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“Of course, sir.”
He smiled. “I’d heard that you’re difficult to ruffle, and it seems those reports are accurate.”
“Sir?”
“I’d like an honest assessment, Director Kennedy. How badly has this hurt our relationship?”
“I know that our secretary of state is going to be visiting Islamabad soon. I think she would be a more appropriate person to ask that question.”
“But you’re here now, so I’m asking you.”
It was a position Kennedy felt uncomfortable in. She wasn’t a politician and had no desire to be one. Having said that, refusing to answer a direct question from the president of Pakistan seemed impolitic.
“First bin Laden, now one of your people kidnaps our top operative in Afghanistan and tortures him for information,” she started, careful to state only the public story. “It’s been a difficult time for U.S.-Pakistan relations. An era that I think we’d all like to bring to a close.”
“It has indeed been difficult. But you forgot to mention your CIA agents brazenly killing our citizens. And that your embassy is shielding Pakistani citizens accused of spying by your Joe Rickman. Also, there are the constant drone attacks. None of this is easy for me. I answer to the people of Pakistan.”
“President Alexander has been clear that our drone program could be significantly scaled back if you think it’s necessary.”
The politician’s smile lost a bit of its gleam. They both knew that he was using America’s drones to destroy fundamentalists targeting his regime and not those threatening the United States. It was another nuance that she’d found Congress impervious to understanding. Insofar as scoring political points went, one dead terrorist was as good as another to them.
“You’re not a naïve woman, Director Kennedy. You understand what I’m dealing with in trying to reinvent Pakistan as a modern country. Taj is very reasonable and more intelligent than you perhaps give him credit for. But many of our enemies aren’t reasonable. Indeed, many of the men working at this very organization aren’t reasonable. Unfortunately, men like Durrani and your Mitch Rapp are valuable in their ability to understand our terrorist enemies and, if necessary, to match their brutality.”
“With all due respect, Mr. President, Mitch has never betrayed me or his country.”
“Then he’s a unique man. The skills he and Durrani possess usually come with ambition. Taj didn’t watch Durrani close enough. It’s a classic mistake, really—to judge others’ rationality based on one’s own. I assure you he won’t make it again.”
“I trust then that Durrani’s replacement will be easier to work with?”
Chutani frowned. “Concessions had to be made. The new man is not as volatile as Durrani, but he’s still very strong. He has to be able to control certain elements within the ISI. Elements that it will take time to eradicate.”
“I’m certain he was an excellent choice, and I look forward to meeting him,” Kennedy said, making sure she sounded sincere.
“Cooperation and stability, Director. That is what will be good for both our countries. Pakistan needs economic growth and education. Those are the only things that will break the influence of the radicals. People with good lives are hesitant to jeopardize them. People who have nothing, on the other hand, are often no better than wild animals.”
She nodded and took a sip of now-lukewarm tea. “I’ll be happy to deliver your message to President Alexander, sir. I know how much he values your friendship and the friendship of your people.”
CHAPTER 4
ISTANBUL
TURKEY
VASILY Zhutov skirted close to the building next to him, ignoring the dim display window full of electronics. The rain was coming down harder, but instead of pulling the umbrella from his briefcase, he just walked faster.
His masters in Moscow had thought he was insane when he’d volunteered to fill an open position in Istanbul. It was technically a demotion, but he needed a break if he was going to stave off the middle-aged heart attack suffered by so many of his colleagues.
Everything in Turkey didn’t revolve around vodka and heavy food, and his new position didn’t rate a car and driver. He’d mapped out this four-kilometer path home from his office the first week he’d arrived. It wound through an area that closed down by the time he got off and was thus devoid of pedestrians who could slow his pace. In less than a month, he’d lost two kilos and cut the time it took to cover the hilly course by almost two minutes.
He turned left into a cobblestone alleyway and glanced at the numbers counting down on his digital watch. It wasn’t a record speed, but considering the weather and descending darkness, it was respectable.
More important to his health than the weight loss, though, was the fact that he was two thousand kilometers from the Kremlin, where career advancement was a universe unto itself. The job became not so much protecting the interests of Mother Russia as it was protecting one’s own interests. His days had devolved into a blur of questionable political alliances and elaborate plots to destroy his rivals while they hatched similar plots against him.
That was what had driven him into the arms of the Americans. Of course, Russia’s leaders would loudly condemn him as a traitor if they found out, but deep down they knew it was they who had betrayed their country. They who were turning it into a corrupt basket case barely kept afloat by natural resources gouged from the land.
There was no innovation, no plan for the future, no attempt to meaningfully engage the West. Only the occasional flexing of military muscle to stir the people’s nationalism and blind them to the fact that they had no more hope now than they did under the communists.
Zhutov was forced to divert around a van moving across the entrance to a square dominated by an empty playground. He looked through the rain at the rusting equipment and once again considered how it could be used to enhance his daily exercise routine. Would a pull-up be achievable before he was recalled to headquarters? His doctor had urged caution, but at forty-three it seemed in the realm of possibility.
