Free Separation of Power by Vince Flynn Page B

drinking his morning coffee and reading the day’s schedule when the three of them had come waltzing in with apprehension on their faces. They then proceeded to dump something in his lap that was unusual, to say the least.
    Valerie Jones, the president’s chief of staff, spoke first. “I just heard about it for the first time five minutes ago.” Jones turned to look past Michael Haik, the president’s national security advisor, to Irene Kennedy.
    Kennedy spoke. “I received the call early this morning. He was very serious, but then again, he usually is.”
    Hayes leaned over on the left armrest and stroked his chin. This whole thing was strange, a first for him in his relatively short career as president. Nothing good could come of it, he was sure of that. Looking up at Kennedy, he asked, “Have they ever done something like this before?”
    Kennedy thought about her dealings with the Israelis over the last two decades. “They request backdoormeetings with us from time to time. Usually for the obvious reasons: they don’t want the press or any opposition to find out,” Kennedy shook her head slightly, “but I don’t seem to ever remember them going straight to the top.”
    “This can’t be good. The director of Mossad flies to the United States and pretty much demands to see me. I don’t see anything positive that can come out of this.” Hayes looked up at his NSA. “Michael, what’s going on over there? Any flare-ups in the peace process that I haven’t been told about?”
    “No, it’s the same old thing. Arafat demands XY and Z and then walks away from the table. The bombs start to go off and then a month later they sit back down at the peace table and start over again.”
    “It’s not that,” Kennedy said in a thoughtful tone. “If it had something to do with the peace process they wouldn’t fly Ben Freidman all the way in from Tel Aviv. Their ambassador would take care of it, or the prime minister would call.” She paused and thought about another possibility. “No,” she said making up her mind. “Ben Freidman means real trouble. Something is going on over there that we don’t know about. Something serious.”
    “Great,” the president grumbled. With more than a little frustration he said, “And none of you have any idea what it is.”
    “Sorry, sir,” was all Haik could say.
    The president thought about the situation for a moment. He was tempted to pick up the phone and call the Israeli prime minister, but caution got the better of him. The PM was due to visit the U.S. intwo weeks. There was obviously a reason for sending Freidman. The president looked to Haik and said, “Get General Flood over here. I want him to sit in on this.”
    Haik grabbed the white handset of the bulky secure telephone unit sitting on the president’s desk and hit the speed dial button for the chairman of the Joint Chiefs. Seconds later, General Flood was on the line and the national security advisor was explaining the situation. The general said he would be there just as quickly as his limousine could take him across the Potomac.
    President Hayes checked his watch. It was a quarter past eight. “Freidman will be here at nine?”
    “Yes,” Kennedy answered.
    “All right, between now and then I would like the three of you to try and come up with some idea of what this is all about.” President Hayes snatched his glasses from his face and glared at three of his most trusted advisors. All he got in return were blank stares.
    C OLONEL F REIDMAN AND his bodyguard caught a taxicab on Connecticut Avenue. Freidman could have easily requisitioned one of the embassy’s limousines for the trip but he preferred to keep a low profile. Anyone arriving at the White House in a limousine was sure to get his or her photograph taken. There were other cities where Freidman wouldn’t dare to move about unless he was entombed in an armor-plated limousine, but Washington was not one of them. All of the various groups of the