Red Cell Seven

by Stephen Frey

  “It’s too much law-enforcement manpower to lock up indefinitely,” Dorn continued, “and they’re going around the clock.”

  “Of course,” Bill agreed. “The public demands that the shooter be caught and punished. It terrifies people to think someone could get away with shooting their president.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Just give me a little longer,” Bill said. “Let me find Maddux and deal with him myself. I don’t want the FBI taking him into custody and giving him any incentive to talk about Red Cell Seven. I can’t have him rolling over on us.”

  That made no sense to Troy. Maddux was guilty of terrible things, but he was a patriot. In Maddux’s eyes, Dorn was the traitor because he’d been planning to eliminate Red Cell Seven, as well as seriously limit what “official” U.S. intelligence agents could do to fight terrorism, including the torture of suspects to gain information—which Maddux believed was an essential interrogation tool. Therefore, Maddux didn’t consider it a crime to assassinate David Dorn. Maddux believed that the assassination would save Red Cell Seven and, by extension, the country.

  Troy seriously doubted Maddux would ever give away RCS secrets. Even if he thought he could make a deal by doing it and avoid or lessen jail time.

  More to the point, Troy doubted the FBI would ever catch Maddux—not alive, anyway. So RCS secrets were safe with Maddux. Troy couldn’t understand why his father would think any other way. But then, Bill was privy to much more information than he was.

  Troy doubted anyone would ever take Shane alive. And if somehow his father managed to catch Maddux, he certainly wasn’t going to turn the man over to the FBI—which Dorn had to know.

  “All right, Bill,” Dorn agreed, “a little more time.”

  “How much are we talking?”

  “I’ll let you know before I leak any information about Maddux to the FBI. But that’s all I can promise. Let’s just leave it at that.” Dorn’s eyes narrowed. “Bill, how many individuals defected with Maddux out of RCS?”

  “Only a few, and I have people searching for them as well. But when we find Maddux, we’ll find the rest of them.”

  Troy disagreed with that, too. But he kept his mouth shut.

  Dorn eased back into the wheelchair. “Okay, guys,” he muttered after taking a deep breath. “Tell me everything I need to know about Red Cell Seven.”

  Bill glanced at Troy. “Go on, son.”

  And Troy glanced at the president. “I want to be as efficient as possible, Mr. President. What do you already know?”

  “Your father gave me some information to review while I was in the hospital. It described certain of Red Cell Seven’s activities over the past four decades. And of course, over the last year, since my election, Roger Carlson would report to me face-to-face from time to time. On average, that was about once a month. But he never told me much. He was a crafty man.”

  “Experienced,” Bill countered.

  “If that’s what you want to call it.”

  “I do.”

  The president shrugged. “I made the mistake of telling Roger I wanted very specific information. And that I was going to put a buffer between us.”

  Bill shook his head. “I doubt that went over very well.”

  “No, it did not. He was furious.”

  “Knowing Roger, he probably took that as a signal that you were going to shut RCS down.”

  “Probably,” Dorn agreed. “And that’s probably what initiated the plot to kill me.”

  “I doubt it, sir,” Bill disagreed. “In my opinion Roger Carlson would never endorse a plan to assassinate the president of the United States. I believe that all originated with Shane Maddux, that it was his idea alone.”

  “Don’t you think Roger told Maddux what I said?”

  “Maybe, but I think Maddux was already planning it before Carlson would have said anything to him.”

  “How would Maddux have known before Roger told him?”

  Bill shot Troy a knowing look. “You don’t know Shane Maddux the way we do.”

  “And I’m very glad of that.” Dorn gestured to Bill. “Did Roger tell you what I said to him?”

  Bill pushed out his lower lip then shook his head deliberately. “No.”

  “Mmm.”

  It seemed obvious to Troy that Dorn wasn’t convinced by his father’s answer.

  “Roger died of a heart attack,” the president said, “didn’t he?”

  Bill nodded. “He was found slumped over the steering wheel of his car outside his townhouse in Georgetown.”

  Troy and Bill had talked about Carlson’s death on the way down to Washington. They both suspected Maddux of somehow being involved. The thing was, the coroner had confirmed the cause of death as a heart attack. Despite that, they still weren’t completely convinced. But they’d agreed not to say anything about their suspicions to Dorn.

  “How many agents does RCS have?” the president asked.

  “Ninety-two,” Bill answered.

  Interesting. A month ago Troy had heard the number was ninety-eight.

  “Are they divided into units? I mean, how does that work?”

