“Oh, I see. And he’s asked you for a recommendation?”
“Not exactly. He went around me.”
This caught her off guard. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought you were the director of Homeland Security, Ms. Levy,” she said.
“I am!” Levy snapped, evidently not sharing her affinity for dry humor.
“Then why is the president going around asking about operatives for a secret assignment without your knowledge?”
“I intend to find that out, Ms. Smith. In the meantime, I’m asking you. Who would Jennings send him?”
She had crossed the paths of several agents over her career. Some she knew. Others she had only heard of. And then there were those who weren’t supposed to even be known about. And she only knew of one that was rumored to still be active. And he was bad news. She kind of hoped it was him. That would make the game interesting, she thought.
“Jon Keene,” she finally said.
“Never heard of him,” Director Levy said. “I would know about him if he were around.”
“Would you?” Smith asked. “From what I understand, there are those who don’t care for your new position, Madam Director. I believe the president and Kevin Jennings fall into that category. So let me ask you something. If I were Kevin Jennings and had an asset at my disposal that my boss didn’t know about, and I really didn’t like my new boss, you think I would tell?”
Ms. Smith watched as the woman mulled that over.
“No, I guess you wouldn’t. Then I guess it’s a good thing I have you.
Isn’t it?”
“I would say it is to your benefit,” she answered.
“Good. Then I want you to find out everything you can on Jon Keene.”
“I need to take care of a couple things first.”
“Then I guess you can take the rest of the day for yourself,” Levy said.
Ms. Smith stood to leave. “I’ll be in contact with you.”
“No, don’t. I’ll find you.”
“No, you won’t. That’s why you hired me.” She let that hang there for a second. “I’ll check back in two days.”
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“Yes, home …” Levy’s eyes narrowed. “We never have established where that is exactly. Now have we?”
“Oh, I’m quite aware of where home is,” Smith said.
Levy gave a short laugh. “You are quite enigmatic, Alex. Alex … What did you say that was short for again?”
“I didn’t.”
“Oh, yes. I guess you never did.”
“If that will be all?” Smith asked.
“That will be all. I have a meeting with him in just a few minutes. I’ll be done for the day after that, if you need to get in touch with me.”
“You meeting him here? Or are you going there?”
“There. Supposed to be there in ten minutes. Not gonna happen.”
Smith cringed again at this whole idea of being late to meetings. No matter, it wasn’t her that was going to be late. She was right on time. Her flight left in a little over three hours. She was packed and ready to go. And she was looking forward to a couple days to herself.
“Let me ask you something, Ms. Levy,” Smith said.
“Go ahead.”
“Are you sure about this?”
“About what?”
“You know …”
“It was an inevitable conclusion to things. I’m just playing my part.”
“Okay, then.”
Levy came around and put her hand on her shoulder. “I’ll walk down with you.”
Thirty minutes later the door to the Oval Office opened, and Director Levy walked in. She had, under her arm, a manila folder that carried the weekly threat assessment. She walked over to the desk and dropped it on top, clearly agitating the president who was on the phone. He gave her a sour look and motioned for her to sit.
She did and waited another three minutes before the president finished his call. When he hung up, he looked at her as if he were disappointed.
“Ms. Levy,” he said, “I believe our meeting was for thirty minutes ago.”
“Twenty,” she corrected. “And I am sorry, Mr. President, but it couldn’t be helped.”
The president just looked at her. She was enjoying this. There was no love lost between them. They saw completely differently on just about every issue imaginable. He probably would have fired her if his predecessor hadn’t made it nearly impossible.
During the previous administration, communication had degenerated so badly between agencies, the president held a summit. All of the directors of the agencies, as well as law enforcement attended. It was decided that a single agency should head up all Intel, foreign and domestic. And while each agency would still operate in its own arena, an executive order was proposed that would give the Department of Homeland Security dominion over every law enforcement and intelligence agency in the nation. Everything but the nation’s military. In effect, creating a sort of super cabinet-level position. One that still had to answer to the president but with a lot of autonomy, nonetheless. The president of the United States would still be the commander in chief of the nation’s military. But every other law enforcement agency would get its marching orders from Homeland Security. And as a point of emphasis, the appointed director would function much in the same way as a Supreme Court justice: the director would serve a lifetime appointment. He or she would have to be vetted and confirmed by Congress but a lifetime appointment, nonetheless. This was to eliminate mass confusion at the turn of a term limit of an administration, as inevitably, each new director would want to change a number of things, causing more confusion and problems than when the agencies had operated autonomously.
The proposal was agreed upon and signed into law a month later. It was the lame-duck president’s swan song, so to speak. Marianne Levy was not everyone’s first choice, but she did appear to be qualified, having been a career National Intelligence Agency employee who eventually rose to the rank of director. Though she was shrewd and had made many enemies within the agency and in Washington, she was good at her job. And the fact that Levy had been sleeping with the former president for more than a decade, known only by a handful of people, had everything to do with the fact that she got the appointment, a fact of which the current president was well aware. Levy and President Grant did not like each other one bit.
