The End Game

McGuiness was shaking her head, clearly disappointed in her FBI, ready, as always, to go for the jugular. She turned to Callan and threw Maitland under the bus. “Madam Vice President, truth be told, as Mr. Maitland has unfortunately made abundantly clear, we have no idea what’s happening. I fear the FBI isn’t moving quickly enough to get the matter resolved.”

 

 

Well, duh, Templeton Trafford thought, eyeing the group. He didn’t like Maureen McGuiness, never had, thought she was a candy-coated pit bull, found her myopic, thought she never saw the big picture. Plus, he didn’t like all the oversight forced down his throat by National Intelligence. A pity she had so much juice. However, he did like Callan Sloane, liked her a lot, actually, since she’d saved his ass more than once out in the field during her years in the CIA. However, he wasn’t about to tell any of them what he knew. He was enjoying watching McGuiness hang herself.

 

Callan looked from McGuiness to Maitland. What was this blame game all about? They were all on the same team, except for Maureen McGuiness, who, Callan was convinced, wanted to become emperor of the world. She laid her palms flat on the table and spoke, her voice not at all nice. “Maureen, how is that possible? You and your team are supposed to be our highest intelligence organization. Are you saying your people missed this threat? Are you saying there was no chatter, no warning signs COE were about to step up their game? No clue something like this cyber-attack was going to happen? If you are still clueless, tell me now.” So I can start paving the way for your replacement.

 

“No, ma’am, there was no chatter, nothing.” You power-hungry bitch. “We have been trying to get a line into these people, particularly since the FBI in New York has dropped the ball.”

 

Maitland took the shot, said in his mild, stolid voice, “Madam Vice President, we’ve assigned Agents Drummond and Caine to the case, and believe me, they’ve been at it nonstop. I know it’s frustrating, but I assure you they’ll find these people and put a stop to it.”

 

There was a small, discreet snort from McGuiness, which everyone ignored. Callan saw that Temp was smiling behind his hand. He knew something, but what?

 

She said to them all, “Do we at least have confirmation COE is responsible for the bombing last night? Have they claimed responsibility?”

 

McGuiness beat everyone to the punch. “Yes, their signature claim showed up at CNN twenty minutes ago. So clever, aren’t they? ‘No more oil from terrorist countries or you will pay the price.’ We haven’t been able to trace it.” McGuiness added, “Yet.”

 

Callan slapped a hand down on the table. “Come on, people. Work with me. Tell me we have something I can go out with today and give a great snappy sound bite that will calm the populace. Or at least something Costello can give The Washington Post on background. These people are making us—and that means you—look like incompetent morons.”

 

Everyone at the table was pissed at her words, afraid they were true, and that they were all circling the drain.

 

Callan looked at all their insulted faces. “Allow me to rephrase. I want names. I want these people in custody, and I want it to happen immediately.

 

“You are all trusted advisers of the president. You know what’s at stake. If the president were here, he’d be livid, since he’d know, as all of us do, that COE is disrupting his Middle East peace talks, focusing the public’s attention on how vulnerable we are being dependent on Middle East oil, particularly since most of the oil-producing countries hate our guts and would like to see us destroyed. And if the talks get derailed, I won’t want to be in any of our collective shoes. Find out who is behind this group, and do it today. Do I make myself clear?”

 

Nods.

 

“Good. Jimmy, you said Drummond and Caine are running the investigation now in New York?”

 

Maitland nodded. “Yes, and Milo Zachery is up to his ears in this investigation with them, and you know Milo, he’s a bulldog, never gives up, plus he has an excellent brain.”

 

McGuiness raised an eyebrow. “This Drummond is the one who stopped the micro-nuke attack a few months ago? He used to work for Scotland Yard, recently joined the FBI?”

 

“The very same.”

 

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