Chapter 18: James of Harpers Ferry

I never got the chance to testify about how I caught the CIA’s mole in court, as he pleaded guilty and received a lengthy prison sentence. It was a stiff but appropriate punishment given the severity of his crimes. He could have faced the death penalty if we had been at war at the time. I wasn’t disappointed that I didn’t get to testify.

I turned down offers to be interviewed about my role in finding the mole. There were too many chances that my personal life would also be exposed. I didn’t want Karen, Andi, or my children subjected to that kind of notoriety. The less the public knew, the better. My private life wasn’t open to public voyeurism.

Business remained steady, and we were securing our share of U.S. government contracts. There was plenty of work to go around, as my competitor, Cliff Madison, had said. The key was distinguishing yourself from similar companies. It was the dawn of the age of specialization. Businesses that remained generalists and failed to focus on a specific area of government contracting were quickly left behind and forced either to shut down or be absorbed by a competitor.

Our most profitable services, unique at the time, were executive protection, team training, and providing protective teams themselves. Our trainers were former Special Forces operators vetted by people I trusted, primarily John and Todd, our ‘Twin Mountains, along with Scotty and Randy. We employed former Secret Service Agents and State Department Diplomatic Security personnel, in addition to Special Forces veterans. I felt confident that we had the best of the best working for us.

In some cases, our personnel provided protection for corporate executives and dignitaries until the clients’ own security teams had been fully trained by ours.

Beyond our core security services, we also offered trustworthy translators and assistants, experts in the countries where our clients were visiting. Longtime clients often told me that, while our personnel weren’t cheap, they more than paid for themselves by helping executives avoid costly missteps that could have resulted in the loss of millions in profits.

It wasn’t just businesses seeking our expertise. I received another call from the White House about four months after I declined an offer to join the new President’s administration as a technical advisor. They asked me to attend a meeting between the President and a representative from one of the royal families that ruled an oil-rich nation this time.

The caller said that the President was requesting my help with introductions and assistance in negotiating an economic trade treaty that would benefit both countries.

I found this amusing. America, one of the wealthiest and most powerful nations on Earth, was about to negotiate a trade deal from a position of weakness. I might’ve pulled up a chair with a bucket of popcorn, even if I hadn’t been invited, just to watch people used to getting their way try to bargain with a culture that practically invented the art of negotiation.

This wasn’t going to be pretty.

I attended the preliminary meeting more out of curiosity than anything else. I listened as the movers and shakers discussed their plans for conducting the negotiations. Based on their strategy, I thought the entire effort was destined to fail, especially after seeing who was taking an active role in the process.

I knew that I’d probably end up ruffling some feathers if I were asked to weigh in. That seemed even more likely once I learned which kingdom had been invited to the United States. This small Middle Eastern nation was modest in size, but controlled just over 15% of the world’s oil supply.

The monarchy that ruled was related to my friend, King Ali Ah-Faheed. They were first cousins if I remembered correctly. The visiting monarch’s name was King Salim Ah-Faheed. I knew him as well, though not nearly as well as I knew King Ali and his son, also named Salim.

King Ali and his son bonded with me during my time in the Middle East for reasons that I never fully understood. They treated me as a son and a brother, respectively. In turn, I returned the friendship and respect that they showed me, which earned me a special status within their kingdom and court. Whether or not that standing extended to King Salim Ah-Faheed, I could only guess.

I was eventually asked for my observations on how the negotiations might unfold. I tried to be as diplomatic as possible, but I knew that my comments would anger some of the people in the room.

The first issue that I raised was a cultural one; the individuals who they were negotiating with came from a deeply patriarchal society. While the presence of the First Lady at the introductory event would be socially acceptable, she would need to withdraw once the actual negotiations began. I reminded everyone that women were still regarded as little more than chattel to the men in that culture.

I got that look once again; a smile on the face, but the eyes were hard. A tense, embarrassed silence followed my comment. I added that they might as well cancel the talks, as they’d be wasting everyone’s time otherwise if they couldn’t or didn’t want to make that concession.

