Term Limits (63 page)

Coleman frowned. “Wait a minute. I think you've left something out. How does killing Senator Olson and Congressman Turnquist fit into your idealistic and noble protection of America's national security?”

“In hindsight that may not have been the best decision, but we felt we had to do something to slow you down. Your actions were very destabilizing to our political system and—”

Coleman interrupted, “In hindsight? You are so full of shit. Don't insult me with your blabbering. You didn't kill Olson and Turnquist to protect America's national security. You killed them for your own perverted, selfish interests.”

Nance shrugged his shoulders. “And you didn't kill Senator Fitzgerald and the others for your own selfish interests?”

Coleman stepped back and crossed his arms. He studied the reptile in front of him for a moment. “I killed those other men because they were a prime example of what is wrong with our political system. Year after year they promised to do the right thing, but in the end, all they were concerned about was winning and holding on to power. They were running this country into the ground. They were, in your language, ‘a direct threat to the national security of this country.'”

Coleman hesitated for a second. “For most of my adult life I've been flying all over this damn planet killing people that were a threat to our national
security. I finally realized that assholes like you”—Coleman reached out and jabbed his finger into Nance's sternum—“and all of your egomaniac political friends were doing more damage to America than any of the terrorists and dictators you'd sent me to kill. Politicians like Fitzgerald and Basset spent all their time dividing our country. They pitted the right against the left, the wealthy against the poor, and they didn't believe half of what they said.” Coleman jabbed his finger a little harder this time. “I put my ass on the line for jerk-offs like you. I've seen my men get killed because people like Fitzgerald didn't know how to keep their mouth shut. You sit in the White House and it's all one big fucking game. You decide you want someone killed, you pick up the phone, make a call, and twenty-four hours later the person is dead. Have you ever been in the field? Have you ever killed anyone? Have you ever seen eight of your closest friends blown out of the sky because some drunk senator doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut?” Coleman stared at Nance and waited for an answer he knew he'd never get. “Of course you haven't. You've walked around your whole life with a silver spoon shoved up your ass! Give me one good reason why I shouldn't blow your fucking head off.”

Nance took a half a step backward and held his chin high. “I can see when I'm beat. I will agree to your demands and quietly withdraw from public life.”

Coleman scoffed, “Do you think I trust you?”

“Mr. Coleman, I understand your animosity towards people like myself and Director Stansfield. I don't agree with it, but I understand it.”

“Wait a second.” Coleman held his hand up. “Leave him out of this. You created this cluster-fuck by yourself, now it's time to stand alone and pay the piper.”

Nance continued in his confident tone, “As I was saying, I don't expect you to like what I do, but nonetheless, I have served our country well. I have made my fair share of mistakes over the years, but they have been honest ones. I think I deserve the chance to retire and live out the rest of my life in peace.”

“Like Arthur. I know your type, you can't just sit on the sidelines. You will continue to meddle. You'll try to find out who else is in my group, and if you have the chance, you will kill me without hesitation.”

Nance remained aloof. “This country needs people like me whether you like it or not. I'm sorry you disagree with me, but that's the way it is, and the way it will always be. I give you my word that I will walk away from everything.”

“Your arrogance alone is enough to make me want to kill you!” Coleman reached for his gun and pulled it out. “First of all, you deserve to die, and second of all, I don't trust you as far as I could kick you.” Coleman extended his arm.

Nance stared down the barrel of the gun and looked to Stansfield. “Thomas, you are going to have a very hard time explaining my death.”

Coleman took his eyes off Nance and looked at the director of the CIA. Stansfield replied, “If you could kill him in the same manner that you killed Senator Fitzgerald, it would make things much easier.”

It took a second for the comment to register, and then Coleman replied, “My pleasure.” The former SEAL put the gun back in his pants and stepped for Nance. Nance turned to try and run, but O'Rourke reached out and grabbed him by the back of his shirt collar. Like a rag doll, O'Rourke swung Nance back around and presented him to Coleman.

