Path of the Assassin

CHAPTER 30

The following afternoon, Harvath arrived early at the White House for his meeting with the president and the director of the Secret Service. He wanted to reacquaint himself with the lay of the land. As he moved from office to office, there was no shortage of staffers and fellow Secret Service agents who were happy to see him. Harvath had always been well respected and popular around the White House, but after he had saved the lives of both President Rutledge and his daughter, Amanda, his reputation had taken on mythic proportions. Though he had made brief visits to the White House since the kidnapping ordeal, he had been largely unaccounted for as he continued his search for those involved. All but an enlightened few were under the impression that he had been on an extended leave of absence due to the injuries he had suffered rescuing the president. Harvath did nothing to dissuade his friends and coworkers from that opinion.

In the duty room, Harvath found the three people he was looking for. Sitting around one of the square Formica tables drinking coffee and enjoying their break were Agents Kate Palmer, Chris Longo, and Tom Hollenbeck. All three had been on active duty with Harvath when the president’s kidnapping had taken place and had been equally involved in the frantic search and rescue efforts for their fellow agents and the civilians trapped beneath the avalanche triggered by the kidnappers.

Hollenbeck was the first to see Harvath standing in the doorway. “Whoa!” he roared. “Would ya look at what the cat dragged in.” Both Palmer and Longo turned to see whom Hollenbeck was talking about.

Harvath walked up to the table and set down the biggest box of chocolates any of them had ever seen. “Good afternoon, lady and…”

“I think the word you’re looking for is gentlemen,” said Longo after Harvath’s pregnant pause.

“No. The word I am looking for is definitely not gentlemen,” he said as he put an affectionate hand on Kate Palmer’s shoulder. “Palmer, I brought these back from Switzerland for you. I remember what happened when you came back from Europe one time and left some chocolate in here.”

“Yeah, all of you pigs ate it,” said Palmer.

“Not me,” said Longo, who had already opened the box and was choosing his favorite pieces. “I hate chocolate.”

“What did I tell you, Scot? Never trust anyone who says they don’t like chocolate,” replied Palmer as she yanked the box away from Longo before he could remove any more pieces.

“You were all very helpful to me during the situation, and I thought the least I could do was bring something back for you from overseas.” “Situation” was how the staff around the White House quietly referred to President Rutledge’s kidnapping.

“Hey, you brought the president back safely and that’s the best thing any of us could have asked for,” said Hollenbeck.

“Though chocolate runs a close second,” offered Palmer as she began sorting through the box.

“Speaking of seconds,” continued Hollenbeck, who had been named interim director of White House Secret Service Operations. “When are you coming back to work? I’m starting to get tired of keeping your seat warm for you.”

“Don’t listen to him,” said Longo. “You could stay away for another six months and it wouldn’t bother him a bit. I think the power has gone right to his head.”

“There’s nothing worse than people who only feel bitterness and jealousy as their betters zip past them on the ladder of success,” replied Hollenbeck.

“See what I mean?” responded Longo. “And you know what? On top of it all, he’s become quite arrogant.”

“Arrogant? Me? Palmer, you’ve got to come to my defense here. Tell Harvath I am the same old Tom Hollenbeck you’ve always known and loved.”

“Well,” she began slowly, “loved is a pretty strong word.”

“Okay then, known,” he replied.

“Jeez, Tom — wait I’m sorry — Jeez, Mr. Interim Director — that is the way you told us all to address you, isn’t it?” she joked.

“I can’t believe this,” cried Hollenbeck. “Every time I turn around, another knife in the back!”

“Well, I’m glad nothing’s changed around here,” said Harvath as he joined his friends at their table.

They made small talk until it was time for Harvath’s meeting. When he got up to leave, Palmer asked, “So, what’s the deal? When are you coming back to work?”

He was as honest with her as he could be and said, “Right now, I don’t know.”

They all shook hands and wished each other well as Harvath left to make his way to the situation room downstairs. It wasn’t unusual for President Rutledge to conduct his more sensitive meetings in this room. It was one of the few places in the entire building where he knew he wouldn’t be disturbed unless there was a dire emergency or matter of grave national consequence.

