Free Protect and defend by Vince Flynn Page A

Presidential Limousine stopped at the red carpet, doors began opening. Men in dark suits and a few women began joining those already standing post around the plane. President Alexander stepped from the back of his limousine and moved toward the forward set of stairs. He paused just long enough to take CIA Director Irene Kennedy by the elbow and start up the stairs with her. The president’s national security advisor and chief of staff were right on their heels. Three agents from his personal detail followed while more agents hurried up the second set of stairs.
    Barely thirty seconds after arrival, the stairs were being pulled away from the craft and the vehicles were off to another part of the airport where they would be loaded onto cargo planes from the 89th Airlift Wing. The Air Force ground crew yanked the bright yellow blocks from the landing gear and gave the signal that everything was clear. A senior airman in an orange vest and headset walked out past the nose of the plane and gave the area one more visual check to make sure it was clear. He held up his signal sticks and started motioning for the plane to follow him. After the wheels began to roll, the airman walked off to the port side and saluted as the big beautiful bird rolled past.
    Inside, President Alexander and his closest advisors were filing into the conference room where Rapp was waiting.
    Rapp stood and said, “Mr. President, I apologize for my appearance.” He was wearing a pair of worn khaki cargo pants, a faded polo shirt, and a suit coat he’d borrowed from one of the Secret Service agents. To make matters worse, he hadn’t shaved in five days.
    “Don’t worry.” The president took off his suit coat and threw it on the couch across from the conference table. “By the looks of you, I’m assuming you were off doing something I don’t want to know about.”
    Rapp almost laughed, but thought better of it. He was momentarily at a loss for words.
    The president read his discomfort and flashed Rapp one of his Southern grins. “I’m just kidding. Take a seat and buckle up.”
    All five people settled into the fixed leather chairs. The president sat at the head of the table; his National Security Advisor, Frank Ozark, sat immediately to his right and then Ted Byrne, his chief of staff. Rapp and Kennedy were on the other side of the table with Kennedy sitting closest to the president.
    As the plane began to roll, the president looked at an Air Force officer standing in the door and said, “As soon as we reach altitude I want the call placed.”
    “Yes, sir.” The man saluted and closed the door.
    With the powerful engines roaring outside, Rapp put his mouth within inches of Kennedy’s ear and said, “Would you mind telling me what the hell is going on?”
    Kennedy had already grabbed the file in anticipation of this question. She opened it, revealing a satellite image, and slid it between them. “Do you recognize this?”
    Rapp studied the picture intently while he scratched the thick black stubble on his face. “It’s the Isfahan facility. Isn’t it?”
    “Yes.” Kennedy showed him a second photo that at first glance appeared to be the same as the first.
    “What am I looking for?” Rapp asked.
    Kennedy tapped her finger on the upper right quadrant of the photo. “Right there.”
    Rapp’s eyes moved back and forth several times to both the before and after shots. “Is that a cloud of smoke?”
    “It would appear so.” Kennedy removed both photos and laid out two new ones. These were blown-up shots focusing on the immediate area of interest. In the first one you could clearly see the large air-conditioning units on the roof. In the second one everything was obscured by a large debris cloud.
    “What the hell happened?” Rapp asked in a hushed voice.
    “We’re not sure.”
    “So it wasn’t us?”
    “No.”
    “Then it had to be the Israelis.”
    “One would assume.” Kennedy showed him another photo while the plane taxied to