by Camden Mays
“Oh my God, he is so cute.” Just like that, Jess had her friend on the same page. Cole recognized that Jess was maturing faster than Brittany and wondered if their friendship would last as they grew older.
✽✽✽
Bandar Abbas, Iran
The disturbingly coarse ring of the phone on the nightstand jarred Jamil Rasul from his peaceful meditation. The small-framed man answered and received instructions to join his host, Zurvan Shirazi, the Deputy Minister of VAJA, and Gavriil Medvedm, the newly promoted Russian SVR Deputy of North America, for dinner at seven thirty in the suite Shirazi had reserved.
Rasul took a cleansing breath and thought of the significance of the meeting. If successful, their strategies would alter the course of history and render the overreaching Americans powerless.
Later that evening, Rasul joined Shirazi in his suite, and after their customary greeting, they sat and discussed the state of Islam in the world while waiting on the Bear to arrive.
“Interesting, don’t you think?” Shirazi asked. “That your leader is known as a Lion and Medvedm is known as the Bear. Which do you think is superior? Metaphorically, of course.”
“Whoever Allah is with,” Rasul said without hesitation.
“Spoken like a true believer,” Shirazi reasoned as his guards escorted the Bear into the room.
“Ah . . . Gavriil, welcome,” Shirazi said, standing to greet the hefty man.
“The Bear always wins,” Medvedm declared, having caught the tail end of their conversation.
“But of course,” Shirazi obliged. “Gavriil, this is Jamil Rasul. He is here to represent the leader of the AIJB.”
“Yes, I know of Mr. Rasul, but I’m curious why the Lion of Aden isn’t here himself.”
“I serve the Lion,” Rasul said, “just as I faithfully served Hasni. I am the Lion’s emissary. I speak on his behalf. My word is his word, and his word is my word.”
“Yes, I suppose,” the Bear said. “But it puts us at a disadvantage not knowing the real identity of your new leader.”
“Surely you understand the need for his cloaked identity. The Americans have killed two of our great leaders, Hasni and al-Himyari.”
The Bear grunted. “We’ll proceed only because you set up the initial arrangement with Hasni and me, and my sources tell me you are an ardent believer, unflappable in your resolve to be a faithful servant to your leader and to Allah.”
Rasul bowed his head, acknowledging the compliment.
“Gentlemen, please, let us break bread before we discuss business,” Shirazi pointed to the regale prepared. Seeing the size of Medvedm, Rasul wondered if there was enough food prepared to appease the gluttonous Russian.
After their meal, the three moved to a sitting area and took their seats in the yellow high-back chairs to discuss their business. The Bear stoked his cigar and blew rings of smoke into the room. The smell made Rasul’s stomach queasy and irritated his eyes. He fought to maintain his composure.
“As for the munitions your leader requested, we will be dispatching a shipment to Mogadishu, Somalia,” the Bear said. “The usual assortment of rifles and RPGs. They should arrive at the port within two to three weeks. I’m sorry, we could not risk bringing them to any of the Yemeni ports with the Americans’ hyper-surveillance on your group. As you are aware, our country has renewed interest in the Horn of Africa, and our recent show of political support of the Somalian efforts against Al Shabab allows us some latitude with customs.”
Rasul was conflicted by his statement, because the AIJB had much in common with Al Shabab as a radical Islamic group with close ties to ISIS.
Medvedm eased the tension. “I assure you, it’s merely a political show to appease the UN, and we are committed to providing additional support to the AIJB as needed. By our estimation, you’ll soon be able to outgun the Yemeni army.” The Bear laughed with his deep voice, considering the thought.
“And the antiaircraft weapons?” Rasul asked, referring to every American pilot’s worst fear—the Pantsir-S1 and S-400 missile systems. The Pantsir, armed with two 2A38M 30 mm autocannons, was designed to handle the low-flying drones and strike aircraft up to twenty kilometers away, capable of firing up to five thousand rounds per minute, while the S-400 provided long-range capabilities, defending against ballistic missiles, bombers, and fighter jets.
