“Good. Me, too.”
The door opened. Secret Service entered first, sweeping the room with practiced efficiency. Then the President of the United States walked in.
He appraised them with sharp, assessing eyes.
“Gentlemen,” he said. “Commander Peterson tells me you have urgent intelligence. You have five minutes. Use them wisely.”
Jake stepped forward. “Mr. President, we have credible evidence that Vice President Hampton is planning to remove you from office. Permanently.”
The President’s expression didn’t change. “That’s quite an accusation.”
“We have documentation,” Jake continued, pulling out a tablet. “Financial records showing payments to Tunisian oligarch Salim Mahmoud from shell companies controlled by the Vice President. Testimony from a Tunisian asset who witnessed discussions about overthrowing both the US and Tunisian governments. Testimony from a private military contractor—one of my guys—who agreed to help when he was approached by someone offering a Presidential pardon for his son.”
“Show me,” the President said.
For the next three minutes, they laid it out the broad strokes. Hanna’s testimony. The financial trail. Cal’s confession. The Calgary plot. Brad’s confirmation that his father was meeting with foreign nationals and talked about cleaning house, which they interpreted as eliminating witnesses.
The President listened in silence, his face unreadable.
When they finished, he said, “Why should I believe you?”
Omar spoke for the first time. “Because we have nothing to gain by lying to you. If we’re wrong, we go to prison for conspiracy against the Vice President. If we’re right, we save your life and prevent a constitutional crisis.”
“And the attack in Calgary?”
“Confirmed,” Trent said. “Experimental explosives have been shipped from Tunisia to Canada. Designed to target the Prime Minister’s gala where you’ll be in attendance.”
The President walked to the window and looked out at his security detail. “If what you’re telling me is true, I have enemies within my own administration. People I’ve trusted. People I’ve worked with for years.”
“Yes, sir,” Jake said quietly. “You do.”
“And you’re asking me to move against my Vice President based on the testimony of a foreign asset and a convicted traitor.”
“We’re asking you to investigate,” Omar said. “Talk to your Attorney General. Review the evidence. Make your own determination.”
The President turned to face them. “I’ll do that. But understand something—if you’re playing me, if this is some kind of political game or corporate maneuvering, I will bury you. All of you. So deep you’ll never see daylight again.”
“We understand, sir,” Jake said.
“Good.”
“Two last points, sir. I’ll be quick,” Omar promised.
He ignored the sidelong glances from Jake and Trent. He could feel that they hadn’t convinced him. It was all facts and figures.
“Be very quick.”
“We were brought into this because the Vice President has someone inside the CIA—inside your CIA—who was persuaded to burn an asset. After promising to exfiltrate her, they hired us to get the information she had and leave her behind. Almost certainly to be executed.”
The President blanched.
“We did not leave her behind,” Omar assured him.
He nodded. “And the second point?”
“Do you remember granting a pardon for a man named Jackson McCloud?”
He chewed on the inside of his cheek, thinking. “Financial fraud? Fellow out of Colorado?”
