The DA had a disarming smile and said softly, “Ms. Edvardsen, we know that you wouldn’t do anything to harm your country and understand that you are an innocent victim in this case. All the FBI is trying to do is avert disaster. Your information may be critical to that effort and saving the life of Josh Fuze. We will grant you full and total immunity from prosecution regarding anything involved with this case.” She slid a sheet of paper across to Elizabeth’s attorney.
Picking it up, her attorney added, “The charges are very serious and this is an unusually generous offer. As your attorney, I would strongly recommend you accept it.”
Elizabeth remembered the note, now resting in her stomach. Josh had told her to cooperate.
She would do just as he said ... kinda like when he told her to stay in Kansas City. Ignoring the paper and pen, she said, “I haven’t done anything wrong, and Josh not only hasn’t done anything wrong, he’s trying to save the world. This is a terrible mix-up. I will cooperate fully in an effort to help unscramble this insane situation.”
She knew Josh created the “mix-up” intentionally, but it was still a mix-up. She would “help” them understand that they were interfering in something they didn’t grasp. She wouldn’t tell them what she really believed. That would just solidify their belief that both of them were nuts, eliminating her ability to put doubt in their minds.
She decided to look at this as a game. Their goal was to wear her down with doubt, while pulling out information they could use against Josh. Her goal was to paint a picture that would make them question themselves.
Langley
The entire team assembled by 7:00 am. Lafferty, on speakerphone, said, “You were right. I talked to the flight ops personnel at Boeing. He arrived at 1:30 this morning along with a young software engineer named Greg Langlois. They took off at 2:05 am and are scheduled to arrive in the Falklands about 2:00 pm our time.”
General Glosson said, “The C-17s are flown by Air Force test pilots. We can contact them by radio and have them diverted to wherever you want.”
Buster asked, “Where are they now?”
Glosson looked at the ceiling as she did some quick calculations. “Probably over the Gulf of Mexico, but I can get their exact location in a few minutes.”
Davidson looked at Buster and said, “Recommend we go with the original plan to capture him in the Falklands. Keep him isolated on an island where we have the upper hand. We’re a little behind but we can have our team landing right after they do.”
Buster said, “What if he doesn’t go to the Falklands?”
Davidson turned to Glosson. “We need a tight watch on that aircraft. If it deviates from its planned route at all, we need to know and contact the pilot ASAP.”
Buster nodded at Davidson. Davidson took that for approval and continued, “Otherwise, we let them proceed.” Looking at Glosson, he asked, “How soon can we have our aircraft headed south?”
“We called in the aircraft crews and SEAL team as soon as we heard what happened in St. Louis.” She looked at her watch, “They should be launching within the hour. They’re out of Hurlburt AFB in Florida, so, they’re closer to the Falklands and can be there an hour or so after the Prophet’s plane lands.”
Bishara looked at the Deputy and said, “We have two of our people in the Falklands right now. Do you want them to capture the Prophet when he arrives?”
Davidson asked, “Are they experienced operatives?”
Bishara shook her head. “No, their job was to coordinate the administrative side and act as a liaison with the locals.”
“Can’t risk it. Have them stay back. This guy’s too good. Their only mission is to ensure the Prophet’s C-17 stays put after it lands. We’ll wait until we have the CIA/SEAL team in place before taking him.”
Buster asked, “Do we have clearance to operate in country?”
Davidson said, “Yes, I’ve been working closely with Tony Collins, the SIS Chief.”
Buster asked, “Do they understand how dangerous this situation is?”
Davidson nodded at his boss. “We probably have a closer working relationship with them than we do with most U.S. agencies. They know what we know and have coordinated with Scotland Yard and the British military in the Falklands.”
Buster nodded. “Good.”
From the speakerphone, Lafferty said, “When do you want to round up the rest of the players in St. Louis and Los Alamos?”
Davidson looked at Buster. “We know his girlfriend didn’t contact anyone before we arrested her. No sense tipping our hand until we have him.”
Buster nodded again.
Davidson said, “Bishara, as soon as our team lands in the Falklands, start jamming their cell phones. Bart, at the same time, let’s pick up everyone else.”
Lafferty said, “Our operatives know the scientists and engineers are innocent pawns. When we pick them up, they’ll be told they’re being taken into protective custody.”
Buster asked, “What about Lopez and Musk?”
Lafferty said, “We have all the legal warrants. We’ll emphasize it’s for their own protection.”
Glosson added, “We have Presidential authority to use the carrier battle group. They’re pulling out of Australia now and heading south. They should be within strike range in 24 hours.”
Someone knocked and came into the room. He handed a note to the Deputy and left. As Davidson read the note, his eyebrows went up. “Just got word from the Keck Observatory in Hawaii. They think one of their infrared telescopes may have detected something at the coordinates the Prophet supplied. It’s a weak signal and too early to plot a trajectory.”
You could hear a pin drop as all eyes went to the Director.
Buster’s face started turning red and his veins began to pop out. He released a string of expletives that would’ve made a sailor proud. Finally, winding down, he looked around the table and said in a controlled voice, “This guy’s kept one step ahead of us the whole way. He’s obviously planted the information.”
