Treason by Newt Gingrich, Pete Earley

Watergate cover-up. That would explain why Mallory Harper was teaming up with Director Grainger to stop him from delving into what really happened in Somalia.
    Early in his career, Stanton had discovered that witnesses who testified before his committee often became nervous if he simply sat quietly for a few moments and didn’t immediately ask follow-up questions.
    For several uncomfortable moments, he said nothing. He shifted his piercing gaze from Harper to Grainger and then back again.
    Harper avoided his stare by glancing at her Fitbit. “Mr. Chairman,” she said impatiently, “our president has been attacked by terrorists. I suspect voters in your district would view a hearing whose intent was to expose possible mistakes our government made in Somalia very negatively at a moment when we should be unified in our determination to defeat our adversaries.”
    â€œMs. Harper, may I ask how many campaigns have you run?” Stanton replied in a smug voice.
    â€œOnly two,” she answered, “but both were presidential campaigns, not House races, and I learned during them that the American people don’t like to see our nation denigrated and dragged through the mud when it comes to how we deal with terrorists. I also learned how invaluable the support of a president and our political party can be to those who support her and our party.”
    Her threats are becoming more direct
, Stanton thought. He would be facing another reelection campaign in less than two years.
    Rising abruptly from her seat, Harper said, “I’m afraid I have other commitments, but thank you for speaking to us this morning.”
    Grainger rose from his chair too. Stanton did not.
    Washington etiquette dictated that the official who had agreed to meet with guests in his office decided when a meeting was over. Harper was being rude.
    â€œWhat shall I tell the president?” Harper asked.
    â€œTell the president that in the future if she wants to discuss what committee hearings I may or may not conduct, she should call me directly. Meanwhile, I will give your arguments the consideration that they deserve.”
    Harper turned and left Stanton’s office with Grainger at her heels.
    When they reached the marble staircase outside the House committee’s suite of offices in the basement of the U.S. Capitol Visitor Center, Harper whispered, “Payton, I don’t care if Stanton is in our party, the president needs to get that pompous bastard stripped of his chairmanship and removed from the intelligence committee. Then we need to find a way to get him thrown out of office.”
    She paused for a moment, and then added, “And if your agency did know that our embassy was about to be attacked in Somalia and did nothing, then you better come up with a damn good rationale or be willing to resign. The president isn’t going to take a hit because someone under your watch—”
    A parade of elementary schoolchildren encircled them as their teacher herded them through the center, causing Harper to stop mid-sentence.
    Grainger hadn’t needed to hear her final words.

CHAPTER NINE
    Suburban medical building
    Fairfax, Virginia
    T he Al Arabic network’s newest Washington, D.C., correspondent peered through the heavily tinted windows of an unmarked white van outside the Fallen Oaks Rehabilitation Center’s front entrance.
    â€œShe isn’t going to speak to me if she knows we’re filming her,” Ebio Kattan warned her camera crew. “Let’s shoot first from the van.”
    â€œWe can’t get a clear shot through these windows,” her camera operator complained.
    Kattan pinned a brooch on the lapel of her bright red, one-button, Alexander McQueen patchwork blazer. “We’ll get additional footage and sound through this,” she said, referring to the miniature camera lens and microphone concealed in the costume jewelry. “The shaky images will add drama