Viper: A Thriller

by Ross Sidor

  “Matt’s told me a lot about you,” Rangel said, shaking Avery’s hand. His tone and his narrowed gaze indicated the statement wasn’t necessarily intended as a compliment. He kept a firm grasp of Avery’s hand a couple seconds longer than necessary, while he openly appraised Avery. Then Rangel released his grip, and his tone softened. “Hell of a job you did for us in Venezuela. Come on; let me show you around.”

  Avery frowned, not quite caring for people knowing, who didn’t need to, that he was the man on the ground for Operation Phoenix. Rangel’s manner also had him on guard now. Behind Rangel’s back, Avery gave Culler a questioning look, but Culler pretended not to notice.

  “Most of the Colombians’ ops against the FARC leadership are coordinated from right here,” Rangel said, “and the Bunker’s connected to regional fusion centers across the country. From here, we have instantaneous access to ANIC files, Predator drone feeds over the northern rainforest, or intercepts of FARC chatter in the Andes. Up until recently, we were almost as heavily involved here as we are in Afghanistan.”

  By “we,” Rangel meant CIA. Avery knew that American agencies were so deeply immersed in the Colombian conflict that it was known amongst those involved as America’s Other War. There were plenty of contractors like Avery working here, ostensibly doing security, but he knew plenty of them were also running direct action ops alongside Colombian special ops in the jungles against FARC and the cartels.

  “If the Viper’s still in-country, we’ll find her,” Rangel said confidently.

  “And if she isn’t?” Avery asked. Her primary target was the US. She wouldn’t have shot down the Avianca flight if she hadn’t already had her exit plan in place and ready to execute.

  Rangel shrugged. “Then chances are we’ll find the lead to pick up her trail. We have the world’s most advanced tactical intelligence collection system arrayed against her. She won’t get away.”

  As they walked along a row of computers, Rangel said, “Ah, here’s Abigail Benning, the bright, young lady who makes most of what we do here possible.”

  Hearing her boss’s voice mention her name, the woman in question swiveled her chair around from her computer screen and lowered her headset. She was in her early-thirties, had a pale complexion from a lack of sunlight, soft features, and light hair tied back in a knot.

  Abigail Benning ran the Bunker’s Geo Cell, electronically tracking targets, intercepting e-mails and satellite communications, and listening to phone calls.

  “Christ, Abby, how long have you been down here?” Rangel asked. “Must be going on ten hours now.”

  “Almost, Vince. I’ve been going through our databases for anything and everything connected to the Viper. We’ve got ECHELEON sifting through all the usual suspects.”

  ECHELEON was NSA’s global signals and electronic intelligence gathering network capable of intercepting nearly all telecommunications. If a certain codeword, like viper, Arianna, Moreno, SA-24, missiles, etcetera, triggered the filters, then a human analyst would check it out and determine if the subject was worth pursuing.

  “Any luck?”

  The woman squirmed a bit, awkwardly, obviously not appreciating being put on the spot in front of others. “I think I might have found something, but I don’t want anyone to get too excited just yet. I’ll let you know in a few, okay?”

  “Got it.” Rangel winked. “Don’t worry. We’ll stay out of your way.”

  As they stepped away from the woman’s workstation, Rangel told Avery and Culler, “While we’re waiting on Abby, let me bring you up to speed on everything from our end.”

  What Rangel had to say instilled little confidence in Avery.

  Colombian National Police and Army were presently sweeping Bogotá and the surrounding area for the Viper. The search was described publicly as a planned security exercise unrelated to Avianca Flight 224, because the Colombian government, in the interests of not alarming the public and to have an upper hand over FARC at the peace talks, had not yet publicly attributed the crash to an act of terrorism. At a press conference, even as the army cordoned off the crash site and collected debris clearly recognizable as missile fragments, a police official said there so far was no indication that the plane was deliberately brought down, but that they still had not yet ruled out an act of terrorism.

