Raven Strike

“Do you want to tell the President, or should I?”

“You go ahead,” she said. “I’ll stay here until they’re all on the ground.”

Walking to his office, Reid realized that, if he wished, he could hint that the Russian involvement in the entire affair seemed less than coincidental. It could easily be made to seem part of a conspiracy to purposely “lose” American technology, without actually appearing criminal about it. A case could easily be constructed that pointed the finger at Harker.

Easily.

But Reid would not do that. He knew the facts. And even though he wished Harker ill, he would not bend the truth to harm him.

It occurred to Reid as he sat down at his desk that Harker might actually be in line to take over Edmund’s job. If that were the case . . .

No, Reid told himself, I must act responsibly. No conspiracy theories, no hints, just the facts.

He picked up the phone and called the White House.

“You’re awful quiet,” Brea

“Yes,” he said, in his long drawn-out way.

“Is there a problem?” she asked.

“We have the hardware,” said Rubeo.

“And?”

“One never knows.”

Chapter 8

Ethiopia

Da

A corpsman met him at the door.

“How are my people?” asked Da

“All stable, Colonel. We’re just getting ready to evac to Germany.”

Four stretchers and a host of medical equipment were spread out in the room. One of the patients was sitting on a chair, arm in a sling. Another was sitting up on his bed. The medical people were clustered around the third, lying prone on the table.

“How’s Melissa?” asked Da

“Serious but stable,” said one of the doctors near her. He came over to Da

“Can she talk?”

The doctor grimaced. “She’s unconscious. Her face is fairly bashed up. She’ll need plastic surgery. Maybe a lot.”

Da

Her face. Her beautiful face.

“Transport is ready!” yelled the corpsman. “They’re waiting for us!”

“Let’s move it!” said the doctor.

Da

“Don’t let her die, God,” he prayed quietly. “And let her be the person she was before all of this.”

Chapter 9

The White House

Christine Mary Todd took the news like she took most news—calmly, without noticeable emotion. She thanked Jonathon Reid, not only for helping make the mission a success, but for having had the fortitude to bring the matter to her attention despite what she guessed was considerable personal anguish and, undoubtedly, backlash from the intelligence community.

She hung up the phone, then called Blitz and Bozzone in to see her.

Waiting for them, she took a sip of tea—lukewarm, but welcome nonetheless—and tried to stretch her legs in the small office. The Intelligence Committee vote was deeply unfortunate; it made it difficult for her to send Edmund over to talk to them without seeming to give in. The political nuances of weakening her image could easily come back to haunt her in the future.

But now that Raven was safely in their hands, she had no problem giving the committee the information. In fact, handled properly, it could help fend off another episode like this one.

How exactly could she deal with this?

Perhaps she could persuade the committee to pull back on the subpoena. But they seemed to be in no mood to do so, not given the vote. Only Zen Stockard had stood against them.

She went back to the phone. “Give me Senator Stockard’s office.”

Bozzone came in while she was waiting on the phone. Todd motioned for him to sit down.

Zen’s appointment secretary said he was on the Senate floor, which made it impossible to talk to him immediately.

“I’d like to speak with him personally,” Todd told her. “When do you think he would have a hole in his schedule?”

“For you, he would always be available, Ms. President. But um, uh—”

An idea occurred to her.

“Does he still go to the Nationals baseball games?”

“Yes, ma’am. As a matter of fact, he’s pla

Todd winked at Bozzone. “Ask if he’d like a better seat.”

Chapter 10

Room 4

With the team back safely, MY-PID went to work filling in the background and details. It examined the data gathered during the raid, including the cell and satellite phones that had been collected. The computer attempted to find and co

The computer traced the line of money that paid for the phones back to al Qaeda. It was a thin, tenuous line, but a line nonetheless.

There was an incredible amount of data, most of which seemed trivial and only distantly related. The only thing that really stood out was the fact that a cell phone purchased by the same credit card that had bought a number of others at the camp had been used the night before in Washington, D.C.

“That’s more than a little interesting,” said Brea

“Hmmm,” said Reid, looking over the results.

An hour later Reid and Brea

The link was tenuous—the number the cell phone had called had been used several months before to call a number in Pakistan used by a known Muslim radical; that radical, in turn, had called another number, which had called the D.C. apartment. But that information led to data about the man who had rented the apartment, a supposedly Egyptian student who, it turned out, was not registered as a student in American immigration records.

This did not make him a member of al Qaeda. Nor could it be assumed that the man had failed to register as the law required: Mistakes in the records were very common, as the FBI supervisor explained.