“Well, he showed me his medal and I sort of waved at him.”
“What, you two are now best buds?” Reuben added with a snort. “From a man who tried to kill you a few times?”
“He also saved someone for me,” Stone said quietly.
“Care to explain that?” Reuben asked curiously.
“No.”
Someone banged on his door. Stone rose to answer it, thinking it might be Milton or perhaps Annabelle.
The man at the door was dressed in a dark suit and had a pistol under his jacket, Stone observed. He handed Stone a piece of paper and walked off. Stone opened the note.
Carter Gray wanted Stone to visit him at his house two days from today. A car would pick him up. There did not seem to be an opportunity to decline the command. When he told the others Caleb said, “Oliver, you’re not going.”
“Of course I am,” Stone said.
CHAPTER 9
HARRY FINN WAS CURRENTLY sucking on oxygen and peering out of his specially designed headgear. They were going so fast there wasn’t a lot to see. A storm was raging and those on the deck of the boat were no doubt getting wet and jostled. It wasn’t any better where Finn was. Demonstrating once more his affinity for unusual choices in transportation, he was attached to the side of a ship in a very tight ball near the stern using a support device not available to the public. He had discovered a seam in the exterior video and human surveillance perimeters and was now an invisible bump against the gunmetal gray side of the naval ship. The ride was far less comfortable than the plane cargo hold had been. In fact, despite his special device, Finn was nearly jolted off his perch twice. Had he been, his life probably would have ended on impact with the twin screws that were thrusting the ship through the water. His ride had started at what should have been a highly secure military dock at the Norfolk Naval Station. However, the “highly secure” component had broken down completely when confronted by Harry Finn wearing one of his vast array of disguises and his air of belonging perfectly in whatever situation he found himself.
The boat slowed and swung around to the port side of the larger vessel. Finn let it drift to a stop before he slipped underneath the water, kicking away from the boat as he did so. He had a waterproof knapsack slung over his back and an electronic jammer around his waist making him invisible to any tracking gear on board either boat. He dove down farther and headed underneath the other ship, which rode quite low in the water, and for good reason. It weighed over 80,000 tons, carried nearly a hundred aircraft and 6,000 sea and air personnel, housed not one but two nuclear powered generators, and had set the American taxpayer back over $3 billion.
Once he reached the spot, it took him only two minutes to attach the device to the bottom of the ship’s hull, and then, keeping well away from the massive screws, he made his way back to the other boat, reattached himself, and rode it back in. He had accepted this mission largely because it would give him some practice for another upcoming task of a more personal nature. He actually thought about the details of that job as the boat he was piggybacking on made its jog back to land. After it docked, he slipped out from his hiding place, swam to a remote part of the pier, clambered out and stripped off his gear. He made his phone call and later reported to the duty officer’s chambers with a high-level military escort, the members of which had privately bet there was no way anyone could do what Finn had just done: place a bomb on the hull bottom of the navy’s prized Nimitz-class George Washington aircraft carrier as it sat off the coast of Virginia. It was a bomb powerful enough to sink the carrier and all hands on board along with a couple billion dollars’ worth of aircraft.
This time the admiral of the Atlantic fleet and everyone down his chain of command was given a ten-megaton blast by the chairman of the Joint Chiefs, who happened to be a four-star army general. The man could barely hide his delight at delivering this meltdown to his naval colleague, a dressing-down so loud, it was said the four-star could be heard all the way back at the Pentagon nearly two hundred miles away. This very public whipping was reinforced by the presence of the secretary of defense, who had been standing by in his chopper waiting to see if Harry Finn could actually pull it off. The fact that the man had scored an improbable triumph against massively high odds prompted the secdef immediately to offer Harry Finn a position on his staff.
The secretary of Homeland Security was not amenable to this co-opting of a prized contractor. The two cabinet members went at it like schoolboys on a playground until the president himself interceded by secure video conference call and decreed that Harry Finn would stay right where he was, as an independent contractor to DHS. The defeated and miffed secdef climbed on his private chopper and flew back to Washington.
Harry Finn stayed down in Norfolk to give a briefing to a group of chagrined naval security personnel. While he was always courteous and unfailingly respectful, his comments were not watered down. Failures had happened, here is how I did it, and here is what you need to do to prevent a bona fide terrorist from doing it for real.
What Finn did for a living was often referred to in the field as “red cells.” The term had been coined by a former Navy SEAL who’d helped start the program. The red cell project had commenced after the Vietnam War at the request of a vice admiral to test the security of military installations. After 9/11, it had been expanded to test the security of nonmilitary facilities to penetration by terrorists and other criminal organizations.