Though both of the Marines standing guard outside the situation room knew him, they still closely examined the credentials hanging from around Harvath’s neck. Even a facility as secure as the White House had decided that it could use a few improvements. Nothing was left to chance, and things were done strictly by the book. After waiting a few moments outside, Harvath was told he could enter. He heard a click and then the faint hiss of the situation room’s seal and door lock being released.

The first person to stand and greet him was President Jack Rutledge himself. “Scot, it’s good to see you,” said the president as he offered him his hand, which Harvath shook carefully. He was happy to see the president using it again. The kidnappers had cut off one of his fingers and sent it to the former vice president as a threat.

“It is good to see you too, Mr. President,” replied Harvath. “How is the hand?”

“So far so good. We’ll see how I do when pheasant season rolls around. That’ll be the real test.”

“You outshot so many of us last year, Mr. President, we were hoping you might take up a different sport. It’s embarrassing for a lot of the agents that you can shoot better than they can.”

“You weren’t embarrassed, though, were you, Scot?”

“No, sir.”

“And why was that?”

“Because I brought down three more birds than you did.”

“Ah, ah. Let’s tell the truth here. You only brought down two more than me. The third one, supposedly went down somewhere in the woods. As it was never found, you couldn’t rightfully count it, could you?”

“No, Mr. President. I couldn’t. But I know I hit that bird. If I’d only had a better dog—”

“Stop right there, Agent Harvath. I spent a lot of money and a lot of time training those dogs, and I won’t have you disparage my fine pedigreed animals.”

“Fine pedigreed animals? No offense, Mr. President, but Crackle is so lazy, he won’t even chase cars. He just sits on the South Lawn and jots down license plate numbers.”

The other attendees gathered in the situation room began laughing. It was a brief but welcome respite. They hadn’t had anything to laugh about in a while. Harvath had gotten the last word and the president knew it. He slapped him on the back and showed Harvath to his seat. “I believe you know the rest of the gentlemen present,” said the president as he motioned around the table. Indeed he did.

Harvath nodded in turn to FBI director Sorce, CIA director Vaile, Homeland Security director Dreihaus, Secret Service director Jameson, and deputy FBI director Gary Lawlor. Harvath had been expecting to meet with just the president and Director Jameson to discuss his new White House position. With all of the additional people present, he had a feeling he was here to discuss something entirely different. Part of him wondered if he was going to be taken to task for spiriting Meg Cassidy out of Egypt, but he knew he had done the right thing and decided not to stress about it. Harvath knew President Rutledge didn’t like to waste time and would get to the point soon enough.

“First of all,” began the president, “I want to commend Agent Harvath for what, in my opinion, was a job extremely well done. I’ve read the after-action reports of both the Delta and SAS commanders and think you prevented a very bad situation from getting worse. It’s precisely this ability to assess and appropriately react to hostile situations that has made you such an asset to the Secret Service and the White House.”

Harvath was uncomfortable with such fulsome praise, especially when bestowed by the president in front of so many other people, but he accepted it humbly. “Thank you, Mr. President.”

“Now, moving forward,” continued the president. “I will be convening a meeting this evening of the National Security Council to discuss the escalating tensions in the Mideast and tightening the net around Hashim Nidal by applying direct pressure to anyone who is known to be harboring or assisting him, or any other members of his organization. I don’t want to talk right now about how this hijacking happened. I plan to take that issue up later. What I do want to talk about is how we’re going to get Nidal back in the crosshairs before he pushes the Middle East into all-out war. With that said, I’m all ears.”

CIA director Vaile cleared his throat and waited for the president to nod in his direction before he spoke. “Mr. President, as you are aware, it was the CIA who gave birth to Operation Phantom and who initiated the hunt for—”

“Director Vaile, the clock is ticking. Don’t waste my time telling me things I already know. How are we going to stop Hashim Nidal before he strikes again?” commanded the president.

Vaile’s nuts were in a vise. Not only had his agency been behind the curve in discovering the existence of Hashim Nidal, but they had let him slip through their grasp in Cairo. If Vaile wasn’t very careful, the vise would begin to tighten real quick.

