Looking like a bespectacled accountant—which he had been in a previous life—President Hannister was sitting in an unassuming office chair to the right, reading an iPad. The others on the couches glanced at Wolffe expectantly when he entered.
Hannister laid the iPad on the corner of his desk and said, “Okay, let’s get this over with. I have a meeting in twenty minutes with a farm bureau from Nebraska. I’m assuming nothing is going on? Same brief as last quarter? No Taskforce activity?”
“Sir, no targeting activity. We have one team in motion in the UAE, but only doing signature work designed to support their cover. No teams moving on the continent due to travel restrictions targeting nongovernmental United States citizens—which, of course, is how we operate—but we’re still busting at the seams here in the United States doing cyber tracking and other threat analysis.”
He passed out a folder to each member, saying, “We have several potential threat streams right now, specifically with ISIS variants in Africa, but nothing that our other intelligence or special operations forces can’t handle. If something pops that can’t be contained by conventional assets, I’ll come back to you, but right now the threats are nascent, and we have a handle on them. My only concern is the people they’re talking to. The ones they’re radicalizing right now. They’re going to metastasize while we wait for travel authority.”
Hannister nodded and said, “Not a whole lot we can do about that right now.” He held up the folder and said, “You’re talking with SOCOM and CIA on this?”
Kerry Bostwick, the director of the CIA, said, “Yeah, we’re working closely together.” The secretary of defense nodded, saying, “Same here. We have what they have. We’re wired tight.”
President Hannister looked at his watch and said, “Okay, shortest Oversight update in history. Anything else?”
Wolffe knew he was about to detonate a grenade, but couldn’t not say anything. “Yes, sir. Something just to keep you up to date. It’s not Taskforce, but it involves Taskforce personnel.”
Wolffe saw Palmer sag back, then heard him say, “Oh, Christ. Tell me someone didn’t get a DUI or something.”
Wolffe flicked his eyes to Palmer, then ignored him, returning to the president, who gave a short chuckle. Wolffe said, “Sir, you remember the Israelis Aaron and Shoshana?”
The smile left Hannister’s face. “Yes, of course. Why?”
Wolffe swallowed, knowing Hannister understood what they represented. “Well, they asked Pike and Jennifer to help them out on something in Europe, in turn Pike asked me for permission, and I told them they could do it, since we’re on basically a stand-down due to the pandemic. Sort of like what happened in Poland a few years ago. You remember that?”
“Of course I do. It’s how I got this job.”
Wolffe internally cringed. That mission was the same one where Vice President Hannister had become President Hannister when the current president had been blown out of the sky on Air Force One. The goodwill seed he wanted to plant was how Aaron and Shoshana had helped prevent World War III, not that the same mission involved the assassination of the president of the United States.
“Yes, yes. Of course. I just wanted to let you know they were doing some contract work with an ally. That’s all.”
Palmer said, “Wait, what? He’s operating in Europe with Grolier Recovery Services? That is Taskforce.”
“No, no. He’s there purely as a civilian. No connection to GRS or the Taskforce. Period. And it’s not some sort of hit mission. It’s just some investigative work for Israel. Aaron and Shoshana are doing any hard work. Pike’s just helping out with the effort.”
Amanda Croft, the secretary of state said, “How’s he in Europe as an American? You just said you guys can’t travel, and now you’ve got Pike traveling as a civilian?”
Wolffe had hoped this discussion would be brief, saying Pike was in Europe and that would be the end. He didn’t expect the questioning. He cleared his throat and said, “Well, he’s not there as an American.”
Amanda said, “What’s that mean? Is he going as a Martian?”
Wolffe heard the sarcasm and realized this was going south quickly. He decided to rip off the Band-Aid. He said, “No, ma’am. He went as an Israeli. They have no restrictions on travel like we do.”
Palmer snapped upright and said, “What? He’s doing what?”
Chapter 21
The door to the Oval Office opened and a State Department aide appeared, looking hesitant. Hannister said, “Not now.”
The man said, “Sir, I really need to pull Secretary Croft from this meeting. It won’t take a second.”
Hannister waved his hand forward and the man scurried to Amanda, whispering in her ear. Wolffe saw her eyes go wide, then look at a tablet the man held. She turned to the president and said, “Sir, we need to end this meeting right now.”
Palmer said, “What’s going on?”
Amanda turned to the president and said, “One of my diplomats was murdered in Italy. Literally thrown off of a roof.”
That caused a change of focus in the room. Wolffe inwardly sighed, feeling dirty for the reason, but grateful for the reprieve. He said, “Sir, thank you for your time. I’ll be on my way.”
He started packing his briefcase, putting in charts and folders, and glanced at the scrum now around the Resolute Desk, the president behind it, firing questions. He heard the aide say, “There was a note from some Islamic group. It looks like a targeted killing.”
And Wolffe stopped what he was doing. He stood up and Palmer said, “You’re excused, but I’ll want a briefing on what Pike’s doing to brief the president at a later date.”
He advanced to the desk, seeing a gruesome picture on the aide’s tablet. A woman splattered on the pavement, her head split open in an enormous pool of blood. He saw Hannister’s face grow cold, then his palms close into fists.
Palmer said, “Wolffe, I said you were excused. This isn’t your concern.”
Wolffe said, “Was it Keta’ib Hezbollah?”
Amanda turned and said, “What did you say?”
“Was the killing from Keta’ib Hezbollah? Is that who claimed it?”
The aide said, “Yes, yes it was.”
President Hannister said, “How did you know that?”
“Because that’s what Pike’s helping the Israelis with. They had two government officials killed with the same group claiming credit. Or apparently the same group. Pike is helping them sort that out.”
Palmer said, “Pike’s doing what? Have you lost your mind? You have no sanction for that.”
Wolffe said, “I told you, it’s an Israeli mission. Not Taskforce. I don’t need sanction for that.”
“Damn it, you can’t just freelance the Taskforce like a bunch of mercenaries from Russia! I want to know what—”
President Hannister cut him off with a hand, saying, “Be quiet, Alexander.”
He turned to Wolffe and said, “Pike’s on this same thread? Right now?”
“Yes, sir. The Israelis aren’t sure if it’s truly Keta’ib Hezbollah. That’s what they’re trying to sort out. Did this one come with a note?”