The First Commandment

CHAPTER 71

Jack Rutledge prided himself on his ability to read his people. When Charles Anderson was shown into the residence, the president knew he hadn’t arrived bearing good news.

“We’ve got a problem, sir,” said Anderson, confirming the president’s suspicions.

Rutledge closed the report he’d been skimming and motioned for his chief of staff to take a seat. “What is it?”

“I just heard from Director Vaile. His team managed to take Harvath into custody.”

“That should be good news. What’s the problem?”

“Harvath escaped.”

“He what?” demanded Rutledge. “How the hell did that happen?”

“It’ll all be in the DCI’s briefing,” replied Anderson, “but there’s more.”

“How much more?”

The chief of staff lowered his voice. “Before he escaped, Harvath was debriefed about his recent trip to Jordan. Apparently, he was able to lure Abdel Salam Najib out of Syria to Amman.”

The president could feel his chest constricting. “Harvath killed him. Didn’t he?”

“Yes, sir, he did.”

“God damn it!” Rutledge bellowed. “First Palmera and now Najib. When their people realize what’s happening they’re going to strike back. We need to assemble the National Security Council.”

The president had his work cut out for him. He knew there was no way the United States could provide continuous protection for every single school bus in the nation. It wasn’t just a logistical nightmare; it would also create widespread panic. American citizens would rightly wonder if school buses weren’t safe from terrorists, what was. Would movie theaters be safe? Would shopping malls? How about public transportation? Should they even keep their children in school? Should they even be going in to work?

The specter of terrorism, especially when given weight and legitimacy by the government, had an amazingly corrosive effect on society. The president had read the classified reports on the impact of the D.C. sniper shootings and had studied the extrapolations of how quickly the U.S. economy would suffer if a similar threat was played out nationwide. After the economic ramifications began to unfold, the societal problems would erupt. If law enforcement couldn’t bring the perpetrators to justice, citizens would begin to take matters into their own hands. Hate crimes would spike, and groups who felt they were being persecuted would begin to strike back. If the situation was not addressed quickly and effectively, rioting would ensue. In a word, the situation would devolve into anarchy. The psychological effects of terrorism were absolutely insidious.

The president’s chief of staff interrupted his thoughts by saying, “There’s also something else we need to talk about.”

Rutledge shook his head as if to say What else could there be?

“A reporter from the Baltimore Sun contacted Geoff Mitchell’s office for a statement on a story he’s about to run. As you know, being the White House press secretary, Geoff gets asked a lot of wild, conspiracyesque questions, but this reporter has his teeth into something. Geoff’s afraid it could get some traction if not put down immediately with a direct repudiation from you.”

“What’s the story?”

“The reporter is going to claim that you authorized the removal of a John Doe corpse from the Maryland Medical Examiner’s Office to dupe the people of Charleston, South Carolina, into believing that their school bus hijacker had been shot and killed.”

Rutledge gritted his teeth and grabbed the arms of his chair. “Where the hell did that story come from?”

“At this point, sir, it doesn’t much matter. What matters is that it’s pretty damaging, and he’s going to also allege the White House was complicit in a homicide.”

“A homicide? What homicide?”

“According to this guy Sheppard, a Maryland assistant medical examiner and one of his investigators were approached by two men posing as FBI agents who told them to leave the case alone. Shortly thereafter they were killed in a traffic accident.”

The president was livid. “Why the hell wasn’t I told about this?”

Anderson shrugged his shoulders and said, “I assume you’ll have to ask Director Vaile that.”

“Get him over here right now,” ordered Rutledge. “And after I get to the bottom of this with him, I want to talk to Geoff. We absolutely cannot let that story run.”

“Do you still want me to assemble the NSC?”

The president thought about it for a moment and replied. “I want the confirmation on Najib directly from Vaile. Then I’ll decide what our next move should be.”

The chief of staff nodded and disappeared.

Once he was gone, Rutledge drilled his thumbs into his temples. He could feel a monster migraine coming on. Things were spinning so wildly out of control that they were starting to fly off the track. He didn’t want to even think of what might happen next. Deep down, though, he knew that things were going to get much worse before they even had a prayer of getting better.