Tier One (Tier One Series Book 1)

by Brian Andrews

  Jarvis must have read his mind. “Disbanding the JIRG was a necessity. Whoever pulled this off not only ambushed our brother SEALs in Yemen and the TOC in Djibouti, but also exploited the workings of our entire intelligence and counterterrorism infrastructure. Despite its minuscule footprint, the Joint Group was still plugged into the system. And that system is compromised.”

  “How is this group any different?” Grimes asked, leaning forward on her elbows. “What makes you certain that history won’t repeat itself?”

  “Because this group is unplugged. This group does not report to the Pentagon or DIA or DHS or the CIA, or any official intelligence-collecting entity that falls under the US government command-and-control umbrella. We have no official name except our NOC—Ember Corporation. We have no constraints on how we gather intelligence, and no constraints on how we prosecute the enemy. There are two people outside of this room who know who we are and what we are doing. We’re well funded and well equipped, but we have no perpetual charter. Our only task is to find the masterminds behind the hits in Yemen and Djibouti, discover how the hell they did it, and then eliminate them. We have no other mission, no other priorities, and no distractions from this singular quest. Unlike the Joint Group, we have the personnel, the authority, and the autonomy to act on the intelligence we collect. With Dempsey’s field unit, we will hunt down and destroy those targeting our nation’s elite Special Forces. With the Tier One SEALs gone, who’s to say they won’t go after Delta next?”

  “Unless we find these bastards, Delta might as well be dead,” Smith said, taking his turn at the pulpit. “JSOC has put an indefinite hold on all counterterrorism Tier One Spec Ops. Without our Tier One units out there in the wild, our enemies will become more brazen and more active. I expect to see a spike in terrorist activity in the coming months, the likes of which we’ve not seen in a decade.”

  Heads nodded in agreement around the table. Smith was right. Before Yemen, nearly all of Kemper’s team’s missions had been counterterror related. He couldn’t imagine a world where ISIS and Al Qaeda were left to run amok.

  Jarvis nodded at Smith, and Smith worked the remote control. The lights in the conference room brightened, and the TV screen went dark.

  “I don’t give pep talks. The hard work starts now. What happens after we succeed is for the bureaucrats. Any questions?”

  “I have a question,” said Grimes.

  Kemper shook his head. Great, here we go.

  “You said two people outside this room know of Ember’s existence. Are you planning on sharing their identities with the team?”

  Jarvis pursed his lips. “If I wanted to share that information, I would have.”

  “You thought things were secure with the JIRG, and look where that got you,” the redhead said, steepling her fingers. “If we’re out in the wild and things go wrong, don’t you think the team has a right to know who decides our fate?”

  “Every person in this room is here by invitation and of their own volition,” Jarvis said. “And every person in this room needs to understand the inherent risk of being disavowed when you’re operating in the black.”

  Kemper remembered that tone from the teams. Oh boy, the shit is about to hit the fan.

  Instead of escalating, Jarvis took a deep breath and smiled. “If you have reservations about this group that will prevent you from doing your job, then by all means, you’re free to go. If you think you’re not a good fit, then please, leave. But do it now, because once Thomas completes your security indoc, you’re with us to the end. Either way, the NDA you signed this morning gives me the authority to prosecute you for treason, should a breach occur.”

  “Either way?” Grimes said, her voice even colder than his. “Is that a threat?”

  “That is protocol,” Jarvis said with a condescending smile. Then he looked away, dismissing her with his body language. “Mr. Thomas, show Ms. Grimes to my office so she and I can discuss her role on the task force. Then, you can start checking in Mendez. As for the rest of you, pick a locker, get moved in, and wait your turn for indoc with Thomas.”

  Thomas slid his chair back and stood up, towering over everyone. “Yes, sir.”

  Jarvis turned his attention back to the redhead. Kemper noticed that now she was wearing the same condescending smile that Jarvis had been moments ago.

