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“I think you may be overstating what was promised by my predecessor,” Alexander said, barely holding his anger in check. “We agreed to keep the extent of your government’s complicity in 9/11 quiet and help you keep it from happening again. Not that we were going to become your servants on the world stage. Despite Saudi Arabia having the third largest defense budget in the world, Norway has flown more sorties against ISIS than you have. And every time they—or we—do, you quietly talk about the Christian Crusaders pounding at your gates. And we tolerate it. But if your royals are starting to get directly involved in terrorism again, that’s crossing the line.”

“It seems, then, that neither of us has an ideal partner in this relationship, Mr. President. But, as imperfect as it is, it is a relationship that will persist. If all the facts surrounding 9/11 were to come out, it would unquestionably be very damaging to my country. But I think the American people would be less concerned wi

th our actions than your government’s efforts to keep those actions secret from them. And while you didn’t forge this agreement, you would very quickly become the face of it.”

The president seemed frozen and Kennedy had no idea what he was going to do. She’d never witnessed a foreign bureaucrat openly threaten the President of the United States.

It was clear that there was no way to deescalate the situation. The only course of action she could come up with was to counter Nassar’s unprecedented move with one of her own.

“It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Director,” she said, unilaterally ending the president’s meeting. “I’m certain that you’ll handle this matter with the thoroughness you’re known for.”

When Alexander didn’t stand, Nassar just nodded in his direction and made his way to the exit. Kennedy half expected Alexander to explode when the soundproof door clicked shut, but he just sat there. She took a seat in the chair that Nassar had just abandoned, hoping to erase some of the memory of his presence.

A very long minute passed before Alexander spoke. “Did he just tell me to go fuck myself?”

“I think you’re overreacting, sir. I—”

“You’re patronizing me again, Irene. And this time I’m not laughing.”

“Sir, please hear me out. Director Nassar isn’t a diplomat. He’s a soldier and a spy who’s stepped into a very difficult situation. The Middle East is imploding, King Faisal is dying, and—”

“The Middle East is imploding because those Saudi sons of bitches have been pumping up religious fundamentalism to hide the fact that they’re robbing their people blind. And when they aren’t busy with that, they’re doing everything they can to tank oil prices in an effort to wipe out our energy industry—”

“But that isn’t Director Nassar’s doing. It—”

“I’m not done! We don’t want to forget that Saudi women have virtually no rights and that the government still executes people for witchcraft. Our relationship has always been a stain on our moral authority and dignity, but it was necessary. Is it still?”

She remembered that Mitch Rapp had recently asked something very similar.

“On balance, I’m convinced that it is, sir.”

“The devil you know. Is that what you’re saying, Irene? Let me ask you something. What if this goes beyond bin Musaid? What if King Faisal is too old and sick to keep tabs on what his people are doing anymore?”

“It’s something we need to look into.”

Alexander just stared into the distance. “Faisal won’t do anything. He has a soft spot for that little asshole. His dead sister’s son, right? And even if he didn’t, we both know that he’s just running out the clock. Waiting to die so he can leave his problems to someone else.”

“I’d say that’s an accurate assessment.”

“What about Nassar? It seems like the king’s putting a lot of faith in him. You said he was ambitious. Is he ambitious enough to be thinking about who’s going to take over when the old man’s gone? Because when I look at the front-runners, I see a pack of complete dipshits.”

“Overthrowing the Saudi monarchy would be no small task, sir. But it’s something we’ll include in our analysis.”

“Your analysis,” Alexander said, and then laughed bitterly. “I can’t wait.”

CHAPTER 15

East of Manassas

Virginia

U.S.A.

TWENTY-SIX! Come on, Mitch! You can do thirty!”

Based on the daggerlike pain coming from an old elbow injury, thirty would probably be a bad idea. Anna groaned theatrically when he dropped off the pull-up bar and worked his right arm around. The gym Claudia had installed in the basement was incredible—better than anything inside of fifty miles. The fact that the lap pool bisected it was a little inconvenient, but she liked the way it reflected the glass-fronted wine cellar along the north wall. Who was he to argue?

“You could have done more,” Anna complained.

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