Page 8 of Blowback


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He shifts his attention to Liam, and Noa feels a sense of relief, that the force of the man’s personality—like the beam of a high-powered searchlight—is now pointed at someone else. She’s still processing what’s been assigned to her by the president.

Domestic work,she thinks. The legal and institutional handcuffs put on by Barrett’s predecessors and Congress have just been slipped off.

One hell of an opportunity.

Sure,she thinks,an opportunity to really hit hard at some bad actors out there, or an opportunity to be humiliated, arrested, and stripped of my pension if this turns into another Iran–Contra disaster.

Noa wants to make a difference in the world by being in the Agency, and the president has just given her a golden ticket to do so.

President Barrett is talking a good talk, but will that be enough once the bodies start piling up?

“There are terrorist cells, hackers, and bot farms controlled by the Iranians, Chinese, and Russians, and there are hackers-for-hire across the globe,” the president says. “They attack us day and night via cyberspace or in the real world. We don’t retaliate appropriately because we don’t want to escalate the situation, or because we’re not one hundred percent sure of a target, or because we don’t want to stoop to their level. That stops today. You’re going to get a team together of people from the intelligence and military communities. From there, overseas you’ll go. These farms, cells, and other structures … you know what Rome did to Carthage?”

“Yes, sir,” Liam says. “Once Rome finally conquered Carthage, they destroyed every building and salted the earth around the ruins so nothing would ever grow there again. And that’s exactly what happened.”

The president nods. “I want them gone. Gone so hard that whoever survives won’t go back to a computer keyboard or an AK-47 ever again.”

Liam says, “If I may, it sounds risky, sir.”

“Of course it’s risky,” he says. “Fortune favors the bold, correct? And it’s time for us to be bold. I’ll give you both twenty-four hours to pick your teams and then come back here tomorrow. We’ll go over your candidates, and then we’ll discuss logistics and support. And when it comes to support, you’ll have everything you need, with just one phone call or text. As commander in chief, I can get any branch of the military to assist you under any circumstances.”

The president leans back into the couch. “I’ve followed both of your careers over the years. You have the intelligence, toughness, experience, and … well, the perfect background and history of heartbreak to do what must be done. Any questions?”

Dozens of them,Noa thinks, but she doesn’t want to speak first.

She feels she’s spoken enough, and even though she has misgivings about what’s being offered to her, she is also relishing the thought of taking the fight to enemies who have set up camp within the nation’s borders.

Let Liam take the lead.

But Liam refuses to do so.

“No, sir,” he says. “I’m good.”

Noa says, “I’m good as well.”

President Barrett nods with satisfaction.

“Get out, get to work, and I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll be supplying you both with an initial set of targets, complete with locations and defenses.” He adds a chilly smile. “I’ll also supply the salt.”

CHAPTER 11

A FEW MINUTES after Liam Grey and Noa Himel depart, President Keegan Barrett reviews his schedule for the day when the door to his office opens and Carlton Pope walks in. On the official White House organization chart, he’s listed as a “special assistant to the president,” which covers a lot of ground, water, and sky—exactly what Barrett wants.

Pope is stocky, heavyset, with a type of blocky body that makes Savile Row tailors toss up their respective hands in despair while trying to tailor a suit to fit. His prematurely gray hair is trimmed short, and his nose is round and misshapen, from a long-ago break that never properly healed.

He takes a seat in front of Barrett. Except for the Secret Service, Pope is the only one allowed to come into Barrett’s office without knocking first. Even Barrett’s chief of staff, Quinn Lawrence, isn’t allowed here without a warning phone call.

Pope says, “Well?”

Barrett says, “I think they’ll work out. They’re young, experienced, and dedicated.”

Pope smirks, and Barrett allows him that one look. Years ago, when Barrett was in the Army and on a still-classified mission toSerbia, Barrett had saved this man’s career and life, and in the ensuing years, Pope has diligently worked to pay back that debt.

Barrett always relies on the loyalty of others and is glad to pay it back.

He says, “All right, you ignorant peasant, pack that smirk away. Because of bad movies and past history, most people don’t realize that the CIA attracts the best and brightest, who’ll go to the extremes to perform their mission. It’s not the pay that drives them, and it’s sure as hell not the publicity. They do it because they’re dedicated to the Agency and this country.”

Pope says, “All right, I’ll take back the smirk. They both seem experienced … and that Noa.” He smiles. “A real looker.”

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