by Randy Singer
The following night, the SEALs landed just up the coast and met Wyatt at a designated rendezvous spot. Six hours later he was at the U.S. military base in Stuttgart, Germany, decompressing. He was questioned by Navy intelligence and a special investigator for the Justice Department. Notably, he did not talk to anyone from the CIA.
When he learned the outcome of Paige’s argument at the Supreme Court, he hatched an idea. Wyatt knew that either Cameron Holloman’s computer had been illegally tagged by the CIA with some kind of GPS device or else the journalist’s e-mails and phone calls had been illegally monitored. Either way, Wyatt had downloaded the information from Cameron’s computer, and he knew where the computer itself was located. Gazala was entitled to possession of it as a matter of law. Once he obtained it, forensics would be able to tell him whether it had been hacked or tagged. He might have lost the Anderson case, but now he had an even better one.
He quickly put together a rough draft of the lawsuit for the wrongful death of Cameron Holloman and talked Daniel Reese into allowing him to use it to add a little drama to his Skype reunion with Paige. Wyatt embedded a link on exhibit D, which would take Paige to a Skype call. Wyatt would be waiting on the other end.
VIRGINIA BEACH, VIRGINIA
. . . joy. Pure, unmitigated joy. Her hand cupped over her mouth, Paige stared at the screen, speechless.
“I heard you lost our case while I was gone,” Wyatt said.
“Oh. My. Gosh. Is that really you?”
“I mean, a man goes out of the country for a week and it all hits the fan. His case gets blown away and his star witness has to plead guilty for divulging classified information.”
Paige looked up at Daniel Reese, who was smiling broadly.
Paige took her hand down but couldn’t take her eyes off the screen. “Wyatt Jackson, you had me worried sick.”
He didn’t look well. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his face looked more drawn than it ever had before. He had a bandage on his forehead. And there was one other thing.
“What happened to your eyebrows?” Paige asked.
“It’s a long story,” Wyatt said, cracking a smile. “And unlike a lot of my stories, this one is mostly true.”
93
WASHINGTON, D.C.
The last thing that Amanda Hamilton did before taking a seat at her desk in the Oval Office was to kiss Jason, her husband of twenty years. Last night, over a glass of wine, he had calmed her nerves. Americans are a forgiving people, he had said. When they saw her heart, they would like it as much as he always had.
Her press secretary had suggested that she stride down the red-carpeted Cross Hall, then stop at a podium in the stately East Room entryway and speak there, the way she had on other important occasions. She was good on her feet, and it would be a powerful visual. But that was exactly the point, she told him. This wasn’t about powerful visuals. This was about being humble and authentic with the American people.
And so, dressed in a blue suit with a credenza behind her featuring family pictures, flanked by the American flag and the presidential flag, President Amanda Hamilton took her seat and faced the cameras.
The cameraman in front of her started the countdown, and she folded her hands on the desk. She remembered her husband’s words from last night: tell the truth and trust the people. She swallowed hard and looked straight ahead.
The red light came on, and she envisioned Jason and her kids and her many friends listening with encouraging faces. This was not a proclamation; this would be a heart-to-heart with the American people. The entire speech was on her teleprompter, but she had to do far more than just read the words—she had to somehow connect.
“Good evening, my fellow Americans. I am here tonight to talk to you about some recent events in the Middle East and, in particular, my role in those events. I am here because I believe in transparency, and I trust your judgment. I am here because I believe that our American ideals should apply not just at home but in the way we conduct our business abroad.”
She paused for a second and tried hard to calm her nerves. Amanda Hamilton was a gifted public orator, but this was different. She felt vulnerable and exposed. Her heart was racing, though she would never show the nerves or even the fear.
“Five days ago, on Monday, October 1, I learned that a radical Muslim imam named Saleet Zafar had been killed by an American drone strike. His sermons and anti-American rhetoric had inspired many to violence and terrorism, including a man who tried to assassinate me. In addition, Zafar had verifiable ties to al Qaeda. His addition to America’s list of targeted enemies was certainly justified. However, I was also told that attorney Wyatt Jackson may have been with Zafar at the time of the strike and therefore may have been inadvertently killed as well.
“Thankfully, I would later learn that Mr. Jackson survived, but in the meantime I instructed Attorney General Seth Wachsmann to immediately begin a complete investigation into the circumstances that precipitated the strike. I have now had an opportunity to review his findings, as well as notes from an interview with Wyatt Jackson. In addition, I have personal knowledge about events surrounding the failed rescue operation known as Operation Exodus. Tonight, I want to share the results of Attorney General Wachsmann’s investigation and my own conclusions with you.”
Amanda knew that Wachsmann was one of the most respected politicians in the country. When she requested that he launch a full investigation within an hour of learning about the possible death of Wyatt Jackson as “collateral damage,” she knew there would be no turning back. She knew the investigation would lead to a moment like this—baring her soul to the American people.
