Free Protect and defend by Vince Flynn Page B

the main runway. The debris cloud was clear in this shot.
    Rapp studied the shot for a few seconds and then asked the obvious question. “Where the hell is the roof?”
    “It appears to have fallen into that large hole.”
    Rapp was trying to make sense of it all. “Let’s back up for a moment. When did this happen?”
    “Shortly after noon today. Tehran time.”
    “We have real-time footage?”
    “Partial. The NRO is analyzing it as we speak.” Kennedy was referring to the National Reconnaissance Office.
    “Have you talked to Ben?” Rapp was referring to Ben Freidman, Kennedy’s equal at Mossad.
    “He hasn’t returned any of my calls.”
    Rapp shook his head. “That’s not a good sign.”
    “Possibly, but I would imagine he has his hands full.”
    “Or he’s dodging you. How about their ambassador?”
    “Nothing so far. State has reached out to him, but he claims he knows even less than we do.”
    “He’s probably telling the truth.” Rapp glanced over at the president who was talking to his chief of staff and national security advisor. Moving closer to Kennedy, he asked, “Why am I here? This all seems a bit above my pay grade at this point.”
    Kennedy pulled her reading glasses to the tip of her nose and said, “I have no idea.”
    Rapp’s brow furrowed in disbelief. “Come on.”
    “Seriously. I found out about this right before I gave him his morning briefing.” Kennedy tapped one of the satellite photos. “That was why he had me come on the trip. Midway between DC and Atlanta he went into his office to make a call. Ten minutes later he emerged and told me he wanted you on the return flight to DC.”
    Rapp leaned back in his chair, folded his arms, considered the possible implications of the president’s sudden interest in him and muttered, “I wonder who in the hell he talked to.”
     

11
     
    In the last year Rapp had sat through more videoconferences than he had in all his previous years of government service combined. The post–9/11 counterterrorism bureaucracy had exploded from a few hundred dedicated men and women at the CIA, FBI, State, and a handful of other agencies to thousands of people with a combined budget of more than a billion dollars a year. In the grand tradition of Capitol Hill, the politicians had thrown vast amounts of money at the problem whether it was needed or not.
    New agencies were created like Homeland Security, the National Counterterrorism Center, and the Terrorist Threat Integration Center. Agencies that Rapp didn’t even know existed like the National Geospatial Intelligence Agency were elevated in importance and brought into the big tent of counterterrorism. Rapp still wasn’t exactly sure what the Geospatial gang did, but he did know they had a shiny new headquarters and a budget big enough to embarrass a lobbyist. Add to this satellite offices in major cities all over the world, the ever-burgeoning counterterrorism operations at Defense, Justice, and State, and you were left with an unwieldy bureaucracy that was about as agile as a ballistic missile submarine in the Potomac River.
    One of Rapp’s great fears had come to pass. Talented people and countless resources had been sucked into the support side of the business as opposed to the operations side, where it was really needed. And because one of the great lessons of 9/11 was that not enough people were talking to each other, the dictum had come down from Capitol Hill that everyone was to play nice and share information. Hence the boom in videoconferences. It had become a way of life, but not one that Rapp embraced.
    A forty-inch plasma screen hung on the far wall of the conference room opposite the president. It was currently split in two, with Secretary of Defense Brad England on the left and Secretary of State Sunny Wicka on the right. President Alexander had been in office a little over a year, and fortunately for the young leader his administration had thus far avoided any major international