Font Size:  

“So he’s chosen not to.” He watched his boss shake her head in disagreement and sat forward. “Let me help you understand something. Terrorists are like pedophiles.”

“Excuse me? When the hell did you become a right-wing whack job?”

He shook her off and pressed on. “You ask a hundred people if they’re for torture…you’re only going to get a handful who say yes. You ask a hundred people if they think pedophiles should be castrated…same thing.” Wassen drained his drink, grabbed his b

oss’s empty glass, and walked over to the bar, saying, “Now you show them a picture of little five-year-old Suzy Jones, and you tell them how she was plucked from her bed in the middle of the night, dragged to some musty basement, and repeatedly raped by this hairy disgusting forty-five-year-old guy who’s already been convicted twice for sexual assault on a minor.” Wassen tossed a few more cubes into each glass. “You tell them how the government has spent hundreds of thousands of dollars trying to rehabilitate this scumbag. You explain to them that the recidivism rate for pedophiles is less than five percent, and then you ask them if they think the piece of human refuse should have his balls cut off.” Wassen put a few ounces of booze into each drink and walked back to the seating area.

As he handed Lonsdale the drink he said, “The numbers flip-flop. Ninety percent say cut his balls off.” He sat in his own chair and put his feet up on the coffee table.

“Your argument makes no sense. People are disgusted by torture.”

“You’re confusing the crime with the punishment. None of those people I just talked about want to actually see the pedophile turned into a eunuch. But that doesn’t mean they don’t want someone else to take care of it.”

“But these men have yet to be convicted. It is completely wrong for one man to carry out a punishment for a man who has not had his day in court. That is what makes our country so special.” Lonsdale shook her head and added, “Your argument doesn’t stand up.”

“You’re assuming that Rapp was trying to punish this man.” He took a sip and said, “I don’t think that is the case. I think he was trying to get him to talk.”

“This is nonsense. We are a nation of laws.”

Wassen help up his hand and said, “Let me finish, before you go into one of those Jeffersonian speeches you senators are so fond of giving. You ask the people if they are pro-torture, and ninety plus percent say no. You then ask them what the CIA should do if they catch a senior al-Qaeda member who has carried out attacks in Afghanistan and Iraq that have killed thousands. You then tell them that the CIA has solid information an attack is looming and this man has information that could help stop it. You then ask them if they are okay with slapping this guy around and making him think he’s about to drown and all of the sudden seventy percent of them are pro-torture.

“Now”—Wassen wagged a finger at his boss—“I can get that number to over ninety percent if you give the people a third option.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t tell me what’s going on. Just take care of it. I don’t need to know everything my government does.”

“So the options are torture, don’t torture, or stick your head in the sand.”

“Exactly.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“That’s reality, Babs.”

She shook her head vigorously. “It’s intellectual laziness.”

“Maybe…maybe not.”

“You are not serious?”

Wassen didn’t respond right away. Knowing his boss as well as he did, he knew she was close to shutting him out. He chose his words carefully and then said, “You are a beautiful, intelligent woman, Barbara. People love you. You’re half celebrity, half politician, and you always do well during these hearings. You come off great on TV, but I want to caution you.”

She rolled her eyes in a here-we-go fashion. “Let’s hear it.”

“Mitch Rapp is a good-looking, rugged man. He’s the type of guy Americans hope is out there keeping them safe at night.”

“He’s a thug.”

Wassen shook his head vigorously. “He is many things, and I don’t pretend to know the man’s heart, but he’s no common criminal. Do not underestimate him, or Irene Kennedy, or Mike Nash. These are not stupid people, and despite your personal bias, they are very likeable.” Wassen watched her stand and move to put her shoes on. He had lost her.

“People are sick of this war on terror, Ralph, and when I expose these guys and their illegal ways the American people are not going to be happy.”

Wassen nursed his drink for a long moment and said, “Don’t be so sure of yourself, Barbara.”

CHAPTER 48

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
Articles you may like