“In order to understand why Operation Exodus and the recent death of Saleet Zafar are connected, you must first know the backstory about why we launched Operation Exodus in the first place. Several months ago, American journalist Cameron Holloman traveled to Yemen in order to catalog the suffering of the Yemeni people as a result of the civil war raging in that country. Though travel restrictions prevented him from legally entering Yemen, he found a way to cross Yemen’s border with Saudi Arabia and set up meetings with various persons, including a few leaders of the Houthi rebels. Without my knowledge, but with the full authorization of the director of the CIA, a small GPS unit and listening device were attached to Mr. Holloman’s computer. This was done without a warrant and without any prior court knowledge or approval.
“With the assistance of these devices, the CIA learned the location of several high-ranking Houthi leaders. Eight days after Mr. Holloman met with them, a drone strike was authorized by the director of the CIA that killed those leaders and several of their family members.
“As a result, the Houthis assumed that Mr. Holloman worked for the CIA. They captured him and scheduled him for execution along with a member of the Saudi royal family. It was only then, after the fact, that I was informed by my chief of staff about the illegal monitoring of Mr. Holloman’s computer.”
Amanda paused before continuing. This was the hardest part—getting it out in the open, her own role in the cover-up. She had made mistakes, costly ones. But tonight, she would own them and let the American people decide what the consequences should be.
“As commander in chief, I should have immediately asked Director Marcano to step down. My failure to act was a mistake in judgment—one I deeply regret. At the time, I was focused on extracting Mr. Holloman from captivity, and I believed that if the truth came out, his captors would view it as a cover story and it would confirm their suspicions that Mr. Holloman had indeed worked for the CIA. So instead, we attempted to negotiate Mr. Holloman’s release by using a Muslim imam as an intermediary. That imam was Saleet Zafar.
“Those negotiations were unsuccessful, and as you know, we ultimately sent a Special Forces team into Yemen in an attempt to free Mr. Holloman. In recent months, there have been a number of accusations associated with those events. I can assure you of this: I did not know that the mission was doomed to failure. I would ne
ver have sent those brave men on that mission if I knew our intelligence had been compromised.”
Amanda paused, emphasizing what she had just said. She felt the load lifting from her shoulders, the weight of secrets kept and the crushing burden of wondering what would happen if they were exposed. She knew that it would be hard for the American people to believe her, given the mistakes she was admitting in this speech. But she was telling the truth, and she hoped the world could see that.
“I have now learned that the director of the CIA knew, prior to the commencement of Operation Exodus, that the informant we were relying on had lost a family member to a drone strike two years earlier. This cast doubt on the veracity of that source because there was the possibility that he might be trying to double-cross us. That information was conveyed by Director Marcano to my chief of staff, Philip Kilpatrick. But Director Marcano and Mr. Kilpatrick kept that information from me. If I had known at the time, I would never have authorized the rescue mission that put our men at risk.”
Amanda could tell that even the camera operators were now hanging on her every word. This speech would be dissected and debated for months and would undoubtedly serve to define her presidency. She had to get it right, not just for her own sake but for the sake of America and its standing in the world.
“Earlier today, I asked for the resignations of both Mr. Kilpatrick and Director Marcano. Among other things, they withheld information from me and from the National Security Council that may have cost men their lives. By doing so, they have proven themselves unfit for the offices they hold.
“Now, there have been a lot of things said about my preparation of a speech that I gave to you, the American people, on the night that our servicemen died. Yes, I did spend more time personally editing the speech that would be given if the mission failed. But that was not because I was part of some grand conspiracy and anticipated the mission’s failure. It is relatively easy to announce a successful mission. But it is painstakingly difficult to find the words to describe the sorrow that accompanies a failed one.
“My second mistake was this: As a former attorney general committed to justice, I sat back and watched as my own chief of staff and the director of the CIA hid behind the state secrets defense in the lawsuit filed by the family of Troy Anderson. That defense allowed them to hide the fact that Holloman’s computer had been illegally monitored. This I also regret, and it is why I’m giving this speech now, as soon as possible after receiving Attorney General Wachsmann’s report. The plaintiffs still have an opportunity to petition the Supreme Court for a rehearing, and I did not want that window to close before this information was made public.”
With the hard part over, it was time for Amanda to outline her proposed action plan. She sat a little straighter in her chair and tried to appear as presidential as possible.
“In light of these events, I will be taking the following actions. First, I will reconstitute the panel that considers what targets should be added to the kill list of enemy combatants. I believe we did the right thing in adding Saleet Zafar to the list. And as it stands now, I make the final call. But America has recognized from its founding that human nature requires a balance of power. No one person should serve as judge, jury, and executioner. I will therefore be reconstituting the panel and asking that the Supreme Court appoint one of its justices to sit on the panel and that the House and Senate do the same. Nobody will be added to the target list unless there is unanimous agreement among the three branches of government.
“Second, I will work with a new CIA director to ensure that our elite Special Forces and our drones operate primarily under the command of the military, not the CIA. Our founders did not want the president to have the ability to wage undeclared shadow wars. We will continue to aggressively pursue terrorists at every turn. But I will ask for broad congressional approval to do so through the military chain of command in places like Pakistan and Yemen rather than rely on the fiction that we are not waging war just because the CIA is in charge.
