The Kill Zone by David Hagberg Page A

until later, perhaps in the second or third day, when the pressure would build. These were seasoned politicians who well understood that public perception and reality were often two separate things.
    One of the C-SPAN cameras was trained on McGarvey, looking for his
reaction to what Hammond was saying. He kept his face neutral. Every DCI before him had gone through this process. He suspected that none of them had enjoyed the experience any more than he did. And if he was confirmed, he would be back up here on the Hill testifying before Congress several times a year.
    Paterson held a hand over the microphone and leaned toward McGarvey. “He’s being too polite. He knows something, so you’re going to have to stick with the script, at least today.”
    â€œIt won’t matter what I say. They’re going to hear what they want to hear and nothing more.” McGarvey glanced over his shoulder toward the back of the room.
    â€œWho are you looking for?”
    â€œNobody important,” McGarvey said.
    Senator Hammond wound up his remarks and looked up from his notes. “Mr. McGarvey, do you wish to make an opening statement at this time?”
    McGarvey glanced at the script that Paterson had prepared for him. He’d read it on the way over from Langley, and he more or less agreed with everything the CIA’s general counsel had written. More than ever before, the United States needed the presence of a strong and capable spy agency to protect her interests in a world gone mad. The CIA needed a strong director; someone with experience and decisiveness; someone who not only understood America’s enemies, but who perfectly understood the exact nature of the country.
    That had been McGarvey’s personal philosophy from the beginning of his career; you could not protect a flag that you didn’t understand.
    He’d always thought that he understood what it was to be an American. But suddenly he wasn’t so sure any longer. Perhaps people like Hammond and Madden were correct after all; perhaps he was unfit for the job.
    That was a question that had plagued him ever since the President asked him to take the job. Maybe he didn’t have the moral or philosophical equipment.
    He was, or at least he had been, an assassin. Such acts were against the law. Yet the law had never stopped him.
    A few years ago someone had asked him who the hell he thought he was. “What gives you the right to be judge, jury and executioner?”
    And now someone or something was coming after him; stalking him and his family; some dark, malevolent beast out of his past. Something. It was something whispering at his shoulder. He couldn’t shake the growing feeling of dread.

    He looked again over his shoulder for the Russian SVR rezident, but the man wasn’t there. His absence meant something.
    â€œMr. McGarvey,” Senator Hammond prompted.
    â€œI’ll reserve my opening remarks until later, Senator Hammond. But I’d like a written version to be entered into the record at this time.”
    â€œVery well,” Hammond said.
    A clerk came over, and Paterson handed him a copy of McGarvey’s opening statement, a puzzled but resigned expression on his face.
    Senator Madden sat forward, an almost radiant expression on her round face. “Excuse me, Senator Hammond, I would like to ask Mr. McGarvey a question before we proceed.”
    Hammond motioned for her to go ahead.
    â€œIt has come to my attention that you might not even want this job,” she said. “Is that true?”
    â€œFrankly no, I never wanted the job,” McGarvey replied before Paterson could stop him.
    â€œWell then—”
    â€œI have a great deal of respect for President Haynes. He asked me if I would take the job. I couldn’t say no. If I’m confirmed, it’s my intention to remake the Agency completely.”
    Madden smiled warmly. “Maybe you and I are in agreement after all.