even trust the very people we are dependent on to give us information. Now, I donât want to go back and rehash why Roach and Stansfield werenât replaced when we took office. We all know why they werenât, and we were all in agreement at the time. In light of our difficulties in getting the cabinet confirmed, the right thing to do was leave them in charge of the FBI and the CIA.â Garretâs balding, skinny head shook and his cheeks tensed. âNow, here we are in the middle of a major crisis, and I donât trust either one of them as far as I can throw them. What are we going to do about it?â
The president considered the question and answered, âWell, neither of them is willing to resign, and considering the crisis weâre confronted with, I think trying to force them out would be unwise.â
Nance sat still while both men looked to him for his opinion. He was the professional spook of thegroup, having spent most of his early years working for Army intelligence and then moving on to the National Security Agency. He had a sharp mind and was good at putting things in motion. The idea for blackmailing Congressman Moore had been his.
âIf youâre serious about getting rid of them,â Nance finally responded, âyouâll have to do it through public pressure and pressure from the Hill. They have to be embarrassed into leaving their jobs.â He paused for a moment, his mind calculating the next move. âThe pressure to solve these murders will rest solely on the shoulders of the FBI. If Roach doesnât make progress on the case, it will be very easy to turn the dogs loose on him.â Nance held a finger up in the air. âAnd I have some ideas on how we may be able to speed up the process.â
8
THE SUN WAS DROPPING OVER THE WESTERN horizon, and dropping with it was the temperature. OâRourke walked down the street with his hands in his pockets. He was wearing a pair of jeans, a flannel shirt, and a dark brown leather jacket. His lefthand was wrapped around the handle of a. 45-caliber Combatmaster made by Detonics. The palm-sized pistol packed a huge punch. As a congressman, OâRourke had obtained a special permit to carry the weapon. He wasnât carrying the gun just because of the recent assassinations. He had started carrying it several years ago to protect himself against the roving packs of gang-bangers that roamed the streets of D.C. OâRourke had been a bone-crushing defenseman for the University of Minnesota hockey team. With his size and speed, few people toyed with him on or off the ice, but the muggers of D.C. cared little about size. The second most traumatic event in OâRourkeâs life had proved that.
The thought of his friendâs mugging caused Michael to tighten his grip around the handle of the gun. One year earlier, Michaelâs best friend had been shot and killed just two blocks from the Capitol. Mark Coleman and OâRourke worked on Senator Olsonâs staff and were roommates. One night Coleman was on his way home from work when he was stopped by a twenty-two-year-old crack addict. A witness saw the shaky young man walk up to Coleman and, without saying a word, shoot him in the chest, grab his wallet, and run. The police caught the man the next day. The murderer had already been convicted of armed robbery twice but was paroled early because of a lack of space in the D.C. jails.
OâRourke hadnât been concerned that his roommate didnât come home that night. Coleman was engaged and spent most of his evenings at hisfiancéeâs apartment. OâRourke went into the office late the next morning. He had just won his congressional seat the previous week and was coming in to go over some transition notes with Senator Olson. Michael entered the office with no idea that his friend had been killed. The office personnel were gathered in the reception area hugging each other and crying when
The president considered the question and answered, âWell, neither of them is willing to resign, and considering the crisis weâre confronted with, I think trying to force them out would be unwise.â
Nance sat still while both men looked to him for his opinion. He was the professional spook of thegroup, having spent most of his early years working for Army intelligence and then moving on to the National Security Agency. He had a sharp mind and was good at putting things in motion. The idea for blackmailing Congressman Moore had been his.
âIf youâre serious about getting rid of them,â Nance finally responded, âyouâll have to do it through public pressure and pressure from the Hill. They have to be embarrassed into leaving their jobs.â He paused for a moment, his mind calculating the next move. âThe pressure to solve these murders will rest solely on the shoulders of the FBI. If Roach doesnât make progress on the case, it will be very easy to turn the dogs loose on him.â Nance held a finger up in the air. âAnd I have some ideas on how we may be able to speed up the process.â
8
THE SUN WAS DROPPING OVER THE WESTERN horizon, and dropping with it was the temperature. OâRourke walked down the street with his hands in his pockets. He was wearing a pair of jeans, a flannel shirt, and a dark brown leather jacket. His lefthand was wrapped around the handle of a. 45-caliber Combatmaster made by Detonics. The palm-sized pistol packed a huge punch. As a congressman, OâRourke had obtained a special permit to carry the weapon. He wasnât carrying the gun just because of the recent assassinations. He had started carrying it several years ago to protect himself against the roving packs of gang-bangers that roamed the streets of D.C. OâRourke had been a bone-crushing defenseman for the University of Minnesota hockey team. With his size and speed, few people toyed with him on or off the ice, but the muggers of D.C. cared little about size. The second most traumatic event in OâRourkeâs life had proved that.
The thought of his friendâs mugging caused Michael to tighten his grip around the handle of the gun. One year earlier, Michaelâs best friend had been shot and killed just two blocks from the Capitol. Mark Coleman and OâRourke worked on Senator Olsonâs staff and were roommates. One night Coleman was on his way home from work when he was stopped by a twenty-two-year-old crack addict. A witness saw the shaky young man walk up to Coleman and, without saying a word, shoot him in the chest, grab his wallet, and run. The police caught the man the next day. The murderer had already been convicted of armed robbery twice but was paroled early because of a lack of space in the D.C. jails.
OâRourke hadnât been concerned that his roommate didnât come home that night. Coleman was engaged and spent most of his evenings at hisfiancéeâs apartment. OâRourke went into the office late the next morning. He had just won his congressional seat the previous week and was coming in to go over some transition notes with Senator Olson. Michael entered the office with no idea that his friend had been killed. The office personnel were gathered in the reception area hugging each other and crying when
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