Chapters (56)
- Title Page
- Epigraph
- 1 - Washington, D.C. June 20
- 2 - The White House West Wing—June 21
- 3 - The White House North Gate—June 21
- 4 - The White House Roosevelt Room—June 21
- 5 - Rosslyn, Virginia June 21
- 6 - Memorial Bridge June 21
- 7 - White House Office of Clarence Dunne—June 21
- 8 - White House East Wing Residence—June 21
- 9 - Rosslyn June 23
- 10 - The White House Situation Room—June 24
- 11 - Adams Morgan June 24
- 12 - CIA Headquarters June 25
- 13 - White House June 25
- 14 - Dupont Circle June 25
- 15 - Capitol Hill June 25
- 16 - Adams Morgan June 26
- 17 - U.S. Treasury Department June 26
- 18 - Upper Georgetown June 26
- 19 - White House June 26
- 20 - Rosslyn June 26
- 21 - White House June 26
- 22 - Flight 847 June 27
- 23 - Downtown Washington June 27
- 24 - New Orleans June 27
- 25 - Dupont Circle June 27
- 26 - Foggy Bottom June 27
- 27 - Interstate Highway 10, Louisiana June 28
- 28 - Arlington Hospital, Arlington, Virginia June 28
- 29 - New Orleans June 28
- 30 - The Gauntlet June 28
- 31 - New Orleans June 29
- 32 - Capitol Hill June 29
- 33 - The Gauntlet June 29
- 34 - Adams Morgan June 29
- 35 - The White House June 29
- 36 - Bennington Gardens June 29
- 37 - Blair House June 30
- 38 - Langley June 30
- 39 - The U.S. Capitol June 30
- 40 - George Washington University Hospital June 30
- 41 - The White House June 30
- 42 - Georgetown June 30
- 43 - Havana Village June 30
- 44 - Bennington Gardens June 30
- 45 - Second District, Metropolitan Police Station June 30
- 46 - The White House July 1
- 47 - K and 17th Streets July 1
- 48 - The White House July 1
- 49 - Connecticut Avenue July 1
- 50 - Mayflower Hotel July 1
- 51 - The White House July 1
- 52 - Bethesda, Maryland November 3
- Also by
- Copyright Page
Dunne knew Grayton well. In his late forties, Grayton was a riser in the security establishment. The FBI director, a former senator, cared more for tennis and Georgetown parties than briefings and task forces. So Grayton got to call the shots. Last year, Grayton had organized a special interagency SWAT team to counter threats against government targets. When a few skeptical House members raised questions about its budget, a story suddenly appeared in the Washington Post: “New Unit Thwarts Drug Cartel Bomb Plot in D.C.” The source was obvious: Grayton. His outfit won an extra $13 million from Congress. Slick, smooth, he played the game well. He was ever up-to-date on current developments in the security world: computers, advance weapon technology, the latest in terrorism neutralization. In various meetings, Dunne had watched Grayton hail one “new era” after another—in interagency cooperation, in internal communications, in international liaison. Dozens of times, Dunne had heard Grayton mouth the motto, “Drive the change; don’t be pushed by it.” He knew the younger agents mocked Grayton’s can-do-ism: Dry the rain; don’t be sussed by it.
Dunne stood up. Grayton was taller. He had electric blue eyes, jet black hair combed straight back, and utterly straight teeth. He spoke in bursts, as if his words were coming out of a teletype.
“Listen, Jake,” Dunne said. “We fucked up, and I want to know how that happened. You’re looking to solve a case. But we also need to figure out what went wrong security-wise. So I’d like to know what she can tell us about her husband.”
Dunne knew he was bullshitting. This wasn’t about security. It was about finding a way in.
“Listen, my friend,” Grayton said, “in the prelim, a very upset Mrs. Sandlin told us she doesn’t know where the fuck her husband is anyway. So why do you want to go over to J. Edgar and sit in on the three-oh-two?”
Grayton glanced at a photograph on the wall that showed Dunne, as a young man, being sworn in as a police officer in Atlanta.
“Because that’s all there is right now.”