He slowly brings his chair back to place in front of theResolutedesk. The air feels thick and heavy, like just before a severe thunderstorm, when killer lightning and high winds suddenly break out.
Barrett says, “You have some damn nerve to come here and say this to me. I’m the president of the United States, not one of your analysts or officers.”
She keeps her voice steady. “To repeat, Mr. President, I have evidence that indicates numerous violations of federal statutes, as well as your oath of office. You need to resign.”
He stops smiling, leans forward over his desk, voice cold. “The day before President Nixon resigned, three Republican members of Congress came to talk to him. House Leader John Jacob Rhodes, Senate Leader Hugh Scott, and Senator Barry Goldwater. The three of them told Nixon that his support in Congress was melting away, and that impeachment and conviction was guaranteed.”
Barrett makes a point of looking over Hannah’s shoulder. “Yet here you are. Alone. A spook. With no Senate or House leaders backing you up. Trying to destroy the will of the American people. To hell with you. Director Abrams, you’re fired.”
CHAPTER 135
LIAM GREY IS bleeding from his left wrist from some random bit of metal, either shrapnel or a ricochet from the attackers, but he’s still keeping up the fight. All of the windows of the farmhouse are shattered, and there’s a heavy haze of gun smoke and CS gas in the rooms, but so far, with his M40 gas mask, he’s breathing reasonably well.
There are at least three bodies sprawled across the dirt lawn in front of the house. He’s pretty sure there’s one more at the rear. It’s been a fast-moving battle on his end, rushing from the kitchen, bedroom, garage, and living room, then repeating, firing from previously positioned M4s.
In going back to the weapons storage locker ten minutes ago, he was delighted to find an M4 with an attached grenade launcher. It fired 40mm grenade rounds—too bad there were only four—but they had gone to good use, destroying two of the three Range Rovers, and putting a dent into the armored Mercedes-Benz.
Now it’s just him and the other three M4s. He carefully shoots in three-round bursts, but he knows this is just a delaying action. Every minute that he holds Han and his mercenaries up, is sixty more seconds for Lin and Benjamin to get free to a place to start making phone calls.
He looks through the scope again, from the floor by the partially opened door, with furniture he moved to make a barricade, and sees quick movement.
Three men running out, taking shelter behind a crumpled Range Rover and—
Oh shit.
He instantly recognizes the weapon the middle man is about to use, an RPG-7 rocket-propelled grenade. Liam gets up and starts running to the rear as he hears a faintwhooshand an explosion and darkness as the farmhouse falls on him.
CHAPTER 136
CIA DIRECTOR HANNAH Abrams believes the president is hoping she will melt away, back down, or even worse, start sobbing. To hell with that. She’s met with Sudanese militia leaders at night in remote campgrounds, with accused Serbian war criminals deep in their territory in a smoky café, and she’s raised herself up the slippery and treacherous ladder to become the Agency director.
She hasn’t—and won’t—bend.
“I’m sorry, Mr. President, I no longer recognize your authority,” she says.
Barrett sits cold and firm, like a stone sculpture.
She goes on.
“Mr. President, this is not your office,” Hannah says. “It’s the American people’s office, and with your actions, you’ve shown you’re not fit to carry out your duties.”
“Such as?” he shoots back.
“Sir, more than two months ago, you authorized the illegal use of CIA assets to carry out missions in the domestic United States, including breaking and entering without a federal warrant, unlawful detention of foreign nationals, and spending funds to support same, without congressional knowledge or approval.”
He smiles. “Says who?”
“I’ve made the necessary inquiries, sir.”
Barrett shrugs. “A foul-up, then. Before your arrival I briefed Acting Director Milton Fenway on what I had planned, and he assured me that he would brief the Gang of Eight and other members of Congress. I guess he didn’t do that in his hasty departure from Langley.”
Hannah quietly and firmly goes on. “We also have evidence that you’ve personally directed your special assistant, Carlton Pope, to assist you in your illegal activities, including the purchase of various weapons and explosives for an Iranian terrorist cell operating in this country.”
Barrett says, “If Carlton was here, he’d tell you you were lying, straight to your face.”
She says, “Mr. Pope is currently in FBI custody, having been arrested for violating federal law concerning firearms possession near a military base.”
Hannah’s curious at how Barrett will respond to losing his right-hand thug.