Viper Team Seven (The Viper Team Seven Series Book 1)

by Lewis, Rykar

  I can’t talk to my boss, I can’t talk to Siraj without the NSA knowing about it, I can’t get anywhere with this, he thought. Somehow I’ve got to talk to Siraj though. But how? Even still, wouldn’t Siraj have told the interrogators about the mole already if there was one? Surely he would have known about it.

  After several more minutes of contemplation he remembered what the D/CIA had said to him. The day after the operation, he had said that the CIA was heading up the interrogation and that Parks would be briefed in the intel reports. But Parks had never been informed about Siraj saying anything about a mole inside the government.

  “That could mean a few things,” Parks said aloud. “The CIA is not reporting what Siraj has said – that would mean that the interrogators are in on this too – or there really isn’t a mole that Siraj knows about. But someone on that terror team has to know because one of them was communicating with him. Or maybe the mole was communicating with someone not on the team. Someone who could coordinate the entire operation and relay the information to the terrorists.”

  Parks closed his eyes and buried his head in his hands. He knew that if the last option was the real one then Siraj would be of no use because he most likely wouldn’t know about the mole since all his information would be secondhand.

  “We have to talk to the guy who would know if there was a mole,” Parks conceded. “Our best bet would be vun Buvka. He would be high enough on the totem pole to know from where the information was coming. That would explain why he’s not talking, because the CIA interrogators wouldn’t make him because they’re in on this.” That made things even more complicated. “Who is going to make him talk?”

  Then Parks had an idea. If Solomon pulled some strings maybe he could try and switch the interrogators to people who he knew were good. Then they could pry for information from both Siraj and vun Buvka.

  Parks grabbed the phone and dialed Solomon’s number.

  “Solomon, go.”

  “Solomon, meet me in my office, please.”

  Parks slammed down the phone and grabbed the briefing papers Solomon had given him earlier that day. This information would spark interest if it landed in the wrong hands. I need to burn these, Parks decided.

  Solomon entered Parks’ office and closed the door behind him. “You got it?”

  Parks handed him the papers. “Please burn those the first chance you get,” he ordered. “Anyway, I haven’t made a plan yet but I figured some things out.”

  “What?” Solomon demanded impatiently.

  Parks went through the details blow by blow and Solomon was fascinated. When Parks was done with the explanation Solomon asked, “So you think the D/CIA is the mole? He’d actually be the last one I’d suspect.”

  “I’m not saying that, but he’s a good place to start. Leastwise we still need to try to find out from the terrorists if there even is a mole,” Parks pointed out.

  “That’s if they know and if they talk. That could be a chore.”

  Parks had to agree. “Solomon, do you know a few guys that could serve as interrogators?” he asked hopefully.

  Solomon looked to the floor. “Yes, but that’s not my concern. What I’m wondering is if I can get them to do the job without rousing suspicion. I couldn’t tell them why I want the information, I probably couldn’t tell them anything.”

  “Yeah that’s fine. Just try it and if they say no then we’ll go to something else.”

  Solomon cleared his throat noisily. “I’ll do my best but I can’t guarantee this won’t backfire in our faces. You know if one of the terrorists does talk it’ll be hard to keep it just between us and our interrogators.”

  “I know, I know. All we can do is try our best.”

  * * *

  The D/CIA knocked on the door of the Oval Office before opening it and entering.

  “Mr. President, may I have a word with you please?” Cummins asked as he shut the door.

  Winnfield glanced up from his desk. “Sure what is it, Mike?”

  The Director planted a TOP SECRET – PRESIDENT’S EYES ONLY file on the desk and said, “Check that out, Mr. President.”

  Winnfield opened the file and read it. When he was finished he stared blankly at Cummins, waiting for a further explanation.

  “In not so many words, Mr. President, my counterintelligence officers just told me that a call was intercepted between Ghazi Siraj and Alka vun Buvka back on the 18th of March by the Israeli Mossad. Apparently the Mossad traced the call and found vun Buvka’s hideout. It was in Tehran, Iran, in a corporate apartment.”

  “Why didn’t the Mossad tell us this earlier? The 18th of March was a long time ago,” the President pointed out. “Why did they wait so long?”

  “Mr. President, the Mossad didn’t know that we were after vun Buvka and they weren’t about to start a war with what’s left of Iran trying to take him out themselves. So they held on to the information and let it sit.”

  “What made them give it over now?” Winnfield questioned.

  “When you called the Israeli prime minister last week you mentioned that we were holding a high-ranking terrorist that we had captured in late March and that he was under interrogation. Well Aziza figured that must have been vun Buvka.”

  “How? How could he have known?”

  “The Mossad was monitoring vun Buvka and one day they found that he wasn’t in his apartment as usual. They went hunting for him and found him in the Tehran airport. They tried to follow but lost him.”

  “And the day he left home was close to the time we captured him,” the President guessed. “Aziza made the assumption that vun Buvka had headed for the U.S. and that he was the terrorist I was referring to.”

