The Last Patriot

“Did you pay any research firms to conduct research on your behalf?”

“Again, no,” said Nichols. “I bought articles about Jefferson off the Web and paid for them with my own credit card and reimbursed myself out of the account the president had established for me. Any books I needed and didn’t want to check out of the library, I purchased over the Internet and paid for the same way.”

“Chat rooms? Lectures you attended? Other scholars you reached out to besides Marwan?” inquired Harvath.

“Nope,” said Nichols as he retrieved a spoon from a drawer in the galley. “Then Marwan has to be your leak. Whoever is on your tail is there because he said the wrong thing to the wrong people.”

“That’s impossible. Marwan wants this project to be successful just as much as we do.”

Harvath was about to reply when the laptop in his stateroom started beeping with an incoming call.

CHAPTER 48

The caller ID on the incoming VoIP call showed up as unavailable. Having given the number for this account to only one person, Harvath assumed it was Gary Lawlor. He was wrong.

“Hello, Scot,” said the voice as Harvath put his headset on and accepted the call. “It’s been a while.”

Not long enough, thought Harvath as he recognized the voice of President Rutledge. Several emotions coursed through his body, including anger at Lawlor for blindsiding him with this phone call. “Hello, Mr. President,” he said flatly.

Rutledge had no reason to expect a warm reception after what Harvath had been through. “We need to talk.”

“Yes, we do,” replied Harvath, unashamed of his priorities. “What’s being done for Tracy?”

The president looked down at the update Lawlor had handed him before initiating the call. “She has experienced some swelling of the brain. That’s where the headaches have come from. The doctors think it may have been brought on by stress. They are starting her on medication and will keep her for observation.”

“What are you specifically doing to help her?”

“Everything I can,” said Rutledge, “and in exchange, I need you to help me.”

Harvath was silent.

Rutledge waited for him to respond and when he didn’t, the president said, “I know you disagree with the way I handled things and I know you hold me responsible for what happened. I can live with that. But what you need to understand is that I made my decisions, as I always have, based on what I believed to be best for our country.”

“People I care about were killed; even more were injured,” countered Harvath. “A terrorist with a vendetta against me was freed from Guantánamo and when he came after the people I care about, I was told to stand down and not do anything about it.”

“And for that I am truly sorry, but it was a choice I had to make. We need to move past it.”

“You’ll forgive me, Mr. President. I have a problem getting over things that fast.”

Rutledge’s blood pressure was starting to rise. “Do you want me to give you an order? Is that what this has to come down to? My God, if we can’t come together to fight these people what’s going to happen to our nation?

“Listen, you can dislike me all you want, but I know you dislike the enemy more. I also know that no matter how hard it has ever been, you’ve never said no when your country needed your help.”

Rutledge took a long pause before continuing. “Scot, my presidency has been underwater from the beginning. It has been overrun by fundamentalist Islam since the day I took office. I have been hobbled by an inept, PC, partisan Congress more concerned with covering their own asses than doing the heavy lifting that needs to be done for America.

“I have green-lighted more off-the-books operations than any president in history. Why? Because this Congress, Republicans and Democrats alike, doesn’t have the guts to focus on the true threat our nation faces. They want to play their fiddles while Rome burns, but we’ve got a chance to be successful in spite of them.

“I have spent two terms in office unable to take my eye off the war with fundamentalist Islam. I have no delusions about my legacy as president. I know I won’t be remembered for much, if anything at all, and I can accept that. At this point, I’m beyond worrying or caring about it.

“But what I am worried about is doing everything I can with the limited amount of time I have left to help shore up our nation and weaken the enemy. No matter who succeeds me in this office, Democrat or Republican, they are going to get the shock of their life when they try to hit the ground running and realize that the best they can do is try to give up as little ground to radical Islam as possible. We have a chance to change that.”

Harvath studied the pistol sitting next to the computer. Beneath it was the list of hospitals he thought Tracy might be in.