Cammy got up from her desk chair and faced her boss. “Now wait just a minute, Stan. I’m sure that Mel did not leak any of this to Derek Winters. Okay, so she goes out with him once in a while. That doesn’t mean she would dream of leaking classified information, especially when she’s been told in no uncertain terms, that this project is to remain a secret.”
She turned to Melanie who was practically shaking. “I know you didn’t say anything to Derek about the laser, did you?”
Melanie shook her head. “Absolutely not. I swear!”
“Well, we’ll see about that,” Bollinger said. “You will report to our internal control officer immediately.”
“Why?” Melanie asked.
“To take a lie detector test.” Stan then turned and stomped out of the room.
Cammy’s phone rang. As she reached to pick it up, Melanie started to leave the lab. Cammy motioned for her to wait, but Mel shook her head and mouthed, “Don’t worry,” and left Cammy alone.
“Cameron Talbot,” she said into the receiver.
“Cammy, it’s Jayson. I saw the Post story, and I called to apologize.”
“Apologize for what?”
“Because I believe that leak came out of the briefing I told you about.”
“Who all was there?”
“Members of both the House and Senate Intelligence Committees.”
“But none of them would leak a story. I mean, especially not those members, unless you think Derek Winters …”
“I wouldn’t have thought so, but to be honest, there was a lot of dissension in the room when I told them about your laser project.”
“Dissension? Why?”
“A good number of them thought we should make it public to reassure the American people that we were onto a possible solution. You know, kick up the economy with some good news for once. But I emphasized that we needed more time to get it tested. And besides, I didn’t want your name out there. You’ve been through enough already.”
“Thanks for the thought, but I’m afraid I’m already a target, even without the cooperation of the Post.”
“What do you mean? Has something happened? Tell me,” he urged.
Cammy told him about the kitten getting so sick right after she gave him some of her skim milk. She explained about the strange smell in the apartment and how she had taken the kitten to the vet and then moved into Mel’s apartment upstairs.
“Oh Lord! You can’t go back to your place.
“I know.”
“Not now. Maybe not for a while,” the vice president warned. “I’m going to have the FBI go over there and examine the place. And for now, stay put at your office. You’re safe there. Let me get Janis on this.”
“Janis? You mean the director of the FBI?”
“One and the same. I’ll ask her to send her people over to your apartment. Do you have an extra key they can use? I don’t want them to have to break in.”
“Of course. Here in my desk.”
“All right. An agent will stop at your office to pick it up.”
“Thanks. But when?”
“Leave it to me. I’ll get back to you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
THE WHITE HOUSE
Hunt Daniels pulled his suit jacket closed as he hurried across West Exec between the OEOB and the White House. A cold front had moved in, and the wind was kicking up. All rather unusual for this time of year in Washington.
He ducked into the basement entrance, nodded to the Secret Service agent and headed down the reception area past the Situation Room. He turned right and saw the ever-present Maitre d’ of the White House mess.
“Good afternoon, Colonel Daniels, your table is ready. Ms. Del Sarto is waiting. This way please.”
Hunt followed the man into one of the most exclusive lunch spots in the nation’s capital. Exclusive, if you base that on how many people would like to eat there, but probably couldn’t wangle an invitation. It was the place where most of the senior staff of the White House ate lunch every day. The service was quick, the food was good, and you didn’t have to worry about a lobbyist or reporter overhearing your conversation.
He spotted Claudia, her dark hair pulled into a tight chignon at the base of her neck. She looked quite attractive in a dark red blazer with a red print scarf framing the neckline. She was studying the menu with its navy blue cover and piece of gold braid down the center when Hunt walked up.
“Hi there,” she said with a broad smile. “Busy day already?”
“Always,” Hunt said settling into the wooden chair. As he glanced over at his lunch partner, he reflected that she was truly a beautiful woman. Her dark eyes were usually flashing somebody a smile, and her figure would probably stop traffic. She had certainly been friendly toward him. Too friendly? He wasn’t sure.
He figured she probably acted that way with most everyone. So why wasn’t he paying more attention to her? The fact that he had decided a long time ago never to mess with anybody on the staff wouldn’t have kept him from feeling some sort of attraction, if it were there. But, as he thought about it, it just wasn’t.
There were times, years ago, when he would have been blown away by a woman who looked like Claudia Del Sarto. The combination of beauty and brains would have been almost overwhelming. But not now. Was he getting old or overworked or what?
No. None of the above. He knew damn well why he couldn’t get excited about other women right now. He had to admit to himself that he still had the hots for Dr. Cameron Talbot. That gorgeous, brilliant but often maddening woman he had fallen for some months ago. He thought he could put his feelings for her aside. Just take a break. Come back later and pick up where he’d left off. But she had made it plain that she wasn’t interested in an off-again on-again deal, hadn’t she?
Or maybe she had simply moved on. Last time he noticed, the vice president was all over her like an umbrella. He realized it irritated him, but there wasn’t much of anything he could do about it. Now, he was just biding his time until they had another meeting together. He knew there would be more meetings about her laser project. Maybe she’d warm up next time. Maybe.
