consider him expendable. If he killed the Messiah and then was caught, she could deny any knowledge. McGarvey was a rogue agent. There’d be no compunction in the White House about tossing him to the wolves. And if it came to pass that he was arrested and placed on trial, someone would show up to silence him.
It put him in a “damned if he did, damned if he didn’t” position. Which, he thought, he ought to be accustomed to by now. He’d been in similar situations just about all his professional career. Starting with taking out the general and his wife in Chile, what seemed like a couple of centuries ago.
“A penny,” Pete prompted.
“The president is going to make some wrong decisions over this thing because of the missing nuclear weapons. And I don’t know if she’ll be willing to listen to me.”
“Like you said, you can just walk away if it doesn’t feel right. But she does have a point: at least thirty nukes are unaccounted for, and we’re in no position to demand to be told who’s holding the triggers.”
“That’s one of the parts that bothers me the most. Our people went in and neutralized a lot of them, and yet other than the firefights on the ground, the government hasn’t said a word. It’s business as usual over there, according to just about everyone. For all intents and purposes Pakistan is at peace.”
“The calm before the storm?” Pete asked.
“Maybe,” McGarvey said. “But whatever happens, could be it won’t turn out so well for us as we want it to.”
* * *
They were expected at the East Gate and were allowed through. Pete parked at the foot of the stairs at the east portico and went up with McGarvey; one of the president’s staffers, who did not identify himself, escorted them to the West Wing.
“Just you, Mr. McGarvey,” the staffer said.
“I’ll wait out here,” Pete said.
President Miller was seated behind her desk, and when McGarvey walked in she picked up her phone and told her secretary that she was not to be disturbed. They were alone in the Oval Office.
“Thank you for coming so soon,” Miller said. She motioned for McGarvey to have a seat across from her.
“A call from the president is something difficult to ignore.”
Miller smiled faintly. “For you, not so difficult sometimes.”
McGarvey shrugged. There was no answer. “Madam President, will someone be joining us?”
“No. This meeting is just between you and me.”
“Considering what I expect you’ll ask me to do, I think a witness might be wise.”
“For exactly that reason there will be no witness,” the president said. “I want you to find and assassinate the man the Pakistanis are calling the Messiah. The one who beheaded President Barazani. I assume that you’ve seen the tape.”
“Before I agree to take on the job, I think that you have to consider what might come of it, whether I succeed or not.”
“I have,” the president said coolly.
“Such an act, even if it could be done, could spark a regional war. India might not sit on its hands if Pakistan’s government fell apart. So far as I’ve been briefed, this Messiah has not threatened to retaliate for the attacks by our nuclear response teams. Send Don Powers back to talk with him.” Donald Suthland Powers, Jr. was the U.S. ambassador to Pakistan, and his father had been a legendary director of the CIA a number of years earlier. He and most of his staff had left the embassy shortly after the attacks by the Taliban had begun.
“This Messiah murdered the legitimate president in cold blood with his own hands. Nasir was murdered as well. And two hours ago I got word that the supreme court has granted the man executive and legislative authority for the next four years. He’s become a dictator.”
“The same thing happened with Musharraf in two thousand, and the country settled down. They avoided a war.”
The president was sharply angry. “Don’t try to teach me history or politics, Mr.
It put him in a “damned if he did, damned if he didn’t” position. Which, he thought, he ought to be accustomed to by now. He’d been in similar situations just about all his professional career. Starting with taking out the general and his wife in Chile, what seemed like a couple of centuries ago.
“A penny,” Pete prompted.
“The president is going to make some wrong decisions over this thing because of the missing nuclear weapons. And I don’t know if she’ll be willing to listen to me.”
“Like you said, you can just walk away if it doesn’t feel right. But she does have a point: at least thirty nukes are unaccounted for, and we’re in no position to demand to be told who’s holding the triggers.”
“That’s one of the parts that bothers me the most. Our people went in and neutralized a lot of them, and yet other than the firefights on the ground, the government hasn’t said a word. It’s business as usual over there, according to just about everyone. For all intents and purposes Pakistan is at peace.”
“The calm before the storm?” Pete asked.
“Maybe,” McGarvey said. “But whatever happens, could be it won’t turn out so well for us as we want it to.”
* * *
They were expected at the East Gate and were allowed through. Pete parked at the foot of the stairs at the east portico and went up with McGarvey; one of the president’s staffers, who did not identify himself, escorted them to the West Wing.
“Just you, Mr. McGarvey,” the staffer said.
“I’ll wait out here,” Pete said.
President Miller was seated behind her desk, and when McGarvey walked in she picked up her phone and told her secretary that she was not to be disturbed. They were alone in the Oval Office.
“Thank you for coming so soon,” Miller said. She motioned for McGarvey to have a seat across from her.
“A call from the president is something difficult to ignore.”
Miller smiled faintly. “For you, not so difficult sometimes.”
McGarvey shrugged. There was no answer. “Madam President, will someone be joining us?”
“No. This meeting is just between you and me.”
“Considering what I expect you’ll ask me to do, I think a witness might be wise.”
“For exactly that reason there will be no witness,” the president said. “I want you to find and assassinate the man the Pakistanis are calling the Messiah. The one who beheaded President Barazani. I assume that you’ve seen the tape.”
“Before I agree to take on the job, I think that you have to consider what might come of it, whether I succeed or not.”
“I have,” the president said coolly.
“Such an act, even if it could be done, could spark a regional war. India might not sit on its hands if Pakistan’s government fell apart. So far as I’ve been briefed, this Messiah has not threatened to retaliate for the attacks by our nuclear response teams. Send Don Powers back to talk with him.” Donald Suthland Powers, Jr. was the U.S. ambassador to Pakistan, and his father had been a legendary director of the CIA a number of years earlier. He and most of his staff had left the embassy shortly after the attacks by the Taliban had begun.
“This Messiah murdered the legitimate president in cold blood with his own hands. Nasir was murdered as well. And two hours ago I got word that the supreme court has granted the man executive and legislative authority for the next four years. He’s become a dictator.”
“The same thing happened with Musharraf in two thousand, and the country settled down. They avoided a war.”
The president was sharply angry. “Don’t try to teach me history or politics, Mr.
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