don’t give a rat’s ass what they’re up to. They’re simply not even worth thinking about.”
While she hated to admit it, there was a lot of logic to what Durkin was saying. “Let’s assume that you’re right; that they’re out there selling their services as private contractors. What’s the harm in quietly looking around, compiling a case file, and passing it off to the Jordanians?”
Durkin adopted a more sympathetic tone, but it was still patronizing. “Lydia, I want to help. Believe me. But you’re talking about private U.S. citizens. You know how the director feels about this kind of thing. We can’t investigate them without some sort of a justification.”
“So you’re saying no .”
The man nodded. “That’s what I’m saying. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too,” said Ryan as she stood up from the couch and walked to the door.
“Tell Nasiri you’re trying. In the meantime, let’s see if our people can run down this ‘plot’ he’s uncovered.”
“And if we can’t run it down?”
“Then hopefully, he’ll do the right thing and come clean with you.”
“I’m not going to hold my breath.”
“You never know,” Durkin said. “He may surprise you.”
Ryan was halfway out the door when she turned around and asked, “Why wasn’t I let go with the rest of the team when they were fired?”
“Why do you think?”
She shrugged. “I certainly broke my fair share of rules, just like the rest of them.”
“That’s the way the team was set up. You were expected to color outside the lines in order to get results.”
“But why keep me and not the others?”
“Because unlike the others, you didn’t ask for that assignment. You got put there as a babysitter. We knew you’d have to break a few rules, but we also knew where your loyalties were.”
“We?” she asked, “Or you ?”
“What are you saying?”
“Did I get some sort of special treatment that the others didn’t get? Is that why you thought you could come on to me the way you did?”
“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “That was me being stupid. You’re still here because both the CIA and I value your talent. Nothing more. Now stop letting Nafi Nasiri mess with your head. You’re too smart to be manipulated like that.”
Coming from anyone else, it would have been a nice compliment. Nevertheless, she remained professional. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now go.”
• • •
Once Ryan had left his office and the door had fully closed behind her, Durkin picked up his secure telephone and dialed. When a man’s voice answered on the other end the CIA man said, “We’ve got a problem. A big one.”
CHAPTER 9
W ASHINGTON
D ISTRICT OF C OLUMBIA
T he security at the headquarters of the Federal Reserve was similar to security at government buildings throughout the nation’s capital. Uniformed men with sidearms were posted at the entrances, as well as at the checkpoints inside.
Harvath and Carlton were required to pass through a full-body imaging machine before being allowed to proceed to a reception desk near a plush waiting area. “I should have warned you, but I’m glad you didn’t bring any weapons,” said the Old Man.
“Who said I didn’t bring any?” replied Harvath.
For a moment, Carlton couldn’t tell if he was pulling his leg or not. He decided to let it go and walked over to the reception desk.
Harvath admired the building’s interior. Even by Washington standards, it was impressive. With its polished marble and modernist interpretation of Beaux Arts style, if this was supposed to be an awe-inspiring temple to money, its architects had succeeded.
After giving their names to the receptionist, Carlton rejoined Harvath. “Ever been here before?” the Old Man asked.
Harvath shook his head. “No. I’ve been to the Treasury and about every other federal building in town, but not this one.”
“This one isn’t federal.”
“What do you mean?”
“The
While she hated to admit it, there was a lot of logic to what Durkin was saying. “Let’s assume that you’re right; that they’re out there selling their services as private contractors. What’s the harm in quietly looking around, compiling a case file, and passing it off to the Jordanians?”
Durkin adopted a more sympathetic tone, but it was still patronizing. “Lydia, I want to help. Believe me. But you’re talking about private U.S. citizens. You know how the director feels about this kind of thing. We can’t investigate them without some sort of a justification.”
“So you’re saying no .”
The man nodded. “That’s what I’m saying. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too,” said Ryan as she stood up from the couch and walked to the door.
“Tell Nasiri you’re trying. In the meantime, let’s see if our people can run down this ‘plot’ he’s uncovered.”
“And if we can’t run it down?”
“Then hopefully, he’ll do the right thing and come clean with you.”
“I’m not going to hold my breath.”
“You never know,” Durkin said. “He may surprise you.”
Ryan was halfway out the door when she turned around and asked, “Why wasn’t I let go with the rest of the team when they were fired?”
“Why do you think?”
She shrugged. “I certainly broke my fair share of rules, just like the rest of them.”
“That’s the way the team was set up. You were expected to color outside the lines in order to get results.”
“But why keep me and not the others?”
“Because unlike the others, you didn’t ask for that assignment. You got put there as a babysitter. We knew you’d have to break a few rules, but we also knew where your loyalties were.”
“We?” she asked, “Or you ?”
“What are you saying?”
“Did I get some sort of special treatment that the others didn’t get? Is that why you thought you could come on to me the way you did?”
“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “That was me being stupid. You’re still here because both the CIA and I value your talent. Nothing more. Now stop letting Nafi Nasiri mess with your head. You’re too smart to be manipulated like that.”
Coming from anyone else, it would have been a nice compliment. Nevertheless, she remained professional. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now go.”
• • •
Once Ryan had left his office and the door had fully closed behind her, Durkin picked up his secure telephone and dialed. When a man’s voice answered on the other end the CIA man said, “We’ve got a problem. A big one.”
CHAPTER 9
W ASHINGTON
D ISTRICT OF C OLUMBIA
T he security at the headquarters of the Federal Reserve was similar to security at government buildings throughout the nation’s capital. Uniformed men with sidearms were posted at the entrances, as well as at the checkpoints inside.
Harvath and Carlton were required to pass through a full-body imaging machine before being allowed to proceed to a reception desk near a plush waiting area. “I should have warned you, but I’m glad you didn’t bring any weapons,” said the Old Man.
“Who said I didn’t bring any?” replied Harvath.
For a moment, Carlton couldn’t tell if he was pulling his leg or not. He decided to let it go and walked over to the reception desk.
Harvath admired the building’s interior. Even by Washington standards, it was impressive. With its polished marble and modernist interpretation of Beaux Arts style, if this was supposed to be an awe-inspiring temple to money, its architects had succeeded.
After giving their names to the receptionist, Carlton rejoined Harvath. “Ever been here before?” the Old Man asked.
Harvath shook his head. “No. I’ve been to the Treasury and about every other federal building in town, but not this one.”
“This one isn’t federal.”
“What do you mean?”
“The
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