Extreme Measures

  “How bad?”

  “It depends.” Nash shrugged his shoulders, and then appeared to be lost in thought.

  “Buddy,” Harris said, “you can trust me.”

  “I know I can, I just don’t know if I want to lay this mess at your feet.”

  “We’ve talked about this before.” There was a clang as Charlie knocked over a blue FBI mug filled with pens. “That’s okay,” Harris said reassuringly and then looked back up at Nash. “I’m with you on this thing. I’m not going to break any laws on my end, but I’m not going to turn your ass in either.”

  “You need to be really careful on this. No electronic fingerprints…No paper trails. I’d prefer it if there weren’t any phone records.”

  “I know how to work the system. Tell me what you need.”

  Nash looked out the window for a moment and then said, “A friend of mine has gone missing.”

  “Good guy or bad guy?”

  “Good guy.”

  “How long?”

  “Not sure.”

  “When was the last time you heard from him?” Harris asked while he reached out and squeezed Charlie’s thigh.

  “Yesterday afternoon.”

  “That’s not very long.”

  Nash sighed. This was going to be hard to express, why he was so worried. He settled on saying, “Considering the circumstances…it’s an eternity.”

  Harris nodded. “You want me to check the morgue?”

  Nash hoped it wasn’t the case, but it had to be done. “You told me you had some buddies downtown…D.C. Metro.”

  “I know a bunch of guys down there. A few owe me some pretty big favors.”

  “Good. Just keep it real quiet. You don’t want this traced back to you.”

  “I know how to handle it. Just give me the basics.” Harris stuck out his big mitt, palm up, and said, “Charles, may I please use that pen?”

  Charlie looked at the pen and then carefully placed it in Harris’s hand. He smiled at his own accomplishment.

  Harris rubbed Charlie’s back and said, “You’re a smart little boy. Too smart for the Marines. You’ll have to go into the Navy like your uncle Artie.” Harris grabbed a sheet of paper and said, “Shoot.”

  Nash thought of a dozen off-color remarks he could make about the men who sailed the seven seas, but kept them to himself. Thinking about Johnson, he said, “Six feet tall, African American, approximately one hundred and eighty pounds.”

  “How old?”

  “Late twenties.”

  “Anything else?”

  “He has an Airborne tattoo on his left bicep.”

  “Name?”

  Nash shook his head.

  “All right. I’ll have a buddy of mine check the morgue for John Does.”

  “Thanks,” said Nash while plucking Charlie off the desk. If something had happened to Johnson, he would never forgive himself.

  “Don’t you have to get your ass downtown?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, good luck. Don’t take any shit from those peckers.”

  At the door Nash stopped and said, “I’m not the one who’s going to need it. Rapp’s the one they have in their sights today.”

  CHAPTER 57

  CAPITOL HILL

  RAPP stood in front of the witness table, his right hand in the air. He repeated after the committee staffer who swore him in. It was possibly the first time he’d ever taken the oath in front of this or any other committee, for that fact, where he actually planned on telling the truth. He knew this was one of the reasons so many of them hated him. His lack of respect drove their overfed egos wild. Professional parsers, bullshitters, and liars, they couldn’t get through a day without bending the truth in some drastic way, but God forbid someone come before their hallowed committee and do the same.

  When he was done he sat down and looked up at the nineteen senators arrayed before him. They were sitting in judgment behind a heavy wood bench that curved around him and back like a horseshoe. The Judiciary Committee was without a doubt the most partisan in the Senate, due almost solely to the abortion issue and the fact that, in addition to the myriad of issues they faced, the committee was also charged with the confirmation of federal judges. Unfortunately, it affected everything that came before the committee. Of the nineteen members a dozen could be considered the most radical in the Senate.

  Rapp was alone at the long witness table. He had chosen to make a statement that this problem started and ended with him. He had mixed feelings about how this was going to proceed. A very weary part of him had hoped they would be reckless enough to do this in front of the media. It would finally bring things to a head. It would force them to confront their lack of discipline and leadership. Anna would have loved that. His face being flashed all around the world would have all but assured that his days as a field operative would be done. In all the nights he’d been thinking about this, though, he knew they’d blink. These hearings were for show, and these vain men and women did not like to be embarrassed.

  Their chairman was moving this thing along faster than they were used to. She wanted Rapp in her crosshairs before he changed his mind and lawyered up. But there were others who simply didn’t like the idea of a hearing with so many unknowns. They were used to getting written testimony in advance—kind of like getting the answers to a test and then making up your own questions. The whole system was rigged to their advantage, and Rapp was looking forward to dropping a few surprises on them. This was the one silver lining of a closed hearing. They were far more likely to grant him some latitude. If the cameras were present, and they sensed anything embarrassing, they would rally around each other like a pack of hyenas, howling and snapping until the clamor reached such a level that it would drown out the words of the witness. In a closed-door session, he stood a far better chance of being able to finish a point, and hopefully get them to put party politics on hold.

