The Camel Club by David Baldacci Read Free Book Online

on occasion, the derriere of the leader of the free world wasn’t a bad place to target.
    “Are you on to any more al-Zawahiris out there?”
    “That incident was a very rare thing, Mr. President.” Gray still wasn’t sure why al-Zawahiri had seemingly turned like that. The NIC chief wanted to assume that his strategy of infiltrating terrorist organizations and employing other tactics to turn them against each other was really starting to pay dividends. However, Gray was far too suspicious a man to rule out alternatives.
    “Well, it got us some great press.”
    As he had in the past, Gray mastered an urge to say what he really thought about such a comment. The veteran spy had served under several presidents, and they were all much like Brennan. They were not inherently bad people. However, considering their exalted status, Gray found them far more prone to traditional human failings than their fellow citizens. At their core Gray considered them to be selfish and egotistical creatures formed and then hardened in the heat of political battle. All presidents could claim it was about doing good, about furthering the right agendas, about leading their political party, but in Gray’s experience it really all came down to the throne of the Oval Office. Power was the greatest high in the world, and the presidency of the United States represented the greatest power there was; its potency made heroin seem like a placebo.
    However, if Brennan dropped dead tonight, there was an adequate vice president ready to step into his shoes, and the country would continue to run. In Gray’s opinion, if Brennan somehow lost the upcoming election, his opponent would simply move into the White House and America wouldn’t miss a beat. Presidents weren’t indispensable, the NIC chief knew, they only thought they were.
    “Rest assured, Mr. President, you would know of any more al-Zawahiris the moment I did.”
    Brennan was far too wily a politician to accept that statement at face value. It was a Washington tradition that intelligence chiefs kept things from their president. Yet Brennan had every incentive to allow the very popular Gray free rein to do his job. And Carter Gray was a spy, and spies always held things back; it was apparently in their genes never to be entirely forthcoming. It was as though, if they did reveal all, they’d disappear.
    “Get some sleep, Carter, I’ll see you tomorrow,” the president said as they left the Beast.
    Brennan’s entourage poured out of the other cars in the motorcade. The president’s top advisers and handlers hated the fact that Brennan had chosen to ride alone with Gray both to and from the fund-raiser. It had been a bone thrown Gray’s way for the al-Zawahiri coup, but it benefited the president as well. At the fund-raiser Gray scared the fat checkbooks out of the well-heeled attendees with his stirring talk on terrorism. The tuxedoed crowd coughed up a million dollars for Brennan’s political party. That was certainly worth a private ride in the Beast.
    Gray was whisked away from the White House moments later. Contrary to the president’s advice, Carter Gray had no intention of going to bed, and forty-five minutes later he was striding onto the grounds of the National Intelligence Center headquarters in Loudoun County, Virginia. The facility was as well protected as NSA in Maryland. Two full army companies—four hundred soldiers strong—were devoted to the exterior security. However, none had the necessary security clearances to set foot inside any of the structures except in the event of a catastrophe. The main building looked like it was all glass with commanding views of the Virginia countryside. There actually wasn’t a window in the place. Behind the glass panes, the bunker-thick concrete walls, lined with specialized material, prevented human or electronic eyes from peering in.
    Here more than three thousand men and women armed with the most sophisticated technology labored 24/7 to