“Ms. Levy, I’m sure you are a busy person. But you can rest assured, I’m busier. Please try to be on time next time.”
“Calvin. Calvin, Calvin, Calvin,” she said. “You’ve been a very secretive boy. I heard you had Kevin and Bill over here this morning. Without telling me? I’m hurt.”
“Marianne, I’m the president of the United States. I don’t have to clear my meetings with you.”
“Fair enough. But Kevin and Bill work for me now. Remember? And I don’t appreciate finding out from my staffers that my directors of the CIA and FBI had a secretive meeting with the president before the rest of the world had even had breakfast.”
“It was nothing,” the president said. “I asked them here to discuss this implementation of the new weapons training that you’ve asked them to adopt. I merely wanted their assessment on the brief you wrote.”
“Yes, I talked to them. They both said the same thing.”
“Why wouldn’t they?”
“Because, Calvin, we both know they hate me. You hate me.”
“I don’t hate you, Marianne.”
“And there’s nothing the three of you would like better than to find a reason to get rid of me, so you can put things back the way you like them.”
“You know, Marianne, you’re right. I don’t like the fact that you’re in charge of every bureau and agency in law enforcement. I don’t like the fact that you think for some reason that somehow elevates you over the office of the presidency. I don’t like the fact that if you are all of a sudden unreachable, lots of people could lose their lives, because the
y are waiting around for your go-ahead. You’re right. I don’t like it. And I’ve made no bones about it. I will do everything in my power to get that law in front of the Supreme Court and repealed, or whatever I can do.”
“For someone who professes to be the kind of man you are, you sure are mean and angry.”
“You can call it a righteous anger, Marianne. I asked you here as a courtesy. So I could tell you that I had Kevin and Bill in here. And that I have asked them to keep me informed, something you seem to think is optional. I don’t need to clear any of that with you. You may head up the agencies, but I still appoint the directors. And you may have complete autonomy as to how they operate, but in the end, you still answer to me.
Don’t forget it.”
It took everything she had not to reach out and slap the man in the face. She loathed him. She loathed everything he stood for. And if he thought he was going to take away what she had worked so hard for, he had another think coming. He had no idea. She was about to be more powerful than any president in history.
She grabbed her purse and turned on her heel. “I’ll show myself out.”
CHAPTER 21
Keene stared at the screen of Taylor’s laptop as he read and reread the e-mail. It was short and simple.
Ms. Taylor, this is the Prophet. I understand you’re looking for me. But you need to understand that I am not the one you need to seek. I am just a messenger. Your and Mr. Keene’s attempt to stop this is futile. The Lord has spoken. Tell the president to tell the nation the truth. He must instruct the nation to repent and return to the Lord. Otherwise, this nation will face its most dire hour.
He looked at Taylor and asked, “How did he get your e-mail? Better yet, how does he know who you and I are?”
“I—I have no idea,” she stammered. “My e-mail is secure. He shouldn’t have been able to get in, let alone know who we are.”
Boz, who had stirred awake from the commotion, was now standing over the back of the chair, also looking at the screen. “Looks like someone’s got the jump on us.”
“And how do you suppose that happened?” Keene said.
“Dunno.” Boz shrugged. “But if he’s really a prophet …”
“Can we please stop with the Prophet thing?” Keene snapped. “This guy is a terrorist. It’s our job to catch him. Can we just focus on that?”
“Jon—” Boz tried to start but was interrupted.
“Guys! Enough!” Taylor said. “I ran a back trace on the e-mail. I have the location that it was sent from. He didn’t try to hide that. It’s an Internet café downtown. I called it in, and there are agents on the ground waiting for us when we land. I told them not to make a move before we get there.”
Keen clenched his fists. “You did what!”
“What? What are you so jacked up about?”
“There’s no way those boys are going to wait for us. They’re probably storming the place right now!”
“I gave them an explicit order not to move,” she said.
Keene looked at Boz, who was pinching the bridge of his nose.
“See!” he said. “Even he knows!”
“He’s right, Ms. Taylor,” Boz said. “I would be very surprised if they wait.”
“I’m so glad you guys think so highly of the FBI and our protocols,” she said.
The plane dipped and banked hard to the right.
“I guess we’ll find out in a few minutes,” Keene said as the plane began its descent.
On the ground they were met by two men, both wearing off-the-rack suits and black loafers that screamed FED. Though it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, since they were also wearing the standard-issued blue coat with the stenciled FBI on the back. The men introduced themselves as Special Agent Franks and Special Agent Graham and ushered them into the waiting Suburban.
Inside the truck Keene spoke first.
“Give me the sit-rep,” he said.
“Got two guys outside in plainclothes,” Graham answered. “We were told to hold and just observe.”
“And you guys just sat tight? Just like that?”
