the Mossad. What was even more miraculous to some was his uncanny ability to avoid highly embarrassing situations. Whether it was luck or cunning, no one could be quite sure, but Ben Freidman had risen to the very top of what many considered the most effective intelligence agency in the world. He was a man to be respected and feared.He was the director general of the Mossad, and rarely did a month pass where he didn’t send someone to their death.
Freidman took a sip of his Polish vodka, and looking at his guest, surmised that he would most likely keep the trend going. Tilting his head slightly, Freidman asked the chairman of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence, “What troubles you, my friend?”
“Oh, many things, but one thing in particular.”
“Dr. Kennedy?”
“Ummm . . . yes and no. She is an issue, but at present there’s someone who is a bigger priority.”
A thin mischievous smile creased Freidman’s lips. “Mr. Rapp?” Shaking his head he added, “I told you, you should have never got him involved in all of this. He is far too dangerous a man.”
“Yes, you were right about that, but we can’t turn back the clock.” Clark hesitated for a moment, as if he were struggling to suppress a bad memory. Freidman had indeed advised him to avoid Mitch Rapp. He had been very specific on that point, warning him that four continents were littered with the corpses of people who had gone toe-to-toe with America’s top assassin. At the time Clark had thought that Freidman had refused out of some respect for Rapp, some common bond they had forged while fighting the same enemy. That was the rationale the senator had used when he had been stupid enough to trust Peter Cameron.
Just the thought of Cameron caused Clark to grimace. He had recruited him personally. As the trustedchairman of the Senate Intelligence Committee, there wasn’t much that Clark couldn’t get his hands on. He had chosen Peter Cameron after several years of studying the man’s every move. Cameron was a twenty-four-year veteran of the CIA’s Office of Security; the CIA’s own little private Gestapo. One of the Office of Security’s chief jobs was to watch the watchers, to spy on the spies.
Cameron knew things and had contacts that the senator was more than willing to compensate him for. After more than two decades of mediocre pay, Cameron leapt at the chance to become a well-paid mercenary for the senator. It had been Cameron’s idea to kill Rapp and leave him in Germany for all the world to discover.
Despite all of his suppressed anger Clark had to be honest with himself. The plan had been a bold one. Clark had shadowed Rapp and Kennedy and intercepted the orders. Cameron had used his contacts inside the Agency and paid them well. Clark was sure of that, for he had been the one handing over the suitcases of cash. If the plan had succeeded, Chairman Hank Clark would have presided over the most sensational hearings this country had seen in decades. The facts Clark was prepared to slowly unearth would have destroyed President Hayes, and wounded the Democratic Party for at least the next two general elections. It would have allowed the senator to virtually handpick the next director of the CIA. A director who would be more than willing to open up the treasure trove of secrets formerly known as Echelon. And more important than all ofit, the entire affair would have allowed Hank Clark to launch his bid for the White House. He would have had the money from Ellis and his associates in Silicon Valley, the nationally televised committee hearings would have given him the all important face time and name recognition, and his party would have been beholden to him for bringing the Democrats to their knees. It was a lock. They had come so close. If only Peter Cameron had succeeded.
Clark had failed to listen to Freidman and he was now paying for it. When the Germany operation blew up in their faces Cameron assured Clark that he could handle
Freidman took a sip of his Polish vodka, and looking at his guest, surmised that he would most likely keep the trend going. Tilting his head slightly, Freidman asked the chairman of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence, “What troubles you, my friend?”
“Oh, many things, but one thing in particular.”
“Dr. Kennedy?”
“Ummm . . . yes and no. She is an issue, but at present there’s someone who is a bigger priority.”
A thin mischievous smile creased Freidman’s lips. “Mr. Rapp?” Shaking his head he added, “I told you, you should have never got him involved in all of this. He is far too dangerous a man.”
“Yes, you were right about that, but we can’t turn back the clock.” Clark hesitated for a moment, as if he were struggling to suppress a bad memory. Freidman had indeed advised him to avoid Mitch Rapp. He had been very specific on that point, warning him that four continents were littered with the corpses of people who had gone toe-to-toe with America’s top assassin. At the time Clark had thought that Freidman had refused out of some respect for Rapp, some common bond they had forged while fighting the same enemy. That was the rationale the senator had used when he had been stupid enough to trust Peter Cameron.
Just the thought of Cameron caused Clark to grimace. He had recruited him personally. As the trustedchairman of the Senate Intelligence Committee, there wasn’t much that Clark couldn’t get his hands on. He had chosen Peter Cameron after several years of studying the man’s every move. Cameron was a twenty-four-year veteran of the CIA’s Office of Security; the CIA’s own little private Gestapo. One of the Office of Security’s chief jobs was to watch the watchers, to spy on the spies.
Cameron knew things and had contacts that the senator was more than willing to compensate him for. After more than two decades of mediocre pay, Cameron leapt at the chance to become a well-paid mercenary for the senator. It had been Cameron’s idea to kill Rapp and leave him in Germany for all the world to discover.
Despite all of his suppressed anger Clark had to be honest with himself. The plan had been a bold one. Clark had shadowed Rapp and Kennedy and intercepted the orders. Cameron had used his contacts inside the Agency and paid them well. Clark was sure of that, for he had been the one handing over the suitcases of cash. If the plan had succeeded, Chairman Hank Clark would have presided over the most sensational hearings this country had seen in decades. The facts Clark was prepared to slowly unearth would have destroyed President Hayes, and wounded the Democratic Party for at least the next two general elections. It would have allowed the senator to virtually handpick the next director of the CIA. A director who would be more than willing to open up the treasure trove of secrets formerly known as Echelon. And more important than all ofit, the entire affair would have allowed Hank Clark to launch his bid for the White House. He would have had the money from Ellis and his associates in Silicon Valley, the nationally televised committee hearings would have given him the all important face time and name recognition, and his party would have been beholden to him for bringing the Democrats to their knees. It was a lock. They had come so close. If only Peter Cameron had succeeded.
Clark had failed to listen to Freidman and he was now paying for it. When the Germany operation blew up in their faces Cameron assured Clark that he could handle
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