The Cobra Identity
Page 15
person to exit, and she was waiting at the bottom of the ladder with a smile. Touching the ground, he hesitated momentarily, but Rachael came to him and they embraced for several seconds. His fears melted away. She held him until he relaxed. His duffle bag had been set beside him, and he picked it up with one hand as they walked away with arms around each other. She understood his frustration, but she also understood his uneasiness in their relationship. This was the first time since they became romantically involved that they had shared a major disappointment for either of them.
She drove on their way back to her townhouse. It took about forty minutes traveling north on I-495, then south into Georgetown along Rt50. Rachael was the first to broach the subject, “Peter, we need to talk about what went wrong in Boston.”
“I know. It’s just like they found out that we were following them.”
She said, “I’m still trying to sort this out, but it doesn’t sound right. They behaved like they didn’t know you were tracking them and then were alerted somehow.”
“You know Rachael, the UAVs are hard to detect, and we were standing off ten miles. They couldn’t have seen us.”
“I know.”
It was about 8:30PM when they parked at her place. Both were famished. Georgetown had many good restaurants Nearby. They left his bag in the car and walked to a small Italian restaurant featuring different specials each night. They were still learning about each other, and intimate dining was a perfect venue. It was expensive by Peter’s standards, but he wouldn’t let her pay.
They ordered Classico wine and enjoyed a glass before mellowing into more private dialogue. Peter started by contrasting the military roles of the active Army, reserves and the National Guard. A year earlier, he was “hibernating” on a golf course near Chicago after more than a decade of special operations assignments, when he volunteered for recall to active duty to deal with terrorists attacking the city. They met there under stressful circumstances. After the terrorists were stopped, they suffered through wounds and rehabilitation together, and a special bond developed. Even if it had not progressed to romance, they both knew they would be spiritually linked forever.
Peter had been disillusioned by the Army before Chicago, but reconciled his feelings by fighting an enemy that was planning to kill masses of American civilians. As an idealist, this brought him back to the realization that he belonged in the military. Recovered from his wounds, he decided to stay on active duty. He had spent six months assigned to the Army Reserves, stationed with the Illinois National Guard, while undergoing therapy for a severely injured arm and leg. Rachael had survived a nuclear bomb blast that required equal recovery time. Both were national heroes, yet neither took advantage of their status.
Peter said, “You know. Being in that helicopter, ready to get the bad guys, I really felt at home again. In the guard assignment back in Illinois, I felt pretty useless.”
“So, what are you saying? Are you planning to go back on active duty again in special ops?”
“I don’t know, I just know that I’m not good at pushing paper around. On the other hand, there’s us. I mean, well...”, but before he could finish, she interrupted.
“I know what you mean.” She gripped his hand on the table and their eyes were fixed on each other.
He said. “You know, I love you.”
“I know.” She also knew that he would never be able to leave the Army to be with her, and she would not be a camp follower. This dilemma overshadowed their relationship.
They had a quiet dinner and walked back to her apartment arm in arm. Neither spoke much. Peter was conflicted, having to decide between two loves. That night, he forgot it all as they made love, which continued into the morning hours.
Rachael’s Theory
Both were up for work by six o’clock in the morning. Peter thought about moving to Ft Myer in Arlington, Virginia, but could not find the words to tell her. Rachael got to the bathroom first, so he went to the kitchen to brew her tea and make some coffee. He couldn’t find anything he wanted for breakfast in the refrigerator. He brought her tea upstairs and set the cup on the bathroom vanity, then turned on the shower. As he disrobed, Rachael wrapped both arms around his chest from behind and kissed his neck. He took her hands and kissed both palms before stepping into the stream. He joined her downstairs in the kitchen twenty minutes later, dressed in his utility uniform,.
Sitting at her small table, Rachael looked smart in her business suit. Peter sat across from her, piling cream cheese on his bagel, hoping it would keep him satisfied for a few hours anyway. She had a serious expression when she said, “You know. I’ve given some thought to Boston and have a scary theory.”
“Shoot.”
“You have to wonder, did someone warn them?”
“Whoa, these guys don’t have any friends on our side.”
“No, but it just bugs me that they changed course for no reason. I mean, they dumped the boat and fled as though they knew they were being tracked. If they planned to evade, wouldn[t they do it sooner?. I mean. Why risk interception for so long? I can’t help thinking, they headed for the coast after being told we were following them.”
He said, “We had lots of people involved.”
“Yeah, but not many knew how you were tracking them. And even so, why did they get spooked in the middle of a chase. There was plenty of time to alert them before shooting the missile.”
Peter looked at her and went silent for a few moments of contemplation, then said, “I don’t know.”
He placed his plate in the sink and kissed her, then walked to the front door, leaving for work. He knew she was right.
A few moments later, Rachael washed the dishes and left for work. She wanted to get on line with her intelligence peers to start checking her suspicions.
Forty minutes later, she was at her secure terminal in the Pentagon sending emails to trusted acquaintances.
