“Wagner?” said Plante, taken aback. “Sir, isn’t that a little drastic? I mean, Morgan used to be one of us, after all.”
“That’s exactly what concerns me,” said Boyle. “Kline, you have a problem with any of this?”
“No, sir.”
“Then get to it. I want this taken care of. And everything goes through me, understand? You make a move on him when I say so.” His voice became low and grave. “I don’t even have to tell you how dangerous it would be to have a rogue operative out there. Find him, gentlemen. Do whatever you have to, and find him.”
CHAPTER 18
Nickerson set the receiver down and sat motionless in his office, a deep frown on his face. Things were not going according to plan, and he did not like that at all. It was unworthy of his intelligence and cunning. He would, of course, be the first to admit that he was a vain, proud man. But he did not consider this a fault or a weakness. He knew his own worth, his own power. That was all. Except, when it slipped through his fingers, it was almost enough to make him dizzy, thinking of himself as fallible. All he could do was remind himself of his many superior talents and attributes—
He was brought back to the here and now by the ring of his intercom.
“Sir? Senator McKay is here to see you. Shall I send her in?”
“Please do.”
He’d almost forgotten about this appointment. It should serve as a pick-me-up, at any rate. He looked over himself in a small mirror mounted on his wall when he heard the knock on the door. He ran his fingers through his hair, flashed himself a winning smile, and, satisfied, said, “Come in!”
Senator Lana McKay walked in with quiet assurance. She had short, carefully coiffed brown hair, a strong and harmonious face, and fierce, determined green eyes. Her presence was enough to fill a room. Admirable, almost worthy of jealousy to Nickerson. She was quite a bit older than the women he usually pursued, but he toyed with the idea of making an exception, just this once.
“Hello, Senator Nickerson,” she said, extending her hand.
“Oh, hello, Lana. It’s good to see you,” he said warmly. “Thank you so much for coming. Please, call me Ed.”
“Well, thank you, Ed,” she said, settling down where Lamb had previously sat. “It’s always a pleasure to speak with you. Now, what can I do for you?”
“Right to business, then,” he said, with a broad smile. “The way I like it.”
“No point in wasting each other’s time when there’s work to be done, right?”
“Of course. So here is why I asked you to come. I’d like to discuss this new bill you’re pushing for.”
“I was actually hoping I could count on your support, Senator,” she said, picking up the thread of the conversation. “Tightening up the rules and oversight of government contractors in Iraq and Afghanistan is not only extremely urgent—it’s a no-brainer.”
“Yes,” he said, dragging the word out so that it sounded like it had three distinct syllables. “Undoubtedly, it’s an issue of some importance. I understand what has you fired up about it. But I favor a more cautious approach. Frankly, I believe it’s premature.”
“What do you mean, ‘premature’?” She drew herself back slightly, defensively.
“This is a sensitive point in the reconstruction effort.” The practiced words rolled smoothly from his tongue, designed, in tone and content, to elicit confidence and understanding. “Our contractors are out there helping to ensure the safety of our troops and to aid us in our efforts to reshape Iraq and Afghanistan. They are under a lot of pressure, and their success is our success. I’m afraid no good can come of our meddling with these companies. I believe that it would be in the best interest of the American people to table your bill for the time being.”
She was clearly taken aback. “Ed, contractor oversight is a vital issue. Some of these companies aren’t only working outside of the law, they’re doing evil things in our name, and with our money! They’re undermining the reconstruction and putting our troops in greater danger!”
“I’ve read all the media hysteria—”
“‘Hysteria’!” she exclaimed in disbelief. “We have incontrovertible evidence of serious criminal malfeasance!”
“—but the truth is more complicated than that,” he continued calmly. “It always is. Reform like this isn’t always possible without serious compromises. And politics, as you know, is the art of the possible. The timing just isn’t right for something like this, Lana. Perhaps in two more years, we can talk about it again.”