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

by Lewis, Rykar

  “The pleasure is all mine, Major Parks.”

  Renee said goodbye and walked away. Parks wished the conversation didn’t have to end that quickly. He enjoyed talking with her but he knew that could be the last time he’d ever see the First Daughter again. But that was his job and it was worth it all to help keep his country free.

  * * *

  “So what do you want us to do, Mr. President?” Prime Minister Aziza asked.

  President Winnfield had called the prime minister and explained all the details of the crisis in Lebanon. Aziza was not outraged or shocked at the news, just anxious to get in the fight. Winnfield knew the Israelis could help on some things but for the most part he wanted them out of this fight.

  “Mr. Prime Minister, there are a few things your country can do to help,” the President started. “I’d say the most important item on our list is to find that warhead and see if there are any more that have arrived or are on their way. If we can figure that out, then the rest will be somewhat easy.”

  “Yes, anything you need we will give,” Aziza assured him. “I’ll get the Mossad working on that immediately. How are we going to take the weapon out once we find it though?”

  Winnfield knew this was going to be a sticking point. “That’s just it; we are not going to take it out. The United States is. I don’t believe it would be in the best interests of either country to have Israel get involved.”

  “Best interests? How can it be in Israel’s best interests not to defend herself?”

  “Please listen. Your nation doesn’t need to be in another war if she can help it. Your country doesn’t need to be involved in this fight. The U.S. is more than capable of handling this alone.”

  “Are you concerned about international opinion?” the prime minister accused.

  “If I was concerned about what the U.N. thought of my country I wouldn’t be on the phone with you discussing plans about destroying Lebanon’s first nuclear weapon,” the President responded. “That isn’t why I’m asking you to stay out of it. I’m asking you because this is my country’s fight, and quite possibly the Lebanese are responsible for hundreds of U.S. Citizens’ deaths. I appreciate your willingness to help but I can’t say it would be good if you went into Lebanon. America will take care of this. We already did this with Iran if you have forgotten.”

  “I remember well, Mr. President. But that does not take away from the fact that there are many Middle Eastern countries that would like to see Israel done away with, and we need to defend ourselves.”

  “I never said it did. What I did say is that it’d be better if you kept your military out of this one. Trust me, Mr. Prime Minister.”

  Aziza waited before replying. “Mr. President, I will take your word. But if that nuclear missile comes our way–”

  “It won’t,” Winnfield confirmed. “I don’t think the Lebanese will be trying to launch that thing any time soon. I’m guessing they’ll try and hide it.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  The President wasn’t going to tell the Israeli that there possibly was a mole in his office that probably had already warned Lebanon about the U.S.’s discovery. “I have my reasons,” he said flatly. “And I have my work cut out for me.”

  “We both do, Mr. President. I just hope it turns out for the best.”

  “It will,” Winnfield finalized. “Lebanon has played with the wrong country.”

  * * *

  The CIA Director had done all he could. He had ordered a great many of his intelligence officials to search for the warhead and to monitor Lebanon to see if there were any more on their way. UAVs were being trained on the last place the warhead was seen and Cummins had realized that if he hadn’t known a military center was under that mosque he’d have never second-guessed the number of people there.

  The D/CIA’s blackberry buzzed and displayed a new message. Cummins made sure his office door was closed and then he opened the message. It was from his top secret official working privately for him. It was a short email. “Operation INSIDE is a go,” was all it said.

  Cummins only read the email once and then he deleted it and cleared it from his account. That was very sensitive information and if anyone intercepted that message at the wrong time, the results could be fatal.

  53

  Friday, April 18th – 0615 hours

  The Oval Office

  The President’s top FBI investigator was ushered privately into the Oval Office and the door was shut behind him.

  “What do you have?” Winnfield asked immediately. “Anything of importance?”

  The agent shifted nervously. “Yes, Mr. President, I do.” The agent pulled a notepad from his pocket for a guide. “Let’s see. Well, these might not seem important but they could be. Anyway, Mr. President, I’ll start with the Director of the CIA. I found out that lately he has been making some very large purchases, sir. These purchases include new vehicles, expensive clothes, and even two very valuable properties in the Midwest. The total purchases came out to over three million dollars. This could be the result of extra funds transferred to him by terrorist groups, I don’t know.”

  The President frowned skeptically. “That could be the result of a midlife crisis you know. That’s not much to go on.”

  “Yes, Mr. President, but here’s what’s really important,” the agent interjected. “Yesterday evening around 1700 hours, we intercepted an email that the Director received on his blackberry.”

  “You actually were able to break into his email?” the President wondered with amazement.

  “The investigative team was able to do that, sir. But, this email was very interesting. It only said, “Operation INSIDE is a go.” We tried to track the sender’s account address but it was a temporary email account that was deleted soon after the message was sent. The D/CIA deleted the email almost instantly as well.”

  The President felt strange being briefed by a somewhat low-ranking FBI agent on this matter but with all of the Directors and the NSA being mole suspects, he didn’t have a choice.

  “Could you at least figure out where the email was sent from?” Winnfield questioned.