Move to Long Island
Majiid was up late into the night picking up his men one at a time. It was safer to transport each one back to the safe house rather than create more suspicion with an overcrowded pickup full of Middle Eastern men. By 11:45AM, he was sitting at Starbuck’s for the second time, sending wire transfer instructions to United’s attorney. When finished, he drove back to the safe house for a nap, where he would dream about his share of the ransom.
His slumber lasted less than an hour. He was awakened when one of his men arrived with a rental truck. Their next target was to be a foreign air carrier in the U.S. He was to transport the remaining missiles to another safe house on Long Island and await further instructions. He would contact his handler once they arrived. He admired the plan, which was making them all wealthy, and hurt the American economy. An international attack would have even greater impact. Allah was favoring them.
He rolled from his bed and went to the single bathroom to shower, while the others began loading the truck. In less than an hour everything was loaded and the drivers of each vehicle were given directions to Jericho, New York. It wasn’t their final location, but they would get more directions as they got closer to the actual location. They departed at ten-minute intervals.
Majiid was the last to leave, driving in an old Chevrolet Suburban truck.
The Hunch
Rachael sent an email message to Hale Warner, Deputy Director of National Intelligence at the NSA from her secure office computer,. The primary mission of the National Security Agency was the ability to intercept and decipher secret communications of foreign adversaries while protecting U.S. communications. The techniques used to intercept messages and the persistence of coverage involves some of the most expensive and highly classified systems in government. She knew that NSA had monitored communications during the operation in Boston.
She then sent a message to Brigadier General Bridgette LeMasters, Deputy Commanding General at the Army Intelligence and Security Command (INSCOM), which had personnel on location at Hanscom and monitored the operation closely.
Rachael answered routine email before taking a walk from her office down the huge sloping corridors to the first floor canteen, which had been improved in 2004 with a new contract signed with McDonald's, Pizza Hut and Taco Bell to open restaurants inside the Pentagon, feeding its 23,000 employees. She liked to clear her mind with a warm cup of tea, but it was the walk, more than anything, that allowed her to refresh her mind periodically.
She found herself lingering on the first floor in front of the big bulletin board looking at postings for resort packages that others had arranged but could not use. She thought about Peter, maybe a honeymoon, but the image was clouded with emotion. Did she really love him, or was there some mesmerizing force at work, inflated by the events in Chicago? Maybe he would always be conflicted with his horrendous background. Did this create a barrier that would never completely dissolve? Without the crisis that brought them together, were they really compatible?
King Cobra
At exactly 1300 hours in Washington, Steven K. Sayar, Assistant to the President for National Security Affairs, received an email message as follows:
Dear Mr. Sayar,
As the advisor to your president, you have a duty to protect the people of your country. Most recently, your economic security has been threatened by Muslim brothers destroying your commercial aircraft and killing the people. For your information, I am their leader. You should know that many more missiles are in your country and will be used shortly to kill even more Americans. I am offering you the chance to protect your people and also protect confidence in your airplane transportation industry. To prove my capability, I will give you the exact location and the exact time for the next attack, one hour beforehand. Once you are convinced, I will give you the location of all remaining missiles and all of these men who use them, for $1 billion dollars. This will end the destruction forever. If you refuse, all remaining missiles will be used to shoot the planes and there will not be the possibility of any more ransoms. Please send to me your acceptance of these terms by 0800 tomorrow morning, your time zone.
Allah be praised,
King Cobra
Steve Sayar read the message several times. If he understood it correctly, there was a massive ransom demanded in exchange for the missiles and the terrorists. He hurried to send a flash message to all members of the National Security Council to meet at 1500. The President would chair the National Security Council. In addition to Sayar, its regular attendees include the Vice President, the Secretary of State, Secretary of Homeland Security, the Secretary of the Treasury, the Secretary of Defense with the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and the Director of the CIA. The Chief of Staff to the President, Counsel to the President, and the Assistant to the President for Economic Policy are also invited to attend any NSC meeting. The Attorney General was invited to this emergency meeting, as was the DDO of the CIA, Will Lawrence, who had recommended Sayar for his position. The Secretary of Defense invited Lt. General John Simmons, G2, to attend.
Rachael was aware that her boss was called away to an emergency meeting at the White House and decided to stay in the office until he returned. Prepared for a long night, she called Peter to explain that she might be late and not to wait for her before eating supper. Peter related that he was also delayed and that he would not eat without her. Their courtship was still young.
General Simmons returned to the Pentagon around 6:30 stopping at her office. “Rachael, I’m glad you’re still here. Let me hang up my coat and then we can talk.” Simmons had lived by Army rules for over thirty years and was starting to contemplate life in retirement as a civilian. Working with his civilian staff helped him soften his stiff demeanor. He came back to her office without his uniform coat and tie.
He sat down opposite her desk. “Wow. It was quite an assembly of folks. It was the whole National Council and a bunch of three-letter codes.”
“Can you tell me what the crisis was?”
“Yeah. The Security Advisor had a message from someone called ‘King Cobra’ wanting a billion dollars to give up the missiles.”
She looked skeptical. “Is it some hoax?”
