“I’ve devoted my entire life to public service,” she shot back.
“And I’m sure we’re all very grateful for the sacrifices you’ve made,” Kennedy responded, but she was already starting to regret the exchange. All interactions with this woman were a bad combination of dangerous and a waste of time. Barnett placed everyone in two columns: useful to her and dangerous to her. Kennedy’s designation had been determined long ago.
“And what exactly is Mitch Rapp’s status with regard to the CIA?” Barnett asked.
Kennedy was surprised by the question. They were talking about a potential biological attack on the United States. What did Mitch’s employment details matter? She glanced at the president but he seemed to be content to give Barnett some leash. Instead of intervening, he was scrutinizing the woman as though she were a toddler trying to learn a new skill.
“I’m not sure what you’re asking, Senator.”
“Does he work for you?”
“He no longer works directly for the government, if that’s what you mean. He’s a private contractor.”
“Contractor,” Barnett repeated. “Is that a way of saying that what little oversight we once had over him is gone?”
An expression of resigned disappointment appeared on Alexander’s face and he finally stepped in. “I think we’re getting a little off topic here, Gary. As much as I hate to even contemplate this attack happening, what if it does? What are we doing to get ready for it?”
“The most important thing we can do is get the facts out there and keep the hysteria down. Though that’s easier said than done with everything getting stirred up by the media and the—” He managed to catch himself before saying politicians. “Uh, the medical community is prepared and looking for potential infections. If anything, we’re going to end up with an overreaction. People thinking they have anthrax when they don’t. But that’s not a serious problem.”
“Irene?” the president said.
“We’re marshaling what resources we can in Somalia but, as I said, they’re limited. And obviously we’re coordinating with other areas of Homeland Security to do what we can to keep any biological agent from ever making it into the United States.”
Joshua Alexander nodded. There wasn’t much more he could do. He was at the end of his last term in office and it was likely that this disaster would land in his successor’s lap. On one hand, he was incredibly thankful for that. Eight years in this job was enough for anyone and too much for most people. On the other hand, the idea of Christine Barnett taking the reins was terrifying.
“I want daily progress reports from both of you. And if anything significant changes, contact me immediately.”
Kennedy and Statham—two of the most competent and reliable people he’d ever worked with—nodded and stood. After a few strained pleasantries, his three guests began filing out. Before Barnett could fully turn toward the door, though, Alexander put a hand on her shoulder.
“Could you hang back for a minute, Christine?”
When they were alone, Alexander indicated toward the sofa Barnett had been sitting on. The senator looked a bit suspicious, but she sat and watched him take the chair opposite.
“I don’t agree with the way you’re running your campaign, but I’m a big boy and I understand that what you’re doing is effective.” He pointed to the Resolute Desk. “And that pretty soon that’ll probably be yours.”
Barnett tried to keep her expression neutral, but she was clearly pleased to hear that assessment from the leader of the opposing party.
“It’s important to understand,” Alexander said, speaking deliberately, “that the job of being president has very little to do with the job of running for president. When you sit down in that chair, you’ve won. There’s nowhere else to go. You’ll be there for a few years and then you’ll retire and end up a few pages in a history book. While you’re in this office, though, it can’t just be about politics. You have the lives of three hundred and twenty-five million people in your hands.”
Barnett nodded, considering his words for a few seconds before standing. “You rule your way, Mr. President. And I’ll rule mine.”
CHAPTER 16
WEST OF MANASSAS
VIRGINIA
USA
“I CALL her Betty, Mitch. Doesn’t she seem like a Betty?”
Anna ran one of her tiny hands along the sheep’s woolly back. It nuzzled her briefly and then went back to whatever it was that it found so fascinating in the dirt.
The sun was directly overhead and the humidity kept pushing higher, creating a haze on the mountains around them. The barn they were standing next to was designed to be shared by the homeowners in the subdivision and had been set up with stalls for horses.
Rapp’s plan had been to rip them out in favor of a gym and shooting range. Unfortunately, Scott Coleman and his wily seven-year-old co-conspirator had commandeered the space while Rapp was in Iraq. He’d left for Baghdad with visions of a thirty-foot climbing wall and returned to a petting zoo.
“That animal’s not a pet, Anna. Wouldn’t a better name be something like Shank? Or maybe Stew?”
She spun, pressing her back against the sheep and spreading her arms protectively. “Betty’s not dinner! And neither is Jo-Jo or Merinda!”
“He’s just being a grouch,” Claudia said. “Look how fluffy they are. Maybe we could shear them and make him a nice sweater instead.”
Anna’s eyes narrowed suspiciously and she pointed to another knot of animals near the south fence line. “The goats aren’t fluffy.”
“But they eat grass,” her mother assured her. “We won’t need to mow anymore.”
Rapp frowned. Was he really destined to live in a subdivision with thirty people and two hundred ungulates?
“Scott told me people have ostriches.”
And a flock of eight-foot-tall flightless birds.
“They make really big eggs,” Anna said, picking up on his reaction. “You can have them for breakfast. Mom could make like a gallon of that eggs benny dick sauce.”
“Benedict,” her mother corrected.
Rapp’s phone rang and he glanced down at the screen. “I’ve got to take this. Why don’t you go see how Cutlet’s doing?”
“Her name’s not Cutlet!”
“Vindaloo?”
Anna wagged a finger at him in a gesture she’d picked up from her mother and then ran off to join her new friends.
“Hello, Irene,” Rapp said, fighting off a vague sense of disorientation. Having one foot in two completely different worlds took some getting used to. But learning to switch immediately between them was even harder. “How’d the meeting go?”
“Not as well as I’d hoped.”
He watched Claudia follow her daughter across the grass. She looked like a French fashion magazine’s idea of a cowgirl. Spotless jeans and work shirt, straw hat, and a pair of boots that suggested ostriches weren’t just good for eggs.
“What’d Gary say?”
“The anthrax threat is real. Halabi just needs a way to smuggle it in.”
“Take your choice,” Rapp said.