Homeland: Saul’s Game. Andrew Kaplan

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СКАЧАТЬ President William Walden too. I appreciate you both coming at this time of night.”

      “What is this place? It’s like a damn cave.”

      “Special chamber, Mr. President. We use it for secure meetings with spook types like the vice president back when he was director of the CIA. It’s right under the regular Senate hearing room. From an electronic eavesdropping point of view, it’s probably the most secure location in Washington. And with Marines guarding the tunnel from the Dirksen Building, no one will ever know you were here.”

      “Good, because this meeting never happened. Tim, my Secret Ser­vice guy isn’t thrilled about this.”

      “You have my word, Mr. President. Speaking of which …”

      “Let’s cut to the chase, Senator. You can’t hold your hearing.”

      “Hang on, Mr. President. We’re a coequal branch of government. The American ­people have a right to—­”

      “Bullshit. This is politics, pure and simple. Only I’m not a candidate anymore, Senator. I’m the president—­and I’m telling you, you can’t do this.”

      “Of course it’s politics. What the hell did you expect? This thing stinks to high heaven. You can’t cover this up.”

      “We sent you everything you asked for, Senator.”

      “You jumping in here, Bill? You sent us what my daddy used to call a giant wagonload of horse manure. The polygraph for this female agent, Mathison, for instance. You redacted damn near everything except her name. Surprised you didn’t do that. This ain’t gonna fly, gentlemen. We’re going to have this hearing—­in public. Full media, CNN, Fox, MSNBC, the whole circus. And if it embarrasses you, Mr. President, or you, Bill … well, tough shit.”

      “Senator … Warren, let’s not pretend we like each other. I know you want to make political hay and see yourself on all the Sunday talk shows and maybe a stepping-­stone to something bigger, but trust me, this is one hearing that isn’t going to happen.”

      “You try to shut this down, sir, and as an old prosecutor, I warn you. Both you and the vice president are skating very close to articles of impeachment. I take this very seriously.”

      “So do I, Senator. That’s why I’m here. But this hearing cannot go forward.”

      “With all due respect, Mr. President, I’m the committee chair. How the hell are you gonna stop me?”

      “Because I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt, that under all the bullshit—­and yeah, we’re guilty of it too, there are no virgins here—­there’s a patriot. Somebody who actually gives a damn about this country. Listen to me, Warren. This isn’t politics. I am the president of the United States of America and I came here tonight for one reason only. This is critical for our national security. You can’t do this.”

      “You’re gonna have to give me a helluva lot more than that.”

      “That’s why I brought Vice President Walden. Bill?”

      “Senator, the president has ordered me to tell you everything. The whole truth and nothing but. Then you decide. I approved this operation. It was on my watch.”

      “What about this female agent? Mathison. Is she a traitor? I’m thinking seriously about dragging her in front of a FISA court, locking her up, and throwing away the key.”

      “We’ll let you decide. But you’re looking in the wrong direction. She’s not the story.”

      “Then in the name of sweet Jesus, Bill, what is the story?”

      “Funny you should say that. He isn’t even a Chris­tian. He’s an Orthodox Jew. An Orthodox Jew who doesn’t wear one of those yarmulkes on his head or follow any Orthodox Jewish practices. Go figure that one out, for starters. Let’s call him Saul.”

      “What about this Saul?”

      “You saw the docs we sent. It’s in there. Now that the president’s sitting here, I’ll admit it’s not full disclosure. We didn’t send even a third—­I’m sorry, Mr. President, but I couldn’t—­and maybe we fudged on what we did send, but, so help me, it’s there.”

      “What? This … operation? Iron Thunder? Looks like a damn train wreck to me.”

      “Wow, you really don’t get it. You are listening to Beethoven’s Ninth. You’re looking at the Mona Lisa, the Sistine Chapel, and you don’t have a clue. Senator, this was maybe the most brilliant and successful operation in the history of the CIA—­a work of genius—­and you don’t see it. This saved the Iraq War. Maybe the whole Middle East. If we hadn’t done this, we were projecting more than ten thousand American casualties and a gigantic loss of American prestige around the world, and that was just for starters. We’re talking about a worse disaster than 9/11. You should be handing out medals.”

      “Stop right there, Bill. Since you and the president want to make me one of the bad guys, why don’t you walk me through it? Only let’s be clear, I’m not making any promises.Where do we start? With this operation?”

      “Well, since you brought her up, let’s begin with the girl.”

       CHAPTER 2

      Eastern Syrian Desert

      12 April 2009

      01:32 hours

      The pair of Black Hawk helicopters flew low and fast over the desert. Skimming over sand and rock, less than seventy feet above the ground, barely forty meters apart in the darkness. The night sky was clouded over; only a single star and no horizon. For the pilots it was like flying blindfolded at nearly 160 knots and the only reason they didn’t crash was the AN/ASN-­128 Doppler radar that gave them the elevations of ground features: rock outcroppings, sand dunes, or buildings, although in theory, there weren’t supposed to be any habitations in this part of the desert. It would have been safer to fly at a higher altitude, but that would have been suicide. Within minutes, seconds even, they’d be picked up on antiaircraft radar. Once the Syrian fighter jets scrambled, they wouldn’t stand a chance.

      Strapped into the hatch seat, Carrie Mathison tried to control her hands from shaking. It had been two days since she’d taken her meds. Clozapine for her bipolar disorder. She got them from the little pharmacy on Haifa Street in Baghdad’s Green Zone, where if the owner, Samal, knew you, you could get any drug on the planet, no questions asked so long as you paid for it in cash. “American dollars, please, shokran very much, madam.”

      In the red glow of the helicopter’s interior combat lighting, she could just make out the silhouettes of the Special Ops Group team in full combat gear, humped with packs, cradling M4A1 carbines with sound suppressors. Ten of them plus her made up the Black Hawk’s normal complement of eleven. The distance to the target was inside the helicopter’s 368-­mile combat radius and the plan was to be back inside Iraq before daybreak. Through the window next to the hatch, where the door gunner stood manning his 7.62mm machine gun, there was only darkness and the roar of the helicopter’s rotor.

      They had crossed the border into Syrian airspace some fifteen minutes ago, taking off from Forward СКАЧАТЬ