by David Spell
Maxwell was not about to tell his friend that someone had possibly downloaded the video files recorded on Alfie’s island. Ethan was still working on that for him.
“Good to hear. You understand that as the Vice-President, there is no room for those types of indiscretions. I need you beside me, but I can’t have any hint of scandal. I don’t even want to think about having to replace you, so don’t give me a reason.”
Sterling swallowed hard. “I understand, Saleem. That was a terrible error in judgment and will not be repeated. Thank you for this opportunity.”
The presidential candidate wearily pulled himself to his feet and started for the door. “I believe we’re going to be an excellent team. We’re going to be remembered for many years to come as the administration that changed America. Good night, Maxwell.”
Sterling walked his friend to the door and watched him climb slowly into the black SUV. The vehicle stopped at the gate, which opened automatically. The Secret Service driver turned out of the driveway heading back towards the city.
Change America? he thought. I wonder what Saleem means? Every politician talks about it but very few actually did anything of lasting significance. Most ended up just maintaining the status quo so that they could stay in power.
I still need to figure out what to do about those missing videos, he remembered. The computer hacker had left for the Caribbean on Monday to see if he could get close enough to hack into the wifi system at Alfie’s estate. Ethan had traveled alone because Maxwell did not want to involve anyone from the Agency if he didn’t need to.
The only way to access the private island was by boat or helicopter. On Tuesday, the hacker had chartered a private helicopter tour. Instead of touring several islands, though, Ethan had paid the pilot extra to hover over Nicholson’s mansion while he tried to pick up a wifi signal.
He had messaged Maxwell that afternoon with the bad news. It appeared that the service had been disconnected. There was nothing to hack into. The CIA Director had instructed Sharpe to stay on Tortola for another few days while Sterling decided what to do.
That morning, Maxwell had spent over an hour poring over the personnel files of agents assigned to the OPs Directorate. Sure, he had instructed Vijay to transfer or get rid of most of the ones with ties to Dunning, Clark, or McCain. There were still a few left, though, who might be able to help him with his problem.
The silver BMW had given Bashir’s SUV a head start, having a pretty good idea of where they were heading. Twenty minutes later, Candidate Saleem exited the vehicle in front of the Hay-Adams Hotel on 16th Street, surrounded by his Secret Service detail. The BMW stopped across the street, a telephoto lens sticking out the window, the shutter whirling as the photographer depressed the button and held it down, trying to get a good shot of Saleem.
The reporter watched through the long lens as the doorman held the front door open, smiling at the presidential candidate. Just as Bashir started to walk through, he paused, glancing to see that his security detail was with him. The shutter kept opening and closing as he walked inside the exclusive hotel. The window of the vehicle slid up and the BMW pulled out into the traffic.
Washington, D.C., Friday, 0805 hours
Saleem stared at his phone screen in disbelief. The article running on CNN’s website was entitled, “Possible Running Mate for Bashir?” The story was short but indicated that the Democratic candidate had been meeting with CIA Director Maxwell Sterling. The article also recapped both men’s careers and highlights. At first glance, he thought that someone must have leaked the information to the press, but two photos were also attached to the story. One was of his SUV leaving Sterling’s home the previous night at 10:31pm, while the other showed Saleem walking into the Hays-Adams Hotel with a time-stamp of 10:54pm.
It had to come out sooner or later, he thought. In reality, this wasn’t the end of the world and his campaign staff would give the standard answer to any questions that came up in regards to the article. ‘The senator is still considering several eligible candidates to be his running mate.’ ‘Of course, Senator Bashir was visiting his friend the previous evening. They often had dinner when they could coordinate their schedules, having been friends for over twenty years.’ Those answers should keep the wolves at bay for a few more weeks.
As the day wore on, the report was a surprising non-story. Of course, now that the possibility had been suggested, Maxwell texted him to let him know that he was getting a lot of calls and emails asking if it was true. Sterling also brushed off the rumors, citing his friendship with the candidate as the reason Bashir had been at his home the previous evening.
