Act of Terror by Marc Cameron Read Free Book Online Page B

security officer.
    â€œWell.” The president picked up a light blue file from the coffee table. “Ms. Garcia, it appears we owe you a debt of gratitude.”
    Garcia’s round cheeks, already flushed, turned a darker shade of crimson. “I was just doing my job, sir.”
    â€œA fine job of it too.” Clark smiled. He leaned forward, cutting to the chase. “Ms. Garcia, we’ve read your report and I have to say, the thing that intrigues me the most is your discretion. Not once do you mention Deputy Director Magnuson as one of the shooters. Care to tell me why?”
    All eyes fell to the CIA officer. Palmer smiled at her composure. He wasn’t sure if it was pure naïveté or something deeper—something he looked for in those he hired for special duties.
    â€œWell.” Garcia nodded, biting her bottom lip before taking a deep breath. “The idea that senior management at the CIA could be involved in a terrorist act might be a little disconcerting to the American people. I knew Director Ross would release that information if she thought it prudent.”
    Clark nodded. “Something like that gets out, it could cause a lot of trouble,” he said. “That goes without saying. Particularly after we took the time to reexamine Mr. Magnuson’s background.”
    Now it was Ross’s turn to flush. As director, it was her responsibility to see that her employees, and more importantly her division deputies, were properly vetted. Magnuson had passed no fewer than three periodic security clearances over the course of his career and double that number of polygraphs. The fault really couldn’t be placed at her feet, but everyone in the room knew responsibility could not be delegated.
    Clark tilted his head, looking at Garcia. “Would it surprise you to know Magnuson made three unreported trips to Peshawar, Pakistan?”
    â€œAfter what I saw today, sir,” Garcia said, “nothing would surprise me.”
    â€œAll three shooters had a calendar in their respective homes with today’s date colored in red and the same Chinese character.” The president paused, glancing up at Palmer. “What is it again, Win?”
    â€œ Dan ,” Palmer said. “It means gall —bitterness.”
    â€œChinese ...” Garcia mused, almost to herself.
    â€œOddly enough, yes,” the president said. “Chinese.”
    He gave Director Bodington a hard look. “Other than that, the Bureau has found precious little evidence to connect them. No emails back and forth, no phone records ...” He paused for a long moment before raising the blue file folder again. “Young lady, I hope you don’t have any plans for the near future. What I’m about to tell you is really going to screw up the next few months of your life.”
    Garcia smiled, giving a shrug that, to Palmer, seemed utterly beautiful and free of guile. The poor kid obviously no idea what she was getting into. “I’ll make it work, Mr. President,” she said.
    â€œOutstanding.” Chris Clark wasn’t one to stop and linger over the details. “Here’s the deal then, Ms. Garcia. I need to know how much I can trust you.”
    Garcia flushed, recoiling as if the question were a slap. “Well, completely, sir.”
    Clark caught Palmer’s eye. It was his cue that the national security advisor should do his job and dispense a little advice.
    â€œIn the end,” Palmer said, “we have to trust someone, Mr. President. Veronica Garcia has demonstrated her loyalty as well as her valor in stopping the CIA shootings—”
    Bodington weighed in—though he wasn’t willing to interrupt the president, he would interrupt Palmer. “Sir, you’re suggesting we share highly classified material with—my apologies to Ms. Garcia—but essentially a security guard. Is it not just as plausible that Deputy Director Magnuson was