Memorial Day

Fifteen

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Irene Kennedy had just spent the last two hours helping her son with his homework. It was late, she was tired, and they both needed to go to bed. Tommy was a first grader for three more days and immensely proud of the fact that he was about to move up in the pecking order of his grade school. Kennedy was just happy that he would no longer have Mrs. Johnson as a teacher. It was the last week before summer, and she was still handing out homework like it was college midterms.

Kennedy sent her son into his bathroom to brush his teeth, and then headed down the hall to draw a bath for herself. By the time she got back, he was already under the covers. He had undoubtedly cut a few corners on brushing his teeth, but Kennedy was too tired to make an issue out of it. He was a good kid who was polite and respectful, got perfect grades, and stayed out of trouble. An occasional cavity wouldn't kill him.

Begin the day on a positive note and end the day on a positive note. That was her motto, at least at home. The other stuff she couldn't control: the politicians on the Hill, the president and his advisors, the press, and even some of her own people at Langley. Kennedy listened to Tommy say his prayers and then kissed him on the forehead.

"I love you, honey."

He rolled away from her and said, "I love you too."

She was losing him. It seemed like yesterday that she used to carry him to bed, and not too long ago he would look her in the eyes and tell her he loved her. Now he was entering that goofy stage where girls, including mothers, were weird. Kennedy rubbed his back and then got up and left.

Her child taken care of, she could now turn her attention to herself. A nice long hot bath sounded like just the thing. She would lose herself in thoughts of nothing but the trivial for a good half hour. She entered her small walk-in closet and took off her clothes. She put her silk blouse in her dry cleaning bag and then made her way into the bathroom. The old-fashioned claw-foot tub was half full and steaming. Kennedy added some bath oil and then shut off the water. All she had to do was get through the next three days and they'd have a nice relaxing long weekend together. She and Tommy and her mother had plans to visit cousins at the shore. It would be a weekend of sun, surf, and fun. The perfect way to kick off the start of summer. At least she hoped it would be, even though she knew there was a good chance duty would call and her mother and Tommy would spend the weekend at the shore without her.

She was just about to ease her foot into the water when the serenity of the moment was shattered by a distinctive ringing noise. Kennedy, a normally unflappable person, turned and glared at the white phone and its blinking red light. Her secure telephone had no voice mail. If she didn't answer it, they would simply call the agent in charge of her security detail, and he would politely come upstairs and knock on her bedroom door.

She snatched her robe from the hook on the door and walked over to her bedside table. Without her glasses she struggled to read the small display. She made out the first word and decided it was the CIA's Global Ops Center. Kennedy grabbed the handset and in a tired, but composed voice said, "DCI Kennedy."

The voice on the other end sounded somewhat scratchy and far away. "Irene, it's Mitch."

Kennedy looked at the bedside clock. It was nearing ten in the evening, which meant it was almost six in the morning where Rapp was. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah..."

"Where are you?"

"We're on our way back across the border. Listen, I don't want to alarm you, but we found some serious intel in this village. I need you to get the Southwest Asia CTC people back into the office, and call the station chief in Kandahar and tell him to give me complete carte blanche on anything I ask for, especially translators."

Kennedy's brow furrowed. "Just how time sensitive is this stuff?"

"I'm not sure."

"Then what's the big rush?" Kennedy didn't like going into action without a solid reason.

"Just trust me when I tell you we have to move quickly on this stuff."

Kennedy sensed something in his voice. "Mitch, you sound a little ruffled. What's going on?"

Rapp didn't answer right away. "Listen, I don't want to alarm everyone until we have a chance to look at everything more closely, but we found a room under the target house."

"What kind of room?" Kennedy was now standing.

"It was filled with files. Most of it in Pashtu, but some of it in Arabic. There were also several computers and a few maps."

"And?" asked Kennedy knowing there had to be more for Rapp to make this urgent call.

There was a long pause and then Rapp said, "One of the maps was of D.C. and it showed the effects of a nuclear blast."

"Jesus Christ." Kennedy sat back down, her thoughts turning to her worst fear.

"Irene, do what you need to do to cover your ass, but give me a few hours to look into this before everyone flies off the handle and gets in my way."

Kennedy's head was swimming with possibilities, none of them good. There were the financial movements of last Friday, the intercepts that something big was in the works, and now this. "I don't know if I can sit on this, Mitch, even for a minute."

"All I'm asking for is a few hours." Rapp knew what was going through her mind. He had seen the plans for what they called continuity of government. It involved alerting thousands of people in the first hour alone. "Once this genie's out of the bottle there's no putting her back. Just give me some time to study our take, and find out if it's all a fantasy, or if they've actually got the goods."

Kennedy had stopped listening, her mind stuck on the fact that the president, vice president, speaker of the House, pro tem of the Senate, secretary of state, and secretary of the treasury were all in town. Some people needed to be moved.

"Irene, it's a Tuesday night. You know how these guys work. They want maximum exposure. If they do this, it'll be during broad daylight when downtown is filled with people."

Kennedy pinched the bridge of her nose. "You might be right, but I can't take that chance." There were plans in place, protocol to be followed.

"If they have a bomb, our number one priority should be to make sure they don't detonate it. To do that I need some time. Just hold off on doing anything crazy for a few hours. That's all I'm asking."

His voice was less than clear, but she could still hear his pleading tone. Finally, she said, "You'll get everything you need, Mitch. Just work fast, and call me as soon as you learn more. I need to go."

Kennedy held on to the handset and disconnected the call. Her mind was racing, trying to factor in everything she'd just heard with the information she already knew. She was reminded of a similar situation where very powerful people in Washington missed all of the signs that an attack was imminent. Tragically, their inaction led to the deaths of thousands. The director of the CIA reached her tipping point, and decided on a course of action. She was about to walk a very fine line, but given the circumstances she saw no other way.