People with Finn’s special skills, almost all of whom were formerly in the military, were tasked to impersonate terrorist cells and attempt to overcome a facility’s security. Often the penetrations were conducted in a nontraditional way, something also referred to as humanizing the task. That meant that Finn and his team members would emulate the skill levels of the terrorists they were attacking. Presently, Muslim terrorists were not deemed to have sophisticated skill levels. Even after 9/11 there was disbelief in American intelligence circles that such terror cells could take over a major facility or do what Finn had done that night with the aircraft carrier. They were good at blowing themselves and others up in public or driving planes into skyscrapers, but attacking a nuclear power plant or military installation was a whole different ball game.
However, it had finally occurred to both politicians and higher-ups in the military that Muslims were not the only potential terrorists in the world. China, Russia and other former Soviet bloc countries, as well as several nations in America’s own hemisphere, might well want to do harm to the United States. And these countries did have the infrastructure, personnel and access to intelligence to make determined and possibly successful attacks on secure American installations. Thus, Finn had been instructed to pull out the stops, use all his skills and cutting-edge equipment to break through the navy’s defenses. And he had.
Other men, including several on red cell teams Finn had worked with, might have stayed out all night celebrating this dramatic triumph. However, Finn was not like most people. He had stayed down in the Norfolk area an extra day for one very important reason. His oldest son, David, was on a soccer travel team that had a match in the area. The day after his briefing Finn attended his son’s match and then drove the victorious—and in high spirits—David back home that night. Along the way they talked about school, girls, sports. And then David, who at thirteen was nearly as tall as his dad, asked his father, “So what were you doing down there? Was it work-related?”
Finn nodded. “Some people were having problems with a security issue and asked me to come down and help them with it.”
“Did you get it figured out?”
“Oh, yeah. Everyone’s on the same page now. It actually wasn’t that complicated once the problems were identified.”
“Security with what?”
“A wide range of things. Nothing too exciting.”
“So can you tell me about it?”
“I doubt you’d find it interesting. It’s the same stuff lots of people do across the country. The only good thing
is I don’t have to sit behind a desk every day.”
“I asked Mom about it once. She said she wasn’t sure what you did.”
“I think your mother was just kidding you.”
“You’re not a spy, are you?”
Finn smiled. “Well, if I were I couldn’t tell you.”
“Or if you did you’d have to kill me, right?” David said, laughing.
“All I do is help people run things better by pointing out flaws in their systems.”
“Like a computer guy does with bugs? So you’re like a debugger.”
“Exactly. Like I said, pretty boring stuff, but it pays well and keeps food on the table, which by the way, you seem to be eating about a hundred pounds of a day.”
“I’m a growing boy, Pop. Hey, did you know that Barry Waller’s dad chased a guy in his police car down an alleyway and wrestled a gun out of his hand after the dude robbed a bank? Barry said the guy almost shot his dad.”
“Police work can be very dangerous. Barry’s dad is a brave man.”
“I’m glad you don’t do stuff like that.”
“Me too.”
“So just keep doing your boring debugging stuff, Pop.” David gave his father a playful punch in the arm. “And stay out of trouble, will ya?”
“I will, son. I will,” said Harry Finn.
CHAPTER 10
STONE AND ALEX FORD met at a familiar place for both men, Lafayette Park across from the White House. Here the six-foot-three-inch Alex had guarded the occupant of the Oval Office for years and Stone had respectfully protested against this same inhabitant, as he had against the man’s predecessors, from across the street. The two men sat on a bench near the statue of a Polish general whom history remembered as a sound ally of the Americans in their war for independence. He was also a man, it was probably safe to say, hardly any American alive today would either know or care about.
“What do you have for me?” Stone said, eyeing the manila folder Alex pulled from a trim black leather briefcase.
“I wasn’t sure what you were looking for, so I thought I’d cast a broad net.”
“That’s perfect, Alex, thanks.”
As Stone looked over the file, Alex studied his friend. “Like I told you on the phone, the Justice Department has been interested in Bagger for a long time but can’t make anything stick. I talked to Kate about it. She said Justice hasn’t given up but if they can’t pin something on him soon, they’re going to have to move on. Even Uncle Sam has limited resources.”
“How is Kate?” Stone asked, referring to Kate Adams, the Justice lawyer Alex had been dating.
“Things didn’t work out. She’s seeing someone else.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. She’s a wonderful woman,” Stone replied.
“Yes she is, but just not the woman for me or me the man for her. Speaking of women, where’s Adelphia?”
Adelphia, a strange woman of undetermined origin and interesting accent, had been the only other protester left in Lafayette Park besides Stone. Alex had long suspected that she had a crush on his friend.
“I haven’t seen her for some time,” Stone replied. “She even took her sign down.”
“She was a strange bird.”
“We’re all strange birds.” He closed the folder and stood. “I appreciate this. It will be a big help.”