Nance's cool demeanor had for once vanished. With a pleading voice and a panicked face he screamed, “Thomas, you will never get away with this! You can't do this, Thomas!”

Coleman delivered a quick punch to Nance's solar plexus, ending any further conversation. The national security adviser instantly buckled over and gasped for air. Coleman grabbed Nance by the hair and pulled him down and into the sand. The muscular killer dropped down with all of his weight, sending his knee into the center of Nance's spine. His hands reached for the underside of the chin, and in a quick burst of strength he yanked up and then twisted Nance's head to the side. A loud crack broke the still night and echoed off the water. Coleman held his tight grip for several moments, then let the lifeless head drop to the moist sand.

SUNDAY MORNING HAD ARRIVED AND THE SUN was peeking through the clouds. The limousine and its two security cars slid into the VIP underground parking garage at Washington's National Airport and pulled into a row of open spaces reserved for senators and congressmen. Three men got out of the last car and proceeded into the terminal. Two of them were carrying largé attaché cases.

Irene Kennedy paused and looked down at the file sitting in her lap. She had been up the entire evening researching the relationship between Congressman Michael O'Rourke and Scott Coleman. Skip McMahon, Director Roach, and Director Stansfield were listening intently as she wrapped up her briefing.

“Everything seems to check out.” Kennedy tapped her pen on her file. “The only thing that bothers me is whether or not Coleman knew that Senator Fitzgerald was the one who blew Operation Snatch Back. Besides the counterespionage people at the Bureau, and a select few at Langley, the list of people is very short. At the top of that short list
is, or I should say was, Senator Olson. At the time all of this took place, Congressman O'Rourke was transitioning off of Olson's staff and getting ready to start his first year as a representative. If Coleman discovered who leaked his mission and caused the deaths of his men, it would explain his motive. If I had to guess, I would bet that Congressman O'Rourke was the one who told him about Fitzgerald.”

“Do we have any proof?” asked Roach.

Kennedy shook her head. “Only an educated guess.”

“So where do we go from here?” asked Roach.

“We make sure none of this ever goes public.” Stansfield looked at Skip. “I'm going to want to debrief Coleman. In order to do that we'll have to arrange for your surveillance team to lose him for a day or so.”

“Shouldn't be a problem. He already shook us once.”

There was a tap on the window of the limousine and Stansfield rolled it down halfway. One of his bodyguards leaned forward and said, “Sir, the tower is holding the flight. The congressman and Scarlatti are waiting at the gate, and we've secured and swept the room.”

“Thank you, Alex.” Stansfield rolled up the window. “Irene and Skip, would you please escort Congressman O'Rourke and Ms. Scarlatti to the room. Brian and I will meet you there.” All four of them got out of the car, and Kennedy and McMahon went into the terminal first.

As they approached the gate, Skip saw O'Rourke
and Scarlatti sitting next to each other waiting for their flight. McMahon stepped forward and extended his hand. “Good morning, Congressman O'Rourke.”

Michael closed his paper and stood. Reaching out, he grabbed McMahon's hand. “Good morning.”

McMahon turned and motioned to Irene. “Do you remember Dr. Kennedy from yesterday?”

“Of course.” Michael and Irene shook hands, and then Michael turned to Liz. “Darling, I'd like you to meet Special Agent McMahon from the FBI and Dr. Kennedy from, ah…”

Kennedy smiled and offered her hand to Liz. “The CIA. It's nice to meet you.”

McMahon studied Michael's nose and winced. “I'm sorry to hear about your, ah,…” McMahon tapped his own nose. “It looks pretty bad.”

“As long as I don't touch it, it's fine.”

McMahon nodded and after a brief silence said, “Director Stansfield and Director Roach would like to talk to both of you for a couple of minutes.”

Michael looked at his watch and replied, “We really don't have any time right now, our flight is supposed to leave any minute.”

“Don't worry,” McMahon said. “It won't leave without you. Director Roach asked the tower to hold it for a little while.”

