The First Commandment

Harvath tried to keep his cool as he replied, “Mr. President, I know you’ve got the FBI working overtime, but as good as they are, they’re not the right agency for this job.”

“Scot, listen-” began the president.

“I don’t mean any disrespect, but from everything we’ve seen this guy is a professional assassin who’s probably affiliated with a major terrorist organization. If we’re going to catch him, the people hunting him have to understand his mindset. They need to be able to think like him, and the FBI just can’t do that.”

“The people I’ve put on this job can. They’ll find him, I promise you.”

“Mr. President, this guy shot Tracy in the head. The doctors say it’s a miracle she wasn’t killed. She’s lying in a coma she may never come out of and it’s my fault-all of it. I owe it to her to find who did this. You have to bring me onboard.”

Rutledge had worried things would go this way. “Scot, I can’t stress enough how important it is that you trust me on this.”

“And I need you to trust me, Mr. President. Don’t sideline me. Whoever is on this team you’ve put together, I can help them.”

“No you can’t,” said Rutledge as he rose from his chair. It was a clear signal that their meeting was over.

Forced to stand, Harvath repeated, “Don’t shut me out of this, sir.”

“I’m sorry,” replied the president, extending his hand.

Reflexively, Harvath took it. Rutledge covered their clasped hands with his left and said, “The best thing you can do for Tracy right now is to be with her. We are going to get to the bottom of this, I promise you.”

Harvath’s shock was slowly being shoved aside by a surge of anger. But before he could say anything, Gary Lawlor thanked the president and steered Harvath out of the Oval Office.

As the door behind his visitors closed, the door to the president’s study opened and the tall, gray-haired, fifty-something director of the Central Intelligence Agency, James Vaile, stepped into the Oval Office.

Rutledge looked at him. “What do you think? Will he cooperate?”

Vaile fixed his eyes on the door Scot Harvath had just exited through and thought about the president’s question. Finally, he said, “If he doesn’t, we’re going to have a lot more trouble on our hands.”

“Well, I just promised him that your people were going to handle this.”

“And they will. They’ve got plenty of experience dealing with this kind of thing overseas. They know what they’re doing.”

“They’d better,” replied the president as he readied himself for a briefing in the situation room. “We can’t afford to have Harvath involved in this. The stakes are just too damn high.”

Chapter 7

Harvath and Lawlor rode back to the hospital in silence. Harvath didn’t like being hamstrung, especially when they were facing a problem he was more than qualified to handle.

Lawlor didn’t push him to talk. He’d known before they even got to the White House how the meeting was going to unfold. The president had made it absolutely clear that he didn’t want Harvath or anyone else poking around in this investigation. What he didn’t say was why.

Though Lawlor wasn’t happy with the president’s decision either, he had to give Rutledge credit for telling Scot in person. He was right-it was the very least he owed him.

At the hospital’s entrance, the driver pulled the car to the curb and Harvath climbed out. There were a million things Lawlor wanted to say to him, but none of them seemed appropriate at this point. Instead, it was Harvath who broke their silence. “He has put together a special team to hunt Tracy ’s shooter, yet I can’t have anything to do with it? That doesn’t make any sense. There’s a lot more to this than he’s telling us, Gary, and it pisses me off.”

Lawlor knew he was right, but there was nothing either of them could do about it. The president had given them a direct order. Though he was just as bewildered as Scot was, Lawlor only nodded and replied, “Let me know if anything changes with Tracy.”

Disgusted, Harvath closed the car door and walked into the hospital.

Upstairs in Tracy ’s room, her parents were eating lunch. As he entered the room, Bill Hastings asked, “Any news on the investigation?”

Harvath had no desire to burden Tracy ’s parents with his problems, so told them a half truth. “They’re working it from all sides. The president has taken a personal interest in the investigation and is doing everything he can.”

The ventilator continued its rhythmic hiss, pop, hiss, pop, and Harvath tried to ignore it. Pulling a chair up alongside the bed, he took Tracy ’s hand and whispered in her ear that he was back.

If only the president could see her like this, he might not be so quick to pull him off the investigation. All the way back to the hospital, Harvath had tried to figure out why Rutledge was doing this. No matter how many angles he came at it from, none of them made any sense.