25

He began by reviewing the evidence he had already provided. He started with the video of Philip Kilpatrick and John Marcano.

The director of the CIA had learned the most important lesson of D.C. politics, the Patriot said: cover your butt. Like others at the CIA, he had learned it the hard way. During the Obama administration, when the CIA’s waterboarding program became the focus of congressional hearings and investigations, the White House stood idly by even though the Bush Justice Department had earlier authorized the interrogation technique. In the military, when you followed a legal order, you were protected. But the CIA was a civilian agency, and it had a history of operating under justification from one president’s Justice Department only to be questioned by the next.

So John Marcano had learned a valuable lesson.

“You’ll notice,” said the Patriot, “that in the video, Director Marcano is covering his lips with his hand, but Philip Kilpatrick isn’t.”

“What’s the significance of that?” Paige asked.

“Marcano is protecting himself. My guess is he was recording the entire conversation on a hidden audio recorder. But even if not, with this video a good lip-reader can still tell exactly what Philip Kilpatrick is saying.”

“Which is?” Wyatt Jackson asked.

The Patriot nodded, as if his guests had finally asked the right question. “Kilpatrick asks if the source is compromised. He asks Marcano to put a figure on it—what level of confidence does Marcano still have. He asks Marcano if the director has independent corroboration. Remember, all of this occurred roughly twelve hours before the mission took place.”

The Patriot paused, giving that a second to sink in, and Paige immediately understood the implications. Marcano was making sure he had video evidence that the president’s chief of staff had been informed that the mission might be in jeopardy. But he was obviously not sharing this same information in the cabinet-level meetings with other officials, or this park-bench meeting would not have been necessary.

“I have sources who know what happened in the Situation Room later that day,” the Patriot claimed. “Marcano said he had a 95 percent confidence level in the intel. He didn’t raise any cautions. I can also tell you that the president was handed three speeches that day before the mission started. I included copies of the drafts in your envelopes. She only made changes to the one that would be given if the mission was a total disaster.”

The Patriot then turned to a lesson in Mideast politics. He explained that the president had grown increasingly frustrated with Iran’s activities in violation of its treaty and was looking for a reason to get tough with President Rouhani. “Think about it. First Hamilton wants to crack down on Iran. Then this failed mission takes place—hours after the director of the CIA informs the White House chief of staff that the mission intel is likely compromised. After the mission, the president gives a speech—the only speech she edited—calling for renewed sanctions against Iran. Is it all just coincidence? Maybe, but I don’t think so. At the very least, it makes you wonder.”

After a pause, the Patriot asked, “Did you know who Patrick and Troy were working for when they conducted Operation Exodus?”

Nobody answered. It seemed like an obvious question to Paige, but she didn’t want to sound stupid.

“SEAL Team Six,” Bill Harris eventually said. “The United States Navy.”

“Not that night,” the Patriot answered. “Our country has no authority to wage war in Yemen. The Authorization for the Use of Military Force Act that was passed right after 9/11 only allows us to conduct traditional military activities in declared war zones, or against al Qaeda and its affiliates anywhere in the world. Yemen and the Houthis don’t qualify. So in order to send Special Ops troops inside Yemen, they had to be deputized by the CIA under Title 50 of the U.S. Code. That way they would be performing covert action, not military operations. They call it being sheep-dipped as spies. It’s the same thing they did with the bin Laden raid in Pakistan.”

The shadowy figure on the screen leaned forward. He lowered his voice to a metallic whisper. “That’s one reason the president didn’t want to send in another sixty men to retrieve the bodies until she had the support of the American people. She couldn’t make it look like an act of war.”

All of this information began scrambling Paige’s thinking. It seemed that the Patriot knew precisely what he was talking about, but what could she do about it? And why did it matter? Patrick was dead and he wasn’t coming back.

“I want to show you one more thing,” the Patriot said.

His image was replaced by a picture of several men in battle fatigues in the middle of the rubble of a destroyed building. The oldest man, a slim and intense-looking figure, was kneeling over a lamb, preparing to slit its throat.

“This is a United States military officer sacrificing a lamb at a house in Yemen,” the Patriot said. “Do you know who that officer is?”

The Patriot’s silhouette appeared back on the screen. “That’s Admiral Paul Towers, the former commanding officer of the Joint Special Operations Forces. He’s sacrificing that lamb as an apology to the family whose loved ones were mistakenly wiped out by a CIA drone strike. A copy of that picture is in the top desk drawer in the room that you’re in now.”

Paige was stunned by the image. A high-ranking U.S. official engaged in an Islamic ritual to apologize for an act of war? What if this got out?

To Paige’s surprise, Wyatt Jackson didn’t seem that intrigued by it. “Why does it matter?” he asked, his voice skeptical.

“It shows the connection between the CIA, who supervises the drone strikes, and the Special Forces in Yemen,” the Patriot said. “It shows that our Special Forces were involved in that country long before the Easter weekend mission.”

“What are you asking us to do?” Bill Harris asked. “I trusted the military to do what’s right by my grandson. I would have preferred to leave it that way.”

“The reason I chose the three of you is because I know you have integrity and will have credibility with the public. All I am asking is that you think about the evidence I’ve provided and, if it seems like the right thing to do, take it to your congressmen or senators. Ask them to launch an investigation and get to the bottom of it. I can’t do this directly, but America will listen to the voices of gold-star family members. If I were sitting in your seats, I would want to know the truth.”

“I’ve tried a lot of cases,” Wyatt said, his arms crossed. “And they usually hinge on the credibility of the witnesses. I’m not going to recommend that Kristen take this anyplace unless we can meet with you in person and weigh your motives and access to information.”

“I can’t do that,” the Patriot said. “I wish I could. But I’ve given you everything I have. Now, you might want to back away from that computer because it’s going to self-destruct.”

Surprised, Paige and the others slid their chairs back from the table.

“Just kidding,” the Patriot said. “In truth, if you want to go to the police and take that computer with you—go right ahead. There will be nothing helpful on it. All I want is for someone with authority to look into this.”

With that, the screen went dark, and the four people in the room stared at it for a very long time.