The Sixth Man kam-5

by David Baldacci

  The president looked back at Foster. “You have to stay in the loop on this, Ellen. I know you’ve been hamstrung on this to an unconscionable degree, but I really want you on this.”

  “I will have no higher priority.”

  “I’m assuming the CIA is up to speed?”

  “Yes. I’ve personally filled in the director. Now, I do think it imperative, after we successfully handle the E-Program matter, that fundamental structural changes be put into place.”

  “I would welcome your input,” said the advisor, and the president nodded in agreement.

  Foster said grimly, “For far too long we’ve put all of our eggs in one basket. And while there are those who still complain about interagency cooperation being a problem, that really is simply not true. And the key is redundancy. I’ve been preaching that ever since I took over at DHS. With responsibility and intelligence analysis spread over multiple platforms, this current situation never would have happened. I don’t think we could put too high a value on avoiding that in the future.”

  “Completely agree with that assessment,” said the president. “It’s spot-on. I’ve never been comfortable with the E-Program arrangement, despite, as you say, its limited successes.”

  “I knew that, sir. Your instincts have always been rock-solid.”

  Actually, this president had lauded the results of the E-Program’s clandestine work at every available opportunity, chiefly because its widespread successes had lifted his approval rating to new highs. But the three people in this room also knew that facts were never allowed to get in the way of political survival.

  “And what of Bunting?” asked the president.

  “I’m working with the FBI to build the case against him. It can be handled discreetly. The media will never know the full story, nor should they. National security cannot be compromised simply because a megalomaniac somehow got to the top of the food chain in his field.”

  “And Edgar Roy?” asked the advisor.

  “A different problem,” admitted Foster.

  “Do you think he’s guilty?” asked the president. “Of murdering the six men?”

  Foster tapped one of her fingernails on the desk. “Roy is a strange man. I’ve met him a few times. I could easily see him having a dark side. Whether he indeed did kill those men is not something I can answer definitively. But I can tell you that even if he is eventually tried and acquitted, it will be a long and messy road. There will be requests filed by his attorneys that could reveal much. Far too much.”

  The advisor stirred. “Things we do not want revealed. Things we can’t reveal.”

  “Precisely,” said Foster. “And the same holds true for Bunting. If he’s really involved in the deaths of these people, it will be a media circus the likes of which we have never seen. And from what I know of Bunting, he will use every resource he has to escape punishment for his crimes.”

  “You mean even revealing classified material?” said the president with a startled look. “But we would never allow that.”

  “There is only one person Peter Bunting looks out for and that is Peter Bunting. You can trust me on that. He can sell a bill of goods to anybody, but that’s all it is.”

  The president nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I can certainly see that now.”

  Foster added, “And look at the WikiLeaks debacle. Who would have thought that possible? I think we have to assume the worst.”

  The president sighed and eyed his advisor. “Thoughts?”

  Choosing his words with care, the man said, “There are ways. There are always means, Mr. President. To avoid a trial, messy disclosures, and the like.”

  Foster studied the president carefully to see how he would react to this suggestion. Some chief executives were squeamish about this sort of thing. Others had large backbones and small consciences and never thought twice about it.

  “I suppose we should start evaluating some of them,” said the president.

  Foster gave him a look filled with sympathetic pride. “These decisions are hard, sir, but also easy in a way. When the impact on the country is so clear.”

  “I’m not putting any of this in writing. In fact this meeting officially never happened,” said the president. “But I want my options before any action is taken.”

  “There may be one caveat to that, Mr. President,” said Foster. This was the moment of truth, she knew. This was what she had rehearsed over and over again in the mirror in her private bathroom back at DHS.

  The president’s gaze was piercing with a flash of anger lurking behind it ready to be unleashed. “Caveat?” Presidents did not like caveats to their decisions.

  “Only based on one factor that we don’t have control over,” she said.

  “What is that?”

  “We don’t know what Bunting may be plotting.”

  “Well, let’s pick the man up and make sure he’s not plotting anything.”

  “We have to tread cautiously there, sir,” said Foster, who really didn’t want to “pick the man up.” “He’s smart and resourceful. I’d rather let him play his hand out.” She paused and looked at the advisor.

  On cue he said, “You mean give him rope to hang himself.”

  Foster nodded. “You read my mind. Exactly, give him enough rope to hang himself.”

  “And then we act?” said the president.

  “And then we can act in the manner that is most advantageous to us,” amended Foster. “And there’s one more thing, sir.”

  The president smiled in an irritated manner. “You’re just full of surprises today.”

  She hurried on, sensing his patience was running out. “Edgar Roy’s sister.”

  “His sister?”

  “Half sister, technically. Her name is Kelly Paul.” She glanced at the advisor.

  “She was one of our very best field agents, Mr. President. Put the woman into any situation, any hot spot around the world, and she would fix the problem, whatever it might be.”