“Third, I will ask Congress to consider the authorization of a special court to adjudicate with complete confidentiality any cases that might implicate state secrets. The judges for this court will have clearance for classified information at the highest level. There will be no juries and no public hearings. In this way high-level executives in our government will not be above the law simply because state secrets could be exposed.”
She was almost done now. She had listed the facts, told the truth. Now it was time to trust the people.
“As I have said, I have made my share of mistakes in this chapter of American history. I have already called Gazala Holloman and expressed my deepest apologies for what happened to her husband. At the conclusion of tonight’s address, I will call the families of each of our fallen servicemen and express my regrets to them. I believe I will be a better leader because of the things I’ve learned. But frankly, that is for you to decide.
“This is a critical juncture for our country. It is no time for protracted proceedings assessing blame for what has happened. I am therefore requesting that both the House and the Senate hold a vote of confidence within the next ten days on my ability to continue as this country’s leader. If a vote of no confidence is the result, I will step aside with no questions asked. Vice President Frazier is fully capable of leading this country at such a time as this. But if the House and Senate bring back a vote of confidence, despite my mistakes, I promise that I will give everything I have to uphold our American ideals both at home and abroad. This is the greatest country on the face of the earth. And it would be my privilege to continue leading it.”
She waited, swallowed, and realized that this might be the last thing she said to the public as president of the United States.
“God bless you, and God bless the United States of America.”
94
VIRGINIA BEACH, VIRGINIA
Paige spent the evening at Kristen’s house, watching as the boys put on a wrestling display, with Justin announcing the combatants just like his dad had done. This time, though, Justin wore Incredible Hulk cutoff shorts and introduced himself as “Beef Anderson.” Caleb came out in an oversize Captain America outfit, and Justin introduced his brother as “a dairy farmer from New York, soft and cuddly, also known as Uncle Q!” Caleb jumped around and grunted a little, as if it was the greatest introduction anyone could ever have.
The match didn’t last as long, shortened by a hard fall by Caleb, who ran crying to his mom. She scolded big brother and suggested they find another way to amuse themselves.
The boys were in bed when the president began speaking. By the time the speech ended, both women were crying. They sat there for a while, staring at the television as the commentators provided analysis. For the longest time, neither of them spoke.
“I guess she’ll be calling here in a little while,” Kristen said.
“It seems so surreal.” Paige’s head was still spinning from what Wyatt had told her earlier that day. And now she had seen the president apologize on national TV.
“Do you believe her?” Kristen asked.
Paige tried to shift into lawyer mode, but her thoughts were jumbled. “She says she called for a full investigation as soon as she heard about the drone strike that might have killed Wyatt. That means she did it before Wyatt was found alive. Presumably, Attorney General Wachsmann could attest to all that. And if she’s telling the truth about that, she had every intention of coming clean even when she could have just buried all this.”
Kristen pondered it for a few moments. “I’ll leave the analysis to you, Paige, but I never wanted to believe she sent Patrick and Troy on that mission knowing they would die.”
The two women talked about what might happen next. Paige explained that they would petition the Supreme Court to reopen their case. The Court would probably grant the petition, and both Kilpatrick and Marcano were in so deep they would likely settle.
“They’re going to need most of their money for legal fees
for criminal lawyers. There probably won’t be a lot left to pay either you or Gazala Holloman,” Paige said.
Kristen shrugged. “It was never about the money, Paige. You know that.”
Though the president’s speech virtually guaranteed them a legal victory, or at least a favorable settlement, for some reason Paige didn’t feel like celebrating. And she could hear the sadness in Kristen’s voice, too. Maybe Paige felt this way because the case had somehow kept Paige connected to Patrick. Maybe it was because she knew she had thrown all of her energy into this cause, and now she would have to stop and take time to really mourn his loss.
A few minutes later, she thanked Kristen for being such a great friend and said she needed to spend some time alone. Today was a lot to process, and she was emotionally drained. In truth, she didn’t want to be around when the president called. Everything was still too raw for that.
The two women hugged, and Kristen struggled to find the words to let Paige know how much this case meant to her.
“I don’t know what I would have done without you,” Kristen said, tears welling in her eyes.
“Let’s get together tomorrow and maybe we’ll feel more like celebrating,” Paige said.
She left Kristen’s house at ten thirty that night. It was cold and blustery, but the sky was clear and the stars were bright. There was a half-moon hanging low on the eastern horizon, and Paige knew instinctively where she needed to go.
She took off her sandals and rolled up her jeans for the walk from the boardwalk to the water. The sand was cool and moist, squeezing between her toes. She reached the edge of the wet sand and looked out over the foaming waves. In the distance she could see dots of light—huge ships making their way along the shoreline.
The stars were luminescent, and the moon reflected off the water. The steady beat of the waves, tumbling over the undertow, muffled the human noise from the boardwalk. This was her ocean, almost a sanctuary, and Paige sat down in the dry sand to take it all in.
