by Brad Thor
“What was the primary reason, then?”
“It was home to Boeing’s corporate headquarters,” said Nicholas.
“You think the bomber wanted to bring down the entire building just to get to Boeing?”
“I do,” replied the little man, “and it’s not just Boeing. I think this is what the orange dots are all about. The one thing they have in common is that they’re in cities from Fairfield, Connecticut, to Palo Alto, California, that are home to the corporate headquarters of all the companies that make up the Dow Jones Industrial Average. Can you imagine taking out all thirty headquarters at once? Do you have any idea the economic chaos that would cause, especially if you timed it so that most, if not all, of the senior management was present when the buildings came down?”
Harvath’s eyes were wide open now and he propped himself up in bed. “That would be huge.”
“It wouldn’t just be huge, it would be game over. Let’s set aside for a moment that the Dow is basically a BS indicator—”
“What do you mean? The Dow is the financial indicator everyone looks at.”
“No,” Nicholas clarified, “it’s the indicator that retail investors look at. Since 1910 it has been on an upward trajectory. The funny thing is that only one of the thirty companies that make up the Dow has been there over the last hundred years and that’s GE. It’s a massive psychological operation. If a company does poorly, it gets yanked, so the Dow can keep climbing.”
“So if it’s all BS, what difference does it make if it takes a hit?”
“Regardless of what you think of the index, the companies on it are currently some of the best-performing in the United States. A massive, coordinated terrorist attack, wiping out just the top twenty-five people in each company, in effect their intellectual horsepower, could absolutely devastate their stock and, in turn, the financial markets.”
“If your goal was to collapse the United States,” said Harvath, “why not go right for the Dow attack then?”
“To soften the battlefield. I’d want to sow as much chaos and panic as possible. I think it’s brilliant. Make people across the country feel that they aren’t physically safe anywhere and then take all their money away in a financial crisis, and they’ll beg for a return to normalcy. Start throwing in more attacks after that, and they’ll give up anything and stand behind anyone who promises to return things to the way they were. At that point, America, as its citizens know it, is over and is never coming back.”
Having studied history, Harvath knew that once people gave up their freedom in order to restore order, that freedom was never returned. He didn’t even want to consider that this was possible, but he knew that it was and he knew that they had to figure out a way to prevent it from happening. “You’re sure that’s what the orange dots represent?”
“As sure as I can be,” he replied. “But it’s not just because of the locations. I found something else, and it’s exactly what I would do if I were James Standing and thought I was smarter than everyone else and wouldn’t get caught.”
“What is it?”
“Beginning six weeks ago, significant bets were placed that all thirty companies making up the Dow were going to drastically lose value over the subsequent three months.”
“You mean someone is shorting them?”
“That’s the way it looks,” said Nicholas. “Very much in the same way options were purchased against United and American Airlines stocks right before 9/11.”
“Is it Standing?” Harvath asked.
“I said people like Standing were aggressive, not stupid. The shorts lead back to a series of holding companies, most of them offshore. I’m trying to use the TIP to pierce them. In the meantime, though, what should we do about my hypothesis?”
“If you were going to try to take out the senior management of all these companies, when would you do it?”
Nicholas thought about it for a moment. “Maybe at a corporate retreat or a shareholders’ or board of directors’ meeting.”
“I’m talking about all thirty companies at once and at a time when as many of those people would likely be at their corporate headquarters.”
“If you’re speaking Monday through Friday, then I would say definitely do it on a Monday.”
Harvath looked at his watch. It was technically already Monday. “DuPont Chemical is up in Wilmington, Delaware. They’re still part of the Dow, right?”
“Yes. Why? What are you thinking?”
“I think we need to check out your hypothesis.”
“You only want to check out DuPont?” asked Nicholas. “Why not warn all of them?”
“Because, in light of the attacks we’ve just suffered, everything is already on edge. If word got out that we thought these companies were targets, it would create a panic that could be just as bad as if they were attacked.”
Harvath had a good point. “You’re right,” agreed Nicholas. “What do you want to do?”
“Have you called the Old Man yet?”
“No, I wanted to talk to you first.”
“Anything out of Iceland?”
“Nothing yet.”
Harvath had already gotten out of bed. “Okay,” he stated. “I’ll call Reed. You keep working on things there.”
“You’re going up to DuPont, aren’t you?”
“I am.”
“Well, you’re going to need help,” said Nicholas. “I’m looking at pictures of the building their headquarters is in right now. It takes up an entire city block and is thirteen stories tall. You can’t possibly search the entire thing by yourself.”
“I won’t be going by myself,” replied Harvath. “I’m going to bring a few friends with me.”
CHAPTER 64
The massive, eight-bladed, three-engine Sikorsky CH-53 Sea Stallion helicopter thundered over the Atlantic Ocean, straight up the East Coast. Inside, Harvath sat with members of the U.S. Navy’s Explosive Ordnance Disposal (EOD) Group Two out of Naval Amphibious Base, Little Creek, Virginia.