  “I’ll be along in a few minutes, Ms. Grimes,” Jarvis said. “First, I need to speak with my new head of Special Activities.”

  Grimes said nothing and let herself be escorted from the conference room. Beside Thomas, she looked like Little Red Riding Hood playing dress-up in 5.11 Tactical clothes. After everyone else had cleared the room, Jarvis collapsed against the backrest of his chair.

  “What a bitch,” Smith said, laughing beneath his breath. “Boss, who the hell is she, and what is she doing here?”

  “She is our devil’s advocate in residence,” Jarvis said, rubbing his temples. “With the castle came a queen. Don’t worry; I’ll make her my problem.”

  Kemper got the sense that Jarvis had more than just misgivings about Her Highness, Lady Grimes, but he knew better than to push. Still, he couldn’t help wonder who this woman was. Like his new name, he assumed Elizabeth Grimes was a pseudonym. With the exception of Kelso Jarvis, undoubtedly every person he’d met today was using a nonofficial cover.

  Welcome to your new family, Kemper. A family of strangers.

  “Soooo,” Jarvis said, smiling at Kemper, “you’re John Dempsey now, huh? You ready for that?”

  Kemper leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “I’m ready for anything, Skipper,” he said. “So long as you let me pull the trigger on the assholes responsible for Yemen. After that, I don’t really care.”

  “There may not be an after, Dempsey,” Jarvis said. “Therefore, we need to keep our focus on getting this mission right. Shane will give you a tour of what we have here in terms of equipment and support. Tomorrow you’ll meet some of the other folks you’ll be interfacing with on your operations. Keep a mental list of anything else you think you need. We have to pull this shit together fast, before the bad guys responsible all disappear like ghosts. You have a lot to learn, and even more to unlearn, in a very short time. This isn’t kicking in doors, clearing the room, and evacuating the survivors off the X, John,” said Jarvis.

  It wasn’t lost on Kemper how Jarvis kept using his new name. Familiarization and repetition formed the cornerstone of the Kelso Jarvis training handbook.

  My name is John Dempsey, Kemper told himself.

  My name is John Dempsey.

  Jack Kemper is dead.

  I am John Dempsey.

  “This is an entirely new world for you, John. This is making someone disappear from bed while his wife is sleeping beside him. This is deciding to let a friendly take a bullet while you save some shithead’s life. This is a world that requires compromise, sacrifice, and surgical precision—without SOPs, without little birds, without MEDEVACs, and without the power and security of JSOC behind you. Do you understand what you’ve signed up for?”

  “Yes, Skipper,” answered Dempsey. “I understand.”

  “All right,” Jarvis said. “After you finish your security indoc with Thomas and your tour with Shane, you and I are going to have a sit-down. I want to hear your thoughts on how we find the assholes responsible for Yemen.”

  “You want my thoughts on how to find them?”

  “Yes,” Jarvis said with a crooked grin. “You’re more than just a point-and-shoot asset on this team. Time for you to start contributing strategically.”

  Dempsey nodded, holding his tongue about his true feelings on the matter.

  “Shane will bring you up to speed on the operational parameters for your group. The team will grow organically over time. You will be able to recruit new members, but for the immediate future, you’re running a team of five.”

  “Roger that,” Dempsey said, standing up.

  Smith was already standing by the blacked-out double-gla
ss doors, waiting to start the familiarization tour. The news that Dempsey could recruit other guys he trusted bolstered his mood. Dan Munn’s name immediately came to mind.

  Before stepping through the doors, Dempsey paused. Turning back to Jarvis, he said, “You said five, but I only count four—me, Smith, Mendez, and Wang.”

  Jarvis clasped his fingers together and stared at him without reply.

  “The redhead?” Dempsey asked, incredulous.

  Jarvis smirked. “The redhead.”

  CHAPTER 20

  “Shane, when was the last time you saw Dempsey?” Jarvis leaned back in the leather chair behind his desk and rolled his head in slow clockwise circles, trying to alleviate stiffness in his neck and the pounding headache that came along with it.

