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No shit, you moron, Wilson thought. Where the hell have you been for the last decade?
“So why Jalalabad?”
“Joe Rickman.” Wilson had a bigger target in mind, but Rickman would do for now.
Hargrave was familiar with the name. He’d heard some rumblings that the covert officer had become a bit of an obsession with Wilson. He could tell the temperamental Wilson was on edge so he chose his words carefully. “What has Mr. Rickman done now?”
“I received a tip three hours ago that he was kidnapped from a safe house in Jalalabad.”
Hargrave did not speak for several moments. His mind was occupied with all of the ramifications of someone like Joe Rickman’s falling into the hands of America’s enemies. To say that the men and women at Langley would be distraught would be an understatement. “Do you know who took him?”
“No, but I find the timing suspicious.”
“Suspicious?” Hargrave asked with a curious tone.
“I have been investigating him for the past two months.” Rickman as well as a few others, but Hargrave didn’t need to know that.
“Excuse me?” Hargrave asked, not quite sure he’d heard right.
“Starting almost a year ago I began to receive some disturbing information about Mr. Rickman. Accusations that he was siphoning off large amounts of money from his covert fund and that he was getting a little too close to some nefarious individuals.”
Hargrave closed his eyes and then held up his right hand. “You’ve known about this for almost a year and didn’t bring it to my attention?”
Wilson’s back stiffened. “It didn’t warrant your attention, sir. It was nothing more than rumors to begin with. If I passed along every rumor that came into my office, I’d be running upstairs to meet with you eight times a day.”
Hargrave could feel the pressure building and reminded himself that his doctors had warned him against getting too upset. “Mr. Rickman,” he said slowly, “is a unique individual. Anything concerning him and his activities automatically rises to the top of the heap, so I don’t accept your premise. I am very disappointed that you decided to keep this from me.” Hargrave shook his head and added, “We’ve been over this before. You were told by the director himself what was expected of you.”
Wilson had known this was how it would play out and he was ready. “I am sorry, sir, but there are some extenuating circumstances.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“I’m listening.”
Wilson intentionally fidgeted in his chair. He wanted to convey the sense that he was taking all this very seriously. “The information was originally passed on to me by a very important person who did not want their name connected to this in any way.”
Hargrave had started his career at the FBI, and then at the age of forty he was appointed to the U.S. Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Court. He had spent eleven years on the bench and knew how this game was played. “And that person is?”
“I’m afraid I can’t say, sir.” Wilson tried to appear stoic, although inside he took great joy in the fact that Hargrave’s pale face had turned suddenly red.
“That is unacceptable. We sat in the director’s office less than a month ago and he specifically told you that you were to keep me involved in any investigations your office was handling. There was no gray area.” Hargrave shook his head. “The director is going to be very disappointed. I’m not sure you’re going to be catching that flight to Jalalabad.”
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p; Wilson had expected this and was prepared to take the right tack. “Sir, there has been no investigation, just some very troubling accusations made by a very prominent player. I didn’t feel it was right to bring any of this to your attention because frankly it was beneath you. Until I could figure out if these accusations were fact or fiction I didn’t want to give the matter any more life than it deserved.”
Hargrave dissected the words for a few seconds and said, “I’ll ask again. Who is the power player who made the accusations?”
“I’d rather not say, sir.”
“I’m sure you wouldn’t, but that’s not how this works. I’m your boss and if you want to fly to the other side of the world and spend taxpayer dollars investigating a fellow federal employee, you need to read me in.”
Wilson crossed his legs and made a great show of looking at the round clock on the wall. He sighed and offered, “The person in question is a senator, sir, and as part of our agreement, he made me swear that his name would not be dragged into this.”
“How convenient.”
“I’m not making this up,” Wilson said defensively.