“Pinpointing the whereabouts of Nidal and his base of operations so we can take them out is the highest priority of all our agents right now, both at Langley and in the field.”

“Which brings us to Ms. Meg Cassidy, correct?” asked the president.

Upon hearing her name, Harvath leaned into the table.

“Exactly, Mr. President,” continued Vaile. “As she is the only known person outside of his organization to have ever seen him and survived, she is of the utmost importance to the success of Operation Phantom.”

“So what’s the problem?” asked the president.

“Yesterday, we sent operatives to Chicago to conduct a follow-up with her—”

“And?”

“Well, as I explained to you previously, Mr. President, Ms. Cassidy is reluctant to cooperate.”

“Do you suppose The Washington Post piece had anything to do with it?” asked Harvath.

“Agent Harvath,” said Vaile as he turned in his chair to face him, “The Washington Post article is part of a calculated effort to discredit Hashim Nidal on the world stage and thereby—”

“Destabilize his organization, which will hopefully slow him down long enough for us to nail him. I know you thought all of this out very well, but did you ever think about what Meg Cassidy wants? Have you asked her if she wants to be front and center in your PR blitz?”

The president discreetly signaled for Harvath to back off and Scot immediately fell silent. Director Vaile, though, continued with his justification, “Frankly, being a high-profile PR person, we didn’t figure Ms. Cassidy for someone who shied away from media exposure, of any kind. What’s more, it isn’t as if we, or she, have any choice in the matter. Our psychological operations people are convinced that the PR angle will help and that it needs to remain an adjunct of any ongoing strategy we pursue.”

“I am sure your people are doing the absolute best they can,” said the president as he steered the conversation away from Meg Cassidy and toward other pressing elements of the operation. “Let’s talk about a timetable and what assets you need called into play.”

When the president concluded the meeting, he thanked the participants for coming and asked FBI deputy director Lawlor and Agent Harvath to remain behind.

Once the other members had left the room and the door sealed shut behind them, the president spoke once again. “I hope you both know me well enough to know that I am not a fan of back-biting or infighting. I don’t approve of it in my party, and I don’t approve of it within our intelligence community. That being said, what I am most concerned about here is results. This doesn’t leave this room, Agent Harvath, but I’m not as impressed with Director Vaile’s operations as I might lead him to think.

“The world has become a much more dangerous place over the last several weeks. The Hand of God attacks have pushed the entire Mideast region to the brink of war. This morning I was briefed by the chairman of the Joint Chiefs who presented me with a stack of satellite photos showing that Iran, Syria, and Egypt have realigned troops and equipment on their borders indicating a potential attack on Israel.

“It’s like a puddle of gasoline and everyone is dancing around with lit matches — including the Israelis. What worries me the most is that Hashim Nidal’s organization has made it clear they intend to drop the first match. That’s all it would take at this point to set things off, and we have no idea where he is or what he is planning.

“If the CIA wasn’t so deep into this investigation already with so many assets in place, I would seriously think about putting you in more of a leadership position. As it stands now, though, this is going to have to remain the CIA’s show, so I am going to ask you to try to cooperate with your fellow operatives.” The president could see Harvath was about to speak up and raised his hand again to stop him. “As I said, I read both after-action reports. I don’t take issue with anything you did. As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t change a thing, but I do want you to start respecting their chain of command. You can walk softly and still carry a big stick, just lighten up from using it on CIA personnel all the time. Okay?”

“Yes, Mr. President. I understand,” replied Harvath.

“Good. Now, I want to tell you why I stopped you from going after DCI Vaile on the Meg Cassidy issue. In a nutshell, we need Meg Cassidy’s help.”

“I don’t understand what the problem is,” said Harvath.

“The problem,” answered the president, “is that Meg Cassidy doesn’t want to cooperate with us.”

“ ‘Us’ who? The United States Government?”

“More to the point, the CIA.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. Don’t make her work with them.”

“And who would you suggest she work with?”

