Free Goliath by Steve Alten Page A

brightest things on Earth.”
    —James McAlear
     
     
    “ This conflict was begun on the timing of others; it will end in a way and at an hour of our choosing .”
    —President George W. Bush, after the terrorism of 9-11-01
     
     
    “The road to Hell is paved with good intentions”
    —Samuel Johnson

    CHAPTER 4
    White House
    Washington, D.C.
    Gunnar follows Rocky and the two MPs down a short corridor in the West Wing of the White House. His pulse quickens as the large, light-skinned African American steps out from behind a set of double doors to the president’s Situation Room.
    The Bear returns his daughter’s salute. “Wait for us inside.”
    Rocky shoots her father a look, then enters the private chamber, leaving the two MPs unsure of what to do next.
    “Return to your posts.”
    “But sir—”
    “Dismissed.”
    The MPs pivot and head back down the hall.
    General Jackson stares at his former commando. “Glad you’re here.” “Didn’t have much of a choice:”
    “The president’s inside waiting. We’ll talk later. For now, keep your ears open and your mouth shut, and don’t allow anyone to provoke you.”
    “Maybe you ought to mention that to your daughter.”
    Ignoring the comment, Jackson opens the door, motioning Gunnar inside. The newly appointed commander in chief of the United States Special Operations Command feels as if he is leading a lamb to slaughter.
    Rocky is standing off to one side. Her father signals her over as a gangly civilian with tight wavy hair steps forward to greet them.
    “Commander Jackson, meet Gray Ayers, Secretary of the Navy. Mr. Secretary, this is my daughter, Commander Rochelle Jackson-Hatcher.”

    Thomas Gray Ayers, Jr. extends his hand. “We’re all sorry for your loss, Commander, and I’m sure there are places you’d rather be, but this briefing singularly requires your presence. When answering the president, keep your responses short and to the point. Nothing too technical, but don’t hold back either. Edwards has been around the block a few times and doesn’t like to be bullshitted.” Ayers turns to face Gunnar, a grimace pulling on his long face. “Mr. Wolfe, I’m not quite sure what to say to you. The general feels you can shed some light on what’s happened, and I respect his opinion, but frankly, I’d just as soon see you shot for treason.”
    Ayers nods curtly to General Jackson, then walks away, taking his place at the conference table.
    Gunnar grits his teeth. “Nice to meet you, too … asshole.”
    Jackson grips Gunnar’s elbow, leading him and his daughter toward three vacant chairs.
    Two more men enter. The Bear leans over to Gunnar, informing him that the man with the black hair and piercing blue eyes is Austin Tapscott, the new Secretary of Defense. The former Army Airborne sniper offers a curt nod. The general with the receding hairline is Marc Ben-Meir, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. He offers his condolences to Rocky, pointedly refusing to so much as glance at Gunnar.
    A short man enters the Situation Room, pushing his way past the general.
    President Edwards’s newly appointed Secretary of State takes a seat at the conference table and ceremoniously begins reviewing his notes. Nick Nunziata, Jr. is a former senator from Georgia who lacks the jovial personality of his late father, Democratic congressman Nicholas Nunziata, Sr. At five-foot-seven, Nunziata’s short stature belies a fierce reputation. A straightforward, no-nonsense guy bearing a bit of a Napoleon complex, the man is not one to be trifled with.
    The President of the United States enters through a paneled door, followed by CIA Director Gabor Pertic. The steely look behind Edwards’s fierce hazel eyes reveals the seriousness of the meeting. A staunch conservative Democrat, Jeff Edwards’s middle-aged looks are already showing signs of wear and tear from his first years in office, the most recent events causing the dark brown hairs along his temples to turn gray