Contents ( 84)
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- SEVENTY-FOUR
- SEVENTY-FIVE
- SEVENTY-SIX
- SEVENTY-SEVEN
- SEVENTY-EIGHT
- SEVENTY-NINE
- EIGHTY
- EIGHTY-ONE
- EIGHTY-TWO
- EIGHTY-THREE
- Acknowledgements
SEVENTY-THREE
John Knowles’ gaze remained fixed on Jack Meyer as a door to the Oval Office opened for the first time in almost five hours.
It could only be one person. Only Kelvin Cunningham was able to come and go as he pleased. But Knowles did not even look up. Right now, Cunningham was not his immediate obstacle. That was Jack Meyer.
And so Meyer had his president’s full attention.
It was far from unusual that a president and his closest advisors should hole up in the Oval Office for hours at a time. Maybe not for this long, Knowles thought. Nine hours so far. But still, the isolation itself was common enough.
Certainly no reason to suspect that the president’s a prisoner at his own damn desk.
A prisoner of Jack Meyer. Assistant director of the Secret Service, both chief and a thirty-year veteran of the Service’s Presidential Protection Division, and an agent known in Washington for his unimpeachable loyalty to the Oval Office.
Meyer turned his head stiffly as Cunningham entered the room, stifling a yawn as he did so. The first indication he had given that the wait was getting to him.
‘Any update?’ Meyer asked.
Cunningham smiled, directing his answer at Knowles, who remained seated behind the presidential desk.
‘It’s underway,’ Cunningham replied. His voice carried a sense of victory. ‘Blackspear have started to deliver our “witnesses” to Tootkai. And Dempsey and Grace haven’t left the UN compound outside of Kabul yet. By the time they get to the village, all they’ll find are victims who blame you and your SEAL team, John, for the terrible crimes you committed there.’
Knowles shook his head at the satisfaction in Cunningham’s tone. It was a stark contrast to the depression that was now threatening his own mood.
It can’t end like this, he thought. After everything I’ve done. The years of planning. All to bring down Cunningham and the bastards he works for. They can’t win this way. They can’t win this easily.
The negativity threatened to overtake him, but Knowles fought it. He was stronger than that. This was not over yet.
‘You think they’ll just accept that, do you?’ he asked. His voice sounded confident. No hint of his inner despair. ‘Dempsey and Grace. After everything that’s happened, you think they’ll just buy the set-up?’
‘I couldn’t give a shit what they buy,’ Cunningham replied. ‘They’re as good as dead the moment they step foot in that village? You think we’d let them live?’
‘Then why the rush to get your bullshit witnesses in place?’
‘Because once my Secret Service team kills the agent you sent as part of your “cover-up”, well, that team will then discover what it is you were covering up. They’re gonna have to meet the witnesses who can finger your unit for what you did there all those years ago. And then they’re gonna have to bring those witnesses into the public eye.’
Cunningham had been as good as his word. The threat his organisation had held over Knowles for all these years – the threat that had handed them control of his presidency – had always been a live one.