Part 3 (1/2)
”Well, now it's my turn to agree with you,” Hartsburg said to Rapp, giving Walsh an accusatory look.
”We made a decision,” said Walsh defensively, ”that we weren't going to scapegoat anyone for what happened. Nine-eleven was a long time in the works and both parties share the blame.”
”I'm not talking about your precious political parties. I'm talking about the dead weight who got in the way of the people trying to do their jobs.”
”I know that, and I know you don't have any stomach for politics, but that deal had to be made or the two parties would have destroyed each other in the aftermath.”
Rapp frowned. ”And that would be a bad thing?”
”Contrary to what you think, Mr. Rapp,” said Hartsburg, ”we care about this country. I can a.s.sure you that is the only reason I'm sitting in this room with you right now.”
”If you could right the s.h.i.+p,” said Walsh, sounding more eager than when the meeting had started, ”how would you do it?”
Rapp studied the senior senator from Idaho with suspicion. ”You're asking me...a person who has absolutely no experience in management, and no desire to join the club?”
”Yes, but you've got more practical experience in the field than perhaps anyone else in Was.h.i.+ngton.”
Rapp considered the question carefully and said, ”Well, it's not very complicated. You've got a top-heavy bureaucracy over there. An inverted pyramid. Less than one percent of the people on the payroll do real field work. h.e.l.l, before 9/11 you had more people working in the Office of Diversity than you had on the bin Laden Desk.”
”So what's the solution?”
Rapp shrugged. ”You do what IBM or GE or any other well-run corporation does. You get rid of the deadweight. You tell every department head their budget is going to be cut by ten percent. You offer early retirement, you give people severance packages, and you wish them good luck. And then you start to rebuild the Clandestine Service from the ground up.”
”As much as it pains me to admit it...you and I,” Hartsburg said as he pointed at Rapp and then himself, ”see more eye to eye than I would have ever liked to admit.”
”So what's holding you guys up? You run the d.a.m.n committee.... You hold the purse strings.”
”We're working on it, but trying to change an entrenched Was.h.i.+ngton bureaucracy is not easy,” Walsh said. ”In the meantime we're more concerned with a short-term solution. A stopgap measure, if you will.”
”Like what?”
Walsh shared an uncomfortable look with Hartsburg, started to speak, stopped, and then made one more effort at it before he looked again to his more blunt colleague for help. Hartsburg retrieved a copy of the Was.h.i.+ngton Post Was.h.i.+ngton Post and laid it down on the table. Beneath the fold on the front page was a story about the brutal murder of an Islamic cleric in Montreal. The senator stabbed his stubby finger at the article and asked, ”Did we have anything to do with this?” and laid it down on the table. Beneath the fold on the front page was a story about the brutal murder of an Islamic cleric in Montreal. The senator stabbed his stubby finger at the article and asked, ”Did we have anything to do with this?”
Rapp's face didn't change a bit. ”Not that I know of.”
Hartsburg leaned in and with a look of fire in his eyes said, ”That's too bad.”
Rapp didn't show it, but he couldn't have been more shocked by the senator's words.
7.
LANGLEY, VIRGINIA.
K ennedy was standing by the conference table, her arms folded across her crisp white blouse, one leg in front of the other, her front foot tapping the floor like a Geiger counter. The closer he got the faster the foot tapped. He closed the heavy soundproof door. This was not good. Kennedy was by far the calmest person he knew. She was unflappable. Professional to the core. This was the way his wife greeted him when she was mad. ennedy was standing by the conference table, her arms folded across her crisp white blouse, one leg in front of the other, her front foot tapping the floor like a Geiger counter. The closer he got the faster the foot tapped. He closed the heavy soundproof door. This was not good. Kennedy was by far the calmest person he knew. She was unflappable. Professional to the core. This was the way his wife greeted him when she was mad.
Rapp decided to start the conversation out cautiously. ”I went and met with those two like you asked me.” He stopped well short of where she was dug in. He unb.u.t.toned his suit coat and put his hands on his hips. The black handle of his shoulder-holstered FN pistol was visible.
”We'll talk about that later.” She gestured to the conference table.
Rapp looked at it. Four newspapers were spread out on the s.h.i.+ny surface of the wood table. The New York Times, New York Times, the the London Times, London Times, the the Montreal Gazette, Montreal Gazette, and the and the Was.h.i.+ngton Post, Was.h.i.+ngton Post, which he had already seen. The murder of Khalil was on the front page of each newspaper. which he had already seen. The murder of Khalil was on the front page of each newspaper.
”What in the h.e.l.l happened?”
Rapp read the bold headlines. This was better than he had hoped.
”The Montreal Gazette Montreal Gazette says he was nearly decapitated.” says he was nearly decapitated.”
Rapp glanced at his boss. ”That's an exaggeration.”
”And how would you know?” Kennedy had ordered Rapp that others were to do the dirty work.
Rapp decided that to say nothing was his best move.
”Left in plain sight for all the world to see,” she continued.
”Well...that's true.” Rapp nodded.
”I'm confused.” Her face twisted into an uncharacteristic frown. ”I thought we had come to an agreement. This”-she opened her hand and gestured toward the newspapers-”is exactly what I wanted to avoid.”
”I know that, but let me explain myself.”
She crossed her arms and began tapping her foot with renewed vigor. ”I'm waiting.”
Rapp let out a sigh and looked back at the papers. ”The only one I've read is the Post. Post. It didn't say anything about us. Made some reference to him being an international terror suspect and serving time in France, but that was it.” It didn't say anything about us. Made some reference to him being an international terror suspect and serving time in France, but that was it.”
”That was today. Trust me, tomorrow morning, we'll be mentioned. The phone over in public affairs is ringing off the hook. I've already fielded five calls relating to it. This thing is going to mushroom.”
”I don't think so.”
”And why is that, Mr. Media Expert?”
”Because the press is playing catch-up right now. The Montreal police are keeping their mouths shut, but that won't last long. In fact I'd be willing to bet the specifics on the scene of the crime are already being leaked. This story is going to end up nowhere near us.”
Her brow furrowed and she studied him for a moment. ”What did you do?”
”Let's just say we made it look like a crime of pa.s.sion rather than a professional hit.”
”Details.” It was a command, not a request.
”What the press doesn't know yet was that Khalil was found with a wad of cash stuffed in his mouth and the word munafiq munafiq scrawled in his own blood on the wall of the building he was propped up against.” scrawled in his own blood on the wall of the building he was propped up against.”
”Hypocrite,” Kennedy translated the word aloud. ”I don't get it.”
”Coleman found out some interesting stuff last week. Not all of Khalil's wors.h.i.+pers were happy with him. There was a growing dissent in the community over his call to jihad and his recruiting of young men to go overseas and fight. And there was one other thing. Something Muslims, among other people, find deplorable.”
”What's that?”