No Fortunate Son (Pike Logan, #7)(30)

I said, “Yes, sir. That’s exactly what I’m asking. The Eagle is her last known location. I need the footage to see who she was with.”

He said, “You mean she was on a date with someone? That’s why you want it?”

“Yeah. And that brings up the second thing. I think I know who she was with, but I’m getting the runaround by the military here.”

“Military? What do you mean?”

“I think she went on a date to the Eagle with a Tech Sergeant Seacrest from Molesworth, but they’re telling me he’s on leave. And they’re doing it in a weird way. I got a full-court press from a bunch of Chairborne Rangers when I asked about him. All top brass.”

I heard nothing but breathing. I said, “Sir? You there?”

“What was the name?”

“Technical Sergeant Nicholas Seacrest. He’s apparently a weatherman here. I need to talk to him. I need you to put some pressure on the NIFC.”

I heard an explosion of air, then, “Jesus Christ. Kylie’s been taken by terrorists.”

I said, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Nick Seacrest is the vice president’s son.”






19




Kurt hung up the phone, thinking through the ramifications. He heard his name called and saw George Wolffe at the entrance to the West Wing of the White House, where he’d left him when his cell had rung.

“We’re going to be late. I thought you wanted to slip in unnoticed to this meeting. You keep stalling, and you’re going to end up interrupting the briefing with all eyes on you.”

Kurt waved him over, out of earshot of the security at the entrance. He handed George the simple manila folder in his hand. “I’m thinking of skipping this one and sending you in alone.”

“Whoa. Not a good idea. The president called it. You’re not briefing or anything.” He held up the folder. “All you have to do is hand this to Palmer.”

Exactly as George had predicted, the meetings had escalated outside of the small circle that knew about the Taskforce. The president had grown tired with the stovepipe and separate meetings and had scheduled an update briefing in the White House Situation Room. In attendance would be every big shot in the US government, from Homeland Security to the “Gang of Eight” from the House and Senate Intelligence Committees. The majority were not read onto the existence of the Taskforce—much less its activities—so Kurt had been tasked with providing a hard-copy situation report to be hand-carried to Alexander Palmer, the national security advisor. After that, he was supposed to be nothing more than a fly on the wall at the back of the room.

The report itself summarized current Taskforce operations for the missing hostages, which was to say it was a single sheet of paper delineating very little. The only clear lead they had was a ferry receipt from Morocco, but so far Knuckles had turned up zero.

Kurt said, “That call was from Pike. He’s found something out about Kylie. He has a thread.”

“That’s great. Let him work it, and let’s get our asses into the briefing room before it fills up and someone wants to question who we are.”

As the national security advisor, Palmer had given them cover as members of the NSC watch team, a thirty-man cell that maintained 24/7 operations inside the Situation Room, but that cover would work only if they were at the back, in the cheap seats. Not if they interrupted the briefing as it was in progress, like a couple of prima donnas.

Kurt said, “George, the thread runs through the vice president’s son.”

George’s mouth opened and nothing came out. Kurt didn’t wait for him to speak, giving him what little he knew.

George took in the information, then said, “We have to tell Palmer.”

Kurt shook his head in frustration. “How? I can’t brief in that room, and the information isn’t on this hard copy. I’m not even sure it’s real. On top of that, it’s f*cking Pike. How am I going to brief the Oversight Council that the one lead we have is from a man they expressly forbade me from using on Taskforce operations? They’ll fire me on the spot.”

George smiled. “No they won’t. Not if it pans out. Nobody argues with success.”

“That’s just it. That ass-hat Billings will blow a gasket and demand something stupid, like recalling Pike and throwing other assets at the problem. They’ll screw up the one lead we have. They’ll get Kylie killed. There won’t be any success.”

George heard the words, now seeing what was really weighing on Kurt’s mind. He said, “Okay, look, we let Pike explore. Get the surveillance tapes, see if it’s real. If it is, we redirect someone else. Maybe Knuckles. Let them start the chase and then brief the council. Control the mission and preempt any shenanigans. Either way, if it’s real, we have to brief.”

Kurt started walking toward the entrance to the West Wing, saying, “What a mess.”

George fell into step behind him and said, “Well, I have to hand it to you. Sending Pike was a stroke of genius. That guy is a magnet for finding bad things.”

They signed in at the entrance, received their badges, and wound their way through the lobby, skirting by the groups starting to form outside the Situation Room, Kurt recognizing several faces as guests from Sunday news shows. Men and women he’d never met in real life. George took a seat at the back while Kurt walked up to Palmer, interrupting his discussion with the director of the CIA.