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“I just finished the first leg of my journey.”
“Are you back in the air?”
“I wouldn’t be talking to you if I was still on the ground.”
“How did it go?”
“The guy is unbelievable. He actually tried to blame it on us at one point.”
Kennedy sighed. Moments like this made her wonder if Ben Freidman was actually an ally. “What did he say?”
“He tried to say it was our planes that were seen in the air.”
“How did you respond?”
“I told him there weren’t any planes in the air. Theirs or ours. That was when I saw the chink in that ugly mug of his. He started to get real evasive and nervous. Especially when I laid out for him exactly how the place had been destroyed.”
“How did he react?”
“Worried…he wanted to know who I had talked to.”
“And?”
“I told him I had a source inside his government.”
Kennedy smiled and said, “You didn’t.”
“Damn right. That prick. He’s got more spies in America than practically every other country combined, and what’d we give them last year? Five billion dollars in aid?”
“Roughly.” The motorcade was now pulling up to the first checkpoint a block away from the State Department. The CIA security people had called ahead, so the crash gate was down and they were being waved through. “You do know he’s going to launch an investigation to find out who talked to you?”
“Good. It might keep him out of my hair for a while. I told him to stay silent and tell his government to keep denying.”
“You didn’t tell him what you were up to, did you?”
“No.”
“Good.” The motorcade breezed through the checkpoint and pulled up in front of the main entrance. “Anything else?”
“No. Our guy in Mosul has everything set up. I’ll call you as soon as I finish the meeting.”
“Thanks.” Kennedy placed the phone its cradle and waited for the door to be opened. It seemed like overkill, but it was the policy of her protective detail. They wanted to sweep the area to make sure there were no threats before she left the cover of the Suburban. Five seconds later the door was opened. Kennedy left the vehicle and was flanked by men as she headed up the stairs and into the building. They were greeted by a State Department official who escorted them past the metal detectors and into a waiting elevator.
Wicka was waiting for Kennedy in her expansive office. While the outside of the Harry S. Truman Building would not ever be chronicled in the annals of great American architecture, the secretary’s office was impressive. It looked as if it had been transported from an eighteenth-century French villa. The furniture, carpeting, gilded ceiling, and alabaster fireplace radiated wealth and prestige.
The secretary of state looked over the top of a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles perched on the end of her nose. Her short frosted hair was cut in layers. She pushed her chair back and stood.
“Thank you for coming, Irene.”
“My pleasure, Sunny.”
“Can I get you anything to drink?”
“No thank you. I’m fine.”
Wicka walked over to a small wet bar and grabbed two coffee mugs. She set them down and pulled a bottle of Hennessy brandy out of the cupboard. She poured some brandy into each mug and then carried them over to where Kennedy was standing.
“You look like you could use some.” Wicka handed Kennedy one of the mugs.
