Debt Of Honor by Clancy, Tom

ment. She returned with the photocopies and handed them over.

It only took two minutes to read the letter once and then once again. Date,

place, method. A message from beyond the grave, Libby thought. What was

more dangerous than ink on paper?

“For what’s on here, and what you know, he could go to prison, Bar-

bara.”

“That’s what Dan says. He smiles when he says it. He wants it to hap-

pen.”

“Do you?” Holtzman asked.

“Yes!”

“Then let me help.”

17

Strike One

It’s called the miracle of modern communications only because nothing

modern is supposed to be a curse. In fact, those on the receiving end of such

information were often appalled by what they got.

It had been a smooth flight, even by the standards of Air Force One, on

which many passengers-mainly the younger and more foolish White

House staffers-often refused to buckle their seat belts as a show of …

something, Ryan thought. The Air Force flight crew was as good as any, he

knew, but it hadn’t prevented one incident on final at Andrews, where a

thunderbolt had blown the nosecone off the aircraft carrying the Secretary of

Defense and his wife, rather to everyone’s discomfiture. And so he always

kept his belt on, albeit loosely, just as the flight crew did.

“Dr. Ryan?” The whisper was accompanied by a shake of his shoulders.

“What is it, Sarge?” There was no sense in grumbling at an innocent

NCO.

“Mr. van Damm needs you upstairs, sir.”

Jack nodded and moved his seat to the upright position. The sergeant

handed him a coffee mug on the way. A clock told him it was nine in the

morning, but it didn’t say where it was nine in the morning, and Ryan could

not at the moment remember what zone the clock was set on. It was all theo-

retical anyway. How many time zones could dance inside an airliner?

The upper deck of the VC-25B contrasted sharply with the lower deck.

Instead of plush appointments, the compartment here was lined with mili-

tary-style electronics gear whose individual boxes had chromed bars for

easy removal and replacement. A sizable team of communications special-

ists was always at work, tapped into every source of information one might

imagine: digital radio, TV, and fax, every single channel encrypted. Arnie

van Damm stood in the middle of the area, and handed something over. It

turned out to be a facsimile copy of the Washington Post’s late edition, about

to hit the street, four thousand miles and six hours away.

VICE PRESIDENT IMPLICATED IN SUICIDE, the four-column headline an-

nounced. FIVE WOMEN CHARGE EDWARD KEALTY WITH SKXUAI. AHUSI’l.

“You woke me up for this?” Ryan asked. It was nowhere near his area of

responsibility, was it?

“You’re named in the story,” Arnie told him.

“What?” Jack scanned the piece. ” ‘National Security Advisor Ryan is

one of those briefed in on the affair.’ Okay, I guess that’s true, isn’t it?”

“Keep going.”

” ‘The White House told the FBI four weeks ago not to present the case to

the Judiciary Committee.’ That’s not true.”

“This one’s a beautiful combination of what is and what isn’t.” The

Chief of Staff was in an even fouler mood than Ryan.

“Who leaked?”

“I don’t know, but Libby Holtzman ran this piece, and her husband is

sleeping aft. He likes you. Get him and talk to him.”

‘ ‘Wait a minute, this is something that a little time and truth will settle out,

Arnie. The President hasn’t done anything wrong that I know about.”

“His political enemies can call the delay obstruction of justice.”

“Come on.” Jack shook his head in disbelief. “No way that would stand

up to examination.”

“It doesn’t have to, damn it. We’re talking politics, remember, not facts,

and we have elections coming up. Talk to Bob Holtzman. Now,” van Damm

ordered. He didn’t do it often with Ryan, but he did have the authority.

“Tell the Boss yet?” Jack asked, folding up his copy.

“We’ll let him sleep for a while. Send Tish up on the way, will you?”

“Okay.” Ryan headed back down and shook Tish Brown awake, pointed

upstairs, then headed aft to a flight attendant-crew member, he corrected

himself. “Get Bob Holtzman up here, will you?” Through an open port he

could see that it was light outside. Maybe it was nine o’clock where they

were going? Yeah, they were scheduled to arrive in Moscow at two in the

afternoon, local time. The head cook was sitting in his galley, reading a copy

of Time. Ryan went in and got his own coffee refill.