  The most obvious and easiest way for the Viper to get the missiles into the US was through the drug trafficking routes, so that’s where Slayton’s agents focused their attention. All DEA offices across Central America and the Caribbean were pressing their informants and offering cash for word of any unusual cargo or deals orchestrated by a woman fitting Arianna Moreno’s description. DEA was also coordinating with SOUTHCOM. The US military’s regional command was moving assets into place for increased aerial surveillance of smuggling routes.

  The CIA station chief in neighboring Peru, a country that recently replaced Colombia as the world’s leading producer of cocaine, was notified and given the intel package on the Viper. The Peruvian drug gangs flew cocaine directly to Mexico, and the Viper was known to have connections with the Shining Path. With assistance from American Special Forces, Peruvian troops increased their patrols in the remote northern part of the country and covertly monitored the terrorist camps, smugglers’ landing strips, and drug labs they came across in case there was sighting of the Viper, while Predator and Reaper drones prowled the skies.

  Meanwhile, the White House authorized increased security measures domestically. Pictures of Arianna Moreno were distributed to every major airport. Along the US-Mexican border, reinforced Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents and Border Patrol forces used ATVs, helicopters, and unmanned aerial vehicles to hunt coyotajes, the smugglers bringing humans, drugs, and weapons into the United States every day.

  Rangel seemed satisfied that everyone was kept busy, but Avery shook his head and muttered softly to Culler, “Come on, Matt. This is a waste of time. They’d don’t have a damn thing.”

  “You have something to say, Avery?” the irritation was clear in Rangel’s voice. “Let’s hear it. You’re supposed to be the counterterrorism expert. I mean, I’ve only been heading the Agency’s war against FARC for the past six years, so I’ll defer to you.”

  Avery took a deep breath and held it for a second before responding, keeping his temper in check. “I don’t need to be an expert to see that none of that will do us any good if we don’t have solid HUMINT telling us where to start looking.”

  “Hey,” Rangel said defensively. “Abby’s ELINT led the Colombians to Reyes and two dozen other bad guys, not to mention all those tangos in Yemen, Somalia, and Pakistan who have gotten Hellfires launched up their asses. We just need to be patient and wait to play our hand.”

  “But it was eyes and ears on the ground and interrogations that led us to UBL,” Avery pointed out. CIA’s reliance on drones and cell phone tracking was a topic he didn’t want to get into at the moment, because it always pissed him off like no other, but he was already pushed and couldn’t let Rangel’s comment go unchallenged. “How many times have civilians been hit by a drone because NSA metadata collection fucked up? Few hundred at least. Hell, CIA killed a damned hostage in Pakistan because they decided to launch missiles on an al-Qaeda leader’s cell phone without having eyes on the ground.”

  Rangel scowled. As a senior CIA officer with aspirations to make division chief, hearing from an uneducated knuckle dragger that they needed old fashioned human intelligence, an area which the CIA often failed, wasn’t something he wanted to hear; especially when he knew Avery was right.

  And technology aside, running a broad manhunt simply wasn’t productive.

  When Boston Police, Massachusetts State Police, ATF, FBI, Homeland Security, and the National Guard conducted an unprecedented manhunt for the Boston Marathon bomber, they cordoned off and scoured a twenty-block area of Watertown, using helicopters, unmanned aerial drones, SWAT units, and armored vehicles. Public transportation was shut down, and residents
were instructed to stay in their homes while police went door-to-door. And they still only found Dzhokar Tsarnaev after a resident discovered the wounded bomber hiding in his boat in his backyard, outside the search area.

  The Viper wasn’t just another amateur, lone wolf terrorist. She was a professionally trained operator with nearly two decades of experience under her belt. The dumb terrorists were found and eliminated early on. The intelligent ones adapted and learned how to survive. She sure as hell was smart enough not to risk carrying a cell phone in Colombia for too long. Once she reached the US, it’d be nearly impossible to find her until after she struck at least once and, hopefully, began to leave a trail of evidence.

  There were almost five thousand airports in the US, serving 24,000 commercial flights carrying nearly two million passengers on a given day, and CIA had no idea where the Viper intended to strike or how many men or cells she commanded.

