Page 52 of Term Limits


  Irene Kennedy paused and looked down at the file sitting in her lap. She had been up the entire evening researching the relationship between Congressman Michael O’Rourke and Scott Coleman. Skip McMahon, Director Roach, and Director Stansfield were listening intently as she wrapped up her briefing.

  “Everything seems to check out.” Kennedy tapped her pen on her file. “The only thing that bothers me is whether or not Coleman knew that Senator Fitzgerald was the one who blew Operation Snatch Back. Besides the counterespionage people at the Bureau, and a select few at Langley, the list of people is very short. At the top of that short list is, or I should say was, Senator Olson. At the time all of this took place, Congressman O’Rourke was transitioning off of Olson’s staff and getting ready to start his first year as a representative. If Coleman discovered who leaked his mission and caused the deaths of his men, it would explain his motive. If I had to guess, I would bet that Congressman O’Rourke was the one who told him about Fitzgerald.”

  “Do we have any proof?” asked Roach.

  Kennedy shook her head. “Only an educated guess.”

  “So where do we go from here?” asked Roach.

  “We make sure none of this ever goes public.” Stansfield looked at Skip. “I’m going to want to debrief Coleman. In order to do that we’ll have to arrange for your surveillance team to lose him for a day or so.”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem. He already shook us once.”

  There was a tap on the window of the limousine and Stansfield rolled it down halfway. One of his bodyguards leaned forward and said, “Sir, the tower is holding the flight. The congressman and Scarlatti are waiting at the gate, and we’ve secured and swept the room.”

  “Thank you, Alex.” Stansfield rolled up the window. “Irene and Skip, would you please escort Congressman O’Rourke and Ms. Scarlatti to the room. Brian and I will meet you there.” All four of them got out of the car, and Kennedy and McMahon went into the terminal first.

  As they approached the gate, Skip saw O’Rourke and Scarlatti sitting next to each other waiting for their flight. McMahon stepped forward and extended his hand. “Good morning, Congressman O’Rourke.”

  Michael closed his paper and stood. Reaching out, he grabbed McMahon’s hand. “Good morning.”

  McMahon turned and motioned to Irene. “Do you remember Dr. Kennedy from yesterday?”

  “Of course.” Michael and Irene shook hands, and then Michael turned to Liz. “Darling, I’d like you to meet Special Agent McMahon from the FBI and Dr. Kennedy from, ah . . .”

  Kennedy smiled and offered her hand to Liz. “The CIA. It’s nice to meet you.”

  McMahon studied Michael’s nose and winced. “I’m sorry to hear about your, ah . . .” McMahon tapped his own nose. “It looks pretty bad.”

  “As long as I don’t touch it, it’s fine.”

  McMahon nodded and after a brief silence said, “Director Stansfield and Director Roach would like to talk to both of you for a couple of minutes.”

  Michael looked at his watch and replied, “We really don’t have any time right now, our flight is supposed to leave any minute.”

  “Don’t worry,” McMahon said. “It won’t leave without you. Director Roach asked the tower to hold it for a little while.”

  Michael looked uncomfortably at Liz and then said, “All right. Let’s go.”

  McMahon and Kennedy walked on each side of Michael and Liz as they led them to a discreet lounge that was reserved for congressmen and senators. The bodyguard at the door stepped to the side and let them in. Roach and Stansfield were sitting in the corner of the windowless room with a small coffee table in front of them. In the middle of the table was a mobile jamming unit. If anyone was trying to eavesdrop on their conversation, the only thing they would pick up would be static.

  The two directors rose to greet Michael and Liz. Michael introduced Liz to the two directors, and then everyone took a chair.

  Roach said, “I apologize for holding your flight, but there are some things we need to discuss.”

  “Considering the circumstances, I understand,” replied O’Rourke.

  “Good.” Roach nodded and then looked over at Stansfield. “Thomas, why don’t you take it from here.”

  Stansfield crossed his legs and asked, “ Congressman O’Rourke, how many people have you told about the events of the last several days?”

  Michael thought for a moment and replied, “My brother Tim, my grandfather, and Liz.”

  “That’s it?” Stansfield studied the congressman as O’Rourke nodded yes. Stansfield wanted to be very thorough on this point, so he restated the question. “Those three people that you mentioned are the only people that you discussed this matter with?”

  Michael looked into Stansfield’s dark eyes and answered the question again. “Yes.”

  Stansfield folded his hands underneath his chin and asked, “Can we trust your brother and your grandfather to stay quiet about it?”