“Can’t sleep, Dr. Ryan?”

“Not anymore. Duty calls.”

“I have rolls baking, if you want.”

“Great idea.”

”What is it?” Bob Holtzman asked, sticking his head in. Like every man

•board at the moment, he needed a shave. Jack merely handed over the story.

“What gives?’

Holtzman was a fast reader. “Jesus, is this true?”

“How long has Libby been on this one?”

“It’s news to me-oh, shit, sorry, Jack.”

Ryan nodded with more smile than he felt. “Yeah, I just woke up, too.”

“Is it true?”

“This is on background?”

“Agreed.”

“The FBI’s been running the case for some time now. The dates in

Libby’s piece are close, and I’d have to check my office logs for the exact

ones. I got briefed in right around the time the trade thing blew up because of

Realty’s security clearance-what I can tell him, what I can’t, you know

how that goes, right?”

“Yes, I understand. So what’s the status of the case?”

‘ ‘The chairman and ranking member of Judiciary have been briefed in. So

have Al Trent and Sam Fellows on Intelligence. Nobody’s putting a stopper

on this one, Bob. To the best of my knowledge, the President’s played a

straight game the whole way. Realty’s going down, and after the impeach-

ment proceedings, if it goes that far-”

“It has to go that far,” Holtzman pointed out.

“I doubt it.” Ryan shook his head. “If he gets a good lawyer, they’ll cut

some sort of deal. They have to, like it was with Agnew. If he goes through

impeachment and then a Senate trial, God help him in front of a jury.”

“Makes sense,” Holtzman conceded. “You’re telling me the meat of the

story’s wrong.”

“Correct. If there’s any obstruction going on, I don’t know about it, and I

have been briefed in on this.”

“Have you spoken with Kealty?”

“No, nothing substantive. On ‘business’ stuff I brief his national-security

guy and he briefs his boss. I wouldn’t be good at that, would I? Two daugh-

ters.”

“So you know about the facts of the case?”

“Not the specifics, no. I don’t need to know. I do know Murray pretty

well. If Dan says the case is solid, well, then I figure it is.” Ryan finished off

the rest of his coffee and reached for a fresh roll. “The President is not ob-

structing this one. It’s been delayed so it wouldn’t conflict with other things.

That’s all.”

“You’re not supposed to do that either, you know,” Holtzman pointed

out, getting one for himself.

“Goddamn it, Bob! Prosecutors schedule cases, too, don’t they? All this

is, is scheduling.” Holtzman read Jack’s face and nodded.

“I’ll pass that one along.”

It was already too late for proper damage-control. Most of the political play-

ers in Washington are early risers. They have their coffee, read their papers

in great detail, check their fax machines for additional material, and often

lake early phone calls, or in a recent development, log onto oimpulei ser-

vices to check electronic mail, all in an effort to leave their homes with a

good feel for the shape the new day will take. In the case of many members,

facsimile copies of the late-edition story by Liz Holt/man had brief cover

pages indicating that this might be a matter of great personal interest. Differ-

ent code phrases were used, depending on which PR firm had originated the

transmission, but all were the same. The Members in question had been

compelled to mute their opposition to TRA. This opportunity, on the other

hand, was seen as something of a payback for the earlier transgression. In

few cases would the opportunity be missed.

The comments were mainly delivered off the record. “This looks like a

very serious matter” was the phrase most often used. “It’s unfortunate that

the President saw fit to interfere in a criminal matter” was another favorite.

Early calls to Director William Shaw of the FBI were met with “no com-

ment” comments, usually with the additional clarification that the policy of

the FBI was to decline comment on any possible criminal case, lest the sub-

sequent legal proceedings be tainted and the rights of the accused compro-

mised. The clarification was rarely if ever conveyed to the public; in that

way “no comment” acquired its own very special spin.