“That will take some finesse, additional time, and resources,” the Bear said. “Moving some resources from Syria may be an option, but we will need to see more progress before that commitment can be made.”
“And I must warn you,” he continued, “our sources indicate the CIA has built a covert team with the primary purpose of eliminating the AIJB. It is led by this man, Cole Cameron.” The Bear handed a photo to Rasul. “I believe the Lion’s predecessors underestimated him. Hasni thought he could trap him in Sayhut, and al-Himyari even had him in his home . . .”
“The Lion is well aware of the American spy’s sins against Allah’s chosen leaders,” Rasul said, interrupting the Bear. “And we know what he looks like.” Rasul, as usual, kept his emotions in check. He was sure the Bear was looking for a reaction by handing him the offensive photo. He handed the picture back to Medvedm.
“I assure you, the Lion will have the infidel in his jaws before you bring darkness upon America.” There was a pause. “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it? To discuss how we will bring them to their knees so that they beg for Allah’s mercy.”
The Bear nodded in agreement and exhaled another smoke ring into the air.
For over a decade, the United States had repeatedly used cyber weapons against Iran to impede their nuclear programs. The computer worms were capable of crippling another country’s infrastructure, doing the job that historically could only be accomplished with bombs. In response, Iran set out to develop their own cyber warfare capabilities and prepared for retaliation.
Russian and Iranian hackers probed and tested the US infrastructure and power grids for vulnerability, significantly escalating the digital tensions. Now confident in their ability to achieve success, the two power-hungry leaders sought to deploy the cyberattacks with denial-of-service worms designed to shut down electric grids, water plants, and financial institutions, thrusting the country into chaos and ultimately submission.
Later that evening in his room on his secure laptop, Rasul sent encrypted orders to the Lion’s lieutenant, Jawahir, to oversee the shipment of arms in Mogadishu and ensure they reached the AIJB in Yemen. Victory had never been so close. In a rare show of emotion, Rasul smiled and drafted another video message from the Lion of Aden.
In this episode, the animated character sang an Arabic victory song, ran across the screen burning the US flag, beheading US soldiers, and bombing cars and buses, and showed iconic images of Washington, DC bursting in flames. Then he added the final touch, transforming his avatar into a lion that prowled. A cartoon image with Cole Cameron’s head photoshopped on it entered the screen, and the animated lion ripped Cameron’s head off, turning the screen red with blood.
The Lion uploaded the video and set the date and time for its release through a web of pirated servers to distribute it to news agency networks as well as the counterintelligence community.
Chapter 6
Washington, DC – Wharf District – July 4th
The light from the morning sun was cut off as Hannah Jacobs closed the blinds of the patio door. She did one final sweep of her condo, making sure things were secure and that she did not forget anything. She placed a glass into the dishwasher as Cole sat patiently at the counter trying to stay out of her way. After two unsuccessful attempts to leave the last two days, they were finally ready to drive to her parent’s farm in east Tennessee. He could tell she was excited and had overheard her call with her parents, promising them they were coming. He was glad to be leaving, because the failed departures had created some strain between them.
The condo wasn’t the only place with pressure. Tensions at the CTC were very high as cy
ber chatter escalated with threats centered around the fourth of July holiday. Most of his team was working through the holiday to provide analytical and operations support. Cole had postponed their trip twice and had worked late into the evenings, and he hated leaving his team behind while he took his time off. But seeing Hannah’s excitement reminded him that sometimes you had to suppress the urgent things to take care of important matters. And Hannah was the most important thing in his life now.
“Thanks for spending the night here last night,” Hannah said.
“I loved it,” Cole said. “Just sorry I got in so late.”
“Well, I’ll be honest, I thought you were going to tell me you couldn’t make the trip.” She kissed him. “I’m ready if you are.”