  “No sir, we couldn’t. The D/CIA took the proper steps to delete the message so that we were left in the dark.”

  “Well I can’t blame that email on a midlife crisis,” the President concluded. “But I’m not sure what to make of it.”

  “Neither am I, Mr. President. Shall I give the others’ reports?”

  Winnfield gave the agent permission but all of the other prospects’ records were completely clear of anything questionable.

  “Keep monitoring all of them,” the President commanded. “But step things up on the CIA Director. Report when you find something. Got it?”

  “Yes, Mr. President,” the agent said.

  Winnfield allowed the agent to leave and when the office was cleared, the President slumped forward in his chair and sulked. He quite possibly had the mole in charge of finding the Lebanese’s nuclear weapon.

  * * *

  The President, Vice President, Chief of Staff Steve Danner, and Senior Advisor to the President, were all grouped in the Situation Room. Winnfield had called upon the men so he could explain the entire ordeal concerning the mole and what to do about it. He knew Parks had wanted to keep the people who knew about the mole few in number but the President still thought he needed other opinions on this. There was too little time to try and figure out the mystery to keep the information confined to just a few people.

  Winnfield had gone through the basics of what he knew – he kept Parks and his team confidential of course – and though everyone was shocked they admitted that the information concerning the D/CIA did suggest that he was the mole, if there was one. Still, the advisors were wondering how the President had found out that there was a mole.

  “So,” the President started, “you guys are just going to have to believe me that there is a mole even though I can’t give you the details about how I know. But I need s
ome help from all of you. I don’t know how to find out for sure if the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency is the mole. There’s a great possibility that he is, and we must remember, he’s heading up our efforts to find that Lebanese warhead. If he is the mole, our chances of finding that weapon are even more miniscule.”

  “I doubt that Cummins himself is heading up the search,” Danner pointed out. “Though he probably would influence how thoroughly the search is done. But I would think that the individuals who are actually doing the looking would keep him pretty much in line.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Anders voiced. “But I don’t see how that’s possible. If he is conferring with Lebanon then he would tell them to hide the warhead in a place where he knows his searchers would never look. Maybe in a place they’ve already looked. Mike’s a smart guy. If he wanted to do bad things he could very easily. My opinion is that you’d better get someone else to look for the warhead.”

  “That’s hardly possible,” Danner retorted. “If we took that mission away from him he’d know we were on to him.”

  “Well for what it’s worth, I’ve alerted the Mossad and they are now on the hunt as well,” Winnfield told everyone. “That should help some.”

  “It sure will, Mr. President,” the Chief of Staff confirmed. “The Mossad knows Lebanon like it’s their backyard. If anyone’s going to find that weapon I’d say it would be the Israelis.”

  “But that raises another question. When the Israelis share their intel with us, it’ll go right through the D/CIA’s office,” the Vice President declared. “The same thing we’re concerned about will happen whether the Israelis are searching or we are.”

  “Well maybe the agents I have monitoring the Director will pick up any suspicious communications from him after the weapons’ location is disclosed or almost disclosed,” the President hoped.

  “That investigating team had better be good if we’re going to rely that much on what they find,” Danner stated.

  The President sighed. “True. But aren’t we already relying on what they’ve discovered?”

  * * *

  Parks walked into his closet and searched for a suit. It was Easter Sunday and the National Security Advisor had called him yesterday evening explaining that everyone had the morning off but would have to be in the office by 1400.

  Nothing had been found concerning the Lebanese’s nuclear weapon, and tension was beginning to rise as the days passed. Parks had been hoping that he’d have found some clue that would help point him to the mole but that too was a vain hope. Nothing was going as planned.

  Parks picked out a black suit and threw it on his bed. He hadn’t worn a suit in years and he was wondering why he was now. Maybe it was because it could be his last Easter Sunday to attend church, or possibly because what Renee had said prompted him to go. Parks wasn’t sure. Solomon would be joining him at 1030 and would be attending the service with him. Parks had invited him the night before, and his friend reluctantly agreed.

  Parks dressed in his suit, went to the bathroom mirror, and tied on an eagle, globe, and anchor tie to his white shirt. Then he tacked on a Marine emblem tie tack, and finished it off with a Marine insignia lapel pin. He looked into the mirror and nodded with approval.

  He then walked out of the bathroom, grabbed his work cell phone, and went downstairs to the living room. As he entered the room he remembered his pistol. Should he bring it or was that being overly cautious? He didn’t think he would need it but it was a good safety precaution to have it around at all times.

  I’ll bring it and leave it in the truck, he decided. That way it’ll be close by but I won’t be bringing it into church.

  Minutes later, Solomon knocked loudly on the front door. Parks answered it and invited him in.

  “How’re you, Solomon?” he asked.

  “I’m good. What about you?”

  “Fine.”

  Solomon glanced around. “Is this fancy enough?” he wondered as he tugged on his suit coat.

  Solomon was clothed in an immaculate, florescent violet suit, white shirt, and matching violet tie. He was so bright that it almost made Parks’ eyes hurt to look at him. But Parks had never seen him in a suit and was surprised.

