down to the lobby and donned his sunglasses as he stepped out into the bright sunlight. Gould walked west along the north edge of Farragut Square. At Connecticut he took a right and two blocks later he found what he was looking for. He perused the display window from the street and looked to see if any surveillance cameras were visible inside. There was one behind the clerk. Gould hesitated briefly. It was unlikely that he would find a store like this without cameras.
He cinched up his tie, adjusted his sunglasses, and entered.
The kid behind the counter looked up at him and smiled. “What’s up?”
