Transfer of Power

Irene didn't want to hear excuses; she wanted answers.

"Did you get anything out of him?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Okay. If you find anything out, please let me know."

Ke

Thomas Stansfield sat comfortably in his chair while Jonathan Brown, the deputy director of central intelligence, relayed a slew of congressional complaints and inquiries. From what little Ke

The familiar voice of Colonel Fine answered on the other end, and Ke

"Ben, it's Irene. Have you found anything out onyassin?"

"Nothing firm. Some rumblings and rumors here and there, but we haven't been able to nail him down."

"Which one are we talking about? The Iraqi or the Palestinian?"

"I have heard nothing back about the Iraqi, but I have several sources who are claiming they have seen the eighteen year-old Palestinian within the last four days."

"Hnun," pondered Ke

"Let me caution you, though. We have not been able to track him down."

"I know, but we are definitely leaning closer to one than the other."

"My contacts in Iraq are not as deep, Irene. The man could be there, but I need more time to track him down."

Ke

"Before you go," said Fine loudly, "I have something I wish to discuss."

Fine paused and then continued.

"There are people in my government who are threatening to tear apart the entire peace accord if your country persists with this position of negotiation. We have a very good idea what aziz's last demand will be, and we are prepared to occupy the territories with troops if it comes to that."

Ke

"Has your ambassador been informed of this?"

"I do not know."

"Has your prime minister informed our vice president?"

"I do not know."

Ke

"Ben, Director Stansfield has the interests of Israel very high on his list, but he is only one man. Now is not a time to play games through back cha

I would suggest that certain people in your government start banging the drum and bang it loudly. They know who to talk to." Ke

There was a moment of silence and then "Good, I will pass that along."

"And I appreciate the information, Ben. Please let me know the second you find anything more."

Ke

Her issue with Brown lay more in where his bread was buttered.

Brown was not an insider at Langley. He had been with the Agency for less than a year. In his early fifties, he was a former federal prosecutor and judge who, after leaving the bench, went to work for one of Washington's poshest law firms, making close to a million dollars a year. After pressing the flesh with all of the bigwigs in Congress for a half dozen years, he had obtained a nomination for the deputy director slot and was confirmed.

It was a safe bet that his allegiance was more with the senators who had confirmed him than with the man he was now talking to. It was that simple fact that kept Ke

Stansfield leaned forward and asked, "What is it?"

General Flood also leaned forward, sensing that Ke

"I just spoke to Colonel Fine. He's gotten nowhere in terms of the yassin from Iraq, and with the young Palestinian, they have several contacts who have claimed to have seen him in the last four days." Flood shook his head and said, "That's it Thomas. We have to tell him."

Stansfield's face remained passive, and Flood persisted.

"It's our duty. Iron Man hasn't come up with anything definitive, but it sure does look like something is going on down in that basement, he. doesn't have enough men to tie up one of them down there."

"What about the ventilation duct?" asked Ke

"Maybe he's afraid we'll try and use it again."

"Bullshit," grumbled Hood.

"All he has to do is booby-trap the only stairwell that leads up from the basement, and he has us boxed in."

Ke

Flood leaned toward Stansfield and said, "We have to tell him Thomas. We should have told him this morning." Stansfield looked at the large general. He knew Flood was right but also knew how Vice President Baxter would react. He would wiggle. He would question the validity of their conclusion.

He would put off making any decision until he absolutely had to. Despite all of that. Flood was right. They had to tell him.

DALLAS KING sat across from his boss and watched him talk on the phone.

The afternoon sun spilled through the windows of the vice president's study at the Naval Observatory.

King was still obsessing over his role in aiding the terrorists. He had decided only one thing thus far, that he would keep his mouth shut.

There wasn't a snowballs chance in hell that he would volunteer what he had done to the FBI. It would do no good. They couldn't turn back the clocks. What he had to do right now was damage control. Who else knew about the late night excursion? There were the two women of course, but they were bombed. There was Joe, the Secret Service officer who had let them in. King thought about checking up on Joe, but that might make things look worse if the story came out.

No. For now, he would sit and do nothing and hope that no one would ever link him to the terrorist.

Aides shuffled in and out of the room on an almost continuous basis. The large dining room and living room of the mansion had been converted into offices for Baxter's support staff and the dozen or so essential perso

It was one of those essential aides who quietly entered the room and approached King. In a voice low enough to not distract the vice president, she said, "Director Stansfield and General Flood are on the line, and they wish to speak to the vice president immediately."

King stood.

"Which line?" The young woman held up two fingers and began her retreat.

King watched her leave. Out of habit he checked out her backside as she sauntered for the door. It was nice. He'd been eyeballing her for the better part of the new year, but knew it would be trouble. Office romances were a big no-no.

Stick with the married women, King told himself.

King made his way over to a credenza on the other side of the large study. After ru

"Director Stansfield, General Flood, Dallas King here."

It was General Flood who spoke first.

"Dallas, where is the vice president?"

"He's right here, but he's on the line with the secretary general of the UN."