Multiple, rapid-deployment U.S. Army Chemical, Biological, Nuclear, Radiological and high-yield Explosive Enhanced Response Force Package teams, also known as CERFP teams, were already en route to Wilmington via Blackhawk helicopters from Fort Meade and Andrews Air Force Base. Rodney Square, directly across the street from the DuPont building, was the designated landing zone and had already been secured by the Wilmington Police Department.
The building was composed of a hotel, theater, bank, retail shops, DuPont’s corporate headquarters, and other general-purpose office space. The hotel was at 30 percent occupancy and its guests were sleeping when the first of the helicopters landed.
The concrete corridors of Wilmington’s downtown business district reverberated with earsplitting thunder as one after another, the large birds flared, then touched down and quickly disgorged their teams and equipment, before lifting back off again and disappearing.
DuPont’s executive director in charge of corporate security, Ron Lamat, was one of the most experienced executive protection specialists in the country. A former Baltimore County Police major, he had trained with the Secret Service and was a graduate of the FBI’s National Executive Institute. When he wasn’t keeping DuPont’s hierarchy and their families safe, he was teaching other executive protection specialists how to do the same for their clients. In a crisis, Harvath couldn’t have hoped to have liaised with a more competent or professional chief of security.
Lamat met Harvath and his team outside at the LZ and led them into the building. Schematics had been laid on hastily erected tables in the lobby. Building engineers, roused from their beds and rushed to the scene, stood by ready to answer any questions or provide access to any of the common or private areas. Rows of radios stood in charging stations plugged into outlets along one wall in case the teams needed a uniform means of communication. Lined up near the radios were four of Lamat’s best men, ready to assist in any way they were needed.
Harvath stood aside talking with the secur
ity chief while the EOD and CERFP team leaders discussed how to divvy up the search. As soon as they had come to an agreement, they established a communications protocol and split up.
Based on the failed Chicago bombing of the Boeing building, they began their search focused on the DuPont building’s structural supports.
Even with the large amount of manpower and technology they had, they moved excruciatingly slowly. The first floor alone took more than a half hour to clear.
As they moved up to the second floor, Ron Lamat pulled Harvath aside.
“Do you mind if I make a suggestion?” he said.
“I’m all ears,” replied Harvath.
“I know you wanted to keep this quiet, but you kind of blew that with the helicopters and by using the local PD to secure your LZ. I think we need more searchers or we’re still going to be working our way through this building come lunchtime.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“I can make a couple of phone calls,” said Lamat, “and have fifteen bomb-sniffing dogs here within half an hour. We use one per floor and we can be done here real quick.”
Harvath had wanted to keep things as quiet as possible, but Lamat was right. The dogs could move a lot faster. “Okay, do it,” he replied, “but tell them we need this kept as quiet as possible.”
As the teams had deployed C-Guard RF manpack IED jammers around the perimeter of the building to prevent remote detonation, Lamat’s cell phone couldn’t get a signal and he had to retreat upstairs to his office, where he made the calls via his landline.
Forty-five minutes later, the dogs and their handlers had joined the search and were sweeping throughout the offices on every floor.
When a Belgian shepherd named Gina stopped at a section of drywall in an office on the fourth floor, sat down on her haunches, and looked up at her handler, word went out that they had a hit.
A nearby CERFP team rushed to the office and conducted its own methodical search. Ten minutes later, the team confirmed what the dog had alerted them to. A large amount of explosives had been secreted behind the drywall at a support column.
With Harvath’s approval, Ron Lamat made the decision to evacuate the building, starting with the hotel, while the search continued.
Gina ended up getting hits on every single support column on the fourth floor. After the rest of the building was checked and no other explosives were found, the dogs and handlers were released. The EOD/CERFP teams then moved from support column to support column on the fourth floor, using portable X-ray devices to see exactly what they were dealing with. Insulation had been removed and shape charges made of C4 had been affixed directly to the beams along with remote detonators and extra power packs. There were enough explosives in place to bring the building down three times over. Harvath needed to let Carlton know so the other Dow Jones corporations could be warned.
Using the landline phone in Lamat’s office, Harvath called the Old Man, who was now in the TOC in Reston, and gave him a full situation report.
“Do we have any idea how the explosives got in there or how long they’ve been there?” Carlton asked.
“At this point, we don’t know,” replied Harvath. “Ron is putting an email together right now with a full list of tenants and anything else he thinks might be helpful.”
“Have him send it directly to me.”
“Will do. Anything else?”
“No,” said Carlton. “You’ve done all you can do there. Let the teams handle the explosives. I need you back here. Ashford’s plane is going to be landing soon.”
CHAPTER 65
By the time Robert Ashford’s jet touched down at Dulles, Harvath was already at the Landmark Aviation FBO waiting for him. Customs and Immigration had been alerted to the MI5 operative’s arrival and processed him quickly and professionally right at the plane. Harvath met him on the tarmac.
“I don’t suppose they have any bottled water inside?” Ashford asked after the pair shook hands. “Bloody caterer forgot to load any beverages for the flight.”