Cole grabbed her bag and a soft cooler filled with drinks and snacks for the road trip, carried them down the six floors of stairs, and loaded them up in the back of the Range Rover. He slid into the driver’s seat, breathing heavier. “God, it’s already getting hot out there,” he said.
Hannah did a once over from the passenger seat, leaving Cole to guess what was on her mind.
“What?”
“You’re breathing a little heavy there. You could have taken the elevator. Are you and Darryl still working out?”
Cole looked at his torso. “Are you saying I’m out of shape? I’ll have you know it’s already like ninety degrees out there, and six flights of stairs with the cooler and that sea anchor of a suitcase of yours may have challenged me more than I expected.”
“Wow, someone’s getting sensitive. Like I said, you could have used the elevator,” Hannah poked at him again.
Cole grunted, putting his sunglasses on before pulling the SUV out onto Fourth Street to begin their journey. They maneuvered through the city streets and crossed the Potomac on I-395, then headed up the 110 to catch I-66.
“You know you could have taken Independence Avenue around the Memorial to get to I-66,” Hannah said just as Cole merged onto the interstate.
Cole looked over the top of his sunglasses at Hannah.
“Just saying,” Hannah said, looking back at him over the top of her own pair of large-framed sunglasses.
“How long did you say this drive was?” Cole asked.
“Eight to nine hours depending on traffic.”
He grunted again.
“Geez, Amy was right. You have been grumpy lately.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind. Let’s get this trip off on a better note.” Hannah plugged her phone into the USB port and scrolled through her music and selected a playlist titled “Road Trip.”
Cole saw her phone. “You’ve got a playlist titled ‘Road Trip’?”
“Yeah, who doesn’t? Your daughter isn’t the only one who can compile a list of songs. You’re just too lazy to build them yourself. It’s easier for you to say, ‘Hey Jess, hey sweetie, umm, can you build your old man a playlist for working out?’” she said, deepening her voice to mock a recent exchange she had observed.
“Out of shape, grumpy, and now lazy? I’ll give you the first two, but lazy is crossing the line.”
“Easy, grandpa, you need to watch your blood pressure,” Hannah said, holding her hands up as she added one more insult to the list.
“Hey, that second lane is faster.” Hannah pointed.
“How long of a drive did you say it was?”
“Eight to nine hours. Eight if I was driving, but at this AARP speed, probably nine and a half.”
Cole opened his mouth, but no comeback surfaced, so he shook his head in defeat. Her coffee had kicked in, and there was no way he could keep up with her banter.
“It’s going to be a long-ass day.” he grumbled.
She pushed play and turned up the volume on the console, singing to the lyrics of Bebe Rexha’s “Meant to Be” featuring Florida Georgia Line. She cracked Cole up as she performed with a fake mic in her hand, singing to him as he drove down the interstate.
God, I love this girl, he thought as his mood changed and he joined her in singing.
✽✽✽
Counterterrorism Center – Langley
In celebration of Independence Day, small American flags lined the top of most of the cubicles throughout the usually sterile CTC office. Nancy McCune was in her office on the phone with the Director of the FBI’s NCTC, relaying her assessment of the incoming threats that her mission center was analyzing on this holiday. Her admin assistant, Charlie, stood at the door waiting. Finally motioned in by McCune’s waving arm, he dropped another stack of files on her desk. She moved back her auburn shoulder-length hair with her free hand and thumbed through the reports while speaking with her FBI counterpart.
Charlie pointed to a specific page, trying to get his boss’s attention on a critical detail. “I’m going to need to call you back,” she said, placing the phone receiver back in its station.
“Shit,” she sighed, looking at the paper. “When did this come in?”
“Just came in, ma’am,” Charlie said. “I’ve already tried to reach Cole Cameron, but it went straight to voice mail. I followed up with a text but got no response.”
“Where’s his team?”
“Most of them are down on B three in their team room. At least the analysts. Officer Cameron gave some of the field crew—Capps and Wang—the day off.”