Davidson said, softly, “It’s a Caltech NASA observatory.”
Barely keeping his temper in check, Buster said, “The Prophet’s an expert at manipulating government agencies.” He pointed at Carl Casey, almost smiling. “For God’s sake, he’s had us working for him!” He took a breath. “I want everyone from the observatory who knows about this picked up immediately for questioning. If there are any leaks, I want them discredited.”
Davidson paused.
Buster slapped the table. “I mean right now! Do you understand me? This jerk is not going to make a jackass out of me or this agency!”
Davidson said quietly, “Yes sir.” He turned to the team and said, “All right, we know what to do, let’s move.”
As they broke up, Davidson saw Buster signal him to stay behind. He assumed it was for a butt chewing, but Buster looked unusually thoughtful.
“I’m sorry, Brian, I know you’re just doing your job, trying to dot the i’s and cross the t’s.” He paused. “I’ve decided I want you to personally take charge of the operation down in the Falklands. It’s just too critical and I want my most experienced man on the scene.”
Davidson was surprised. It was unusual for a Director or Deputy Director to leave the country except on official state business, and then only with full protection. The information in their heads was too valuable to risk. It was even more unusual for the Director to apologize. On the other hand, he would love to get out of D.C. and back into the field. He also had to admit he wanted to be there personally when they captured and interrogated the Prophet. “Yes sir.”
“Great.” Buster paused. “There’s something else I’d like you to do. After they finish interrogating his girlfriend, I want her down in the Falklands.” He smiled, looking down at a sheet of paper. “The forensic team found a notepad in his apartment. They were able to reconstruct part of a message he wrote her before he left. Apparently, he has some feelings for her.” He looked back up. “He’s managed to
stay ahead of us at every turn.” His smile turned unpleasant. “I want to use her pretty little body as a negotiating chip in case something goes wrong.”
Davidson frowned but nodded slowly. He didn’t like what he was hearing and wasn’t sure it was legal to take her out of the country, but he needed to have all his ducks in a row before challenging the Director again.
As Buster left and Davidson headed toward his office, Carl caught up with him.
Carl quietly asked, “Would you mind if I ran the observatory investigation? I’m not as vocal as the Director, but I’m not any fonder about being duped.”
Davidson nodded.
42
FALKLANDS
Returning to his office, Davidson called Lafferty. He explained that Buster wanted Edvardsen in the Falklands for leverage. “Bart, this is outside my area of expertise. Can we legally take a suspect, who’s a U.S. citizen, out of the country?”
Lafferty said slowly, “I guess I don’t understand why we would want to.” He paused. “Brian, you’ve seen her file. She’s never even had a speeding ticket. Her only crime was falling for her patient.”
“If you tell me it’s illegal, I’ll tell him, and we’ll be done with it.”
Lafferty sighed. “It’s not illegal, but it is complicated.” He paused. “The plan was to scare her into cooperating. We haven’t charged her.” He paused again. “Actually, that could work to our advantage.”
Davidson said, “I’m not following you.”
“Brian, we don’t have to arrest her and transport her. All we have to do is ask her.”
Davidson said, “OK...?”
“Look, she obviously cares for this guy and she’s not a wimp. If you thought your significant other was in danger and someone offered to take you to where they were...?”
Davidson nodded unnecessarily. “Got it. Can you make that happen?”
Lafferty said, “I’ll take care of it.”
Falklands
Josh and Greg arrived in the Falklands just before 3:00 pm local time. Although relieved there wasn’t anyone to meet them, Josh felt very anxious. They had to wait for the C-17’s aircrew to get crew rest before they could continue to the Antarctic base.
Looking around, Josh realized Mount Pleasant Royal Air Force Base was an impressive installation with state-of-the-art facilities, particularly considering the island’s tiny population. They borrowed one of the Boeing cars and headed toward Port Stanley to get a hotel. Other than occasional sheep, they saw little sign of civilization through the wide-open tracks of treeless, rolling hills and windswept slopes. Josh decided he liked the Falkland’s cool, windy desolation.
Langley
Bishara said, “Our on-site agent just reported they arrived. The pilot and crew are still with the aircraft. The Prophet and the young engineer left to get a hotel.”
Buster asked, “Where are they going?”
“The only hotels are in Port Stanley about 30 miles from the base. We closed their aviation fuel account so they won’t be able to refuel. Our C-17s will be landing in 15 minutes.”
Davidson said, “Good. Make sure our two agents don’t try anything heroic. Have them stay at the airport and contact us immediately if the Prophet returns.” He turned to Buster. “Let’s flip the switch on the U.S. portion of the operation and round everyone up.”
Buster said, “Do it.”
Lafferty, back from St. Louis, picked up his phone, and said, “Execute.”
Falklands
The sky looked dark and foreboding with an angry, gray overcast. Or, maybe he was just projecting his mood. Josh felt anxious, and the further he drove, the stronger it became. Finally, he was about to stop the car, when his cell phone buzzed. He looked down and saw a text message coming in. It was accessing the encryption app, so he pulled over and waited for it to decipher the text.
