The Black List Read Online Free PDF

two vacant. One next to CIA’s Ian Thorndike, and the other next to Pearson from the FBI. He chose Pearson, since Thorndike still had issues about Griffin and Tex leaving the CIA to join ATLAS.
    There wasn’t enough coffee to get past the first hour’s budget reports, and Pearson elbowed him twice when he nearly dozed off during Thorndike’s dissertation on why his budget needed to be increased when everyone else was being asked to make cuts.
    “There’s such a thing as overdoing it,” McNiel said under his breath.
    To which Senator Burgess asked, “Did you have something you wished to share, Mr. McNiel?”
    “No, ma’am.”
    “Because if there is, I’m sure Mr. Thorndike wouldn’t mind turning over the floor?”
    “Actually,” Thorndike said, “I would mind. I’d like to discuss the way money is allocated in the refugee resettlement program. Over ten billion dollars that could—”
    “I believe,” Burgess said, “the figure is closer to one billion. Not ten. That’s quite a difference.”
    “Unless,” Thorndike said, “you include what’s coming from the welfare budgets.”
    “We’re not. You’re talking about a completely different budget, one in which we have no oversight.”
    “Feel free to point that out to the taxpayers, who aren’t differentiating which pocket they’re paying it from.”
    “Did you have a point, Mr. Thorndike?”
    “Yes. If you’re going to continue dumping that kind of money into the program, some of it needs to be diverted into who you’re letting into the country—especially considering the mass emigration from East Africa and the lack of resources and funding to ensure that those coming in are who they say they are.”
    The senator’s expression turned icy. “Heaven forbid we allow nonwhites into the country?”
    It was Pearson who answered. “No, Madam Senator. Terrorists, unfortunately, come in all colors. If you would take the time to read the FBI and CIA’s joint analysis of the areas we feel are the weak links in—”
    “So everyone from East Africa is a terrorist now?”
    Pearson took a deep breath. “Of course not. But it only takes one.”
    McNiel had to appreciate the man’s position and the effort it took for him to maintain his temper.
    Senator Burgess, however, appeared unmoved. “When you get evidence that any of these terrorists are getting past the gatekeepers that the UN and the U.S. have put in place, do let me know. Until then, I’m more interested in how to address our real concerns, going over the reports from each of your departments on where you’re going to make the cuts necessary without compromising the integrity of your programs.”
    “More cuts?” McNiel said.
    “Mr. McNiel? You have something you’d like to address before the committee?”
    He wanted to address a lot, but Pearson gave a slight shake of his head, warning him to back down. That meant one thing. Pearson needed the meeting to end and fast, so he responded with, “No, ma’am.”
    “Thank you, then. For the record, I believe the proper screening measures are in place, and unless you can show me otherwise, we’ll move on.”
    “Remind me why we’re kissing her ass?” McNiel asked as he and Pearson walked out of the building. The question was rhetorical. They were kissing her ass in hopes she wouldn’t recommend slashing their budgets all to hell. Burgess, like every other senator out there, was swayed by the lobbyists. In Burgess’s case, since she happened to be heading the refugee committees, her lobbyists were paid by the so-called charities, who wanted to keep the refugee resettlement system exactly as it was, security flaws and all, because it worked for them.
    Pearson shook his head. “Don’t get me started . . .”
    “So why was it you stopped me from taking her on head-to-head?”
    “Because I got a call from MI6 about five minutes before the meeting started that one of their agents in Somalia has verified intel that Yusuf’s definitely