“I don’t care how many asses you have to kick, put your boots on and start kicking, damn it. We put those response systems in place for a reason. We were supposed to have learned from our mistakes, so let’s start acting like it. Understood?”

“Yes, Mr. President,” replied Anderson.

“Good,” said Rutledge. “Now, when can I talk to the mayor?”

“It could be some time. His emergency command center was targeted in a run-up to the attacks and we’re having trouble locating him.”

The president threw up his hands in disgust. “I don’t believe it. What about the governor?”

“He’s en route from Albany right now, but he knows even less than we do. Do you want me to get him on the line and patch him through?”

“No, I want to talk to Mayor Brown first. I want to hear from him how his people are doing and what they need. I don’t want things being filtered through the governor. That was a big part of the problem with New Orleans.”

“There is a chain of command, sir.”

“Not with something like this. I want you to track down the mayor and put him through to me as soon as possible. Now, so far we have no intelligence that any other cities have been targeted, correct?”

“Yes, sir. That is correct.”

“I guess we can thank God for that,” said Rutledge as he laid his briefing folder onto the table in front of him and massaged his face with both hands. “What about an appearance?”

“I think right now that would be a little premature,” said Anderson.

“Premature? Chuck, people are panicked,” said a voice from next to the chief of staff. The camera pulled back to show Geoff Mitchell, the president’s press secretary. “They need the president to reassure them and it needs to be done sooner rather than later.”

“Reassure them of what? We have no idea what’s going on in New York, we can’t control it, and we have absolutely no idea who’s behind it. I hardly think any of that’s reassuring.”

“You can’t keep the president walled off, Chuck. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t have all the answers yet. People need to see him. That’s all. They need to hear him say everything is going to be all right. Hell, if we play this right, it might even be okay for him to admit he doesn’t have all the answers yet, but that he’s working very hard to get to the bottom of what’s happened. And then of course he needs to state unequivocally that America ’s response to this barbarism will be swift, sure, and severe.”

“We can talk about releasing a videotaped statement once we decide where the president is headed after Mountain Home Air Force Base,” stated the chief of staff.

“We’re not going to Idaho,” replied Rutledge. “We’re on our way back to DC.”

“Mr. President,” began Anderson, “I don’t think that-”

“Chuck, you said it yourself. No other cities have been targeted. My place is in the White House. America needs leadership right now. I’ve already okayed putting the continuity of government plan into action, but other than that, nothing else changes. Do we understand each other?”

“Yes, sir.”

The president then addressed his press secretary. “Geoff, I want you to start drafting some remarks. Keep them short. Chuck is right. At this point we don’t know a lot, and the less we say the better. Let the networks know that I’ll be making a live statement as soon as I get back to the White House. I think that about does it. Let’s get to work.”

“Mr. President,” said Robert Hilliman, the president’s secretary of defense, from his secure link at the DOD, “if I could have a moment of your time in private please, sir?”

“Go ahead, Bob,” replied the president once he had gone into private conference mode. “What is it?”

“Well, there are some concerns about an intelligence intercept we had this morning.”

“What about it?”

“Apparently, reference was made to the United States abducting a foreign national and bringing him here against his will in direct violation of international law.”

“This is nothing new, Bob. We hear this stuff all the time, especially since all of the press on our extraordinary rendition policy broke.”

“I know, Mr. President, but this is different.”

“Different how? They could be talking about any one of thousands of people we’ve detained.”

“This conversation made clear that the person in question was a bombmaker who had been brought to New York.”

“Which means…” said the president, trailing off.

“It could only be one of two people.”

“Both of whom we’ve got at the same location.”

“With no effective way to protect or evacuate.”

26 FEDERAL PLAZA

JOINT TERRORIST TASK FORCE

Harvath looked at the JTTF duty officer and exclaimed, “What do you mean, you don’t have him?”

“We don’t have him,” the young man blasted back. Like many others, he was not dealing well with the stress of the terrorist attacks.

“Maybe he’s already been processed,” offered Herrington, trying to prevent the situation from escalating into an all-out, interagency pissing match. “Did you check with the Federal House of Detention on West Street?”

“What am I, new?” replied the duty officer. “Of course I checked. They haven’t heard of him either.”

Harvath was about to come unglued. They had covered the entire two-and-a-half-mile distance to the JTTF headquarters at the FBI field office in lower Manhattan on foot, and now some rookie was telling him that not only did they not have Sayed Jamal, but that nobody had ever heard of him. “I want you to find Mike Jaffe right now.”

“Who?” said the duty officer.

“What do you have, sand in your ears? Mike Jaffe. I transferred the prisoner in question to him and a team of agents from this office this morning.”

The young man was tired of having his valuable time wasted by some DHS knuckle-dragger. “You’ve got your agencies screwed up, Agent Harvath. None of our guys were involved in a prisoner transfer this morning, and we don’t have anyone in this office-JTTF, FBI, or otherwise-named Mike Jaffe.”

It was like banging his head against a brick wall. Harvath’s blood was beginning to boil and he was getting very near his breaking point. He needed to go over this kid’s head and was about to do so, when Bob thanked the duty officer for his help, grabbed Harvath’s arm, and steered him out of the JTTF and into the stairwell.

“What’s the matter with you?” demanded Harvath.

“Shut up,” replied Herrington.

“The hell I will. I’ve got to find Sayed Jamal, and your getting in my way like that isn’t going to-”

“They don’t have him.”

“Or so says the dumb ass at the front desk. Sometimes you’ve gotta go higher up the food chain to get answers.”

“Well, you are going higher up the food chain, all right, because Mike Jaffe doesn’t work for the Joint Terrorism Task Force,” Herrington replied. “He’s with DIA.”

“The Defense Intelligence Agency?”

Bob nodded his head. “I met him in Afghanistan back in 2001. My unit was assigned to a very high-speed task force going after the top of the al-Qaeda leadership.”

“And Mike Jaffe was a part of that task force?” asked Harvath.

“He was in charge of it.”

“So why the hell would he pose as a JTTF agent?”

“We had a saying that both the Lord and the DIA work in mysterious ways. Obviously, he had a very personal interest in your prisoner.”

“A little too personal,” said Harvath as he began walking down the stairs.

“Where are you going?”

“To make a phone call. Then I’m going to find Mike Jaffe if I have to turn this entire city inside out.”