The Apostle

As part of the president’s mandate, many exceptional agents were promoted to his detail, as were many less-than-exceptional agents. Some of the most experienced agents were then asked to step aside and take other assignments outside the White House in order to make room for the younger agents Alden wanted to pull up through the ranks. The president was not only gambling with his life, he was also gambling with the lives of all those sworn to protect him.

The Secret Service had tried to dissuade the president from such a drastic course of action, but no matter how many alternatives they offered him, Alden wanted the results he wanted and he wanted them immediately. His childish refrain of “I won” was often heard in the White House and was intended to end all discussions. It created much resentment and was beneath the dignity of the office, but the president didn’t seem to care. Such was the depth of his insecurity.

Looking at the fresh-faced, blond-haired, blue-eyed agent on the door, Harvath wondered if she was one of those who had been recently rocketed to the top of the Secret Service ticket. Over his career, he had known a lot of extremely qualified female agents, all of whom had been serious ass-kickers. They had also all paid their dues and earned their stripes. Promoting anyone in this job based on anything other than talent, experience, training, and commitment was a potentially tragic mistake.

Harvath tried to push the thought from his mind. Alden had made his bed and he would have to lie in it. The president’s policies, as well as the makeup of his protective detail, were not Harvath’s problems.

Smiling at the agent, Harvath waited as she knocked and then opened the door for him. Once he had stepped inside, she closed the door and resumed her post in the hall.

The room looked like a study in a British manor house, with soaring ceilings, exposed beams, and tall leaded-glass windows. The walls were covered in silk and exhibited a hodgepodge of oil paintings hung salon style. At the end of the room, near a fireplace large enough for a hockey faceoff, were two couches. Sitting upon the couches were two people Harvath had never met, but whom he recognized instantly.

The first was President Robert Alden. The second, whose presence made no sense to him, was one of the president’s biggest donors and supporters, media mogul Stephanie Gallo.

Both stood and greeted Harvath as he crossed to the sitting area.

“Thank you for coming,” said the president, as he shook Harvath’s hand. “Scot Harvath. I’d like to introduce you to Mrs. Stephanie Gallo.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Harvath,” said Gallo.

“Likewise,” replied Harvath as he accepted the woman’s hand. He had seen her on television and in countless magazines, but she was even more stu

“I hope your flight in was comfortable.”

Harvath smiled. “It was very comfortable, but I’m confused.”

Gallo arched her perfectly tweezed eyebrows. “About what?”

“When the president promised to bring change to Washington, I didn’t expect it to include his Marine Corps helicopters.”

Alden chuckled. “You can thank Mrs. Gallo for your transportation, Mr. Harvath. That was her helicopter you flew here on.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” responded Gallo, not certain whether the man was trying to be charming or if he was being a smartass. She didn’t like people she couldn’t read. They tended to be difficult to control, which made them difficult to work with.

“Why don’t we take a seat?” suggested Alden as he motioned Harvath to one of the couches. On a low table was a silver coffee service. “May I offer you some coffee?”

“Thank you,” said Harvath.

Alden filled three cups and once they were all seated with their coffee, the president got down to business. “Mr. Harvath, I’ve asked you here today on a very sensitive matter. Are you familiar with a man named Mustafa Khan?”

Harvath shook his head. “No. I’m not.”

The president opened a dossier and read. “Mustafa Jamal Khan. Dual British/Pakistani citizen, age thirty-six. One of Osama bin Laden’s junior lieutenants, Khan was born in the U.K. to Pakistani parents. He attended university in Britain, as well as al-Qaeda training camps in Afghanistan and Pakistan. He has a degree in finance and worked in insurance, international banking, and at the London stock exchange before giving everything up and moving to Karachi and committing himself to al-Qaeda full-time. He was said to have been moving back and forth between Afghanistan and Pakistan’s Northwest Frontier Province, where he helped plan a series of deadly terrorist attacks, including the assassinations of several high-ranking Afghan government officials. No one had ever been able to pinpoint his exact location until the Afghan National Army captured him just over a week ago. They now have him awaiting trial in Kabul and plan to make an example of him.”

Closing the folder and handing it to Harvath, Alden then said, “Three days ago, Mrs. Gallo’s daughter, Julia, was kidnapped in Afghanistan.”

“I’m so sorry about that,” said Harvath as he accepted the folder and opened it.

The president continued. “The people holding her have agreed to let her go in exchange for Mustafa Khan.”

At that, Harvath looked up from the file. “Do we know who has her?”

“Based on our intelligence, we believe we’re dealing with Taliban militants aligned with al-Qaeda.”

“Do we think Mullah Omar has a hand in this?”

“Him or someone close to him,” replied the president.

“What about the Afghan government?” asked Harvath. “What’s their position on this?”

“When the ANA tracked Khan down, he was being protected by a cadre of more than fifteen al-Qaeda bodyguards. The Afghans suffered heavy losses. More than thirty-five of their soldiers died.”

“And considering the Afghan government wants to put Khan on trial, I’m guessing they’re not exactly amenable to handing him over to us so we can trade him for Mrs. Gallo’s daughter?”

Alden gave Stephanie Gallo a glance as if to say, See? I told you this man knows what he’s doing, and then replied, “No, they’re not. And unfortunately, we can’t force the Afghans to cooperate.”

Harvath sensed that they were begi

“Correct,” replied Alden.

“I assume CIA, FBI, DIA, State, and all of our military assets in the region are at the disposal of the investigation?”

The president nodded.

Harvath had been down this delicate road before and knew how to read between the lines. “I’m guessing you want to make sure no options go unexplored, is that correct?”

“Exactly,” stated Gallo.

Alden held up his hand to quiet her. “Mr. Harvath, I did my homework before asking you here. While I regret having to close the project you were working on under the previous administration, it was by no means a comment on your exceptional abilities or exemplary service to our nation.”

Harvath had never been comfortable with fulsome praise and was doubly suspicious when it came from politicians. “Should I assume that the reason I’m here is to assist in the recovery of Mrs. Gallo’s daughter?”

“In a ma

There was something the man wasn’t telling him.

The president took a deep breath, his cheeks filling with air, and exhaled slowly before responding. “The Afghans have not made an acceptable amount of progress on Julia’s kidnapping. In all fairness, I believe the government in Kabul means well, but they…” Alden trailed off as he tried to find the right words.

Gallo had no trouble coming up with them. “The entire government in that shithole of a country is inept and they don’t have control over anything. They can’t even move around Kabul without heavily armored convoys. The Taliban and al-Qaeda, on the other hand, go wherever they like whenever they like. We’ve put billions of dollars and countless lives into that country and what do we have to show for it? Not nearly enough, that’s for damn sure.”