There was no sender or address. It simply read, “OK, they’ll meet you at airport with Budweiser & then on to pole dancing. Got to go. Will be tied up. Godspeed.”
He understood immediately. It was Meadows. His signature “OK” authenticated it. “Budweiser” was clearly a SEAL team, either at the airport or inbound. “Pole dancing” probably meant they were going to go on to the South Pole base and shut them down. “Tied up” was self-explanatory. The charade was over. They were coming to collect or eliminate him, and stop all they had done. Josh closed his eyes.
Greg asked, “Sir, you OK?”
“Give me a second to think.”
From his thread visions, he knew what happened in the next hour would stop them in their tracks or allow them one more slim chance to continue. He cleared his mind. After a few seconds, an idea began to form. He knew what to do or at least try. Opening his eyes, he said, “Change of plans.”
“What are we going to do?”
Josh did a wheel-spinning U-turn, as he handed his phone to Greg. “It’s a warning message from Captain Meadows. Our program’s been compromised. Believe it or not, there are forces trying to destroy it. I could use your help, but from here on out, I’ll be cutting corners and it could be dangerous, possibly very dangerous. If you want, I can drop you off at the base.”
“No sir. I eat danger for breakfast.”
Josh glanced at him with a raised eyebrow.
Greg smiled. “Sorry, movie line. What can I do to help?”
“You sure?”
He nodded.
“Greg, I don’t suppose you have Internet access down here?”
Greg, still wearing his geek cap, whipped out his glasses and gloves. “Of course. If there’s a tower, I can tap it.”
After a few seconds he said, “I’m online.”
“Log into the program site. We need to send a message to our team at the Antarctic base right away.” Josh dictated, “‘Program has been compromised by elements inside our own bureaucracy. They have access to our communications system. Ignore any command that doesn’t have proper authentication. If approached in person by government agents, confirm their identity.’ Sign it with my authentication code, ‘Fuzed’.”
Greg repeated it back to Josh and then sent it.
“Greg, I also need to look up some information.” He explained what he needed Greg to Google.
After a few seconds, Greg handed him his glasses.
Josh quickly read what he needed and handed them back. After doing several calculations in his head, he sighed and said, “This should be interesting.” He drove back toward the airport as fast as the sedan would go.
Greg took off the video glasses. “Just lost the connection.” He looked surprised. “Every cell signal on the island is gone.”
Langley
Glosson said, “Sir, our first C-17 is on final approach. The second is five minutes behind it.”
Bishara added, “Our agents report that the Prophet’s C-17 hasn’t been refueled, and the Brits are jamming voice and data transmissions in and out of the island. We’ve also taken over the satellite communication link to the pole base. They can’t send or receive anything without going through us.”
Buster said quietly, “We’ve got him.”
Falklands
As Josh and Greg approached the airport, they saw a C-17 taxiing in. They were still a mile and a half from the airport entrance, but with his exceptional vision, he saw another C-17 parked right next to theirs.
Langley
Bishara said, “Sir, our SEAL/CIA team and British Special Forces took control of the Prophet’s C-17 and rounded up the crew and Boeing reps. The Capture Team is headed out now. Working with local law enforcement, they’re putting up roadblocks on all roads around Port Stanley. There’s one other small civilian airport, and they’ve got that covered too.”
Buster asked, “Do they have the Prophet’s picture?”
“We’re circulating it now, but on an island of 3,000, it’s pretty easy to find Waldo.”
Buster frowned, not getting it.
Bishara explained, “Uh, he’ll be the one they don’t r
ecognize.”
43
THEFT
Just before reaching the terminal where the C-17s were parked, Josh turned at a military hanger. There was a small guard gate at the entrance. As they approached, Josh said, “Not only could this be dangerous, but it could also get you in serious trouble.” He smiled. “I won’t hold it against you if you want to back out.”
Greg swallowed. “No sir, I’m in.”
“OK. Greg, do you have your Boeing badge?”
“Yes.”
“Put it on and follow my lead.” As they pulled up, Josh showed the guard his Boeing access badge, and said, “We’ve been called in for an emergency aircraft repair and need to get to the maintenance area immediately.”
The guard looked puzzled. “You need to have a base badge.”
Josh focused on “knowing” that the guard would let them pass, as three military vehicles with lights flashing and sirens blaring drove past the gate behind them. Coming from the main terminal, they were clearly, headed toward Port Stanley. Josh didn’t turn around but caught a glimpse of U.S. military fatigues in his rearview mirror as they went by.
The guard looked up with interest, then turned back to Josh and waved them through. “Move along.”
With a half-smile, Josh glanced at Greg.
Nodding, Greg grinned back and quietly said, “Obi-Wan Kenobi.”
They parked outside the hanger. As they walked toward the entrance, Josh looked at the six F-18 Super Hornets sitting on the tarmac and committed their tail numbers to memory. Just before they walked in the door, Josh turned to Greg. “This is one of those rare times when the ends do justify the means but this could be very dangerous.”
Greg’s eyes got wide. Then he started laughing. “This is just like playing Splinter Cell on Xbox. Did you know that after you jumped off that cliff, all the young engineers nicknamed you James Bond?”
Impact (Fuzed Trilogy Book 1) Page 27