Free House Divided by Mike Lawson Page A

the North Korean border because he’d failed to meet Claire Whiting’s expectations.
    “This could be important,” Claire said. “I need answers fast.”
    Gilbert nodded and glumly turned back to his computer.
    Whoops, Claire almost forgot. “Did you identify Russo’s last ten patients?”
    “Yeah,” Gilbert said wearily, and pulled a sheet of paper from his printer. He had accessed the hospice’s billing records.

12
    General Martin Breed’s flag-draped casket sat in the main aisle of the National Cathedral, bathed softly in the light coming through the cathedral’s magnificent stained-glass windows. The cathedral, even as big as it was, was half full, the pews occupied by men and women in uniform, high-ranking civil servants, and media-conscious politicians. Charles Bradford had just delivered Martin’s eulogy; after he stepped away from the lectern, he saluted the casket—his last tribute to Martin—and sat down with Martin’s family.
    Replacing Bradford at the lectern was Martin’s brother, Jerry, a soft-looking dentist who bore little resemblance to his soldier sibling. Jerry began to speak about an incident that had occurred when he and Martin were boys, the point of the story being that even as a child Martin Breed had been fearless. Charles Bradford knew that Jerry Breed had no idea how truly courageous his brother had been.
    Martin’s wife, Linda, begin to cry again as Jerry was speaking. She’d been incredibly brave during Martin’s illness and had held up well throughout the service. Her daughters, two pretty teenage girls, were pale and still as statues, stunned seemingly motionless by their father’s passing. Bradford put a fatherly arm around Linda Breed’s shoulder and pulled her close for a moment, letting her know he would always be there for the wife of a warrior.
    Bradford had met Martin at the Pentagon. He had just received his second star and Martin, only a major at the time, had been assigned to his staff. One evening, after a particularly frustrating day, he discussed with Martin his dissatisfaction with a member of the National Security Council who was preventing the army from dealing directly with an obvious threat. He wasn’t surprised Martin agreed with him—Bradford was, after all, his boss—but he knew Martin wasn’t simply telling him what he wanted to hear. He sensed immediately that Martin Breed was one of the special ones, one of those men like himself and John Levy, men who were willing to do whatever was necessary to protect their country.
    It took many long philosophical discussions before he was totally satisfied that Martin was a man he could take into his confidence. These discussions primarily focused on three critical questions. Is it ethical for men in power, men entrusted by their countrymen with that power, to go outside the law if the situation demands it? Second, is it reasonable to expect the average citizen to understand what needs to be done? And last, is it logical to expect self-serving politicians to act on what needs to be done?
    It was the politicians who frustrated Bradford the most. It seemed to him that their primary agenda was not losing the next election rather than accomplishing something meaningful once they were elected. They never agreed on anything, and by the time a decision was made it was often too late and the damage was already done. So as dangerous as it was for him personally, Bradford finally decided that it was cowardly and irresponsible for a man in his position to ignore obvious threats to national security and blame his failure to act on others. There was no one in a better position than he was to do what needed to be done. He had superbly trained personnel and virtually unlimited funding, and he was privy to almost as much intelligence as the president. He knew who the enemy was, what they were plotting, and what was at stake. All he need was the courage to act—and he found that courage.
    A situation with the Incirlik Air