“Jerry Bagger, Jersey casino operator. So you thinking about doing some gambling?”
“Maybe, just not the way you probably imagine it.”
“From what I’ve heard, Bagger is a real psycho with a mean streak. Not a guy to mess around with.”
“I have no intention of doing anything like that.”
Alex rose too. “Even so, should I be expecting another eleventh-hour phone call for the cavalry?”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“Saw our favorite buddy Carter Gray got the Medal of Freedom. It took all my willpower not to call the prick up and tell him to go to hell.”
“My willpower’s obviously not as strong as yours.” Stone then explained what he’d done.
Alex’s expression brightened. “You didn’t!”
“Yes, I did. And on top of that Gray’s asked me to visit him at his house tonight.”
“And you’re going?”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Why? What could he possibly have to say that you’d want to hear?”
“I have some questions to ask him about . . . my daughter.”
Alex’s expression softened and he patted Stone’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”
“Life is what it is, Alex. You just have to accept it, because you have no other choice.”
CHAPTER 11
THE BOAT HARRY FINN was currently riding on the side of was not quite as fast as the naval vessel he’d piggybacked on previously, but it was more than adequate. Like the military folks, the people he had hitched the ride from tonight had no idea of his presence. He had chosen it because they were heading in the direction he wanted to go. He would have to get home another way, a way he’d already figured out. He had timed out the ride and kept glancing at his illuminated watch in anticipation of when to peel away and swim for shore. A storm was percolating, which was both good and bad for his plan. He’d come prepared; he always did.
As the boat neared where he would be leaving it, Finn reflected on the last conversation he’d had with his wife, Mandy. He’d just finished cutting the grass and gone inside to shower. She stopped him in the bedroom.
“David said he’d talked to you about your work.”
“That’s right. He said you’d told him you weren’t sure what I did for a living.”
“I’m not.”
“You know once I left the military I started doing contract work for Homeland Security.”
“But David can’t know that? And I can’t know more?”
“It’s just better that way. I’m sorry. But you have to trust me on that.”
“At least when you were in the navy I knew what I was getting into. What do they ask you to do now?”
He slipped an arm around her waist. “Like I’ve told you before, I help make us safer. There are lots of holes out there. My job is to patch them up, make us stronger. It’s not even remotely dangerous.”
The tension was clear on her face. “If it’s not even remotely dangerous why can’t you tell me?”
“I just can’t.”
“You never have been much of a talker, have you?’
“I always assumed it was one of the things you loved most about me.”
And they had left it at that. Mandy would never know that he illegally flew in the cargo holds of commercial aircraft, and rode without a shred of authorization on the hulls of military ships, because what spouse needed to know such things? And she would never know of the Dan Rosses of the world and the fates that had befallen them. Or of the Carter Grays who once held all the cards, but no longer did.
Yet it was still troubling for Harry Finn; he was a scrupulously honest man, who did not enjoy keeping anything from the woman he’d loved ever since seeing her walk across a college campus nearly fifteen years ago. He’d been on leave then and visiting a friend after rotating back from deployment overseas. He had always been shy and something of an introvert, an attribute that had graded out well for him in his military career. His line of work called for weeks or even months of thoughtful, meticulous preparation followed by seconds of adrenaline-fueled chaos in the midst of which he had to function with a maddening and lethal calm. He had excelled at both ends of that demanding spectrum.
Yet that day seeing the former Amanda Graham walk across that lawn in her jean short-shorts and open-toed sandals, with waist-length blonde hair and a face more lovely than he’d ever seen before, he had walked right up to the young woman and asked her out for that very night. She had declined at first, perhaps offended that he believed she would be free on such short notice. But Finn was nothing if not persistent. He got
his date, and his wife. Finn wrangled from the navy a stint stateside and he and Mandy had married right after her graduation. Less than a year later David had arrived, followed by Patrick and Susie. They were a very happy couple. They had raised good kids, children who would make a difference in their world, perhaps only in small ways, but positive differences nonetheless.
Finn had no idea why he had some of his deepest reflections while doing impossibly crazy things, like riding on the sides of boats at high speeds, but he did.
He checked his watch, tightened the strap on the waterproof bag he carried over his shoulder and prepared himself for the next step. This was the tricky part, letting go of his ride at speed and avoiding the screws at the stern. Because when he let go, there was a distinct possibility that if he didn’t kick hard enough away from the direction the boat was going and didn’t go down deep enough in the water his last memory would be the props savagely cleaving his torso in two.
He coiled his legs and positioned them against the side of the boat. Counting to three, he kicked as hard as he could against the boat’s hull and plunged out and then downward even as he felt the force of the screws pulling him toward the stern. He came up to the surface and watched the running lights of the craft disappear. He looked around, quickly gained his bearings and swam hard toward the cliffs.
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