  “And she’s Roy’s sister,” said the president. “Why am I just hearing about this now?”

  “You have many things on your plate, sir,” said Foster. “And it really didn’t matter until now.” She paused. “We think she’s now working for the other side.”

  “Good God! Are you serious?”

  The advisor said, “Officially she retired. However, there is some indication that she’s back on the job. Only it’s not working for us. That we know.”

  “What could she be after?” said the president.

  “In the right situation Edgar Roy would be very valuable to enemies of this country.”

  The advisor added, “The amount of knowledge the man has about our national security and our tactical and strategic goals is staggering.”

  “But using her own brother?” said the president dubiously.

  “They aren’t close,” lied Foster. “And Kelly Paul has the reputation, the well-earned reputation, of not allowing anything, not even family, to get in the way of a mission. So if she manages to somehow extract her brother from Cutter’s—”

  “That’s not possible,” interrupted the president. “Is it?”

  “The facility is very secure, but Paul is very good,” replied Foster.

  “So we definitely know that she’s involved in this?” asked the president.

  “Yes. In fact we have information that Paul actually went to visit Roy at Cutter’s Rock.”

  “If that’s true, why didn’t we arrest her then and there?”

  “We have no proof of wrongdoing yet, sir,” said Foster. “We didn’t even have enough to pull her in for questioning.”

  “Why would she go there if she’s not close to her brother?” the president wanted to know.

  Foster hesitated but the advisor came to her rescue.

  “Maybe she was there for another purpose, sir. She might have been casing the place.”

  The president’s eyes widened slightly. “Do you really think they are seriously going to try and break him
out?”

  “No place is escape-proof if you have the right people trying to do the extraction,” said the advisor. He eyed Foster. “Are you prepared for such an attempt?”

  “Yes, but there are still no guarantees.” She looked at the president. “So it may behoove us to really think long and hard about implementing some type of preemptive action along the lines we’ve already discussed.”

  “With respect to Roy and Bunting?” said the president.

  Foster nodded and said, “And also Kelly Paul.”

  He slowly nodded. “I’ll give the matter some serious thought.”

  This wasn’t exactly the response Foster had wanted, but her expression didn’t show it and she had gotten most of what she wanted.

  “Well, it looks like you have the matter well in hand, Ellen,” the president said.

  It was clear he wanted to move on to other things. While the E-Program was a critical matter for the country, it was only one of a hundred critical matters this chief executive was currently trying to juggle.

  She rose and said, “Thank you for meeting with me, sir.”

  The president shook her hand. “Hell of a job on this, Ellen. Hell of a job.”

  As Foster walked down the hall to her waiting motorcade, she looked around the White House, as though in her mind she was measuring the windows for new drapes.

  Right now, anything felt possible.

  CHAPTER

  64

  SEAN STARED OUT the window while Michelle cleaned both their guns on the kitchen table. He’d called Megan Riley, who was upset that she had once more been relegated to an afterthought.

  “I’m resigning as counsel,” she told Sean.

  “Megan, please don’t do that. We need you.”

  “What you need, Sean, is a kick in the ass.”

  “You’re part of the team.”

  “I don’t feel like I’m part of anything. Now I don’t even get to stay in the same place as you two, so what’s the point? I’ll leave the court documents at the inn. You can come and get them. I’m heading back to Virginia.”

  “Megan, just give it a couple of days, please. We really do need you.”

  “Words, Sean. How about some action?”

  “I promise you that your time will come.”

  There was a long silence. “You’ve got two days, Sean, and then I’ll be back in Virginia.”

  He’d told Michelle what Megan had said.

  “I can’t really blame her,” said Michelle. “And if she does jump ship, we’ll just have to find another lawyer or you’ll just have to do it.”

  “But she knows a lot. She could be in danger.”

  “True, but I’m just not sure what we can do about it.”

  Sean put his hand in his pocket and pulled out his phone. A message had just come through. “Damn!”

  Michelle looked up from her work. “What is it?”

  “Someone left a message. I must’ve been on the phone with Megan.”

  He listened to the voice mail.

  “Who was it?”

  “Peter Bunting.”

  “What did he say?” asked Michelle.

  “He wants to talk.”

  “Kelly Paul was right. He did come to us.”

  Sean called the man back. He answered on the second ring.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s Sean King.”

  “Thank you for calling me.”

  “I’m surprised to hear from you after our last meeting. My partner and I are lucky to still be breathing.”

  “I don’t know what happened after I left you,” said Bunting. “But I apologize if you were put in any danger. That was not my intent. For what it’s worth the rest of the evening was far from pleasant for me either.”

  “Okay.”

  “You don’t believe me, do you?”

  “Actually, I do.”

  “I want to meet with you.”

  “That’s what you said on the message. Why?”

  “I have a proposition.”

  “Change of heart?”

  “You could say that.”

  “They’ve come down hard on you, haven’t they?”

