The Oval Office
The White House
Washington, D.C.
I want to assure you that everything that can be done to locate and rescue your daughter, Cassy, and Jennifer Conner, is being done,” President Sally Allworth said in a concerned voice as soon as Representative Rudy Adeogo, his wife, Dheeh, and Brooke Grant arrived.
In addition to the president and chief of staff Mallory Harper, the others in the Oval Office included CIA director Payton Grainger, the head of the Department of Homeland Security, the FBI director, and the FBI’s counterterrorism chief.
“Agent Parker is in charge of locating your girls and finding the terrorists responsible,” President Allworth said, introducing him.
The fifty-something Parker had a firm handshake and looked very much like a stereotypical FBI agent. He had a weight-lifter’s build and was wearing a shiny Brooks Brothers two-piece suit
“Please give us an update,” Allworth said.
“Thank you, Madam President,” Parker replied. “We’ve established our command post in Reston, Virginia, where we have more than a hundred of our best agents pursuing leads and collecting evidence from three sites: the outside area where General Frank Grant was critically wounded, the Maryland girls’ school in Potomac, and Major Grant’s farmhouse in Virginia. Of course, we are also exchanging information with the CIA.”
Brooke knew the CIA operated out of several buildings in Reston and she immediately assumed the FBI had established its command center in one of those CIA units. It was against the law for the spy agency to become involved in domestic operations, but the bureau needed its foreign expertise in dealing with the Falcon, so the two bureaucracies had joined forces out of necessity.
“Do you have any idea where they’ve taken our girls?” Brooke asked. Her question violated an unspoken but understood protocol in Washington that required underlings to wait until the highest ranking individual in the room was finished asking questions before speaking. In the Oval Office, that was the president, but Brooke didn’t care. She wanted to know what was being done to find Jennifer, and President Allworth understood that angst and overlooked the faux pas.
“We have some promising leads, but nothing concrete,” Parker replied.
“Agent Parker will be happy to answer your questions in more detail after our meeting here,” the FBI director interjected, glancing at the president.
“Yes,” Parker volunteered, “we’d like you to come to our command post. We need to interview you and Representative Adeogo and Mrs. Adeogo about your girls.”
“I will be making a statement to the media,” Allworth said, changing the subject. “Congressman, would you and Dheeh be willing to appear with me at a news conference? Major Grant, I’d like you there too, of course.”
Parker looked startled and glanced at his boss. The president noticed and asked: “Agent Parker, is there something you would like to say?”
“Madam President, if I may offer a suggestion,” Parker replied, clearly nervous. “It has been our experience in dealing with kidnappings that we need to be extremely careful about what is said during television or media appearances while the kidnap victims are still being held captive.”
“Obviously,” Mallory Harper said in a stern voice, joining the conversation, “the president is keenly aware of how sensitive this is and doesn’t need to be reminded of the gravity of the situation. We will consult with your boss before we release any statements or hold a press conference. But you need to understand that it is imperative for the president to speak to the American people.”
“The public is frightened,” the president explained. “First, attempts were made to murder me at the National Cathedral and this morning, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff was critically wounded. Major Grant’s farmhouse was attacked and a van full of terrorists drove onto the campus of an elite Potomac girls’ school where they murdered eight children and two adults in cold blood before fleeing. Abroad, terrorists under the direction of this creature called the Falcon attacked a college campus, murdering dozens in Kenya. I can’t remain quiet at a time such as this.”
“The public expects the president to react,” Harper said.
“As you are my commander in chief,” Brooke volunteered, “I will do whatever is asked of me, but I personally have no interest in speaking to the media, especially while Jennifer is being held by these animals. The Falcon is trying to kill everyone I love and I’m not interested in giving him the satisfaction of knowing how deeply he is hurting my family and me.”
“I’ll defer to the FBI and its experts,” Representative Adeogo said, glancing at Agent Parker. “If the FBI believes it will help our daughter by appearing at a press conference, then Dheeh and I will do it. I simply want Cassy home safe and unharmed.”
“If I can make a suggestion,” Director Grainger said, speaking for the first time during their meeting, “perhaps it would be better if the president were joined by the directors of the FBI and Homeland Security, rather than family members, at this point. To show a unified front and impress upon the public that a strong response is being made.”
“That’s a good suggestion,” President Allworth said. “Mallory will arrange it. Let’s schedule it for tomorrow afternoon so that our people can meet with Parker and his team to go over the language of what I will say.” Alternating her eyes between the Adeogos and Brooke, she added in an earnest voice, “Rudy, Dheeh, and Major Grant, I want you to call me directly if you need my assistance and support as we get through these next few days together. I can only imagine how terrified you must feel and I want you to know that the American people are with you in their thoughts and prayers. I want to personally assure you that the terrorists responsible will be hunted down and punished regardless of how long it takes. They will pay the ultimate price. You have my word as president.”
With that, the Adeogos and Brooke were escorted from the Oval Office accompanied by Agent Parker, who explained that two sedans were waiting outside the White House to drive them directly to the Reston office.
The trip northwest from downtown D.C. took about forty minutes. There was no identifying commercial sign outside the compound on Sunset Drive, no way of knowing it was leased by the CIA for use in combating terrorism. Even though Agent Parker was in the lead car, two guards stopped everyone and their vehicles. After their identities had been confirmed, they were allowed to enter the building. Parker directed his guests into a large conference area where he introduced them to a dozen agents overseeing the investigation. The Adeogos and Brooke were then taken into different offices to answer questions about Cassy and Jennifer. The Adeogos described Cassy’s personality and habits. They theorized that their daughter had been targeted because her father was the only Muslim in Congress.
“They want to punish me,” Adeogo said, “because I have been critical of their radical interpretation of Islam.”