  The D/CIA smirked. “Correct sir. One could assume that vun Buvka flew from Tehran, and if that were the case, then I seriously doubt that he would have landed in the U.S. He wouldn’t have risked being identified at the airport. So he would have had to land somewhere either in Canada or Mexico. And if you remember, Mr. President, we first spotted him southwest of Centreville, Virginia – in Arkansas. That would suggest that he flew to Mexico and came up from our southern border.”

  “So the terrorists are using Mexico as a kind of midpoint between the Middle East and the U.S.?” the President wondered.

  “It would seem that way, Mr. President.”

  A wave of remembrance flooded the President’s mind and he was launched back to the night of January 16th. He relived the time when he came out of his office to the security section of Air Force One and saw the massacred agents and flight personnel. He remembered how Tandy had shoved him into a chair and said, “Sit down your royalty. It’s a long way to Mexico.”

  50

  Tuesday, April 15th – 2200 hours

  Washington D.C.

  Parks stared at the notepad in front of him and read over the options he had jotted down. He was at his home but he was not off work, not by any stretch of the imagination. He had to plan ahead if he wanted to catch the mole, and that was most certainly his intention. He hadn’t come up with a good plan yet but he was sticking with it and wasn’t going to give up until he was successful.

  Parks flipped to a new sheet of paper and went to get a drink of water. He was somewhat disappointed that he hadn’t seen Renee today. He had been hoping to at least get a glimpse of her in passing but unfortunately he hadn’t.

  Parks shook his head and tried to clear his thoughts. He had to stay focused on his job and Renee Winnfield had nothing to do with his job.

  Parks walked back to the couch. Just as he was sitting down, his work cell phone rang. He looked at the caller ID and saw it was Solomon.

  “Hi Solomon, what’s up?” he answered sleepily.

  “Look I’ll make this as short as I can, KP, but there are two issues I must address,” Solomon began urgently.

  “Yeah sure, go ahead.”

  “The first thing is that the interrogation guys are set up. They didn’t ask questions and they are sworn to secrecy. They
’ll report to us the minute they get any information. Secondly, I just talked to one of my buddies, a counterintelligence officer, and he had some interesting news.”

  “Why’d you talk to him so late?” Parks wondered.

  “Like I said, he’s my friend, and he gives me some intel hints when he gets some interesting news. He also heads up part of our intelligence emails, but he thought this couldn’t wait for the morning. Anyway, he told me that the CIA figured out how vun Buvka got into the U.S. – well we don’t know exactly how but we know from where. He took a plane from Iran into Mexico, and from there, he entered the U.S.”

  Parks was confused. “How do they know that?”

  “You can read the entire intel report in the morning,” Solomon urged. “But the CIA is figuring that the terrorists are using Mexico as a midpoint between the Middle East and the U.S. If you think of it, Siraj came up from Mexico and now this whole deal. It fits perfectly.”

  “How’s this relate to what we’re trying to figure out though?”

  “It would be nice to see which of our suspects has been making contact with Mexico. That’s if your assumption that there’s a middleman between the terrorists and the mole is correct. It may not be.”

  “Yeah but how are we going to figure out if one of the Directors or NSA is making contact with Mexico or anywhere else for that matter? We’re not an intelligence agency, we’re counterterrorism personnel,” Parks stressed. “Oh, was the D/CIA informed of this yet?”

  “Yup, he was the first to find out. I’m assuming he briefed the President.”

  “I’d like to know if he really did.”

  “If he hasn’t he will. There’s no way he wouldn’t brief the President on a matter like that, even if he is the mole. He’d be flushing himself out.”

  Parks put his feet up on the couch. “This means everyone will know about this, the mole included. He’ll know that the puzzle’s getting pieced together. Which also means he won’t be contacting Mexico anymore – that’s still assuming he has been.”

  “Well at least if he has been he won’t anymore. That means he’ll have to find another way of doing business. A way which might give us a better lead.”

  “Or he’ll hole up and lay low,” Parks stated. “That wouldn’t be good.”

  Solomon yawned. “He’ll either try and cover his tracks, make a run for it, or keep on doing what he’s been doing. The only reason he’d do the last option is if he didn’t know anyone was on to him. Once he knows though, our job will be even harder.”

  “Well maybe tomorrow we’ll get some useful news from the interrogators,” Parks optimized. “I sure hope so. I don’t know Solomon, even after we do find out who it is, how and who will I break the news to? I really can’t make points like that to my boss because intelligence is not my line of work and he might not tell the President about my concern, and I can’t set up a briefing with the President whenever I want.”

  “Especially since his daughter’s here. He’ll be spending all of his free time with her.”

  Parks knew he couldn’t blame him for that. “You think we’ll have this figured out in a week?” he asked.

  “We had better. If we don’t, the mole will probably find us out.”

  * * *

  CIA agents Glen Colbert and Blake Connors stepped into the terrorist detainee unit located in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. Almost instantly, an unpleasant feeling welcomed them. Both men knew what kind of men were in this unit and neither of them wanted to be here. They were doing this job because their longtime friend and former boss, Solomon, had requested them to do so. They knew their job but that was all they knew. They didn’t have a clue why this information was needed or why they had to secretly report to Solomon, not the D/CIA. But like good agents they didn’t question authority.

