U.S. STATE DEPARTMENT HEADQUARTERS, WASHINGTON, D.C.
THURSDAY, 1:02 A.M. EST
Dr. Judd Ryker is on it.” Landon Parker spoke confidently into the phone, hiding his irritation at yet another call from Capitol Hill. “I don’t have an update from Ryker for you yet, but he’s only just landed in-country. It’s early tomorrow morning over there. . . . No, Congressman, don’t mention it. It’s no trouble at all. The State Department is open 24/7. . . . Yes, of course I’m still in the office.”
Parker glanced at the clock on his wall, just above the photo of him posing with the Secretary of State and Bruce Springsteen.
“Yes, I’ll keep you informed,” Parker said. “Yes, I know we only have until Friday morning. . . . I’ll send someone over to brief you first thing tomorrow. . . . No need to thank me, Shepard. That’s my job. . . . I told you already that Ryker is my crisis specialist. He’s the firefighter of Foggy Bottom. Our best man for the job. I told you that these kidnappings are always high-risk. Things go wrong all the time. We can’t make any promises when it comes to these situations. But if anyone can bring Tunde Babatunde home safe, it’s Ryker.”
Parker set the phone down and his assistant’s head immediately appeared in the doorway.
“Would you like me to reach Dr. Ryker?”
Parker stared at her as he tried to organize his thoughts. Truman seemed convinced that State was doing everything possible to find Babatunde. That was success right there. Ryker was on the ground doing . . . whatever he did. It didn’t really matter. If Ryker saved Babatunde, great. Parker would get credit with Truman and pocket a major favor for later. If Ryker failed, then Truman would believe that Parker had done everything possible. The chief of staff had just told the Congressman he’d sent our best man for the job. What more could Truman ask? If it ever came to the worst possible outcome, a congressional inquiry, Parker could simply tell the truth. A Washington win-win.
Parker smiled at his assistant. “Not necessary.”
“Should I call Embassy Abuja, Mr. Parker? Maybe our ambassador in Nigeria will have some information?”
“No,” he said, taking off his wire-rimmed glasses and rubbing his eyes.
“How about I call the motor pool and have a car take you home, sir? You look like you need some sleep.”
Parker shook his head. He had spent enough time on Shepard Truman and his kidnappings. He had real work to do.
“It’s already after lunch in eastern China. Their foreign minister should have landed back in the capital by now,” he announced, without having to check his watch. “I’ve got a long list of follow-ups from his visit. Get me Embassy Beijing.”