Again, she doesn’t fight me.
“I should have picked a running mate based on merit. And I think we both know who I would have picked if it were based on merit. The smartest person I’ve ever met. The most disciplined. The most talented.”
Her face blushes. Always deflecting the credit, the attention.
“Instead I gave you the toughest job in Washington. The most thankless.”
She waves me off, uncomfortable with the praise, her blush deepening. “It’s an honor to serve you, Mr. President, in whatever capacity you decide.”
I take one last sip, a healthy gulp, of the bourbon remaining in my glass and set down the tumbler.
“May I ask, sir—what are you going to do with the vice president?”
“What do you think I should do with her?”
She kicks that around, her head bobbing from side to side.
“For the good of the country,” she says, “I wouldn’t prosecute her. I’d find a quiet way out. I’d demand her resignation, let her make some excuse, and I wouldn’t tell anybody what she did. I’d close the whole thing quietly. Right now, the American people are hearing that a talented national security team, at your direction, saved us from a massive disaster. No one’s talking about a traitor or betrayal. It’s a positive story, a cautionary tale, but with a happy ending. We should keep it that way.”
I’ve considered that. “The thing is,” I say, “before I do that, I want to know why.”
“Why she did it, sir?”
“She wasn’t bribed. She wasn’t being extorted. She didn’t want to destroy our country. It wasn’t even her idea. It was Nina’s and Augie’s idea.”
“How do we know that for certain?” she asks.
“Oh, right,” I say. “You don’t know about the phone.”
“The phone, sir?”
“Yeah, in the chaos of it all at the end, the FBI unlocked the second phone they found in Nina’s van. They unearthed a bunch of text messages. Texts exchanged between Nina and our Benedict Arnold.”
“Oh, God,” she says. “No, I didn’t know.”
I wave my hand. “Nina and Augie got caught up in something bigger than they ever intended it to be. When they realized the massive devastation they were about to unleash, they split away from Suliman. They sent us the peekaboo to wake us up to the problem and then came here to make a deal: if we get amnesty from the Georgian republic for Nina, she disarms the virus.
“Our traitor—our Benedict Arnold? She was just the intermediary. She’s just the one they contacted. This wasn’t some plot she cooked up. She was trying to persuade Nina to surrender to an American embassy. She was asking Nina how to disable the virus.”
“But she didn’t tell the rest of us,” says Carolyn.
“Right. I think, from what I’ve read, she felt like the longer she communicated with Nina and didn’t tell anyone else, the deeper a hole she dug. So she wanted to be left out of the direct line of communication. She gave Nina the code word ‘Dark Ages’ so Nina could get in touch with me directly—through Lilly—and I’d take her seriously.”
“That…makes some amount of sense, I suppose,” Carolyn offers.
“But that’s the thing—it doesn’t make sense,” I say. “Because the moment Nina communicates ‘Dark Ages’ to me, I know that I have a Judas in my inner circle. She has to know I’ll move heaven and earth to find the traitor. She was one of eight suspects.”
Carolyn nods, thinking it over.
“Why would she do that, Carrie? Why would she invite that kind of suspicion? Kathy Brandt is a lot of things, but she ain’t dumb.”
Carolyn opens her hands. “Sometimes…smart people do dumb things?”
Truer words were never spoken.
“Let me show you something,” I say.
I reach for a folder bearing the insignia FBI. I had Liz Greenfield print out two copies of the transcript of the text messages. I hand Carolyn the transcript of the first three days—last Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, the first days that I read.
“Read those,” I say, “and tell me how ‘dumb’ our traitor is.”
Chapter
116
You’re right.” Carolyn’s chin rises, having read all three days’ worth of transcripts. “This wasn’t something she cooked up on her own. But…this can’t be all the transcripts. This ends on Sunday, with her promising to give Nina the code word.”
“Right, there’s more.” I hand her the next sheet. “Here’s Monday, May 7. Just six days ago. The day Nina whispered ‘Dark Ages’ into Lilly’s ear.”
Carolyn takes the transcript and starts to read it. I read along with my copy.
Monday, May 7
U/C: 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue
Nina: Location unknown
** All times Eastern Standard Time **
Nina (7:43 AM): I made it to Paris. I came here even though you still haven’t given me the code word!! R U going to or not? I think someone was following me last night. Suli’s trying to kill me u know
U/C (7:58 AM): I’ve thought about this a lot overnight, and I think if we’re going to trust each other, we have to really trust each other. And that means you have to tell me how to stop the virus.
Nina (7:59 AM): Been there, done that. Uh…NO!!! how many times do I have to say it?? Can u spell leverage?!?
U/C (8:06 AM): You said yourself you’re in danger. What if you don’t make it here? What if something happens to you? Then we can’t stop this virus.
Nina (8:11 AM): The minute I tell you how to stop the virus, I’m nothing to you. It’s my only leverage.
U/C (8:15 AM): Don’t you understand this by now? I can’t reveal that we’ve talked. How could I explain that I know how to stop the virus without revealing that I’ve been talking with you the last few days? The moment I reveal that, I’m toast. I have to resign. Prison, probably.
Nina (8:17 AM): If that’s true then why do u need to know? If u will never use it??
U/C (8:22 AM): Because if something happens to you and there’s no other way to stop the virus, then I’ll do it. To save our country. I couldn’t live with myself otherwise. But that’s a last, last, last-case scenario. I’d much rather that you just come in and meet with POTUS and handle it yourself and leave me out of it.
Nina (8:25 AM): No way not gonna do it
U/C (8:28 AM): Then good bye and good luck. Trust me or forget it.
A long pause follows, a good three hours. Then:
Nina (11:43 AM): I’m here at Sorbonne. I see POTUS’s daughter. Tell me the code word or I walk away 4ever
U/C (11:49 AM): Tell me how to stop the virus and I’ll give you the code word. Otherwise, don’t contact me again.
Nina (12:09 PM): There will be chance to type in keyword before detonation. Window of 30 minutes. Type in that word and virus goes bye bye. If you screw me on this lady I will tell everyone who you are I swear to god
U/C (12:13 PM): I’m not going to screw you over. I want you to succeed! We want the same thing.
U/C (12:16 PM): Look, I know you’re taking a big risk. So am I. I know how scared you are. I’m terrified! We’re in this together, kiddo.
Carrot and stick. She manipulated Nina. She realized that Nina was feeling serious pressure and needed her more than she needed Nina. Nina was a highly skilled cyberterrorist, an elite code writer, but she was no match for someone accustomed to high-level negotiations on the world stage. It came nearly ten minutes later:
Nina (12:25 PM): The keyword is Sukhumi.
U/C (12:26 PM): The code word is Dark Ages.
Carolyn looks up from the page.
“She knew,” she says. “She’s known the keyword since Monday.”
I don’t say anything. I wish I had more bourbon, but Dr. Lane would probably scold me for having even one glass.
“But—hang on. When did you read this, Mr. President?”
“That page—the Monday page? I didn’t read that until I got on Marine One, after the Marines got my phone back.”