After three hours, Adeogo and Dheeh left the compound, but Brooke was still being interviewed by Parker. She patiently answered his questions about Jennifer, Gunter Conner, and the Falcon. Near the end of his questioning, Parker said, “I spoke earlier today to a friend of yours, a SAD team member named Walks Many Miles, who called the agency directly from Africa.”
Brooke realized that she had forgotten to return Miles’s call after hearing his message earlier on her cell phone. She had been too preoccupied with the wounding of her uncle and Jennifer’s kidnapping.
“May I ask how he is connected to all of this?” Parker said.
“He’s a family friend. We were in Somalia together and now he’s been sent to Africa to hunt down and kill the Falcon.”
“The sooner, the better,” Parker replied. “Thanks for your cooperation. You’ll need a ride. I’ll have one of our female agents drive you to your aunt’s house, which is where I’ve been told you will be staying. I’ll let you know as soon as we hear anything.”
“Whoa,” Brooke snapped. “Now it’s your turn to answer my questions.”
For another half hour, she asked Parker about what he and his team had gleaned since the three attacks that morning. He was frustratingly evasive and she didn’t learn anything new or helpful. Most of what he shared was information that she’d already heard from Lieutenant Colonel Gabe DeMoss at the hospital when visiting her uncle.
In an exasperated voice, she finally snapped, “You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know and I’m not going to sit on the sidelines here waiting for you to toss me scraps of information. I’m going to be part of your investigation. Jennifer is my responsibility, and I’m not leaving this up to you and your team.”
Parker flashed a dismissive smile. “I certainly understand,” he said, as if he were speaking to a child, “and I admire your determination to help, but, Major, I can’t allow it. We’re good at what we do, so you’ll just have to trust us. I can’t have someone on the team with an emotional attachment to the two girls. It might become an encumbrance.”
“Agent Parker,” she replied in an unyielding voice, “don’t assume because I am a woman or family member that I am incapable of keeping my feelings in check; and no one on your team knows as much about the Falcon and how he thinks and operates as I do.”
“I’m certain you are correct, Major Grant, but the answer is still no. As I said, we will keep you informed.”
“Like you just did?” she said in a scoffing voice. “I could have learned more watching the evening news.”
She noticed a blue vein throbbing in his neck, but he kept a calm look on his face. Continuing, she said, “I thought I made it clear to you that the Falcon has a personal vendetta against me and my family, including my uncle.”
“Oh, you made that perfectly clear. It’s exactly why I can’t allow you to be part of this investigation.”
“I’m not asking you for permission to be on this team. I’m demanding it.”
Parker narrowed his eyes, causing his caterpillar-like eyebrows to curve into half-moons. “No means no, Major Grant. There’s no point in us arguing about this.”
“If you push this,” she replied sternly, “you’ll lose.”
Parker forced another grin. “Very well, Major, I’ll speak to the director, but don’t get your hopes up. I’m certain he’ll agree with me.”
“In that case, I’ll call the president. And I’m sure she will agree with me. She told me that I could call her directly if there was anything that I needed from her, and I can be very persuasive.”
For a moment, they stared at each other, as if they were schoolchildren trying to force the other to blink first.
He blinked.
Special Agent Parker was an ambitious man and he understood that this investigation would be a pivotal moment in his career. Having Brooke call the president to complain on the first day would not bode well for him with the FBI’s director.
“Have it your way,” he said reluctantly, “but if you are part of the team, that means you answer to me. Is that understood? You work for me.”
“I look forward to working with you,” she said as she turned and walked out of the command post office.
It was nearly midnight now, and when she exited, there was a chill in the night air. A driver delivered Brooke to the two-story brick colonial house in northern Virginia where she had spent her teenage years. It felt empty as she climbed the stairs to her former bedroom. Geraldine had hung eight-by-ten-inch photographs along the staircase wall and Brooke took a moment to glance at each one. Her cousins were in photos hanging near the bottom steps. All three boys had followed in General Grant’s footsteps and were shown in their Army uniforms. When she reached the sixth step, she found her photograph on display. She was wearing her Marine dress uniform. One of the last events when their family had gathered together in this house had been the annual Army and Navy game. It had been Brooke against the rest of the Grant clan and she had gloated when a last-minute pass interception had won the game for Navy. At the top of the staircase, she discovered a new photo. It was of Jennifer, taken on the day that she and Brooke had moved into their Victorian farmhouse. Jennifer was squinting because Geraldine had insisted that she stand facing the sun so there would be “enough light for a good picture.” But the child was clearly happy.
Where is she? Did she witness Miriam, her caregiver and best friend, being murdered?
Jennifer already had been through so much—her mother and brother killed by a car bomb, her father’s murder by terrorists in Germany, and now she had been abducted.
Had Jennifer retreated back into the safety of her delusional world—a world that everyone had worked so hard to draw her from?
Despite her deeply religious upbringing as a preacher’s daughter in Tulsa, Oklahoma, the buckle of the Bible Belt, Brooke had found herself with Job-like doubts after her parents were murdered during 9/11. Unless she was with her aunt, she rarely prayed. Yet at this moment, she felt compelled to shut her eyes and whisper aloud: “Please, God, please. Be with Jennifer. Protect her.”
When Brooke entered her former bedroom, she called Walks Many Miles’s cell phone. For some reason, the connection to Africa didn’t work. After several attempts, she gave up and called her aunt at the hospital.
“How’s Pooh Bear?” Brooke asked, using her pet name for her uncle.
“He’s still in a coma but the swelling stopped,” Geraldine said in an excited voice.
“How high did the pressure get?”
“The doctor said it started dropping when it reached thirty-nine. They don’t believe he suffered any permanent brain damage, Brooke. I told you. Jesus is with us.” Geraldine hesitated and then added, “He’s with Jennifer too. I can feel it.”