A mile away from the Hays-Adam, Thomas Burns read the report on the newsfeed of his desktop computer at FBI Headquarters. Well, isn’t that interesting? he thought. He did a quick Google search looking for any other articles about the CIA Director as the possible VP candidate. Nothing to speak of. Even more interesting, Thomas pondered.
If none of the other news outlets were carrying the story, this CNN reporter must have broken it. There wasn’t a whole lot of substance, to be sure, just the fact that Bashir had been seen entering and leaving Sterling’s Georgetown home last night. It was enough, though, to send the Assistant Director of Counter-Terrorism’s mind spinning in several different directions and none of them were good.
A thumb drive containing Maxwell Sterling’s movie had arrived by courier on Wednesday with Agent Burns’ name on it. He had gone through the motions of acting surprised as he watched the video, calling his boss and asking him to come to his office. The Director of Counter-Terrorism Larry Price was stunned at what Burns had shown him.
Together, they had discussed the best way to handle the ‘anonymous’ video. Both men understood that once they went to the FBI Director and showed him the video clip, he would be obligated to share the information with the President. They decided to take things slowly, making sure they dotted every ‘i’ and crossed every ’t.’
“Okay, I want to make sure we’re on the same page here,” Burns said. “I’ll do the initial report and will turn this into Forensics for them to examine. If they confirm that this is, in fact, the CIA Director engaging in what appears to be sex with minors, then we’ll assign it to an agent, start an investigation, and notify the Director.”
Price nodded. “That sounds like the best course of action. I sure hope this video is legit. It’ll be a pleasure watching Sterling’s ass get taken down. What a little prick he is!”
He doesn’t even seem concerned with the fact that a bombshell like this was dropped on us by an unknown source, Burns thought. And if Forensics verifies that its legit, Maxwell’s life is about to take a turn for the worse.
CIA Headquarters, Friday, 1030 hours
Jennifer Hughes contemplated going and refilling her coffee mug again after checking the latest news stories for the third time that morning. The large, open work area was filled with mostly empty cubicles. She had heard rumors of a couple of operations going on, but she had not been assigned to a single mission since the previous leadership team was forced out.
Aaron Richards and a few of the other recent graduates from the Farm occupied some of the work spaces, typing away on their keyboards. Hughes figured they were updating their resumés after seeing what a terrible career move they had made. There had been talk about assigning a couple of the newer agents to her as their field training officer. With no missions or operations, however, there wasn’t much she could teach them at the moment.
Director Vijay Sable had been nice enough every time that she’d asked him if there were any upcoming ops.
“I’m sorry. We’re still restructuring. We should have some missions coming on-line very soon.”
“Are we getting any more people, sir? It doesn’t really look like we have the capability to do much of anything right now.”
Even with the new additions, they were still woefully understaffed.
“Of course! We’re interviewing new personnel right now. Hop
efully, they will all work out.”
The new agents Sable had brought on all seemed to be much more comfortable behind their computers than out in the field, though. The group of operators that she had worked with previously under Colonel Clark and Mr. McCain had been just the opposite, more comfortable on a mission gathering intelligence or taking down bad guys.
Since Dunning, Clark, and McCain had left, so had most of the experienced Ops personnel. Some had been run off, many had been transferred to different divisions, while others had seen the handwriting on the wall and left to work in the private sector. A few had even gone back into the military. Jennifer didn’t want to leave the Agency. She had her heart set on making it a career and knew that organizations went through phases. Hopefully, things would level out soon.
Richards swaggered by her cubicle with an empty coffee cup, heading to get his own refill. He paused to smile at her.
“Whatcha looking all glum for, sweetheart?”
The man’s leering grin sent a chill down her spine. He was older than the other new recruits by at least ten years. He was tall and muscular, obviously spending a lot of time in the gym. His brown hair matched the color of his goatee. Jen had done a little digging and found that he had been on an Army Special Forces A Team but had been kicked off after getting into a fight with the First Sergeant. Aaron had then left the Army, applying with the CIA.