“Delegate the task of identifying Hashim Nidal to another agency like the DOD,” replied Harvath. “We’ve got a war going against terrorism, so having her interface with the Department of Defense would make complete sense. It’ll upset the CTC people a bit, but all they were going to do was have her sift through pictures and descriptions from the world’s top terrorist databases anyway. The DOD can access those.

“You begin at the top and work your way down. For starters, there’s the German Kommissar system. That one has backgrounds on countless suspected and known terrorists worldwide, including photographs, fingerprints, dental records, voiceprints, and a ton of other data. All Defense has to do is narrow the parameters of the search so she’s not reviewing material she doesn’t need to see.

“Next on the list, like it or not, the CIA will have to allow the DOD access to their DESIST database. There’s also the State Department’s international terrorist database, and then the FBI’s Terrorist Information System. If there’s a record of this guy anywhere, they’ll find it.”

“That all makes perfect sense, but unfortunately it’s not that easy,” said the president. “First of all, we don’t have time to transfer the investigation to another agency and secondly, we’re not just talking about sitting Meg Cassidy in front of a computer monitor and flashing digital mug shots at her. The CIA needs to recruit her.”

“Recruit her? What for?”

“Director Vaile feels they’re close to nailing the exact location of Hashim Nidal’s base of operations.”

“So then we insert a Special Ops team to direct fire, bring in some fast movers, and smoke the entire place. End of story.”

“Nope. Not end of story. We will need confirmation that we have not only devastated his training camp, but that we are taking out the man himself. For that we need a positive on-site ID, and Meg Cassidy is the only person who can make that identification.”

“But she’s a civilian.”

“Which is precisely why the CIA needs to train her. She’s going to have to insert with a team, go along as they conduct the operation, and get out.”

“And that team would be Operation Phantom under the command of Rick Morrell.”

“That’s it.”

“Well, now I’m not so confused anymore. Not only is it extremely dangerous, but it’s got to scare a civilian half to death.”

“That’s probably not the only reason this is distasteful for her,” added Lawlor.

“Now is probably a good time for you to contribute your part, Gary. Why don’t you go ahead.”

“Thank you, Mr. President,” responded Lawlor before continuing. “Scot, as the president said, the CIA’s reasons for approaching Ms. Cassidy were sound, but their methods weren’t. From what I have been able to gather from the CIA’s inner agency reports—”

“I don’t want to bog us down, but before we go any further, can you please explain what the FBI’s interest in Meg Cassidy is and why the FBI’s deputy director is reviewing CIA inner agency reports?” asked Harvath.

Lawlor looked to the president, who nodded his head. “I am not directly operating on this in my capacity as deputy director right now.”

“Then how are you operating on this?”

“As part of the FBI’s restructuring, the president has suggested the creation of a unit to implement what is being referred to as our new strike-first policy. While I will consult with the FBI from time to time, I will report directly to the president,” said Lawlor.

“About what?”

“In a sense, I’m a consultant at this point, trying to help figure out how to better defend our country. There are certain operations, such as Operation Phantom, that I have taken an interest in. The president has agreed to let me be involved in a supervisory capacity. That’s all I am going to say at this point.”

Harvath knew Lawlor well enough to know not to push for more information. Even as a Secret Service agent granted an extreme amount of latitude by the president of the United States, he was not on a direct need-to-know basis on this one, and so he kept his mouth shut.

Lawlor took Harvath’s silence as an indication to continue and did. “From what I can gather, Morrell put the squeeze on Meg Cassidy for information on Nidal the minute he discovered she had seen his face.”

“I can verify it. He wasn’t about to let her alone until I stepped in. I had to fight to get her medical attention.”

“Okay, I’ve skimmed the lengthy transcript of your debriefing at Langley with Frank Mraz yesterday, so I understand you spent most of the flight back to Chicago talking with her. You then had lunch together and she saw you off?”

“That was it. She had caught a couple of naps on the plane and was pretty tired. So was I. That was pretty much it.”

“Do you think she likes you?” asked Lawlor as he placed his elbows on the table and leaned in toward Harvath.

“Likes me? What does that have to do with anything?”

“A lot, potentially.”

“I suppose so. But I think it was nothing more than appreciation.”