  Chairman Lonsdale removed her reading glasses and set them in front of her. Rapp looked up and noticed that her demeanor had changed drastically during the fifteen-minute recess. The first ninety minutes of the morning had been spent hearing the testimony of Captain Leland, who had been flown back from Afghanistan. Lonsdale and her colleagues had treated him with the sensitivity a prosecutor would afford a rape victim. Now they were going to get their pound of flesh from the rapist.

  With a disapproving frown, Lonsdale said, “Mr. Rapp, I trust you paid close attention to Captain Leland’s testimony.”

  Rapp had been ordered to sit in the gallery during Leland’s testimony. “I did, Madam Chairman.”

  “I considered it to be very truthful, yet,” Lonsdale said as she held up a sheaf of documents, “quite in contradiction to the written statement you have provided us.”

  “Are you saying that you find my statement to be false?” Rapp asked.

  “I do, as a matter of fact. You look perfectly healthy, Mr. Rapp, whereas Captain Leland has obviously been physically assaulted.” Lonsdale gestured to Leland, who was now sitting in the sparsely populated gallery flanked by his two recently hired attorneys.

  Rapp looked over his shoulder at Leland, who was in his Air Force dress blue jacket and a matching sling. His head was tilted in a way that made his black eye impossible to miss. Rapp returned his attention to Lonsdale. “So without hearing my verbal testimony, you’ve already made up your mind?”

  “You will be given an opportunity to plead your case, but at this point it is obvious that you have an uphill battle, Mr. Rapp.”

  “Well, it certainly is reassuring to have such a fair and impartial chairman presiding over this hearing,” Rapp said in a voice full of sarcasm. “And you wonder why such an alarming number of people choose to exercise their Fifth Amendment right when called before this committee.”

  Lonsdale’s eyes narrowed, and she was about to respond to Rapp’s charge, when there was a commotion at the back of the room. Rapp resisted the urge to look over his shoulder, since this was the cue for the first
big surprise. Lonsdale and then every other senator turned their attention to the center aisle of the committee room. Rapp heard the deep baritone voice and resisted his desire to smile. He knew what was about to happen, and understood perhaps better than most that it was going to be a historic moment. One where the legislative branch was about to be challenged on their home turf by a cabinet member of the executive branch.

  “Madam Chairman,” the voice boomed louder than anything that had been heard that morning. “I apologize for the intrusion, but I have something here that has a direct bearing on the matter before you.”

  Rapp found it safe now to turn and look at England. The secretary of defense was in his mid-fifties and had a full head of gray hair. He was widely known in Washington to be one of the more amiable cabinet members. He walked past Rapp’s table without looking at him and stopped at a long wooden table that sat between the witness table and the raised dais. The senators all began sharing looks that ran the gamut from amusement to concern.

  “Secretary England,” Lonsdale said with trepidation into her microphone, “this is a closed-door hearing, and since you are not on the witness list, I am going to…”

  England slammed a four-inch sheaf of documents down on the table and loudly announced, “I won’t take but a minute of your time, and since you, Madam Chairman, have seen fit to involve yourself in the day-to-day affairs of the Department of Defense, I find it my duty to return the favor.”

  “I beg your…”

  “That’s quite all right,” England shouted, refusing to yield the floor. “Esteemed members of the committee,” he said as he looked from one end of the bench to the other in a casual sweeping motion, “I have in my hand a signed statement from General Garrison, the commander of the Bagram Air Base, Afghanistan. That would make him Captain Leland’s commanding officer. He was present during the incident that you are now discussing.”

  “Secretary England,” Lonsdale said in a sad, irritated voice, “this is highly irregular. If you…”

  “No more irregular,” England said in a singsong voice, “than the chairperson calling a friend at the Justice Department in the middle of the night, and having that friend initiate an investigation on one of my bases.”

  “Mr. Secretary,” Lonsdale started in a strained, casual tone.

  England was not to be denied his moment, though, and once again refused to yield. “The United States military has a long history of policing itself. On the rare, and exceptional, occasion when they have failed to do so, the Justice Department has intervened. But never,” roared England, “in the history of this great country has the Justice Department moved to investigate an incident so clearly under military jurisdiction a mere forty-eight hours after it has occurred.”

  “Mr.—” Lonsdale tried to speak.

  “Which,” hollered England, “leads me to the conclusion that this entire thing is politically motivated.”

  “How dare you come before my committee and put forth such baseless allegations?” Lonsdale shot back.

  “Baseless…Please explain to me, Senator Lonsdale, why your boy at Justice would only bother to get a statement from one person involved in this incident?”

  “Because,” Lonsdale shouted, matching England’s intensity, “he was the aggrieved party.”

  “Did your man think of getting a statement from General Garrison? He was, after all, the only neutral party to the incident.” England took a quick look at the panel and saw all heads turned to Lonsdale to hear her response. After an uncomfortable silence, England waved the document in the air and said, “Never fear, the air force did it for you. They are actually quite competent at this kind of thing.” England motioned to a staffer that was sitting to his left. “Please do me a favor and hand these out to the committee members.”

  “Mr. Secretary,” Lonsdale said, her anger barely in check, “I do not need to remind you that all documents are to be submitted to this committee in advance…”

  “I’d like to make a motion for an exception.”