“OK, get them all in here,” McCune said, tapping on her cell phone. “I’ll see if I can’t get through to Cameron.”
“Already done, they’re on their way in. Just need Cameron.”
“Alright. Thanks, Charlie. Please let Amy Wiggins know I’ll be down in a few minutes and check back with me. We’ll need to find Cameron.”
✽✽✽
I-66 Virginia
About forty-five minutes into their trip, Cole and Hannah crossed over the Bull Run tributary that originated in the Bull Run Mountains and ran thirty-two miles to feed the Occoquan River. The historic landmark Manassas National Battlefield Park flashed by to their right, marking the location of the first Civil War battle fought in the field overlooking Bull Run over a hundred and fifty years ago.
Hannah sat in jean shorts and a white tank top, still bouncing to the beat of the songs that played over the SUV’s audio system while Cole reflected on the rich and dark history of the area. How much blood has been shed on the soil around these parts? he wondered.
“How much longer?” Cole asked over the music.
“What?” Hannah asked, turning the volume down.
“How much longer before that coffee wears off?”
“Huh?”
“Just saying, you seem a little wound up.” He put his hand on her bare leg.
“Babe, I’m so happy you wanted to meet Mom and Dad. They’re going to love you.”
“You mean in spite of my extra ten pounds, grumpiness, laziness, and old age?”
“You know I was messing with you.”
“So tell me about your parents and your hometown. Give me a bit of the background. You know at my age we tend to forget things.” He squeezed her leg just above the knee, causing her to kick.
“Stop, Cole. You know I was kidding around. I have never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. I think my mom and dad will see that.” Hannah paused. “That’s what’s most important to me.”
“So tell me about them,” Cole said.
“Well, they didn’t think they could have kids. Mom taught English at Roane State Community College down in Oak Ridge, and Dad worked some on the pipeline in Oklahoma before getting a job at ORNL as an equipment operator.”
Cole knew that ORNL was Oak Ridge National Laboratory, the massive Department of Energy science laboratory. It gave Oak Ridge its reputation. When you thought of Oak Ridge, you thought of atomic energy.
“After Dad got that job, they bought the fifteen-acre place, and a few years later they were surprised when Mom got pregnant with me. She was thirty-five, and he was thirty-seven, I think.”
“And your dad is a Vietnam v
et, right?”
“Yeah, he served with the First Signal Brigade. He’ll talk your ear off about it. You know how there are those who never like to talk about it? Well, that’s not him. I think he feels lucky that he never had to kill anyone.”
The last comment affected Cole as someone who shouldered the burden of having taken the lives of others. She reached her hand out for him to hold.
“So where you lived, is it a small town?” Cole asked, caressing the back of her hand with his thumb.
“Oh God, where we lived is not in a town. It’s in Morgan County off Highway 299. The closest town is Oakdale with about two hundred and fifty people.”
“Really?”
“Well, in the town limits. But there are a lot more with the mailing address like us that live out in the country. And then there’s the town of Harriman right off I-40. It’s probably got like seven thousand people. It’s got a Walmart.”
Cole chuckled. “I think that’s the first hint I’ve heard of a tiny bit of a southern accent there.”
“Don’t tell my mama!” Hannah played it up.
“So remind me how you got so interested in the FBI.”
“I was sort of a tomboy. I loved to shoot, always watched those cop shows, and one day I just told my dad that I was going to be an FBI agent.”
“Just like that?”
“Yep, sorry. No grand drama story. Just a girl who made up her mind and went after it.”
“Impressive.” Cole absorbed the information. “Hannah, how much detail do your parents know about the night of the attack at the house?”
“Well, everything that the news covered. There was no way to shield them from that, so I shared the essentials to make sure they had the story straight.” Cole imagined that her parents didn’t appreciate the risk she had encountered by being with him. Before he could say anything else, Hannah saw her phone flash.
“Is your phone on?” she asked.
“No. I turned it off on purpose.” He knew that made her happy, but she scrolled through her messages.