No Fortunate Son (Pike Logan, #7)(48)

This was after the update itself had turned into a feeding frenzy.

After each section and department completed the status of current activities, Gerald, the secretary of Homeland Security, had briefed that Grant Breedlove was on the trail like a bloodhound and getting close.

Hearing the news, the table of men had broken into a heated discussion, all centered on who the leaker could be. Gerald began to state his theory when President Warren stopped the verbal dance with a raised hand. He’d said, “Okay, we can discuss how he got the initial lead all day long, but the facts are what they are. The leaker is secondary. Breedlove going to press is a bigger threat than the hostage-takers right now. What do we do?”

Kerry, the D/CIA, had said, “Bring pressure to bear. Pull him in. One on one.”

Billings, the secretary of state, said, “That’ll only confirm he’s on the right trail. It won’t stop the story. We’ve seen what they do with this sort of thing. They play games of ‘wanting to get both sides,’ but only want the information.”

Kerry said, “He’s going to get the information. We can’t stop that. Unless you want to start faking email traffic.”

President Warren said, “What about that? Can we do it?”

Palmer said, “Sir, in short, yes we can. But that’s a slippery slope. We’re talking Nixon-type stuff here now. We’ll never be able to keep it contained. Sooner or later, someone is going to know.”

Warren said, “Honestly, if we get them home alive, I don’t really care.”

“Sir, I understand the sentiment, but if we do that, and word gets out, we’ll be asking for similar hostage events in the future. It’s the whole reason we have a ‘don’t negotiate with terrorists’ stance. You can’t say it and then be proved a hypocrite. You’ll be setting up future administrations for failure.”

President Warren slammed his fist into the table and said, “I don’t give a damn about what might occur in the future. I care about the here and now. And that damn reporter is going to severely restrict our ability to operate. Both on our side and on the terrorists’ side. Right now, they’re communicating directly with us. They’ve made no overt propaganda statements, which means they don’t want the publicity any more than we do.”

Nobody said a word, letting the president’s outburst settle. Kerry broke the silence, saying, “Will no one rid me of this meddlesome priest?”

His words hung in the room, some men looking confused but others understanding exactly what he meant.

Kurt leaned over to George Wolffe and whispered, “What the hell is he talking about?”

George said, “Don’t remember your high school world history? In the twelfth century, King Henry II’s authority was challenged by the priest Thomas Becket. Henry said those words, apparently just venting. The men present took it as a command and assassinated Becket.”

President Warren drew back and said, “Do not misconstrue my words. I am not giving orders.” He looked from man to man, making eye contact with each, then said, “Nobody is to interfere in anything that reporter does. Understand?”

He finished the table glare with his eyes on Kerry, the director of the CIA. Kerry simply nodded, and Kurt wondered how far out they had gone.

Billings said, “So what are we going to do?”

“Nothing. Let it ride. We continue with what we’re doing and pray to God we beat him. Period.”

The rest of the meeting was more mundane discussion, and after it broke up, Kurt had waited, knowing Palmer would read his report. He’d watched Palmer’s eyes squint, then glance his way. He’d seen him lean over to the president and whisper. Then waited for the inevitable.

The people had cleared the room, leaving only Palmer, George, and Kurt. Palmer had said, “Kurt, interesting report.”

“I thought it would get your attention.”

“The president would like a word.”

Kurt had followed Palmer the short distance to the Oval Office, continuing what would prove to be one of the most difficult days of his life.

He entered, seeing President Warren behind the Resolute desk in the Oval Office. Looking as if he had no patience for more bad news.

Palmer took a seat on the couch parallel to the desk, appearing weary and rubbing his eyes. Kurt remained standing.

President Warren said, “Well, are you going to explain yourself or wait for me to call the Justice Department to arrest your ass for breaking about a hundred laws and disobeying my orders?”

Kurt took a breath and said, “It’s exactly like I reported. My niece disappeared in England. Pike was cut free and couldn’t help with the current issue—a mistake, I might add. Anyway, I paid for his trip to England to find her. As it turns out, she was on a date with Nicholas Seacrest. The vice president’s son.”

“You expect me to believe that? Pike stumbled on Nick’s trail by following your niece?”

“Sir, I’m not sure what to believe. All I can tell you is where the trail is going. Pike isn’t making this up. Shit, I didn’t even read him onto the problem. He didn’t know where Nick worked or where he was taken. He figured all of that out on his own.”

President Warren threw the report on his desk and said, “Pike Logan. Bane of my existence. That man could find trouble in a Girl Scout cookie sale.”