  “Ten minutes ago, in the equipment room,” said his Operations Director. “You should see him. The dude is like a kid in a candy store. I think handling the gear is making him feel less out of his element.”

  “Good. Give him a few more minutes before sending him in here to chat with me about our hunting strategy.”

  Jarvis knew that John was adaptable—something he suspected the former SEAL Senior Chief did not know about himself. The only way to truly measure Dempsey’s adaptability was to put him to work. Trial by fire, so to speak.

  “Will we get him into our playbook in time?” Jarvis asked. He had his own opinion on the matter, but he wanted to observe Shane thinking through these issues with him.

  Smith nodded. “He’ll be ready. Dempsey is smarter than he thinks.”

  “And more stubborn than you think,” Jarvis cautioned. “And emotional. Dr. West called me after their session.”

  “Dempsey told me it went fine,” said Smith. “Hell, if I didn’t know better, I’d say he even liked the doc. Did West say otherwise?”

  “West said what I already suspected—Dempsey has a long road ahead. What happened in Yemen and Djibouti hit us all hard, but nothing like it did for Dempsey. He’s been traumatized in ways that will take years to sort out. In the short term, his anger could affect his judgment in the field and thereby jeopardize the team. Keep a close eye on him during the scenario-based training at the Farm. Dempsey has a wealth of surveillance experience and a keen mind for observation, but a tactician he is not. My goal is to challenge him during the coming weeks and see what wins out—his emotions or his wits.”

  “Roger that.”

  “He’s also going to look to you for clues on how to handle the transition from Tier One operator to clandestine operator. It’s a paradigm shift, and not one that every SEAL or Delta soldier can pull off.”

  Smith nodded. “The hardest part of going spook is the subtlety. Recognizing what’s different from SPECOPS and what’s not. After the first couple of screwups, the temptation is to go overboard and think you need to chuck all your Tier One training out the window. That is a mistake. The same principles apply, even when the environment has changed.”

  “Our world is more kinetic,” Jarvis said.

  Smith shrugged. “Different kinetics . . . for me at least.”

  Silence lingered a moment between them. Jarvis saw Smith shift uncomfortably in his seat. “What is it, Shane?”

  “Well, I was wondering.” Smith leaned forward. “Your asset in Iran—have you reached out to him? It would be helpful if we could vet any new theories we generate with someone on the inside.”

  Jarvis knew Smith was looking for more than that. He was wondering if the Iranian asset had a role in the SEAL massacre. Robert Kittinger and the president were probably wondering that as well. But Jarvis doubted Kittinger cared one way or the other so long as Ember found a way to prove Iran was the architect of state-sponsored terrorism against the Tier One SEALs, thereby giving the White House the justification it needed to sway world opinion. Then and only then would America have the support it needed to reverse course on the treaty with the Iranian regime. But, unfortunately, Jarvis wasn’t any closer to finding the truth than he had been a few weeks ago.

  “I’ve been unable to contact my asset since the attack,” Jarvis said. “At this point, I think we can safely assume he’s in the wind, or he was captured or killed.”

  “Or that we were played,” Smith said. There was no judgment in the statement. It was part of the game and the risk of doing business.

  “Or that,” Jarvis agreed, his voice catching in his throat. “It’s good that we restructured. Make sure that all bridges to the JIRG are burned. If the bad guys come looking for us—which undoubtedly they will—we need to make sure the trail stops at a cliff looking down into the abyss.”

  “I took the initiative and already shut down all bank accounts, data servers, e-mail accounts, phone numbers, safe houses, and contract obligations we had. All subcontractors have been canceled, and all our managed assets were issued new contact protocols. But I’ll task Quinton with a final sweep to confirm I didn’t miss something.”

  “Perfect,” Jarvis said. “Now tell me, Operations Director, what’s our next move?”

  Smith laughed. “I thought deciding next moves was your job.”

  “Only until I die or get fired. What’s our next move?”