He suddenly realized that Claudia was relaying some intelligence she had received from a contact in Nicaragua. He snapped to attention. “So you’re saying that you don’t think any of the missiles came from the old Sandinista stash down there?” he asked.
“That’s right. I’ve been going over every angle I can with respect to South America. The conclusion is that they’re not to blame for any of this. They don’t have a lock on any new technology, at least not that we know of. Nothing with stealth capabilities that could be applied to the kinds of missiles that shot our planes down. So I’m afraid I’m at a dead end on that score.”
A waiter appeared to take their order. “I’ll have tuna on whole wheat with a side of fruit, please,” Claudia said.
“Make mine the Manhattan clam chowder and the half sandwich. What is it today? Ham and cheese?”
“Yes sir. Or you may have any kind you wish, of course.”
“No, that’ll be fine. And just water. Thanks.”
They continued their discussion of various terrorist groups, the latest DHS contracts and other technology that was in the works. Then they discussed the chances that a brand new off shoot of al Qaeda could be responsible for all the mayhem.
“I know it sounds strange, but these crashes just don’t seem to fit the Islamic Fascist mold, not that those people wouldn’t like to have the capability to pull off these kinds of attacks. Know what I mean?” Hunt asked.
Claudia thought for a long moment. “Yes, I think I do. In all the other major attacks here and abroad, some group has always come forward to take the credit. Even some pack of militants like ISIS. They all seem to want the world to know they have the power to bring us down. Or at least some of us,” she added.
“Right. And that’s what makes this whole thing so unnerving. Four attacks and absolutely no claims of responsibility. But now, let
me tell you about a theory that’s floating around the VP’s office right now.”
“What is it?”
“China,” Hunt said.
“China? Why in the world …” her voice trailed off as she folded her arms and sat back in her chair.
“Turns out that Dr. Talbot came up with the idea after some work she did with that scientist at M.I.T.”
“The one who was blown up?” Claudia asked.
“Yes, that one,” Hunt said. “Evidently he had been corresponding with other scientists back in Beijing and heard about some new technologies they’re working on. He had talked to Cammy about it. Then they figured out how a few of these things could have been applied to ground-to-air missiles, the kind that wouldn’t appear on our radar.”
“Fascinating. But what about a motive?”
“Nobody has a clue. What I do know is that Keller sent me a memo about how DOD was ordering SPIRS Low to make passes over China to look for new installations where some of these missiles might be manufactured. We’re waiting for results right now.”
The waiter brought their orders and quietly withdrew.
“So what do you think of her theory?” Claudia asked, taking a bite of her sandwich.
“Not sure,” Hunt said. “But I have to say that when Cammy … uh … Dr. Talbot homes in on an idea of some sort, she doesn’t give up. At first, I was pretty skeptical of some of her word, but now, the more I analyze all of this, I think she just may be on to something.”
“But you don’t know why this is happening,” Claudia said.
“Not yet anyway.” Hunt picked up his soup spoon and tasted the chowder. “This is good today.”
After a few moments, he said, “By the way, there’s a conference over at the Heritage Foundation later today on terrorism. They’ve asked me to sit on a panel, and they’ve got a bunch of scholars coming in for it. I’m going to head over there around six to make a few remarks and then see if there’s anything new, anything they can shed some light on. Do you want to come along?”
Claudia checked her watch. “I’ve got a bunch of memos to get out this afternoon, I’ve got a press backgrounder at three, and then I have to review two sets of presidential remarks, but that shouldn’t take long. Sure, let’s go. Since it’s toward the end of the day, we probably shouldn’t take a staff car.”
“Yeah, let’s take mine. It’s parked on West Exec. So I’ll swing by your office at about twenty of six.”
They finished their lunch and Claudia scurried off to handle her memos while Hunt went back to his office with another new plan.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
ROCKVILLE, MARYLAND
“Okay folks, let’s review the results of our latest simulations and see if we’re all in agreement that we can put the laser on a test plane,” Cammy said to her assembled staff in the company’s conference room.
“I think we should use an F-16,” her executive assistant suggested.
“Shouldn’t we put the pod on a larger plane? Something closer to our commercial fleet?” another staff member suggested.
“The pod’s not too large for the military plane. I think an F-16 would work pretty well,” Cammy replied. She thought back to the time her father had flown F-16’s at various Air Force bases. She had always been so excited to go out to the terminal with her mother and little brother and watch him land his plane. Then they’d let her run out onto the tarmac where he would scoop her up in his arms and say how glad he was to be back home again.
She had always loved those fighter jets. Until the day she learned that his had crashed. Now she had mixed emotions about the whole idea of even seeing one again. On the other hand, if she and her team could actually come up with a way to protect not only commercial airplanes but even the fighter jets from some new type of missile, wasn’t that the whole point of her research? Yes, an F-16 would work just fine.