“Came straight from Director Preston’s office. So yeah, we’re just sitting on it.”
Keene could feel the burn of Taylor’s glare.
“And nobody’s moved?”
“Oh, lots of people moving,” Franks said. “There’s all kinds of electricians and what looks like computer geeks in and out of the place.
Got a power generator outside, and it looks like the place is under renovation.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Taylor said. “The e-mail came from there.”
“Don’t know,” Graham said. “Looks like they’ve had some kind of huge power outage there that fried everything. Don’t know when it happened. But when we showed up, all that was going on.”
“How far out are we?” Boz asked.
“Fifteen minutes,” Franks answered.
“Let’s make it ten,” Keene said.
Outside the Internet café, the group watched as technicians and electrical company personnel moved in and out of the building. Computers were being taken in and out and loaded into and out of a truck. Keene observed for a few seconds before deciding to move.
“It’s obvious that if this is the place that e-mail was sent from, he’s no longer here. Taylor, let’s you and me go see what’s going on.”
“I’m in,” Taylor said, unbuckling her seat belt.
The two exited the vehicle and moved across the street to where the caution tape was draped in front of the café. Taylor pulled her badge and grabbed one of the guys carrying a laptop.
“Hey, Megan Taylor, FBI. Who’s in charge here?”
“What’s the FBI doing here?”
“Guy in charge?” she repeated.
“Over there,” the man said. “Tall guy with glasses.
Keene didn’t wait for Taylor. He stepped over the tape and made his way inside to the man that had just been pointed out to them. He grabbed the man by the arm and started to lead him away from the others.
“My name is Jon Keene,” he said. “Is there someplace we can talk?”
The guy with glasses looked instantly nervous. “What? What’s going on here?”
By that time, Taylor had joined him and produced her badge.
“We’re with the FBI. We just need to ask you some questions,” she said.
“Sure,” the man said. “In here.”
He led them to the back of the room and into what looked like a makeshift office. It had a small door that led to an even smaller desk with two chairs. The chair behind the desk faced a window that looked out into the café.
“This is the manager’s office,” he said. “I try to spend as little time in here as I can, for obvious reasons.”
Keene gave a courteous smile. “Obviously.” He closed the door behind them.
“Something I can do for you two?”
“Do you know the people who use your Internet café?” Taylor asked.
“I know some of them,” the man answered. “But this is a big city. Lots of people. Hard to know everyone.”
“What happened here?” Keene asked.
The man’s nervous look turned to one of disgust and anger. “Some punk uploaded a virus that fried my whole café. Literally!”
“When you say fried …” Keene began.
“I mean fried!” the man said. “Thousands of dollars of damage! Every computer in here lit up like the building got struck by lightning. I’ve never seen anything like it before. I mean, everything started sparking and then smoking and then just bzzzt! Gone!” His eyes narrowed. “Hey … what’s going on here?”
“Classified,” Keene said. “You got security cameras here?”
“Of course!” the man said.
“Can we see them?” Taylor asked.
“Nope.”
“What do you mean, nope?” Keene asked.
“I mean, everything was being backed up to hard drives. They’re all gone.”
<
br /> Keene did little to hide his frustration. Technology was great until something like this happened.
“See anyone unusual this morning?” he asked the man.
The man thought for a minute and said, “Nah, pretty much everyone in here today I’ve seen at least a couple of times.” He nodded his head but then stopped short. “Hey, wait a minute. There was this guy.”
“Who?” Keene and Taylor spoke simultaneously.
“Yeah …” he said. “This guy came in about an hour or so ago. Had a hat on and a hoodie pulled up over his head. I remember ‘cause I was thinking I might need to keep an eye on him.”
“Why’s that?” Keene asked.
“Couple months ago, I had a couple kids come in here acting all weird, just shuffling around. And then just like that”—he snapped his fingers—”they grabbed a couple laptops and booked it outta here. I just thought the guy looked suspicious for a minute. But he just walked over to one of the terminals and started working.”
“So you didn’t pay any attention to him after that?”
“No. Once I saw him sit down and start typing, I let it go. Just figured he was normal.”
“What computer?” Taylor asked.
“That one right there,” the man pointed as one of the technicians was disconnecting the cables to take it away.
Taylor nearly leaped over Keene as she bolted out the door.
“Hey! Wait a second,” she shouted to the guy. “Don’t touch that! FBI!”
The guy stood frozen, as if in a panic.
Keene stepped out of the office and over to the terminal where Taylor was. “We should get it printed.”
“Do you know how many sets of prints are going to be on this keyboard?” she asked rhetorically. “Besides, he wore gloves.”
“Really? And how do you know that?”
“Wouldn’t you?”
Keene realized she was right.
Taylor took the computer from the guy and set it back down at the station. She moved her eyes around like she was looking for someone.
“Hey you, electrician guy.”
The man she spoke to turned and said, “Who me?”
“Yeah, you. How long till you get power back up to this store?”
The 13: Fall Page 8