Going Dark by Jolene Grace

Author:Jolene Grace
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: spy & espionage, political, conspiracy, terrorism, Washington DC, Syria, CIA, journalist, US Presidency
Publisher: BHC Press
Published: 2019-10-31T00:00:00+00:00

Delay was held up inside the Oval Office with his communication team, strategizing, and McKaine could hear the occasional shouting through their shared wall. Dax had come through on tracking the phone number used by Osmani to call Burks. It was up to McKaine to make his move. He stared at his phone and then back at Dax’s sticky note, deciding. What good could come from that? Delay’s lecturing voice disturbed his thoughts and gave him the necessary push to make the call.

Did Osmani recognize the number or assume he knew who was calling? He came to the phone with a hint of familiarity, as though he expected it. “You calling from inside the White House?”

McKaine grimaced. “May I speak with General Osmani?”

After a brief pause, Osmani said, “Speaking.”

“My name is Robert McKaine—do you know who I am?”

“Mhm. The chief of staff.”

“Did you expect my call?”

“Not in the least bit. Are you calling to verify my tip?”

“Mr. Osmani, your name came in association with a person my government is looking into. I’ve got advisers who’re telling me I’m wasting my time. That you won’t ever speak with me truthfully.”

“Are those advisers working for the CIA?”

The question struck McKaine as odd. Why would Osmani, a general in the Saudi Arabian Royal Army, worry whether the CIA was involved? McKaine rubbed his chin, measuring how much to say. “None of them work for the CIA.”

“How can you be sure?”

The foreigner was right. McKaine had no idea who worked as a CIA informant. That information was the agency’s family jewels, guarded behind a wall of lies and lawyers. By the same token, McKaine had to take his inner circle at face value till evidence led him elsewhere. “As sure as I can be.”

“Then go ahead, ask me your questions.”

“I have an FBI report—”

“A fairy tale.” Osmani cut him off.

“Excuse me?”

“My apologies. Please go on.”

“Like I said, I read an FBI report and a profile on Amelia Sinclair. Your name was mentioned, vaguely. I’m concerned that an agency might have overlooked the connection between you two, because I was never notified, and given the fact that you’re helping us with the Damascus crisis, I’m, well, astounded. It doesn’t help that Ms. Sinclair was scheduled to meet with me and she never did. Can you help me understand?”

Osmani drew in a breath and then offered McKaine an alternate version of the chain of events in Damascus. By the end of the call, McKaine had exhausted a range of emotions. His face was depleted of color, and he was speechless, when words were mandatory.

He couldn’t recollect what he’d said to Osmani to get him off the call. Had the general completely lost his mind, suggesting what he did? And if it was true, the American people, the president, could never know. Then who could he task with this? Who?

His office door swung wide without a knock. Delay wagged a finger in the air, barking at his communication director, Peter O’Connolly, and now McKaine.

“Bob, Pete wants me to do a round of interviews.

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