“Well, we’ll find out. He says he’s gonna give up one missiles and the shooters tomorrow as a gesture. If it’s true, it’s gotta be real.”
“You mean this guy, this ‘Cobra’, is really claiming he’ll give up a missile? That seems preposterous.”
“Yeah, well. We’ve got to take him serious just in case he’s for real. It’s going to be some kind of show if it is. He’s giving us an hour advanced notice, and we’ll have to stop them from shooting...and we don’t know where we’ll need to be.”
“What’s our role?”
“Nothing for now. There’s going to be messages sent out to all the agencies and states to be on alert. They’ll have to deal with it, where ever these guys show up.”
“What do people think? Is he for real?”
“Like I said. The administration is treating it that way. The plan’s to use every all intel assets to capture “King Cobra. If he turns out to be real, the President agreed to pay the ransom and he’ll brief the leaders of congress at a breakfast meeting with him and the National Security Advisor.”
She nodded. “So, the funds and communications will be tracked?”
“That’s the plan.”
“I guess we don’t have any choice. Any idea where this Cobra guy is? I’m guessing not in the states.”
“The agencies are trying to track him, but it’s not easy. They’ll focus on the internet, tracing messages from the guy. The Treasury and Secret Service are working through the night for cooperation with the international bankers to trace electronic transfers. They have some theories and models based on routings done in the past. Others will monitor fax and telephone comms, and there are some contingencies. But, the bottom line is that the ransom will be paid.”
Rachael Attacked
It was half an hour before she could start heading home. The metro station at the Pentagon was no longer crowded, and trains ran on twenty-minute intervals by the time she got to the platform. The underground station was immense and she was the only person on the northbound side of the track, quite lonely. As she waited near the side of the platform, she felt a periodic rush of air as wind gusts above ground affected air pressure in the train tunnels. The swirling air created an eerie setting. She felt that someone was nearby, yet there was no one on the platform. For comfort, she called Peter’s cellphone. “Hi. Where are you?”
“I’m almost at your place. What’s up?”
“Oh nothing, I just wanted to talk. The Metro station is lonely this time of night. I’m the only one here. It’s a little creepy.”
“You want me to come get you?”
“Naw. It’s just later than normal. I’ll be okay. Just start something for dinner, I’m staring.” The lighted floor tiles at the edge of the platform began flashing, indicating an approaching train.
“Are you sure you’re all right? You sound a little scared”
“I’ll be okay. See you in fifteen minutes.”
When the blue line train arrived, she stepped aboard and was the only person in the rail car as it departed the station, heading for Arlington Cemetery and Georgetown beyond.
After parking, Peter was concerned and decided to walk down to meet her. He jogged in the cooled night air to the Foggy Bottom Metro Station. Like Pentagon Station, the underground platform was large and lonely. He was relieved as the train approached, standing just behind the turnstiles. There was no one else departing the train
with her. As she came up the escalator and saw him standing there, she felt relieved, but it bothered her to think her nerves were edgy. Passing through the gate, she threw her arms around his neck and shivered.
He kissed her. “Hey, why the fright?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s just the short days and cold. Let’s go home.”
.
She calmed down in seconds and took a tissue from her purse to wipe her eyes. They walked arm in arm up the down 23rd street, stopping at a Thai restaurant for take-out food. Once home, they had a quiet dinner while she told him about her inquiries and the meeting with General Simmons.
She told him about the message from the “Cobra” and the ransom plan. “Tomorrow could be a big break, if they do capture the missiles, but I still think it’s a long shot.” Instinctively, she feared he would be involved somehow.
“I don’t know, Rachael, is it that simple? Do all two-bit terrorists now become extortionists? This still doesn’t make a lot of sense.”
“I know. I started an investigation to trace communications during your chase. I don’t think we know all the intricacies yet.”
That night, they shared an impassioned bed, like lovers on the eve of destruction. They both knew the future contained uncertainty. It was past midnight when they fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Rachael was asleep in minutes, but Peter rested for almost an hour and began dozing when something alerted him. He was laying on his right side, facing Rachael, but rolled quietly onto his back to hear more clearly. Lying still, he heard nothing alarming, yet something had disturbed him and he trusted his instincts. As he pulled down the sheet slowly, he felt a sensation of air moving through the room. Rachael’s townhouse had both bedrooms upstairs. He rolled into a seated position on the side of the bed, and could see the door moving wider from air coming up the stairway. The AC system was off, so the only source was an open window or door, yet the windows and doors were closed and locked before they moved upstairs for the night.
Letting her sleep, he put his weight on his feet and slowly pulled on his pants. Once balanced, he moved to the doorway peering down the stairs and listening. He heard muted whispers from the kitchen, then cautious footsteps. Streetlamps along the street outside gave faint illumination of the entry and living room below. The building had been built in the late 1800’s and it was impossible to walk without boards creaking, but he moved closer to the edge of the stairway slowly, spreading his weight evenly. He left the lights off. His gun was locked in a case in his duffle bag inside the closet, and he couldn’t risk trying to get it.
Crouching near the top of the stairs, he saw two shadows move to the bottom step. The lead man carried something in