  Lonsdale didn’t have to look. She knew Gayle Kendrick had made the motion. She reached for her gavel, but before she could get her hand around the mallet, the motion was seconded by another half dozen senators from both parties.

  “The long and short of it, ladies and gentlemen,” said England, “is that General Garrison corroborates Mr. Rapp’s testimony, and says that Captain Leland has either misremembered the events of that evening or has made them up.”

  Lonsdale felt as if she were drowning and someone had just thrown a brick at her head. Her mind splintered, running off in eight different directions trying to find a way to regain control and momentum. She felt a touch on her shoulder and out of habit leaned back. Wassen was there, as he’d always been. He threw her the lifeline she needed to stay afloat by giving her a question.

  With her cheeks still flushed from the embarrassment of England’s revelation, she grabbed her microphone and said, “I would like to remind the committee that Mr. Rapp striking Captain Leland is but a single issue before us. Secretary England, as long as we have you here, I would like to know why you don’t seem at all bothered by the fact that an employee of the CIA put on the uniform of a United States Air Force officer and snuck onto one of your bases with the express intent of circumventing the Uniform Code of Military Justice and the Geneva Conventions.”

  The room fell quiet, and all eyes turned to England for his response. With an incredulous shake of his head he said, “That’s his job, people. This is what he’s supposed to do.” He made eye contact with several of the senators who were nodding agreeably. “We might not want to talk about it in civilized circles or, God forbid, in public, but his job is to go kill these bastards before they kill us.” England’s plain words had a sobering effect on the committee. In a softer tone he added, “We get caught up in all the crap that goes on in this town, and we forget one simple thing.” England pointed at Rapp and said, “He’s on our side.”

  CHAPTER 58

  AFTER Secretary England had walked out of the committee room, several members called for a fifteen-minute recess so they could read General Garrison’s statement. Lonsdale made no attempt to defeat the motion, for the simple reason that she needed to regroup and figure out how she would proceed. She went back to her office in Dirksen and huddled with Wassen and a few other senior staffers. They were all of the opinion that she needed to table the Leland issue for now and let the air force finish their investigation.

  As no one had yet read General Garrison’s statement, one of the committee staffers eagerly did so while the debate about what to do roared around her. When she was finished she offered her boss the hope she was looking for. Nowhere in Garrison’s statement was there any mention of how Rapp had abused and mistreated the prisoners. Unlike Leland’s statement, which went into specific detail about Rapp’s abuses. Wassen was skeptical of this, raising the point that Leland’s entire statement was now cast in doubt because his commanding officer had all but called him a liar.

  Lonsdale, though, needed something. She wasn’t going to call the whole thing into recess after just having been embarrassed by England. She wanted her pound of flesh from Rapp, and she was going to get it. Lonsdale announced that she would hit him hard on his abuse of the prisoners and directed the group to hastily assemble a list of questions while she went back and got things started. There would be a good five to ten minutes of motions and procedural nonsense before they got back to questioning Rapp.

  On the way back to the committee room, Lonsdale asked, “What’s wrong? You were awfully quiet back there.”

  Wassen looked down at the ground and said, “I’ve been with you long enough to know when I’ll be wasting my breath.”

  “You don’t agree with me?”

  “There are plenty of times I don’t agree with you.”

  “But you usually speak your mind.”

  “I have made myself very clear on this matter, and I think Secretary England framed the issue rather nicely.?
??

  “Secretary England is a capitalist windbag,” Lonsdale said, while flashing a passing senator a fake smile.

  “Have you ever stepped back far enough to really look at what’s going on here?”

  Lonsdale didn’t answer immediately. “Of course. I do it all the time.”

  “Bullshit,” Wassen said flatly. “All of you politicians are like parents. You adopt an issue and it’s like it’s your child. You lose all objectivity.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “It’s absolutely true, and the secretary of defense just proved it.”

  “How?” Lonsdale asked.

  “When he reminded us that Rapp is on our side.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Lonsdale said dismissively.

  “God,” Wassen groaned, “you are impossible sometimes. You think the terrorists are on our side?”

  “Don’t be silly.”

  “Then tell me…just whose side is Rapp on? Based on his record I think he’s pretty firmly in the let’s-kill-all-the-bastards camp.”

  “Then you tell me, Ralph,” Lonsdale said in an irritated voice, “just who in the hell is on the side of the Constitution and the Bill of Rights?”

  “History is your Achilles’ heel, Barbara. I don’t think you want to go there with me.”

  “Just what in the hell is that supposed to mean?” Lonsdale asked as the committee room came into view down the hall on their left.

  “Those two documents are bathed in blood. They did not spring forth from the pen of men like Jefferson and survive on high-minded ideals alone. They have been bathed in blood over the years.”

  “You are so damn dramatic sometimes.”

  “And you are as pig-headed as ever.”

  Lonsdale stopped and grabbed Wassen by the arm. “So you think this is a mistake?”

  “Barbara, you just got your pretty little ass kicked by the secretary of defense in your own backyard. That’s not supposed to happen.”

  “What would you have had me do?” she hissed at him.