  “Yeah, that’s all the fancier I am,” Parks said. “I didn’t know you had a suit, Solomon.”

  “Well you know, I had it stashed away ever since my Langley days,” Solomon replied. Then he looked at the ground. “What are those on your feet?”

  Parks stared at his boots. “They’re cowboy boots, Solomon. Haven’t you ever seen them?”

  “Not on you.”

  “I wear them because I like them and I don’t want to wear those tassel shoes like you’ve got on.”

  Solomon nodded and switched the subject. “Hey KP, I’ve never been to church before. What do I have to do?”

  Parks twirled his keys and moved to the door. “Sit in a chair and listen to a pastor speak, from what I can remember. You shouldn’t have to do anything. Well I take that back. Sometimes they pass some kind of plate around and ask for donations.”

  “Do you have to give them a donation?”

  “No, but it’s nice to. I guess that’s how they keep the church running or something,” Parks answered. “Come on, let’s go. It’s already 1035.”

  * * *

  Parks parked his truck in front of Capital Independent Baptist Church.

  “Here we are,” he told Solomon as he turned off his truck.

  Solomon looked nervous. “We’ve still got five minutes until it starts. No sense going in and sitting around is there?”

  Parks agreed to that and looked at the sign and declared, “Sunday School started at 1000, Sunday Morning Service will begin at 1100, Sunday Evening at 1800, and Wednesday Prayer Meeting at 1900. Man, how many services can you go to in a week?”

  “I don’t know anything about church so don’t ask me,” Solomon responded. “I’m wondering why I’m here now.”

  “Oh come on, it won’t be that bad,” Parks encouraged as he stepped out of his vehicle. “It’s only once a year.”

  Solomon also got out and brushed himself off. “Depending on how I like this, it could be my last time. We’ll see.”

  “Quit complaining,” Parks ordered as he led the way to the church doors. “This is a special Easter. Apparently both the Greek Orthodox and Western religious groups are having it on the same day.”

  “What does that have to do with anything? I’m not part of a religious group.”

  Parks reached for the large, oak church door. “Neither am I, and supposedly this church isn’t part of a group either. We should feel right at home.”

  The two entered the building and the sound of a piano could be heard, echoing through the church.

  “Good morning,” somebody greeted. “Good to see you.”

  Parks and Solomon exchanged glances.

  “It is?” Parks asked.

  “Yes,” the older man confirmed. “Welcome to Capital Independent Baptist Church. Have you ever attended here before?”

  “No we haven’t, sir,” Parks stated.

  The man handed each of them a small card that asked for their personal information. “Could you please fill that out then?”

  “Yes sir,” Parks conceded.

  “Oh are you a Marine?” the old man questioned as he pointed to Parks’ tie.

  “Yes sir, I am.”

  “All five of my sons are Marines,” the man continued. “Are you at the Marine Barracks or Headquarters?”

  “I’m sort of doing joint forces work right now, sir,” Parks explained, hoping the old man wouldn’t press any further because he couldn’t tell him about his job.

  “That’s nice to do sometimes,” the man said.

  After a short visit with the old man, Parks and Solomon were finally allowed into the auditorium. It was a large room but there were only about seventy people inside. A large pulpit was positioned at the front of the room and several suited men were sitti
ng nearby.

  “Let’s sit here, Solomon,” Parks suggested once they were about in the center of the row of pews.

  The duo seated themselves and attempted to fill out the cards. As far as Parks was concerned, they were asking for too much information, and he simply gave his name, address, and checked the “Are you in the military?” box. Next to the box there was a line that asked for which branch. Parks boldly wrote “United States Marine Corps,” and then decided that he had filled out enough of the card.

  “Are they going to start soon?” Solomon wondered as he folded his card in half.

  “I think so,” Parks whispered back. “Yeah, the guy’s going up now.”

  The song leader stepped up to the pulpit and welcomed everyone to the service. He then led them in songs that Parks had never sung before. Parks tried to sing along but even with the songbook in front of him he couldn’t keep the tune. Solomon, on the other hand, was singing very loudly even though he was dramatically off tune as well.

  The songs ended and the announcement came that the offering would be taken. The pastor prayed and the plate was passed around. Parks put in a five-dollar bill with his information card and Solomon gave a one-dollar bill.

  “Was that too little?” Solomon asked Parks in a hushed voice.

  Parks shook his head. “That’s fine. It’s an optional deal.”

  The offering ended and the pastor stepped up to the pulpit, Bible in hand.

  “All right, welcome everyone,” the short, rather thin man began. “I’m Pastor Rob Wills, and I want to thank you all for coming to the services today. If you would please take your Bibles and turn to the book of Luke and chapter twenty-four. We’ll begin reading in verse one and go on down to verse nine. When you’ve found it, please stand out of respect of the reading of the Word of God.”

  Parks and Solomon stood but they didn’t have a Bible. In fact, Parks wasn’t sure he even owned one.

  “Here,” someone said as he gave them both a Bible. “You can use these.”

  “Oh, thanks,” Parks acknowledged as he flipped to try and find the right place.