Executive Power

I'm not judging you for what happened in Hebron. God only knows how we'd react if we had suicide bombs going off every week, but you need to keep me in the loop, Ben."

"What do you know about Hebron?"

"No, Ben," Ke

"That's not the way we're going to do this. If you want to keep your job, and you want to avoid this scandal becoming public, you're going to answer the questions.

The President is furious, Ben! Those were Apache helicopters and Hellfire missiles." She lowered her voice as if she didn't want to be overheard and said, "We have satellite footage of the attacks. The President wants to take the tapes to the UN and show the world that you and Goldberg are liars."

Seconds ticked by before anything was said and then finally Freidman spoke. He had no other choice than to admit the truth.

"There was no bomb factory."

"Why didn't you tell me that from the start?"

"I'm sorry. I should have." The apology did not come easily.

"Why the cover story?" asked Ke

"Because, I wasn't going to miss the chance to take every last one of those bastards out, but with them meeting in a neighborhood like that I knew they would claim a massacre."

"How did you find out about the meeting?"

"We had a source."

"Who?" asked Ke

"Someone who was working for us."

Ke

"Who was the source?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Ben, we're on the same side on this. Trust me. I need you to tell me who your source was."

Freidman was reluctant and then said, "A Palestinian."

"Was he on your payroll?"

"No."

"Did you recruit him, or did he come to you?"

"A little bit of both, I suppose."

Ke

"Ben, if you want me to convince the President to back off, I need you to send Jake Turbes everything you have on this Palestinian, and I need it immediately." For good measure she decided to add, "The President is meeting with the Secretary of State right now. They are discussing how to bring the Hebron evidence in front of the UN."

Freidman tried to figure out what Ke

SEVENTY THREE.

It wasn't easy, but Rapp waited until their man had boarded the plane. He owed both Bourne and Dumond for not bolting on him and setting off the alarms that would have led to a three-ring circus at Baltimore Washington International. To stop the flight and detain their John Doe would have meant alerting the airline, the control tower, the airport police, the FBI and God only knew who else. The odds were very high that someone on that long list would call the media and alert them to something strange at BWI.

Any one of the twenty-four-hour news outlets or all of them were likely to show up and shoot footage of the inevitable FBI SWAT team in full gear hauling a man in a business suit off an international flight.

It was no criticism of the FBI. They had their job and Rapp had his.

It was just that Rapp's job was always done best when it was carried out as far away from the media as possible.

As he approached the soundproof door to the Situation Room he paused for just a second. The President and Ke

The news was out that there was a bomb threat at the UN. People were streaming out of the bland Orwellian building in droves as police cruisers set up makeshift roadblocks to keep any vehicle from getting within two blocks of the world headquarters. Rapp took a second to admire his handiwork. It had been his idea to phone in the threat.

He approached Ke

"Our John Doe just got on a flight bound for Paris."

Ke

Before the President could react to the news Rapp took a knee and said, "Sir, this is what I propose we do. The flight is headed to Paris and then on to Nice, where I assume our guy will be meeting Omar… whose yacht is still docked in Ca

Hayes looked at Ke

"What about the French?"

"What about them?" asked Rapp.

The President had been thinking about how best to use the information to forestall the vote and now seemed like a good time.

"I think we need to bring them in on this."

Rapp's expression turned from hopeful to hopeless. Never one to sugarcoat things, he said, "I think that's a bad idea, sir."

"Listen," replied Hayes a bit testily, "the French are not going to roll over on this thing. As soon as the UN opens tomorrow morning they're going to convene the Security Council, and they're going to put this to a vote, and I'm not going to be able to veto it."

"Why not?" asked a defiant Rapp.

"For starters because I actually do think the Palestinians should have a state." Hayes firmly placed his forefinger in the palm of his hand.

"And secondly because Crown Prince Faisal has asked me to." Hayes ticked off his point by adding a second finger.

"And in light of what happened to his cousin just a short while ago, I'm inclined to grant his request."

Rapp began ticking off his counterpoints, every bit as determined as the President was.

"We're talking about the same Crown Prince whose brother bribed the French Ambassador with a million bucks.

We're talking about the same Crown Prince whose brother has been meeting with some guy who just mysteriously shows up whenever someone is killed-" The President interrupted, "I know Faisal personally, and I can guarantee that he had nothing to do with this."

"Can you?" asked a doubtful Rapp, and then in a more conciliatory tone added, "I happen to agree that Faisal doesn't have a hand in this, but I'd sure as hell like to make sure before we lay what little we know on the table."

"I would too, but we don't have time," the President said in frustration.

"If we're going to get the French to change their minds we need to open a dialogue now. Secretary of State Berg wants to present the evidence of Ambassador Joussard's bribe to the foreign minister as soon as possible. She's confident that once they see the evidence they will recall the Ambassador immediately."

Rapp's displeasure was obvious.

"Sir, the moment we do that we've tipped our hand. People will be warned. Someone will alert Omar, and he'll fly the coop like that." Rapp snapped his fingers.

"He'll go back to Saudi Arabia, and we'll never get our hands on him, and we'll never know how far-reaching this thing was."