  Increased security measures at and around airports offered no guarantees, because the Viper did not need to be on airport premises to fire SA-24. An elevated space like a rooftop or a nearby open area like a parking lot or field would suffice, anyplace within SA-24’s four mile range that offered clear line of sight to the planes.

  But HUMINT wasn’t something at which CIA’s Bogotá station excelled.

  With terrorism, the Middle East, Africa, Southwest Asia, and new flashpoints in Eastern Europe demanding America’s attention, CIA had removed many operations officers from politically stable South America. In Colombia, CIA relied almost entirely on DEA and their Colombian allies for human source intelligence. The fact that in this part of the world, most HUMINT sources were drug smugglers, paramilitary gangbangers, or corrupt cops made the CIA particularly uncomfortable with old fashioned spying.

  Avery couldn’t completely hold it against Rangel, though. He’d probably play it safe too, if he had a wife to support, kids to put through a college, and a mortgage to pay, while the Seventh Floor and congress micromanaged every move he made and Department of Justice lawyers issued subpoenas to his colleagues.

  “Look, Avery,” Rangel said. “Plain and simple: I’m running the Colombian side of this operation. If and when I need a trigger pulled, or someone to sit in the jungle for two days, then I’ll turn to your expertise. Are we clear?”

  Avery started to respond through gritted teeth, but Culler saw the expression on Avery’s face, knew where this was headed, and intervened.

  “So what does the Bunker have as far actionable intelligence, Vince? Avery’s not totally wrong. You’ve gotta give us something to work with here. Any lead at all we can run down.”

  As if on cue, Abigail Benning called out.

  Rangel smiled smugly. “Well, let’s find out.”

  They made their way back over to the NSA analyst’s station, where they were joined by Daniel.

  “What’s the good word, Abby?” Rangel asked.

  “Like I said, I’ve been searching the databases. Most of the names associated with the Viper belong to dead people. Then there’s a few who have long since completely dropped off the radar and are simply beyond reach; like Carlo Ibarra, a Spanish fugitive. He’s known to be a close confidant of Arianna Moreno, but there’s been no sighting of him in over two years. Now, I realize this isn’t exactly cause for optimism, however there is one known Viper operative, Cesar Rivero, presently incarcerated by the Colombian government at Bellavista Prison.”

  “Rivero,” Rangel scoffed. “I know that name.”

  “Why hasn’t anyone mentioned this guy before?” Avery directed this question to Daniel. “We could have been on him four days ago.”

  “Well, you see, there’s a catch,” Benning replied. “ANIC has Rivero categorized as an unreliable source that generated unproductive leads, misinformation, and outright fabrications.”

  “The bottom line is Rivero’s a dead end,” Rangel said. “A former member of the Medellin cartel’s terrorist cell and a known associate of Aarón Moreno. He was arrested—what was it, Daniel, over a year ago?—in connection with the bombing of that courthouse in Medellin.”

  “Correct,” Daniel said. “Rivero was a member of the support cell responsible for construction and placement of the bomb. Communication intercepts indicated this was a Viper operation, though the captured members of the cell, including Rivero, claimed ignorance of her involvement.”

  “Still sounds like a possible lead,” Avery said, “so why are we just discussing this now?”

  “You think we don’t know how to do our job, Avery?” Rangel said. “Cesar Rivero is completely worthless as an intelligence source, and I think even Daniel will back me up on that.”

  “Indeed,” the Colombian said. “Our best interrogators, with assistance from our Israeli and British partners, spent several months with him, employing physical and psychological stress techniques and enhanced interrogation methods. He never uttered a word about the Viper, and claimed to have never even spoken with her.”

  “Even his original interrogators became doubtful,” Rangel added. “The Medellin courthouse operation was highly compartmentalized, and it’s possible that Rivero had no idea the bomb he prepared was in fact for the Viper. We can’t even establish that he ever had direct contact with her. Like I said, it’s a dead end.”

  “Then you obviously haven’t tried everything. Maybe we need to push Rivero harder,” Avery suggested.