“Nothing, Aaron. I’m good,” she answered, with a neutral tone.
“Well, you act like you need a little cheering up. Why don’t you and me go out after work? We can get something to eat, have a few drinks. I’ll make you laugh and we’ll have a good time. What do you say?”
“No, thanks. Like I told you before, I’m already seeing someone.”
“You might be seeing someone, but I guarantee I can make you forget all about him, or her, if you happen to swing that way,” he replied, laughing at his own wit.
Jen turned her back on the new agent, checking her email for the seventh time that morning. This wasn’t the first time that Aaron had asked her out, but he didn’t seem to understand or care that she wasn’t interested. Richards eventually wandered away, muttering under his breath.
The phone on her desk buzzed, startling the young woman.
“Hughes,” she answered.
“Please come to my office,” Sable’s heavily accented voice ordered. “I have something that I think will interest you.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll be right there.”
Vijay’s new administrative aide ushered her right in.
“Agent Hughes, thank you for coming so quickly,” Sable greeted her.
The second man in the room stared at her from his chair in front of Sable’s desk, his eyes slowly traveling up and down her figure, taking in every detail. Agency Director Maxwell Sterling pointed at the chair next to his own.
“Agent Hughes, please have a seat,” he said, a smile plastered onto his face.
She sat down, looking over at her boss.
Vijay nodded at Maxwell. “Director Sterling has a very sensitive mission that we both feel that you should handle.”
Sterling spoke up. “That is correct. Agent Hughes, Director Sable has given me a glowing recommendation of your qualifications and I think you will be perfect for this assignment.”
Hughes felt her excitement growing. Finally, she thought.
“Thank you, sir. I look forward to hearing about it. Oh, and congratulations, by the way,” she added, looking at the CIA Director.
“Congratulations?” Maxwell asked, confused.
“I just saw on the news that you may be the Democratic VP candidate.”
Maxwell forced the smile back onto his face. “No, Agent Hughes. That story isn’t true. Just a rumor. Senator Bashir and I are old friends, that’s all.”
“Sorry, Director. I didn’t mean anything. I just saw the news story.”
Sterling waved his hand dismissively. “No problem. Let’s talk about this mission, shall we?”
Fifty minutes later, the young woman was back at her cubicle with a thin folder. In twenty-four hours, she would be on a plane flying to the British Virgin Islands. Director Sterling had told her that there were possibly computer servers inside the mansion or one of the other buildings on Alfie Nicholson’s island. Nicholson had used his position as a a Hollywood producer to fund several terror groups in the Middle East. Jennifer was tasked with downloading all the files on the servers.
If by chance, she was unable to locate the computers, she was to look for thumb drives or external hard drives. She would be meeting up with an agency contractor once she arrived. Ethan Sharpe would help her get onto the island, but it was up to her to get inside the residence and other structures to complete her mission. She would spend the afternoon with Director Sable and someone from the Support Directorate, developing her cover and an OPs plan to get inside the mansion.
Oh, no, she suddenly remembered, I’m supposed to have dinner with Shaun tomorrow night. He’ll understand, she told herself. The two had been going out fairly regularly over the last three months. Neither wanted to rush into a serious relationship, but they were enjoying getting to know each other.
I wonder why Director Sable didn’t assign me a support team? she pondered. All the other operations that she’d been a part of had several agents assigned to make sure every detail was taken care of and to cover the primary operators. Sterling told her that, due to the sensitivity of the mission, she was being sent in to join the other asset, Ethan Sharpe, who was already on location. Sharpe would be her only backup, the director had said. This Ethan Sharpe must be pretty impressive, she thought, picturing someone who looked like Shaun, Kevin Clark or Chuck McCain.
Back in his own office, Maxwell dialed Ethan’s number.