Harvath wanted to rip the guy’s face off right there, but he kept his anger under control and tried to act as normal as possible, given the situation. “I think I may have some water in my truck,” he replied as he steered the man toward the parking area.
After a quick search inside his armrest, Harvath apologized and asked if Ashford could hold on for just a few minutes longer. The Brit nodded, Harvath put his car in gear, and they drove out of the airport.
“Reed would have come out to meet you himself,” Harvath said as he headed for the Dulles Toll Road, “but as you can imagine, things have been very chaotic back at the office.”
“Of course. In fact, you didn’t have to come all the way out to get me. I could have taken a cab,” replied Ashford.
Despite flecks of spittle at the corners, the Brit’s mouth was bone-dry. He was obviously dehydrated. And though he tried to hide it, Harvath could see that he was also on edge.
“It’s ten minutes each way,” said Harvath. “It’s not a big deal. We appreciate your dropping everything to come help us.”
“How’s your investigation going?”
“Not good,” he stated as he got onto the toll road.
“That’s what I was told. I hope that there’s some way we can help. The loss of life your country has suffered is nothing short of tragic.”
Harvath nodded and changed the subject. “We’ve got a room reserved for you at a hotel in Reston, but the boss was hoping you wouldn’t mind coming straight into the office. We want to get you up to speed and then someone can drive you back to the hotel. Would that be okay?”
“Of course,” he replied. Then, changing the subject back, he asked, “Any change in the status of Aazim Aleem’s nephew? What was his name again?”
“Mansoor Aleem? No change, but we’re all hopeful.”
“You picked him up where? Somewhere in Scandinavia, I’m assuming.”
“Sweden, actually,” replied Harvath.
“So you all were behind that bit of unpleasantness in Uppsala then. You know the Swedes think it was the French.”
“That’s what the boss wanted them to think.”
“He’s a very clever man, that Peaches,” said Ashford.
“He is indeed,” said Harvath.
“What was Mansoor Aleem getting up to in Uppsala, of all places?”
“From what we have been able to put together, after Aazim was killed in Yemen, a new commander in the network was promoted. His name is Mustafa Karami and he was based in Uppsala. Karami brought Mansoor to Sweden because he wanted to know more about someone they referred to as the Sheikh from Qatar. Ring any bells?”
Harvath tried to study the Brit’s face, but it was too dark in the SUV.
“I can’t say I’m familiar with any Sheikh from Qatar, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have something in our files. When I get near a computer, I can send a note back to my office and have them begin checking.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” said Ashford, who then asked, “So Mansoor Aleem is the young Arab that witnesses saw being taken out of that apartment building in Uppsala and driven away?”
“No. That was one of our guys we had managed to infiltrate their cell with.”
Harvath didn’t need to see the Brit’s face. The surprise was evident in his voice when the MI5 man said, “Really?”
“Yes,” relied Harvath. “He had infiltrated their Chicago cell, too. That made a big difference in lessening the effect of the attacks they attempted to pull off there. We’ve been able to learn a lot about the structure of the network.”
“Anything that we might find helpful back in the U.K.?”
“Tons.”
Ashford listened as Harvath laid out everything they knew about the Chinese, Site 243, and the unrestricted-warfare plan.
Harvath was still talking when they pulled into the underground parking structure beneath the Carlton Group’s offices. In the first fla
sh of overhead fluorescent lighting, he was able to catch the look on the Brit’s face. It didn’t last long, but it lasted long enough. The man was dumbfounded. And it wasn’t by the audacious scope of the unrestricted warfare plan, it was by how much Reed Carlton and his group had been able to put together.
Harvath parked his Tahoe and he and Ashford climbed out. “Have you been to the office before?” he asked.
“No. I haven’t,” replied Asford. “This is my first time. He told me he had a devil of a time finding the right space. He said he made a lot of modifications and that I’d be quite surprised with what he had done to it.”
Harvath waved a key fob in front of a reader and opened the glass doors for the main elevator bank. He allowed the MI5 man to step in first and then followed. Reaching over, he pushed the button for the twenty-fourth floor.
“So, a key fob? That’s the extent of your security?” Ashford said with a chuckle. “What am I missing?”
Harvath forced a smile. “You know what they say. When it comes to security, it’s not necessarily what you see, but what you don’t see that counts.”
“Quite right,” the Brit agreed.
On the twenty-fourth floor, Harvath let his guest step into the hallway first and then exited the elevator car behind him. He led him to a large door with gray lettering that read Parsons, Charrington & O’Brien.
“Law firm?” the MI5 man asked.
“Accounting firm,” said Harvath as he withdrew a set of keys.
“I suppose it has a bit more panache than Universal Exports, now, doesn’t it?”
Opening the door, Harvath forced another smile and showed his guest in. When the door had closed behind them, he took a step away from Ashford and, gesturing at the small reception area, asked, “So, are you surprised?”
The MI5 man looked around at the empty waiting room, wondering if this was some sort of a joke.
“How about now?” asked Harvath as his fist came sailing forward and nailed the older man right in the stomach.
CHAPTER 66