“I wouldn’t just disappear, Joe. Why couldn’t I get the CIA to help me? I’m sure the American embassy is full of those guys.” She paused and then turned her attention to her boss. “I have a note on my schedule that the same two, I assume, secret agent guys are meeting with us this afternoon. Am I right?”
“Yes, but it’s because they want to discuss the files sent over—” responded Dr. Reitherman before Harper interrupted.
“I know, sir. Can I bring this up to them? Maybe they have some suggestions?”
He shrugged and then thought for a moment. “Joe?”
“Yes?”
“I need an honest answer, okay?”
“Sure.”
“If certain controls could be put in place, would you reconsider your decision?”
Joe hesitated on the line and then replied, “You know I worry about the safety of my wife. I could never live without her. However, I am not an overprotective husband, and I certainly don’t dictate what she can and cannot do.”
Harper waved her right arm at Dr. Reitherman. “Hello? Guys? I’m sitting right here.”
Dr. Reitherman laughed and ignored her. “Joe, I think the reason I admire your wife so much is because she reminds me of mine.”
“I feel for you, my friend.”
Harper protested. “Hey! I heard that!”
The three shared a laugh, which helped to ease the tension. Dr. Reitherman explained what he meant by the word controls, although he continued to address Joe as he discussed Harper’s fate.
“Joe, what if we chip her?”
Joe responded quickly, “Microchip implants have been used in our dark ops people for years. They frequently have to go into deep cover without comms. Oftentimes, it’s the only way we can recover them, whether dead or alive.”
“That’s comforting,” quipped Harper.
Dr. Reitherman continued, turning his attention to Harper. “Consider this. Microchip technology has become a method of integrating biology and technology in many ways. It started years ago with pets as a means to locate a lost dog or cat. Then, as Joe said, it was utilized by our Defense Department in special operations missions. If we chip you, we can track your whereabouts and, if the CIA can give us some assurances, send in an extraction team if necessary.”
Harper chimed in. “I think you guys have implanted a chip in me already. Why do I get the sense you two track me? You both seem to know where I am and what I am up to.”
“That’s my job,” said Dr. Reitherman.
“Mine too, love,” added Joe. “I can go along with chipping as a way to keep abreast of her whereabouts. However, there is something else. I cannot sign off on you going in there alone.”
“Nobody here is qualified to do what I need to do. Plus, I wouldn’t want them to take that risk.”
“But it’s okay for you to?” asked Joe.
He has a point.
Harper challenged the two men. “I’m a seasoned veteran. Does anyone disagree?”
“No,” replied her boss. “Joe, we do have a meeting with the CIA this afternoon. Maybe they can provide her a security escort?”
“That won’t help, sir,” countered Harper. “If I’m gonna take a companion, it needs to be an epidemiologist or at least someone familiar with biosciences. I might be seeing patients, both alive and dead, who can provide me lab samples.”
Harper paused as she heard Joe cupping the handset and speaking to someone in his office. She and Dr. Reitherman both waited for him to return to the call.
Finally, Harper tried to get his attention. “Joe?”
“Sorry, I’m here. I have a subcommittee work session to attend, and I’ve got to deal with another issue first.”
Harper understood and she was amazed that she was able to have her husband’s ear for this length of time during morning rush hour, as he referred to the start of any day when Congress was in session.
“I know, honey. I was just saying that if we can make this work, I can’t just take someone along who’s a hired gun.”
“Yeah, sorry. I heard that. Listen, I’ve got a guy. Text me after you’ve met with the agency. Love you. You too, Berger.”
Joe disconnected the call and Harper smiled at Dr. Reitherman.
“He always has a guy. Do you wanna know how many times I’ve heard I’ve gotta guy since the day we met?”
Dr. Reitherman exuded a sense of calm. “I’m anxious to see what he comes up with, okay?”
Chapter Eighteen
House Subcommittee on National Security
2154 Rayburn Office Building
Washington, DC
Joe was the last to arrive at the subcommittee working session. It was not a formally held gathering, but certain House of Representatives’ parliamentary procedures needed to be followed. In recent years, House rules were changed to allow spectators in the room subject to the usual decorum requirements. Typically, for working sessions like this one, a junior beat reporter might be in attendance and perhaps a group from a high school civics class.
When Joe entered the room from the rear entrance, he was astonished to find a packed house. There was nothing on the agenda that he was aware of that might warrant this much attention. Cameras were set up by the networks and cable news outlets. He even recognized some of the more prominent television reporters who covered Congress.
He could feel the energy lift as the attendees scrambled to take a seat. All eyes were upon him as he slid into the chairman’s seat and reached for the gavel. He spun around for a moment and searched for his chief of staff, Andy Spangler. He wasn’t seated behind him, and then he realized Spangler was handling an errand for him. Joe was on his own and in the dark.
He smacked the gavel down three times and made his normal introduction. “This is the Subcommittee on National Security, which falls under the House Committee on Oversight and Reform. I am Chairman Joe Mills.
“Generally, this subcommittee has oversight jurisdiction over matters of national security, homeland security, foreign operations, immigration, defense, veterans’ affairs, and jurisdiction over federal acquisition policy related to national security.
“For the media and the general public, no matters of national security are discussed during these working sessions. We do not take questions from the media or the gallery. We do take witness testimony. However, it is not under oath. A working session is exactly what it sounds like. It is an opportunity for the members of this subcommittee to get together to discuss proposed and pending legislation regarding the matters I’ve outlined at the start of my statement.”
Joe paused. He’d made this statement many times over the years, so he didn’t need the benefit of notes or a script. There was an agenda, which covered ordinarily mundane things plus several funding issues since Congress was still locking horns with the administration over the budget in an effort to avoid a shutdown.
He flipped through the three-ring binder of the agenda prepared by his staff. He was about to begin when one of his aides tapped him on the shoulder and handed him a handwritten note. It was a message from Spangler. He concealed it from the prying eyes of the ranking member on the committee. He was one of the president’s most vocal supporters on the Hill.