“Hi, Max, I hope you’re not going to tell me I have to come home now. I’m enjoying my vacation that you’re paying for.”
“I’m sending someone else and I need your help. You’re to get them onto the island so they can try to locate what I need.”
“Max, I’m not one of your agents. I break into computer networks and steal stuff. How am I supposed to sneak this guy onto that island?”
“It’s a girl, Ethan, and I’m sure that you can figure something out. Plus, I’ll add a very nice bonus if you can complete this mission.”
“A girl spy, huh? Does she look anything like those chicks on the James Bond movies?”
“Ethan, just get her onto the island and off again. I wouldn’t recommend trying anything with her. She’s a very dangerous girl.”
“Ooh, I like the dangerous ones. You know that. You remember Camilla Martinez from college?”
“Check your email,” Sterling said, ignoring his friend’s comments. “It’ll have her flight info and her cover name. Make a sign for her to find you at the airport. Goodbye, Ethan.”
As he disconnected the call, the CIA Director tossed his cell phone onto the desk in disgust. He hated being dependent on other people. He was already rethinking his decision to gut the Operations Directorate. The Hughes girl was inexperienced enough to still be in awe of getting a mission directly from him, but he wasn’t sure that she’d even be able to do what he was asking her to do.
Maxwell had read her dossier, though, and felt like she was the best option available. She was young and he was confident that he could manipulate her. Sterling had promised her a promotion to team leader if she was successful.
He almost wished he was going to have some more time at the Agency. He’d love to get to know her a little better, he thought, his mind remembering all of her lovely curves. In reality, however, Maxwell anticipated turning in his resignation letter to the President right before the convention.
If Agent Hughes happened to discover what was on the files, Sterling could always get in touch with Lara and have her eliminated. The young woman would be another loose end that would need to be dealt with.
Leesburg, Virginia, Friday, 1940 hours
A pile of empt
y pizza boxes was stacked next to the overflowing trashcan in the corner, the conference room crowded with men and women working on a mission that could get all of them arrested and some of them killed. On one end of the long table, Andy Fleming, Scotty Smith, and Eric Gray were poring over satellite maps and photographs of Villarreal’s ranch. The intelligence that Raul Gonzalez had provided had forced McCain and Clark to divide the operation into two parts. Fleming and his two men would infiltrate the ranch to deal with whatever cartel members might be staying there. For the time being at least, Damian Sanchez had been spotted rehabbing on the hacienda.
McCain’s squad sat at the other end of the table, and was composed of Chuck, Jay Walker, Chris Norris, Jimmy Jones, and Hollywood Estrada. Their target was the long warehouse near the middle of downtown Matamoros. Raul’s report indicated that Vincente spent some nights there and other nights at the ranch. Juan Guerra had been seen at the ranch but had accompanied the cartel leader back into the city the previous day.
Shaun Taylor, General Perkins’ aide Sam Mercer, and Josh Matthews floated between the two groups, listening to their discussion, available if the operators needed anything. Shaun and Josh would both be a part of Colonel Clark’s support team, along with Chloe and Gabby. Mercer had special operations experience but the general had made it clear that the retired master sergeant was not going on this operation. The two women were standing off to the side, testing the box of walkie talkies and night vision goggles.
Kevin leaned over Chuck’s shoulder, pointing at the eight-by-ten photo he was showing his team.
“Look at the size of that guy! Who is he? His face looks like he’s been in a few fights.”
“That’s Fernando “The Bull” Ramos. He’s Vincente’s primary bodyguard. He was actually on the Mexican Olympic Boxing Team in 2008 but got disqualified in the first round of the Beijing games. He knocked his opponent out but ended up getting in a fight with the guy’s corner and KO’ing three of them. The Olympic Committee sent him home. He turned pro but really wasn’t good enough to get any big money fights in Mexico. He started doing some enforcement work for the Sinaloa Cartel and followed Villarreal when he launched out on his own.”