Someone, trying to be snarky, remarked that I probably thought I should be part of the negotiations. I replied that I didn’t need to be involved, but that I was a close friend of the king’s cousin, and extremely close to the cousin’s son and nephew.

I also made it clear that this king and his family were not ignorant desert Bedouins. They were highly educated. Several had graduated from Cambridge and other well-respected European universities. The king himself was reportedly fluent in five languages.

I had been asked to join the negotiations as an advisor by the time the meeting concluded. I agreed to assist however I could, and said that I looked forward to supporting the effort in the future.

The President, who had a few minutes before his next appointment after the meeting, took the time to personally thank me. He added, “I understand that you’re the one people call when something needs to get done,” as he was leaving.

My response was “Within reason, Mr. President, within reason.”

I found myself walking toward the exit of the West Wing alongside a gentleman from the State Department. I didn’t know his name, but I had seen him at other events during my time in Washington.

Speaking in a low voice, he said, “You created a mini-crisis for the President when you mentioned that no women should be present during the negotiations, Dr. Mercer. It will blow over in time, but I’d advise you to walk quietly and carefully until then. The President agreed with your assessment if it’s any consolation. He holds your opinion in high regard.”

I thanked the gentleman for his warning and made my way to the SUV the White House had sent for me.

I described the meeting I had attended at the White House at supper that night. Both Karen and Andi were concerned when I told them about the reception I received after suggesting that no women should take part in the negotiations to the President and his closest advisors. Given their brief exposure to the Middle Eastern mindset when my friend Salim had visited our home, they understood exactly what I meant.

The week of the negotiations finally arrived, and I saw in the paper that the royal household had come to Washington for the treaty talks. I made sure to keep my schedule open so that I would be available to assist the White House if needed.

A news report that evening announced that King Salim Ah-Faheed had arrived in Washington for the negotiations. He gave a brief speech at the airport before he and his entourage were whisked away, presumably to their country’s Embassy.

I had just gotten up to turn off the TV when a news bulletin came on. There had been a combined bombing and armed attack on King Ah-Faheed outside the Embassy. My first thought was that I hoped no one had been killed, and that the United States wouldn’t somehow be blamed for a security failure. The entire negotiation seemed moot at that point. I just hoped that the relationship between the two countries wouldn’t be damaged.

I turned the TV off and went into the kitchen to tell Karen and Andi about the attack. They and Imelda were finishing cleaning up before heading into the living room to watch a Hallmark movie marathon. I was just glad that I’d had a good week and didn’t have to do penance by sitting through the marathon with them.

There suddenly was a commotion at the front of the house. Someone was vigorously ringing the doorbell while simultaneously banging the knocker. Whoever it was, they were insistent.

I cautiously headed that way, accompanied by Beast and the Dobermans. I made a quick stop in the office and retrieved one of my Makarov pistols from the desk drawer on the way, just in case, then continued to the front door.

I turned on the outside light and looked through the peephole. Standing there were my friends Salim and Ali, with an older man whom they were supporting between them. They were accompanied by several others, all of whom looked like they wanted to immediately get inside.

Beast and the Dobermans had picked up on the tension in the air, and their behavior began to reflect it. They went on full alert, ready to protect their pack. I made sure to give them the down-stay command before opening the door to those on the front porch.

I opened the door wide and ushered everyone inside. Salim and Ali quickly took the wounded man to the living room, moving in the direction that I pointed to. The rest of their party followed close behind, giving my home a quick once-over for any perceived threats.

Karen and Andi, hearing the noise, came in from the kitchen to see what was going on. Imelda, who had been upstairs with the girls and boys getting everyone ready for bed, was now standing on the landing, looking ready to bolt for the front door.

Not entirely sure what I could do in this situation, I went into the living room to ask Salim and Ali what they needed from me.

Everyone was speaking in Arabic at the same time, standing around and not quite sure how to respond. It looked to me like Mercer, Frisch, & Associates would have a new client for our protective services group after this was over.

I finally caught Salim’s attention and asked, “What do you need, Salim?”

“My cousin needs medical attention, yet it isn’t safe for us to go to any hospital. We don’t know where our enemies are,” Salim nervously responded. “We are in need of your help, James. Anything you can do will be appreciated.”