Jihad by Stephen Coonts
Authors: Stephen Coonts
Tags: Fiction, Suspense, Thrillers, Action & Adventure, Espionage, Intelligence Officers, Adventure fiction, spy stories, Undercover operations, Cyberterrorism, National security
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Affairs. “McNally on Russia?”
Before Rubens could answer—he had read a few paragraphs and then moved on in disgust—Hadash launched into a lengthy and devastating critique, punctuated several times by the phrase “and people in Congress talk seriously of McNally as the next secretary of state.”
“A comment on the ability of Congress, surely,” said Rubens when the former national security advisor finally paused for a breath.
Hadash burst out laughing.
“You’re doing much better than the other day,” said Rubens. “When will you be out?”
“When they’ve grown tired of poking me. I have another MRI session scheduled for this afternoon. They promise a date then.”
Rubens nodded.
“Do you think about death, William?”
“I don’t,” Rubens answered honestly. “But I don’t think you’re going to die.”
“Eventually we all do,” said Hadash. “I’m ready, if it comes to that.”
Death seemed an impossible thing to be ready for. Rubens changed the subject, asking what Hadash was doing with all the Civil War books.
“I have been thinking of General Lee and McClellan. An interesting pair, symbols of their age,” said Hadash. “Brilliant, yet both deeply flawed.”
McClellan, commander of the Army of the Potomac, had faced off against the Confederate Robert E. Lee in the first half of the war; Rubens knew enough Civil War history to realize that most historians regarded him as a poor military leader. But Lee’s flaws were less known, at least to him.
“He overextended his army,” Hadash quickly explained. “You see, the critical difference—well, look at George Washington during the Revolution. The turning point of the war comes after the British take New York and the Revolution doesn’t collapse. General Washington realizes what sort of war he’s fighting. All he has to do is survive. Lee missed that.”
“I doubt Lincoln would have settled for that,” said Rubens.
Hadash smiled. He relished well-reasoned arguments and was just revving up. “True. Lincoln was not King George. But there were elections to contend with. Lincoln might not have been there had events gone differently.”
Hadash charged into a short lecture on McClellan, laying out how he would have sued for peace had he won the election. There was a glint in his eye that Rubens realized meant he was purposely overstating his case.
This was an excellent sign, Rubens thought; Hadash was clearly on the mend.
“I’d like to hear more, but I’m afraid I’m due at a meeting,” said Rubens finally. “I’ll call you tonight, to see how your scan went.”
“Yes, very good. And we’ll talk about Grant,” added Hadash.
“I’m afraid I know relatively little about him and the war in general.”
“Then I’ll have the advantage.”
CHAPTER 18
ASAD’S DRIVER HAD been placed in a room with three other patients on the third floor of the hospital, next to an emergency staircase and only a few yards from the elevators; snatching him would not be difficult. But that meant the men coming for him would have an easy time as well.
One of the patients in the room was suffering from the advanced stages of Alzheimer’s disease. Posing as an acquaintance of the man’s daughter—her name and address were in his file, easily accessed by the Art Room—Lia went up and surveyed the room. The driver lay in the second bed from the door, knocked out by the drugs they’d given him to ease the pain of his burns. Lia placed a video bug and an eavesdropping “fly” inside the room and in the hallway, making up for a gap in the hospital’s video security system that failed to completely cover the hallway down from the nurse’s station.
“Easiest thing to do is to take him down the stairs, slap him in a wheelchair and roll him out the front door,” she told Rockman as she descended in the elevator. “Can you kill the alarms on the staircase?”
“Not a problem. We have two CIA paras in a car
Before Rubens could answer—he had read a few paragraphs and then moved on in disgust—Hadash launched into a lengthy and devastating critique, punctuated several times by the phrase “and people in Congress talk seriously of McNally as the next secretary of state.”
“A comment on the ability of Congress, surely,” said Rubens when the former national security advisor finally paused for a breath.
Hadash burst out laughing.
“You’re doing much better than the other day,” said Rubens. “When will you be out?”
“When they’ve grown tired of poking me. I have another MRI session scheduled for this afternoon. They promise a date then.”
Rubens nodded.
“Do you think about death, William?”
“I don’t,” Rubens answered honestly. “But I don’t think you’re going to die.”
“Eventually we all do,” said Hadash. “I’m ready, if it comes to that.”
Death seemed an impossible thing to be ready for. Rubens changed the subject, asking what Hadash was doing with all the Civil War books.
“I have been thinking of General Lee and McClellan. An interesting pair, symbols of their age,” said Hadash. “Brilliant, yet both deeply flawed.”
McClellan, commander of the Army of the Potomac, had faced off against the Confederate Robert E. Lee in the first half of the war; Rubens knew enough Civil War history to realize that most historians regarded him as a poor military leader. But Lee’s flaws were less known, at least to him.
“He overextended his army,” Hadash quickly explained. “You see, the critical difference—well, look at George Washington during the Revolution. The turning point of the war comes after the British take New York and the Revolution doesn’t collapse. General Washington realizes what sort of war he’s fighting. All he has to do is survive. Lee missed that.”
“I doubt Lincoln would have settled for that,” said Rubens.
Hadash smiled. He relished well-reasoned arguments and was just revving up. “True. Lincoln was not King George. But there were elections to contend with. Lincoln might not have been there had events gone differently.”
Hadash charged into a short lecture on McClellan, laying out how he would have sued for peace had he won the election. There was a glint in his eye that Rubens realized meant he was purposely overstating his case.
This was an excellent sign, Rubens thought; Hadash was clearly on the mend.
“I’d like to hear more, but I’m afraid I’m due at a meeting,” said Rubens finally. “I’ll call you tonight, to see how your scan went.”
“Yes, very good. And we’ll talk about Grant,” added Hadash.
“I’m afraid I know relatively little about him and the war in general.”
“Then I’ll have the advantage.”
CHAPTER 18
ASAD’S DRIVER HAD been placed in a room with three other patients on the third floor of the hospital, next to an emergency staircase and only a few yards from the elevators; snatching him would not be difficult. But that meant the men coming for him would have an easy time as well.
One of the patients in the room was suffering from the advanced stages of Alzheimer’s disease. Posing as an acquaintance of the man’s daughter—her name and address were in his file, easily accessed by the Art Room—Lia went up and surveyed the room. The driver lay in the second bed from the door, knocked out by the drugs they’d given him to ease the pain of his burns. Lia placed a video bug and an eavesdropping “fly” inside the room and in the hallway, making up for a gap in the hospital’s video security system that failed to completely cover the hallway down from the nurse’s station.
“Easiest thing to do is to take him down the stairs, slap him in a wheelchair and roll him out the front door,” she told Rockman as she descended in the elevator. “Can you kill the alarms on the staircase?”
“Not a problem. We have two CIA paras in a car
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