  “Start shaking trees and see where the nuts fall?”

  “Exactly, which brings me to an interesting conversation I had with a friend at Mossad,” he said, watching Smith’s face closely.

  Smith nodded. “Levi Harel.”

  Jarvis smirked. Sneaky bastard already knew.

  “You know I keep a detail on you, sir. It’s part of my job.”

  “And you know I slip them when I have to,” Jarvis countered.

  Smith shrugged. “If the mission demands it?” he said, his tone a tad incendiary. “What did the former head of Mossad have to say? Something helpful, I hope.”

  “Harel is too busy to waste time not being helpful,” Jarvis said. “It appears our friends in Tel Aviv have been managing an asset in Frankfurt who has developed a relationship with an Iranian national. Harel believes the Iranian is a midlevel operative with VEVAK and could provide us information concerning the fate of our asset in Tehran.”

  Smith nodded, leaning forward. “How long has Harel’s girl been working the Iranian?”

  “How do you know Harel’s asset is a woman?”

  “Call it an educated guess,” said Smith, scratching his neck. “Harel made a name for himself by successfully deploying more female assets than any other Mossad chief.”

  Jarvis nodded, impressed. The kid has been busy taking initiative and doing his homework. Excellent.

  He grabbed the iPad off his desk and opened an encrypted file Harel had sent him early that morning. Then he passed the tablet computer to Shane. “For now, this is for your eyes only. We can bring the rest of the team up to speed on a need-to-know basis.”

  Jarvis watched Shane’s pupils dart back and forth as he scanned the text, scrolling with his right index finger as he read. “Do you want me to make contact with her and arrange a meeting?”

  “Absolutely not. Never risk burning an asset—especially someone else’s asset—unless you have no other alternative.”

  Shane looked up from the iPad, confused. Then his eyes brightened with understanding. “Observe the girl until we ID the Persian, then we put HUMINT and SIGINT on the target?”

  “Exactly. And we coordinate all this with Mossad in Frankfurt so they understand our intentions. Then, once we’ve learned the Iranian’s routine and travel schedule, we kidnap the sonuvabitch.”

  Shane let out a whistling sigh. “There is a lot of risk in taking a VEVAK operative. As soon as we take him, all the spiders will scurry back into their holes. Even if we learn everything about his operation, we may find ourselves unable to act on that intelligence.”

  Jarvis nodded, a little disappointed that Shane was back to thinking inside the standard DoD box.

  “That would be true,” he conceded, “if they knew we had taken him. Brainstorm me a screenplay.”

  Smith frown
ed. “The Dream Makers are a CIA asset. I severed that link when we shut down the JIRG. We don’t have access to that group anymore.”

  “I know. Which means you’re going to have do it in-house. Get creative with it,” Jarvis continued. “Find me a way to get this guy to Virginia without anyone in VEVAK thinking they’ve been compromised.”

  Jarvis slid a thumb drive across the desk to Shane.

  “Here’s the file on the Mossad asset in Frankfurt. Harel offered to mobilize his permanent team in Germany if things go bat-shit crazy. If that happens, then VEVAK will undoubtedly blame the Mossad for their agent’s disappearance, while we walk away with a nice cover story. Hopefully, we don’t go down that road, but it’s a scenario we need to consider.”

  “Understood.”

  “I know you’ve got a full plate, but work through it quickly. You know how these things go. Short fuse, then boom. I need Dempsey and the rest of the team ready to go, ASAP.”

  “You got it, boss,” Smith said, and turned to leave.

  “Shane,” Jarvis called after him.

  Smith turned back, his eyebrows raised.

  “Stick close to Dempsey. He’s most vulnerable while we’re in work-up mode. Once he’s on mission, he’ll be a heat-seeking missile. But right now, he’s got too much fucking time to think.”

  “You got it, sir. I’m turning over the keys to his house and car today, but I’ll stay close.”

  “Have Quinton keep a detail on him until I say otherwise.”