State Of The Union

He took his seat as instructed and waited. From beyond the kitchen, there was a chorus of indistinguishable voices as the party from the helicopter entered the house. Several minutes passed and then the voices grew louder as the party approached the kitchen. When the first member of Goaltender’s security detail entered, Harvath’s jaw nearly hit the floor.

“Palmer?” he said, the confusion clearly resonating in his voice.

“Harvath?” replied Secret Service agent, Kate Palmer. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Apparently, the local 4H club has an interesting way of soliciting new members,” said Harvath as he began to stand up.

“Don’t stand, Scot. I need you to remain seated until I say otherwise,” replied Palmer as three other agents entered behind her and swept the kitchen.

Harvath recognized two of the other three Secret Service agents as former colleagues of his from the president’s protective detail. Though he nodded to them, they ignored him until they had determined that the room was completely secure.

“What the hell is going on here?” asked Harvath.

Kate Palmer spoke to the agents, who then left the room, before turning her attention back to Harvath. “We’ve got a very big problem that I am not at liberty to go into. You’re free to stand up now if you want.”

“Thanks,” said Harvath as he rose from his chair. “What do you mean, you can’t go into it?”

“I’m not authorized to discuss it.”

“Well who is?”

“I am,” said a voice from the entryway to the kitchen, which Harvath immediately recognized.

“Mr. President,” he replied even before he had fully turned around.

Kate Palmer spoke into her sleeve microphone, “Goaltender will be ready to travel shortly. All teams be prepared to move.”

Harvath looked back at Agent Palmer and then turned to the president and said, “You’re Goaltender? Your call sign has always been Hat Trick. Why the change? What’s going on here?”

“You and I have a lot to talk about, Scot,” responded President Rutledge. “Agent Palmer, if you would be kind enough to show the defense secretary in and give us the room, please.”

“Right away, Mr. President,” said Agent Palmer as she exited the kitchen.

Once Defense Secretary Robert Hilliman had entered the room and the rest of the Secret Service agents had left, the president said, “Scot, I’d like you to meet Secretary Hilliman.”

“Mr. Secretary,” replied Harvath as he shook hands with the man.

“I have heard a lot about you, Agent Harvath. I’m sorry that we should have to meet under these circumstances.”

“I’m the one that’s sorry, Mr. Secretary,” replied Harvath. “I have no idea what this is all about.”

“That’s why we’re here,” said the president, as he motioned the two men toward the long kitchen table. “We don’t have much time, so let’s get started.”

When the trio was seated at the table, the president said, “Scot, I need to know what you were doing at Frank Leighton’s house.”

Harvath shot an uneasy glance at the defense secretary.

“Don’t worry about Bob. He’s one of the few people in Washington I know I can trust. That’s why I appointed him,” said the president.

“No offense, Mr. Secretary,” responded Harvath. “It’s just that someone very close to me has disappeared under some very strange circumstances.”

“No offense taken, Agent Harvath. I assume we’re talking about Gary Lawlor?” asked the secretary.

“Yes.”

“How were you able to connect him with Frank Leighton?” asked the president.

“When I was in Gary’s house earlier tonight-”

“Wait a second,” interrupted Hilliman. “That was you? You were the one who got inside and used his phone?”

“Yeah. I needed to find out what happened to him,” answered Harvath.

“And what did you find?”

“Probably not much more than you already know. He had apparently gotten off his flight to San Diego, come home, repacked for another destination and hastily burned something in a trashcan in his bathroom.

“He had erased his caller ID log, so I picked up his phone and punched star sixty-nine to see who his last call had been from. That’s how I got Frank Leighton’s number. I traced it and then got the address in Easton.”

“I’m not going to ask,” said Hilliman, “how you got into Agent Lawlor’s house. You must have gotten into Leighton’s house the same way. I saw the impressive array of gadgetry that my people picked you up with.”

“Yourpeople?” said Harvath. “Those guys work for the Department of Defense? What does the DOD have to do with Gary’s disappearance?”

“In a moment. Do you know where the termCold War comes from, Agent Harvath?”

“If I remember correctly, there was an American journalist named Lippman who wrote a book in the late forties called,Cold War. The title was meant to reflect the relations between the USSR and its World War II allies-the United States, Britain, and France-which had deteriorated to the point of war without actual military engagement.