Michael looked uncomfortably at Liz and then said, “All right. Let's go.”

McMahon and Kennedy walked on each side of Michael and Liz as they led them to a discreet lounge that was reserved for congressmen and senators. The bodyguard at the door stepped to the side
and let them in. Roach and Stansfield were sitting in the corner of the windowless room with a small coffee table in front of them. In the middle of the table was a mobile jamming unit. If anyone was trying to eavesdrop on their conversation, the only thing they would pick up would be static.

The two directors rose to greet Michael and Liz. Michael introduced Liz to the two directors, and then everyone took a chair.

Roach said, “I apologize for holding your flight, but there are some things we need to discuss.”

“Considering the circumstances, I understand,” replied O'Rourke.

“Good.” Roach nodded and then looked over at Stansfield. “Thomas, why don't you take it from here.”

Stansfield crossed his legs and asked, “Congressman O'Rourke, how many people have you told about the events of the last several days?”

Michael thought for a moment and replied, “My brother Tim, my grandfather, and Liz.”

“That's it?” Stansfield studied the congressman as O'Rourke nodded yes. Stansfield wanted to be very thorough on this point, so he restated the question. “Those three people that you mentioned are the only people that you discussed this matter with?”

Michael looked into Stansfield's dark eyes and answered the question again. “Yes.”

Stansfield folded his hands underneath his chin and asked, “Can we trust your brother and your grandfather to stay quiet about it?”

“They understand how serious the situation is.”

Stansfield turned his attention to Liz. “Ms.
Scarlatti, have you told anyone about what happened last night?”

Liz sat upright. “No.”

“Do you plan on telling anyone about what happened?”

“No.”

Stansfield responded with a doubtful look.

“Sir,” replied Liz, “I have no desire to see Michael dragged into the limelight over this, and despite my misgivings about not going public with this story, I concede that it would probably do more harm than good. As long as you leave us alone, I will stay silent about this entire affair.”

Stansfield studied Michael and Liz for a minute and then said, “I'll take your word.” Stansfield stuck out his hand and Michael shook it first followed by Liz. “When you return from the funeral, I would like to talk to both of you and your grandfather and brother.”

“That shouldn't be a problem,” replied Michael.

“Good.” Stansfield hesitated for a second. “I would also like to talk to Commander Coleman.”

“I'm sure he would be more than willing to agree to that. When I get back from Minnesota, I'll arrange it.”

“Thank you.”

Kennedy sat forward. “Congressman, I have one question. Are you familiar with a covert mission by the code name of Operation Snatch Back?”

Michael did not answer the question. He looked at the other four people one by one and tried to decide the best way to handle it.

Stansfield broke the ice. “We need to know for
security reasons and nothing else. There are certain counterespionage operations that have stemmed from Snatch Back.”

Michael could feel his palms moisten. “I knew about Operation Snatch Back… after the fact that is.”

“Did you find out from Senator Olson?” asked Kennedy.

“Yes.”

Kennedy nodded, let the tension mount for several seconds, and then asked, “Did you know Senator Fitzgerald was the person who leaked the mission?”

Michael nodded.

Kennedy looked at her boss and then leaned forward. “Did you pass that information on to Commander Coleman?”

Michael looked at the ground for a second, and then with confidence he looked Kennedy in the eyes. “Yes, I did.”

The room was completely silent for ten full seconds while everyone thought about the events that had been set in motion because of a leaked mission that had taken place almost a year prior. No one needed to ask Michael why he had told Coleman. They had read his file and knew that he was a Marine. Soldiers weren't the only people who held animosity toward politicians—spies and law enforcement officers did, too.

Stansfield said, “Thank you for your honesty.”

Liz turned to Roach and asked, “What's going to happen to Garret?”

The director of the FBI crossed his legs. “He is
going to disappear from public life, and we're going to keep a very close eye on him.”

“What about the president?”

Both directors shrugged their shoulders and then Stansfield said, “That is one of the things I would like to talk to Commander Coleman about.”