  “I need to know one thing. Is Kelly Paul working with you?”

  “Who?”

  “We don’t have time for that,” Bunting said irritably. “Is she?”

  Sean hesitated. “Yes.”

  There was silence.

  “Bunting?” Sean said sharply.

  “We really need to meet.”

  “How can you get away from them? You know they’re watching you. In fact they’re probably listening to our conversation right now.”

  “Impossible,” said Bunting.

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m using better scrambling technology than the president of the Untied States uses for his calls. Not even the NSA can touch it. And as soon as you picked up on your line, my technology pipeline was extended to your phone as well.”

  “But that still doesn’t answer my question of how you can physically get away from them.”

  “Leave it to me. I didn’t build a billion-dollar business in the intelligence arena by being a moron.”

  “And your family?”

  “Let me worry about that. I’m assuming you’re somewhere near Edgar Roy. How about we rendezvous halfway? Say Portland, Maine?”

  “When?”

  “Tomorrow night.”

  Sean said, “Where in Portland?”

  “There’s a restaurant down by the waterfront. Clancy’s. They’re open until midnight. My wife and I used to go there when we were dating.”

  “If you’re trying to set us up—”

  “My family is in danger, Mr. King, and I need to make this right.”

  Sean let the silence linger. He listened to the other man’s tight breathing.

  “See you in Portland,” said Sean.

  CHAPTER

  65

  THE NEXT NIGHT the Bunting family left their brownstone and walked down the street, their two private security men a few yards behind them. The weather had stayed cold, and the Bunting family was bundled up, hats, gloves, and mufflers. Mrs. Bunting walked hand in hand with her youngest child. Not once did the man beside her check his cell phone for messages.

  Twenty minutes before they had left, a furniture delivery was made to their residence. Three large boxes. This was not unusual as deliveries often came to the Bunting residence. Mrs. Bunting was an avid shopper.

  The men watching from across the street saw the three large boxes carried in and three empty boxes carried out. Only one of them wasn’t empty. The truck rattled off down the road and Bunting lay in that box, praying that his subterfuge had worked. After the truck had gone two miles without being stopped, he lifted the top of the wooden box, clambered out, and sat on one of the curved metal bump-outs over the wheel wells.

  His thoughts were not on his predicament. Or on Edgar Roy. Or the E-Program. He was thinking about his wife and children. He was thinking about their next step in his plan. And he bitterly chastised himself for having to put them through this. And of course he prayed that it actually worked.

  It has to.

  The Buntings’ walk lasted about an hour and then they returned to their home. The children raced upstairs to their rooms. Julie Bunting took off her coat and hung it up in the closet. She turned to the man behind her as he also took off his hat, coat, and muffler. He had entered the house hidden in the same box that Peter Bunting had exited from it.

  “Peter said you knew what to do,” Mrs. Bunting said to the man, who was the same height and build as her husband. With the other man’s clothes on he was a perfect decoy.

  “I do, Mrs. Bunting. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

  A minute later Julie Bunting sat down in a chair in the foyer, her hands kneading her thighs. When her husband had come to her, told her what she needed to do, it had collapsed her perfect little world. She was a bright, educated woman. She loved being a wife
and mother, but she was no wallflower. She had questioned him at length about what was going on. The little he had told her had frozen the woman’s blood.

  She had never wanted to know exactly what he did. She knew it was in the government arena, something to do with protecting the country, but that was all. The security team that he employed she had assumed was for this reason and also because the Buntings were wealthy and such people needed security. On the other hand she had her hemisphere of existence: her family, her charities, the wonderful social life of a New Yorker with money to burn. It was really all that she could have wanted in life.

  But a colder reality had just settled into her bones. And she had felt guilt for wanting to remain oblivious to his world all these years, especially when it had provided her with such a wonderful existence.

  She had asked him, “Are you in danger?”

  She loved her husband. They had married before he had had money. She cared about him. Wanted him to be safe.

  He would not answer her, which was an answer in itself.

  “What can I do to help?” she’d asked him.

  And the plan had been hatched.

  Now it was time for part two of that plan. This segment her husband had insisted on. And she understood quite clearly why. He had taken her through the paces time and again until she felt she could perform it flawlessly. The children had been prepared; the staff the same. She had tried to make it seem like a game to her youngest child, but the older kids knew something was very wrong.

  Their father had sat with each of them before heading out in the box. He had told them that he knew they would be brave. He’d told them that he loved them all very much. He told them that he would see them soon. Julie Bunting could tell that it was only this last statement that her husband didn’t quite believe.

  She had gone to her luxurious spa-like bathroom, cried her tears, washed her face, and emerged ready to do what she needed to do. She headed up the stairs, where her children were huddled in her oldest child’s room. They sat on the bed staring at her. She looked back, tried to give them an encouraging smile.

  “Are you ready?” she asked.

  Each of them nodded.