  “They understand how serious the situation is.”

  Stansfield turned his attention to Liz. “Ms. Scarlatti, have you told anyone about what happened last night?”

  Liz sat upright. “No.”

  “Do you plan on telling anyone about what happened?”

  “No.”

  Stansfield responded with a doubtful look.

  “Sir,” replied Liz, “I have no desire to see Michael dragged into the limelight over this, and despite my misgivings about not going public with this story, I concede that it would probably do more harm than good. As long as you leave us alone, I will stay silent about this entire affair.”

  Stansfield studied Michael and Liz for a minute and then said, “I’ll take your word.” Stansfield stuck out his hand and Michael shook it first followed by Liz. “When you return from the funeral, I would like to talk to both of you and your grandfather and brother.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem,” replied Michael.

  “Good.” Stansfield hesitated for a second. “I would also like to talk to Commander Coleman.”

  “I’m sure he would be more than willing to agree to that. When I get back from Minnesota, I’ll arrange it.”

  “Thank you.”

  Kennedy sat forward. “Congressman, I have one question. Are you familiar with a covert mission by the code name of Operation Snatch Back?”

  Michael did not answer the question. He looked at the other four people one by one and tried to decide the best way to handle it.

  Stansfield broke the ice. “We need to know for security reasons and nothing else. There are certain counterespionage operations that have stemmed from Snatch Back.”

  Michael could feel his palms moisten. “I knew about Operation Snatch Back . . . after the fact that is.”

  “Did you find out from Senator Olson?” asked Kennedy.

  “Yes.”

  Kennedy nodded, let the tension mount for several seconds, and then asked, “Did you know Senator Fitzgerald was the person who leaked the mission?”

  Michael nodded.

  Kennedy looked at her boss and then leaned forward. “Did you pass that information on to Commander Coleman?”

  Michael looked at the ground for a second, and then with confidence he looked Kennedy in the eyes. “Yes, I did.”

  The room was completely silent for ten full seconds while everyone thought about the events that had been set in motion because of a leaked mission that had taken place almost a year prior. No one needed to ask Michael why he had told Coleman. They had read his file and knew that he was a Marine. Soldiers weren’t the only people who held animosity toward politicians—spies and law enforcement officers did, too.

  Stansfield said, “Thank you for your honesty.”

  Liz turned to Roach and asked, “What’s going to happen to Garret?”

  The director of the FBI crossed his legs. “He is going to disappear from public life, and we’re going to keep a very close eye on him.”

  “What about the president?”
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  Both directors shrugged their shoulders and then Stansfield said, “That is one of the things I would like to talk to Commander Coleman about.”

  Michael wondered what type of leverage Stansfield and Coleman would be able to exert on the president. Michael looked at the four people sitting around him and then at Liz. “If that’s all the questions you have, we should probably get going.” Nobody said anything so Michael and Liz stood.

  The other four attendees stood and Kennedy said, “Congressman O’Rourke, I have one last question.” Kennedy clutched her purse. “Did you have any idea, when this whole thing started, that Commander Coleman was involved?”

  “I had my suspicions.” Michael grabbed Liz’s arm. “If that’s all, we should be going.”

  Director Stansfield nodded and said, “Thank you for your time. Call me when you get back in town.”

  Michael and Liz left the room. As they walked through the busy terminal, he felt at ease for the first time in weeks. Things could finally get back to normal. As they approached the gate area, they noticed a group of people staring up at a TV.

  Liz led the way to the TV, and when they stopped, Michael placed his hands on her shoulders. The words “News Flash” appeared in yellow across the bottom of the screen. A reporter from CNN was standing in front of the Bethesda Naval Hospital giving a live report. “Hospital administrators and White House officials have just announced that National Security Adviser Mike Nance was killed this morning when he was thrown from a horse at his rural Maryland ranch. He was medevacked to the trauma unit here at Bethesda and was pronounced dead on arrival at approximately eleven-thirty A.M. The unofficial cause of death has been listed as a broken neck. Those are all the details we have for now. Again, National Security Adviser Mike Nance . . .”

  As the reporter continued talking, Liz looked up at Michael and shook her head. “I can’t believe this. How did they fake—”

  Michael put his finger over Liz’s lips and pulled her away from the group. He led her back toward the gate and looked over his shoulder at the people staring intently at the TV. O’Rourke kissed the top of her head and said, “Remember, we know nothing.”

 


 

  Vince Flynn, Term Limits

  (Series: # )

 

 


 

 
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