“Regardless of motive, regardless of whether it’s Iran behind this contract or their Hezbollah enforcers, we will not let Damari kill you, Callan, we will not let it happen.”
McGuiness said, “We will step up your security, immediately. Ma’am, I suggest you move into your West Wing office instead of the EEOB, and we can arrange for more agents to—”
Callan shook her head. “Maureen, all of you, I appreciate your concern, but you all know as well as I do that moving, or changing my schedule, wouldn’t stop Damari. He’s a master assassin, and with his skills and contacts, he could find out whatever he wanted to know.” She shook her head at the irony of it. “If he wants me, he’ll kill me.
“We must also try to find out who else he’s after. Ari was concerned. So I put my trust in all of you, that your people hunt him down before he pulls the trigger. Now you’ve got him on your radar.”
She looked at each face. Would all the battles, all the turf wars, the endless pettiness—would they take a back burner with her life on the line?
Who knew? Perhaps they would. None of them said a word.
“That is all,” she said. “Of course, you’ll want to keep this to yourselves or those you involve, specifically to prevent Damari from succeeding. And, people, don’t let COE bomb anything else, or it will be all our heads.” She pressed the small button on her phone. Quinn Costello came quietly into the room. She stood aside as all of them filed out, and Callan heard them arguing about who should take the lead on finding Damari.
Quinn watched Callan sink into her chair, put her head down on the desk. “Hmm, how did it go?”
Callan banged her forehead three times against the ancient wood.
“That good? Well, this might cheer you up. Hmm, at least it will cheer up the president.”
Callan raised her head, looked up at her chief of staff’s big smile.
“Ari called. He talked the government into returning to the table in Geneva.”
Callan said, “Will wonders never cease? Looks like he’s trying to save my job.”
“And he sent this.” She handed over a slim blue file folder. “Now, who is Zahir Damari? And why don’t we like him?”
Callan sighed. “Quinn, come here and sit down. I have something to tell you.”
? ? ?
In the hallway, Temp watched McGuiness and Maitland walk ahead, McGuiness still trying to tell Maitland what he should do, Maitland looking straight ahead, probably so he wouldn’t slug her. Then, as if Maitland sensed him watching, he turned around. McGuiness waved them both off and kept walking.
Maitland said, “Anything I can do for you, Mr. Trafford?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing. Anything I can do?”
“Other than handing over everything you have on Damari? We need to do a full assessment on the Bayway bombing. Who’s your best bomb guy? Or girl?”
Because Trafford was experienced at never showing anything, he gave Maitland a warm smile and said, “We’ve got some of each variety. I have a few stateside. Or do you want a whole team?”
“I want whoever you have available immediately. And I want my guys to meet with yours.”
“Sure. Of course. We’ve got lots of possibles in our database, lots of bomb info from COE’s overseas work. Anything the CIA can do to help.”
Now, why don’t I believe you, you little prick? But Maitland nodded. “I’ll also inform my team about Damari’s confirmed contract on the vice president. Both of our groups should dig, see if we can find out exactly who’s behind it.” He gave Trafford a final nod, a handshake. “I’ll be in touch.”
Oh, yes, I’m sure you will. Trafford walked out of the EEOB to his waiting car. McGuiness had said more or less the same thing. Yeah, like that would happen even if there was a snowstorm in Hell.
Neither of them had any clue that he would get to the finish line first. He was already on the final lap.
34
BISHOP TO E6
Chelsea