  “My agency is well versed in breaking terrorists, and we pushed Rivero hard, by any definition of the word, using all legal means at our disposal,” Daniel said, choosing his words carefully. “I will be blunt, to give you an idea of the interrogation tactics we utilized. Rivero was specifically mentioned in an Amnesty International report concerning my government’s treatment of prisoners. That same report was subsequently cited by some of your legislators and diplomats as reason to cut off military and security aid to my country.”

  “Amnesty International isn’t here, and I’m not telling congress shit,” Avery said. “I’m also confident we can get Rivero to talk.”

  But Rangel shook his head. “Forget about Rivero. Daniel’s people can do what they want with him, but I’m not about to become complicit in torturing prisoners in Latin America. That’s the last thing the Agency needs right now. Give it a couple days, and I’m confident the Bunker will pull in something worthwhile.”

  “We might not have a couple days,” Avery persisted. “We’ve already lost one plane. And sitting around hoping the Viper makes a phone call or that some soldier in Peru spots her isn’t going to get us anywhere.” He paused. “Fine, if we can’t find the Viper, let’s go after her supplier.”

  Rangel frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “The details are classified,” Culler answered before Avery could say anything. “But we have reason to believe Iran is FARC’s source for SA-24. Or at least the middleman appears to be an Iranian Revolutionary Guards officer covered as a diplomat in Caracas.”

  “He might also be our best link to the Viper at the moment,” Avery said.

  “Completely out of the question,” Rangel exclaimed in disbelief. “You’re just full of brilliant ideas, Avery, aren’t you? Let me be clear. We’re not torturing, and we are not making a move against an accredited Iranian diplomat on Venezuelan soil. Langley will never authorize it. They had enough of your bullshit after Panama City.” He paused to stare down Avery, trying to intimidate him, and failing. “I know all about Panama. The station chief there is a good friend of mine, and they’re still trying to identify that mysterious American shooter down there. Asked me if I knew anything about it.”

  Avery didn’t even blink. “Good luck with that, Rangel. I’ve been at Palanquero the past two weeks, and I’m not sure I see any relevance here to what happened in Panama. But I do know that Vahid Kashani isn’t a diplomat. The Iranians were the biggest troublemaker in Iraq, pulling shit like this all the time, and we called them out on it. POTUS designated the Qods Force a terrorist organization, and gave us free reign to g
o after them.”

  “Forget it. This isn’t Iraq, and we have a different commander-in-chief now. You’re talking about a flagrant act of war against two sovereign states.”

  Avery understood, and wasn’t surprised. The White House needed to maintain good terms with Tehran if the president was going to achieve a “deal” on the nuclear issue before he left office.

  “Benning’s people will continue monitoring FARC chatter and follow the intelligence flow coming in from across the country. The second we get something actionable, we will act on it. I don’t know what else you expect.” Rangel sighed. “And I need to get some sleep. I’ve been here way too goddamned long.”

  He started to walk away, and then stopped to add, “Oh, and Culler? You better keep this fucking guy in line.”

  He shot Avery one last look before heading for the door.

  When he was gone, Culler turned to Avery and said, “You’ve been here less than thirty minutes, and you’ve already managed to piss off the chief of station.”

  “Yeah, well, I told you earlier that you shouldn’t have brought me here,” Avery said. “What was that bullshit about Panama?”

  “Hey, it didn’t come from me,” Culler said, “and Rangel never mentioned anything about it to me. Don’t worry. His bark is worse than his bite.”

  Avery wasn’t worried about it. He knew Rangel couldn’t do shit. If he did, it would just create a public scandal after CIA’s internal Office of Security and General Counsel, the Justice Department, and congress started looking into the CIA’s ops in Colombia and Panama, and the invariable leaks were made to the media, and that would immediately put Rangel in the Seventh Floor’s crosshairs for disturbing the waters. Innocent people died in Panama City. Nobody on the Seventh Floor wanted word of CIA involvement getting out.

  “Hey, Daniel,” Avery said. “Think you can arrange a meeting with Rivero?”

  “What are you planning?” Culler asked Avery before the Colombian could answer.

  “You probably shouldn’t get involved, Matt, for your own good. So what do you think Daniel? Can we get this guy talking?”