Chapter 9

LUCAS SMITH GLANCED UP from the daily intelligence report he was reviewing on his desk. James Kington, the balding, slightly portly but whip-smart Director of the CIA, strode into his office, oblivious that he was intruding on the second most influential member of the Richards administration - the President’s Chief of Staff. Following behind him, Clive Barrett, the Secretary of State, tall and distinguished with white hair, strolled in, impeccably dressed in a bespoke grey suit as always.

James dropped a slim file folder onto Lucas’ desk. “The sonofabitch has disappeared with General Hollister’s daughter.”

Lucas leaned back and stared up at Kington. “I thought every contingency was covered. What happened?”

Kington frowned. He took it as a personal failure. “The daughter was gone by the time our people got to the apartment. Lightfoot must have taken her with him. We think he was tipped off.”

“By whom?” Lucas demanded.

“We’re working on it. Should know before the end of the day.”

Clive Barrett nodded in agreement.

Lucas picked up the phone. “Marcie, I need to see the President.” He waited, then nodded. Hanging up, he stood. “Let’s go.”

President Joseph Richards, sitting at his desk, handed a folder to his secretary as they entered. She left the Oval office, closing the door behind her.

Richards presented a patrician image, tall, slim, with sharp brown eyes and gray hair. Coming to the end of his second term in office, he was hugely popular with the American public. His administration had guided the economy to new highs, and a firm but astute foreign policy had seen a dramatic reduction in regional strife. His legacy was assured by the Israel-Palestinian peace accord nearing completion; something the world had thought would never be achieved, the geopolitical, religious, and historical divide between the two perceived as insurmountable.

Bill Clinton had left office with a sixty-five percent approval rating. Joseph Richards was going to leave office with an approval rating exceeding seventy percent. Another Democratic administration was assured. Many predicted a Democratic majority in both House and Senate in the next election.

Richards term as President was destined for the history books.

Normally smiling and younger appearing than sixty-eight, Lucas observed today that President Richards looked his real age. Stress lines etched his mouth and eyes. His frown foretold of displeasure - his well-known temper at incompetence close to the surface.

“Lucas. James. Clive,” the President said, rising to shake hands. “What’s the situation?”

“Not good. James, why don’t you brief the President.”

The four moved over to the sitting area and settled.

James started briefing President Richards. Through the briefing Richards first pinched the bridge of his nose, then rubbed his temples, his mood darkening.