“I think it might be more than that.”

“Even if it was, which I doubt, so what?”

“Scot, we need Meg Cassidy on board immediately. The CIA wants to get her started with their File of International Terrorist Events right away. Their analysts are hoping that with her help, they can crawl a little bit deeper into Nidal’s head and forecast his future behavior.”

“Maybe they should try sending her flowers.”

“Nothing they do at this point is going to work. She doesn’t trust them. She thinks they used her as bait with that attack on the hospital.”

“In a sense,” said Harvath, “they did use her as bait.”

“There was no way they could have ever expected Nidal would come gunning for her. They figured he had gone to ground or was trying to make his way out of the country. On top of it all, they had reliable information from Ms. Cassidy herself that she had shot him.”

“They still should have expected it. I would have. You expect the unexpected in this business. By the way, did you get my message about protection for Meg Cassidy?”

“Yes, and we were already one step ahead of you. The Chicago field office is keeping an eye on her.”

“Good.”

“Listen, Scot, as far as all of this is concerned, we can’t change what the CIA has done. That’s in the past. What we need is to convince Ms. Cassidy to work with us now, and that’s what we want you to talk to her about,” said Lawlor.

“Me? What do you want me to tell her? I can’t stand Morrell and his people.”

“That’s precisely it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Think about it. Meg Cassidy knows you don’t harbor any warm and fuzzy feelings for the CIA. What’s more, you saved her life and saw that she was safely taken care of. You’re the perfect person to convince her. She’ll trust you.”

“You want me to use that trust against her?”

“Look at the bigger picture here. Thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of lives could be riding on this. We have no way of telling. We don’t want you to shanghai Meg Cassidy. On the contrary, she needs to participate of her own free will. We want her to see things from your perspective — why you’re doing this and what’s at stake for you personally.”

“I don’t think she’ll relate to my motives,” said Harvath as he reflected on them.

“We know that you’re motivated by a deep love and concern for your country. Most of the staff at the White House still joke that Mel Gibson had to come to you to get the rights to use the name The Patriot for his movie.”

Harvath hated that joke. He didn’t see himself as any more patriotic than any of the other people he had served with in the SEALs or in the Secret Service. Asking Meg to put her life on the line to prove her patriotism didn’t seem like a fair proposition.

“All we’re saying,” continued Lawlor, “is that you should be honest with her. If you don’t care for Morrell and his people, feel free to let her know. This is a woman who can smell a spin from a mile away. Just don’t go too over the top. We trust you to say what is necessary to bring her in.”

“As a civilian,” injected the president, “she would also be eligible for a portion of the reward on Nidal. It would be done quietly, but it would be available to her if she wanted it, nonetheless.”

“I don’t think that would matter to her,” replied Harvath.

“Whether it matters or not, she deserves to know it exists,” said the president.

Harvath thought about Lawlor’s proposal for a moment before asking, “Would I participate in her training?”

“As the president said,” answered Lawlor, “this is the CIA’s baby, but I can’t see why you wouldn’t participate, can you, Mr. President?”

“I can’t either,” replied the president. “There is nobody I trust more or who is more capable than you to see to her safety. Let’s not forget, this is a highly unprecedented and potentially explosive operation. We’re taking a civilian and fast-tracking her through training so that she can participate in a top-secret covert operation. When it’s all said and done, I want Meg Cassidy delivered home without so much as a scratch on her. This is an American hero we’re talking about here. The public would be outraged if any harm came to her. You do whatever it takes. We’re asking a lot from this woman, and I want you to protect her with the same degree of vigilance you would protect me. And, lest we forget why we’re even having this conversation, I want Hashim Nidal to cease being a problem for us, and the rest of the world.”

That was all Scot Harvath needed to hear. He had been given a direct order by his commander in chief. It was not a question of if he could convince Meg Cassidy to come on board. He absolutely had to. Hashim Nidal was to be taken out and Meg Cassidy returned home without harm. The president had handed him quite an assignment. The only question Harvath had at that point was, “When do I leave?”

“Tonight,” said Lawlor as he slid an envelope with cash and plane tickets across the situation room table to him.