“I’m going to be talking to the White House about the best location for these tests, but let’s move ahead on the supposition that we can use an F-16,” Cammy said.
They went through their reports, analyzed the various angles that a missile could approach the plane, figured out how quickly the sensors in the cockpit and the pod could relay the information about an imminent attack to the pilot, and discussed how much time it would take to deploy the three-hundred-sixty-degree laser.
Next they talked about how soon it could blind the missile and throw it off target. They had the results of the NTSB investigations of the four crashes and figured out that all of the doomed planes were hit at a much higher elevation than other shoulder-fired missiles had flown in the past. They finally concluded that a pilot might have as much as two minutes warning after a missile was launched from the ground to deploy the laser and take evasive action.
Cammy was pleased with the dedication of her team. She had hired most of the people in the room. Most were fairly young, all were highly educated, all had been working their tails off late into the night to upgrade their previous laser project to her new specifications.
Her E.A., as she called her executive assistant, was an especially bright young guy she had first met at Stanford. The brainiest one in the group was Sarah McIntyre, a woman Cammy had recruited from Bell Labs. As she looked around the table, she thought she had done a pretty good job with this group. Now, if only Bollinger would give them some credit and dole out a few bonuses when the laser panned out, if it panned out, it would be even better.
As the meeting was winding down, her E.A. said, “By the way, I hear there’s a panel over at Heritage tonight that some of you might want to check out.”
“Oh?” Cammy said, “Which one is that?”
“It’s on the whole terrorism issue. I hear they’ll be going over the latest list of terrorist groups that could be responsible for these attacks. Could be interesting.”
Cammy thought about that. She often dropped by the symposiums that were held all over town by various think tanks—the Heritage Foundation, American Enterprise Institute, Center for Strategic and International Studies, the Brookings Institution. They all put on pretty good forums because that’s where a lot of former members of Congress or a previous administration hung out when the other party was in power. They also had a whole bevy of scholars who were constantly writing papers on every conceivable issue. She had been invited to several forums on defense policy, but now that she was enmeshed in this latest terrorist threat, maybe it would be a good idea to take in this one as well.
“Sure. Thanks. I think I may make that one,” Cammy announced. “If anyone else wants to come along, let me know.” With that, she closed her notebook, stood up and effectively ended the meeting.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
THE WHITE HOUSE
“I want an investigation into who the hell leaked Dr. Cameron Talbot’s name and details about the new laser,” the president instructed his attorney general. He turned to Jayson Keller who was sitting on one of the sofas in the Oval Office along with other top advisors. “And you think it may have come out of your briefing of those committee members?”
The vice president nodded. “Could be. All of them have pledged not to reveal classified information. They all know the consequences. But right now, with the tensions in this town, anybody could be a suspect.”
“What about Winters?” the chief of staff asked.
“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Jayson replied. Then he paused and added, “But somehow I really doubt it. I mean, the man is a pain in the ass. He’s doing everything he can to bring us down while he revs up his own campaign. And yet, I can’t imagine the chairman of the Senate Intelligence Committee leaking this. It just doesn’t track.”
“I’m not so sure. Did you see him on CNN this morning?” the A.G. asked.
“No, I missed that. What did he say?” Jay said.
“He said we were all incompetent, that we had no idea who was attacking our planes, and what the country needed was not only new technology, but a complete house cleaning.”
“What about our own people?” the vice president said.
“I can’t imagine any of our people leaking something like this. They know the stakes,” the president replied. “Besides, there aren’t that many who know about this project, are there?”
“Besides the top NSC staff, I’d say just the press secretary and maybe a few assistants,” the chief speculated.
The president thought for a moment, sat back in his chair and shook his head. “No. Let’s see if we can nail somebody on the Hill first. Then if that doesn’t pan out we can look inside.”
The president glanced down at his schedule and then at his watch. “I’ve got a meeting later this afternoon with the DNI and the SecDef to get an update on our surveillance programs and see if the Defense Intelligence Agency has turned up anything in the way of new satellite photos. Jay, you’ll join us.”
The vice president nodded as the president continued, “If there’s anything new, I’ll keep you all in the loop. And whatever you find out on that leak, I want a report ASAP.”
“Yes, of course. Thank you, Mr. President,” the attorney general said, got up and left the room.
Across West Exec in the OEOB, Hunt Daniels was pounding out a National Security Decision Directive for Jayson Keller, now his boss there at the NSC. Hunt wasn’t sure if SPIRS Low had come up with anything definitive in its passes over the Chinese mainland, but he doubted it. The area was simply too vast and the capabilities of that particular satellite were best focused on single sites.
In addition to sending several ships equipped with the Aegis system to the Far East which would take some time, he was recommending the deployment of their brand new super-secret spy plane code-named “Borealis,” the second generation to the earlier black program named “Aurora.” It was based on the original “Blackstar system” whereby a large airplane, a mothership that looked a bit like the old XB-70 supersonic bomber, carried a special orbital component under its fuselage.
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