“It’s the safest place for her, Ryan. They bumped up the threat level again, you know; we’re at red now, a ‘severe’ risk of terrorist activity, whatever the hell that means. You should probably just send her home.”
Kealey shrugged. “I like having her around, and I’m worried about her being at the house all alone. Besides, she already called the university and dropped her classes for the semester. I tried to talk her out of it, but she said she needed a break anyway. I can hardly send her back to Maine now.”
“Yeah, well…” All of a sudden, Harper looked uncomfortable. Ryan wondered why, but the other man had already changed the subject. “Listen, I want your opinion on something. What do you think about adding March to the Bureau’s list of Most Wanted Terrorists? The idea keeps popping up.”
The younger man shook his head immediately. “You said it yourself, John. That would cause a huge uproar in the media and it probably won’t get you any closer to catching him. There’s no way you can do that quietly.”
Harper took a sip of wine and nodded thoughtfully. “The president agrees with you.” Ryan looked up sharply and Jonathan continued: “The director was asked—and by that I mean ordered—to appear before the National Security Council two days ago. You can probably guess that it wasn’t for a pat on the back.”
“I’ll bet.”
Harper shrugged. “To be fair, he wasn’t singled out; the top people over at Customs, Homeland Security, and the Bureau got the same kind of chilly reception. Nevertheless, our mandate puts us in the spotlight on this one.”
Ryan thought about that for a second. “I don’t see how,” he finally said. “The fact that March managed to sneak himself and 50 pounds of SEMTEX H into the country can hardly be blamed on the Agency.”
“You’re missing the point, Ryan. Discovering the link between March, Al-Qaeda, and Iran did fall on us, and the consensus on the Hill is that we should have done it a lot sooner. Either way, the NSC advises that we are now the lead agency responsible for tracking down Jason March. Moreover, they want it done quietly.”
“Oh, well, that’s all right, then,” Kealey said drily. “I thought they might be asking something difficult.”
Harper ignored the sarcasm. “I’ve been batting some ideas around with Director Andrews. The only thing we can agree on is that March is the closest thing to a weak link the organization has. After all, he’s the only one going back and forth, leaving a trail with every step he takes—”
“Which we haven’t been able to pick up on,” Ryan reminded him.
Harper tilted his head slightly, seemingly conceding the point. “That’s not entirely true. As far as Senator Levy goes, we still have nothing. You’re right about that. The vehicle was rented under a fake name, of course, and the FBI hasn’t been able to dredge anything up on the launcher that March dropped in the Haupt Garden. The rain washed away any prints there might have been on the weapon, which is why we didn’t get a positive ID right off the bat. We might have something in the bombing, though. I got a call this morning from Virginia. A DEA agent based at the Norfolk office was trying to crack a drugs-for-guns ring being run out of a waterfront bar, of all places. Anyway, his informer sees Michael Shakib’s face spread all over CNN and tells the agent that he’d seen Shakib meeting with someone in the bar two weeks earlier. He said he only remembered because they got into an argument, and the owner told them to take it outside.”
“Who was Shakib talking to?”
“Guy by the name of Elgin, Thomas Elgin. He’s a piece of shit—his sheet makes for extensive, if unimpressive, reading. Even worse, he’s a registered sex offender. Raped a thirteen-year-old girl back in 1990, did ten years in Marion for it. You have to wonder why March would deal with a man like that, directly or indirectly.”
“If you’re looking for someone to move explosives into the country, you can’t be too picky,” Ryan said.
Harper had noticed the expression that came over Kealey’s face when he mentioned the rape part. He was well aware of how Ryan dealt with such people. “March must have been pretty confident. I wonder why he didn’t just try to get the explosives here.”
“There’s a lot of risk associated with the entire process if you go that route,” Kealey said. “First, you have to find what you’re looking for in the quantities you need. If you want C4, the best bet is going to be a military facility or a construction site. Either way, security is going to be tight, and the theft is going to be reported immediately. If you try to buy it through a third party, you could be walking into an ATF sting. On the other hand, port security is almost nonexistent in places like West Africa. Then you only have to worry about U.S. Customs and the Coast Guard on our side of the pond. The risk is confined to one part of the operation. No, I think he definitely had to bring it in.”
“Well, this guy Elgin might be able to tell you more. He’s a load-master at the Norfolk International Terminals, working directly with the cargo coming off container vessels. It’s the only lead we’ve got.”
“It sounds weak. What do you mean, ‘tell me more’?”
“It means I want you to go to Virginia,” Harper said. Ryan started to speak, but the other man lifted a hand to stop him. “I know, I know. Let me explain something to you. The president is out of options. The U.N. won’t support an air strike, but the public is demanding a response. He’s in a tight spot, so he was pretty receptive to new ideas when the director showed him your file. Ryan, the president is scared of Jason March. He’s scared of the man’s capabilities, his connections, and his willingness to kill Americans. Brenneman wants somebody who can work fast and get results. The logic is flawed; he thinks that if March can be found, then Al-Qaeda’s ability to operate will be seriously hindered. He also thinks that March might lead you right down the snake hole. It’s unrealistic, I know, but Director Andrews is willing to humor him. They want you to go after him.” Kealey didn’t say anything for a moment. His face was empty as Harper waited for a reaction. “Ryan—”
“I remember when you asked me to look at some videotapes, John.”
Now it was Harper’s turn to fall silent as he stared into his empty wineglass. He could hear sounds of laughter from the two women downstairs, but it seemed much farther away than the actual distance allowed. “Listen—”
“No, you listen. You know I’ll do it—that’s why I’m here. We’ve known each other for a long time, ever since I was in the service and running jobs for your department. That’s too long to bullshit each other. You should have told me the way it was from the very start. Barring that…I mean, come on, John. At the very least, you should have known that I would figure it out on my own. What I don’t appreciate is you trying to mislead me. I don’t ask for much, but I think I deserve better than that.”
“You’re right.” A brief pause. “I mean that. I have to deal with a lot of people, Ryan. Most don’t have the drive. Everything has to be spoon-fed to them…Sometimes I get caught up in that. I’m sorry.”
Kealey waved away the apology; he didn’t want to make a big speech, but the point had to be made. “Don’t worry about it. I just want you to be straight with me. That’s all I ask.”
That last statement caused a little smile to work its way across Harper’s face. “You’re looking for straight talk…I want you to work with Naomi Kharmai on this.”
The deputy director was surprised when Kealey did not immediately refuse. “In what capacity?”
“I don’t want her waving a gun around, if that’s what you’re worried about. She’s capable, Ryan. Her Arabic is better than yours, and I know you don’t have any Farsi. Besides, she’s…”—Harper was searching for the right word, but couldn’t find it—“a more acceptable representative of the Agency. She might