  The two agents walked up to the cold, concrete interrogation room and dismissed the two guards that were outside. Connors made sure his sidearm was where it should be as he entered and approached the chair in the center of the room where a handcuffed terrorist sat.

  “You’re Ghazi Siraj?” Connors asked the man.

  Siraj raised his head wearily. “Yes that’s me. Have you come to question me again?”

  “We’re new here,” Colbert explained. “You’ve never seen us and we’ve never seen you. We understand you’ve been cooperating quite nicely.”

  Siraj lowered his head. “I do not wish to protect the men that helped me get here. I wish only to die or be set free.”

  Connors pulled out his pistol and shoved it back in its holster just so the terrorist would know it was there if necessary. “That’s what we’ve been told,” he informed him. “We appreciate your honesty and your cooperation. We just need a few more answers from you.”

  The agents were having a hard time even lying that they appreciated anything about this terrorist. They wanted him dead. They wanted to give him what he’d tried to give innocent Americans. But they knew he was important and they understood that they had to put up with him in order to get the information they needed.

  “How’d you get tangled up with vun Buvka?” Connors wondered. “I mean, when did he start taking things over and when was he deemed your boss?”

  Siraj looked up at the agents. “He was honored because he performed a valiant bombing on one of your cities. He was thrown into a leadership position and he took over everything. He is the lead terrorist of our organization.”

  “What organization?” Colbert prodded.

  “I am not a terrorist, but I still will not betray my country.” Siraj lowered his eyes. “I will not betray my country,” he repeated quietly.

  The agents exchanged glances and then Connors took over again.

  “Who was your boss before vun Buvka came?”

  Siraj shook his head. “I wasn’t ready for an operation before vun Buvka came to a leadership position so I didn’t really have a boss. I trained, and that was all.”

  “All right great. But who’s vun Buvka’s boss?” Connors pressed. “He’s got to take orders from somebody, doesn’t he?”

  “He does.”

  “Well who?”

  “I don’t know what his name is but I know he’s...” Siraj didn’t finish.

  “He’s what?” Connors demanded more firmly. “You don’t need to protect anyone anymore, you can tell us.”

  Siraj let out a deep breath and stared directly at Connors. “He’s in the United States. That’s all I know. During vun Buvka’s operation everything was working well at first. The boss would tell vun Buvka where the enemy was and where to go, and we’d follow his orders. It all worked well until we lost contact with him.”

  “When did you lose contact with him?” Colbert asked.

  “After the second time we changed course. He wouldn’t answer our calls anymore.”

  “Do you happen to know his phone number?” Connors questioned. “If you made contact with him during your operation then you must know.”

  “No, I don’t. And during my operation I was told to contact vun Buvka and he was in contact with his boss. I never actually talked to the man in the U.S. But only once when I contacted vun Buvka did he have information from his boss. That was when we were at the sleeper agent’s house. After that, no one knew anything.”

  Connors and Colbert again looked at each other. “Do you know anything else about this man?” Connors continued.

  Siraj shifted nervously. “In Afghanistan I promised never to tell anyone what I have already told you. However, if I knew more I would tell you, but that is all I know.”

  “Well thank you,” Colbert declared after a second. “Come on Blake, let’s go. Oh, one more thing, don’t mention this to anyone else. Understand?”

  Siraj seemed shocked but he gave his promise that he’d keep silent.

  The CIA agents exited the cell and called back the guards. They had gotten the information they were after. Once they reported it to Solomon, they would forget about the information and act like the request had never
come.

  * * *

  Solomon slipped into Parks’ office and locked the door behind him.

  “So you did get something useful,” Parks stated as he rose from his swivel chair.

  “Yup, and I don’t want any surprise visitors while I tell you about this,” Solomon confirmed. “Looks like my friends didn’t fail me. They interrogated Siraj and got the information we’re after.”

  “Did they have a chance with vun Buvka?”

  “No, I told them not to. If you think about it, they might have gotten vun Buvka to talk but he’s still fighting and who knows how many other interrogators he’d tell just so this thing could get exposed and the mole could run for it.”

  Parks was impressed at his friend’s thinking. “Good thinking, Solomon.”

  “Forget it. Well to continue what I was saying, the agents got Siraj to talk. He didn’t know too much but he knew enough,” Solomon explained in an excited whisper. “He said that vun Buvka takes orders from a man inside the U.S. Siraj doesn’t know his name or where he’s located. During his operation, Siraj was supposed to keep in contact with vun Buvka, who was in contact with the mole who’d tell him where we were and when we were going to strike.”

  “Siraj knows who we are?”

  “No, he just referred to us as ‘the enemy.’ The interrogators didn’t press the topic because they don’t even know who we are.”

  Parks let out a sigh of relief and listened as Solomon went on.

  “So apparently, when Siraj was doing his deal, he only received information about us once from vun Buvka. Can you guess which time that was?”

  “The first time we went in at the sleeper’s house,” Parks blurted out.

  “Correct. After that, Siraj said no one knew anything.”

  “That makes sense because the Directors and NSA only knew what we were going to do on the first strike. The mole could have told vun Buvka we were going to hit the house but after that he wouldn’t have known anything.”