plenty of times with numerous lawmakers over the past six months, however when it came to McCombs, Mike got the sense that he was acquiring some actual insight as to how the President felt on the matter. If anyone thought to press him on it, Mike would have to admit that he enjoyed playing possum with politicians a little more than he should have and this get together with McCombs would be no exception.
“What exactly is it that you object to, Senator?”
“All of it, actually,” McCombs said with disdain in his voice.
“So you object to us pursuing the bad actors who get their rocks off terrorizing innocents all around the world?”
“Bad actors? According to who? You, Mr. Ferguson?”
“I am only one person and others are involved, but yes, I do get paid to make those type of decisions,” Mike said.
“You do? Under what constitutional authority?”
“Excuse me, Senator?” Mike was quite familiar with this dance. It was the same one he had tangoed to with the various other politicians who considered the CIA a useless relic of the cold war.
“You heard me,” McCombs said. The Senator reached to his right and picked up a conveniently accessible copy of the Constitution, then opened it up to a random page. “Please, Mr. Ferguson, point me in the right direction. I have my Constitution right here,” he said as he shook the pamphlet in his hand.
“Senator, I have some critical work that needs my attention,” Mike said, trying to remain respectful. “There are some nasty people looking to do severe damage to our country and it would be my preference that they didn’t.”
McCombs jumped to his feet with the Constitution still in his hand, and railed away at Mike. “Do you think I’m playing games with you? You don’t think I’m asking you important questions? Are you not the Deputy Director of Covert Operations?” McCombs stepped out from behind his desk and walked towards Mike in a huff, but still remained far enough away to keep a safe distance between them, just in case. “I would like to know under what provision of the Constitution do you get your authority? Can you at least tell me that?”
Mike stayed calm and collected as he responded knowing it was sure to piss off the Senator. “I believe it is Congress, sir.”
“Bullshit. Don’t play games with me, Mr. Ferguson. I am Congress,” McCombs said in his blustery best. “As the Majority Leader of the Senate, I can bury your entire disgusting operation.” McCombs was prone to grandstanding like this, which could occasionally be effective on ten-second soundbite TV, but not with anyone who knew he was talking out of his ass.
“I am pretty sure our authority comes from Congress.”
“Not the Constitution? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Actually, Senator, our authority comes from the Executive Branch and we serve at the will of the President, sir, but of course you control the funding and can cut...”
“You’re goddamn right we do,” McCombs said, interrupting him loud enough that it brought the secretaries in his outer office to a standstill. “I promise you we will re-assess every dime we’ve spent on your criminal activity.”
Mike had little time for Congressmen who put their careers in front of the safety of the country, but had even less patience for people who wanted to bury the Agency. Especially those who didn’t have the guts to say so in public. McCombs and Conroy made a big deal in the press about their slashing of the Intelligence budgets when Conroy was in Congress and President Watkins controlled the White House. When something went wrong, like the Khobar Towers debacle, they were the first ones to blame the very agency they themselves had gutted. “Senator, if you would like to discuss policy issues, Director James would be more than happy to do so. As for me, I really need to get back to work and keep this country safe.”
“You keep this country safe from the bad actors,” McCombs said, using air quotes with his fingers when he mentioned the words ‘bad actors’. “But who will keep the country safe from the likes of you?”
Mike raised up a bit in his chair and clenched his jaw, but that was all the emotion he would allow McCombs to see. “Senator, I was okay with you making me wait thirty-five minutes for this meeting. I was also okay when you questioned my authority and even with you calling me in here to say things that should be said to my boss. I get all that. But, I’ve got serious matters that need my attention including some really bad people trying to harm you, me, and everyone else in this country. So with all due respect, Senator, you are wasting my time and I’m about done with it.”
McCombs was back in his seat behind the safety buffer of his desk about to say something when Mike stood up and startled him for a brief moment. The Senator gathered himself long enough to rip into Mike, one last time. “I do not speak for the President,” McCombs said, an obvious lie to a trained body language specialist like Mike. “But you should know he is not happy. When budget talks come up, it will be he and I that cut your budget in a substantial way, and it will be a joy to do so. The world is different now. You and those in the CIA like you who fly around the world chasing ghosts that don’t exist will have to find another way to get your nuts off.”
Mike turned and headed for the exit without saying a word. He opened the door and was all ready to leave, but paused in the doorway. His gut told him to keep walking, but his head told him that just wouldn’t cut it. McCombs gazed at Mike’s large back as he stood silent for a moment. The Senator was obviously pleased with himself. He had delivered the President’s message with a clear blow to the head. However, when compared to what else the President had in store for Mike and the Agency, it amounted to a small jab with plenty follow-ups to come. The smirk on the Senators’ face evaporated quickly after Mike turned back around and closed the door behind him. Mike walked up to the desk that separated the two men and leaned over it, his nose inches from the lawmakers’ face. “Senator, in my line of work, I can’t afford to make mistakes. If I am right 99.9% of the time, I’m a failure and people die. Unlike you, being wrong at my job is not an option. So do what you want with my budget, I really don’t care to argue about it,” Mike said. “But know one thing. If something goes down, I will throw you under the bus without hesitation. On top of that, I will mention you specifically by name and that you claimed to be doing the President’s bidding.”
Senator McCombs jumped to his feet, but stayed safely behind the desk. “Go ahead and try that. I’ll deny it publicly over and over again and then it’s my word against yours. Who do you think they’ll believe? A sitting US Senator or a CIA operative in charge of Covert Operations?”
Mike straightened up and pulled out a pen from his shirt pocket. He clicked down on it. “…And then it’s my word against yours. Who do you think they’ll believe? A sitting US Senator, or a CIA operative in charge of Covert Operations?” Mike watched McCombs slump in disbelief as he listened to his own voice being played right back at him through the speaker located in the middle of the pen.
Mike smiled and slipped the pen back in his shirt pocket. “Honestly?” Mike said with a smile. “I’m thinking they’ll believe me. You have a good day, Senator.”
• • •
As Mike pulled onto the George Washington Parkway, he was interrupted by the beeping of his cell phone. He’d missed a call from Akiva. He knew there would be no message, that wasn’t Akiva’s style.
Mike first met Akiva at an intelligence briefing in Langley soon after he had finished his time at ‘The Farm’ and was awaiting