  “We call them divisions,” Troy explained. “They include out-of-country terrorism, counterterrorism, interrogation, communications, and assassinations.” President Dorn seemed to have suddenly lost the little color he had in his face. “Are you all right, sir?”

  “For a man like me, it’s hard to hear a word like ‘assassinations’ when it comes to activities carried out by people I’m ultimately responsible for. The word ‘interrogation’ doesn’t sit well with me, either, if I’m going to be completely honest. I’m pretty sure I know what that really means.” He glanced at Troy. “Do I? Do I know what it really means?”

  “What exactly do you—”

  “Do you guys torture people?”

  “Yes, sir,” Troy answered candidly, “when we need to, when that option is appropriate.”

  “Lord. When can that option ever be appropriate?”

  Troy and Bill glanced at each other uneasily.

  “Don’t worry,” the president spoke up quickly, “I get it. I get the whole lowest common denominator thing. At least, I do now. We have to fight them the way they fight us. Down and dirty.”

  “That’s right,” Bill replied firmly. “But Mr. President, the beauty of Red Cell Seven is that you aren’t responsible for us in any way. It’s even better than plausible deniability when it comes to RCS. It’s genuine deniability. With all due respect to Stewart Baxter, RCS cannot get you in trouble, no matter what it does.”

  Dorn shook his head. “In the end, Bill, I’m responsible for everything and anything that goes on in this country. I can’t use ignorance as an excuse.”

  “Yes, you certainly can.”

  “No,” Dorn snapped, “I cannot.” He nodded at Troy. “What division are you in?”

  “Communications.” The president seemed relieved by the answer, though he shouldn’t have been. Troy had killed a few men. Everyone in RCS did, sooner or later, and so far it had been six years inside for Troy. “My division’s also called the Falcons,” he continued. “We deliver instructions and cash to other RCS agents around the world. We never use electronic messages or phones of any kind to communicate the most sensitive data.” He hesitated. “Why did you want to know what division I was in?”

  “And what is your role in all of this, Bill?” Dorn asked the elder Jensen without responding.

  “I’m a Red Cell Seven associate. Actually, I lead the associate pool.”

  “What does that mean? What are associates?”

  “We’re a network of RCS support,” Bill explained. “We’re not actually considered agents.”

  “Be more specific.”

  “Unlike the CIA, the NSA, or any other U.S. intel group that I’m aware of, Red
Cell Seven receives no support at all from the federal government, funding or otherwise,” Bill explained. “We’re completely autonomous. We operate that way so there are no opportunities for our enemies, foreign or domestic, to prove we exist.”

  “How would they do that?”

  “Money trails. An organization like Red Cell Seven, with ninety-two agents constantly on the move around the world, requires a lot of cash to operate. If we took cash from the federal government and the link was discovered, some ridiculous liberal, left-wing Congressional investigation committee might use the evidence to put an end to what has been the most effective intelligence group the United States has ever operated. But we don’t. We’re autonomous. That’s why you can never be blamed.”

  “What gives you the right to operate?”

  Bill stared back blankly at the president for a few moments.

  Troy’s eyes moved slowly to his father. He wanted to hear this, too. He’d always wondered the same thing.

  “He didn’t tell you?” Bill finally asked.

  Dorn raised both eyebrows. “He who?”

  Bill cleared his throat. “You really don’t know?”

  “Answer the question, Bill.”

  “Your immediate predecessor, Mr. President. He had a meeting with you immediately prior to your inauguration, on the day of, in fact. He communicated several extraordinarily sensitive things to you just before you took the oath. It’s been that way for many years. That tradition is little known, but it happens every time a new president is inaugurated.”

  “What did he tell me, Bill?”

  “How would I know, sir? The subjects of that conversation are some of the most closely guarded secrets in the world. You were there. You tell me. If you can,” Bill added ominously.

  “What did he tell me about Red Cell Seven? You know about that specific agenda item. I know you do.”

  It was fascinating for Troy to watch this play out. Neither man wanted to blink. But one of them would have to.

  “If you think I know, then—”

  “What did he tell me about Red Cell Seven?” Dorn repeated sternly.

  Again Bill stared back blankly for several moments. Finally, he gestured at Troy. “Troy’s my son, but he shouldn’t be in here if—”

  “What did he tell me?”

  Bill took a deep breath. “He told you that Richard Nixon founded Red Cell Seven by signing Executive Order 1973 One-E. He informed you that the Order established the cell and empowered Roger Carlson by name to move forward without any constraints whatsoever and without any threat of prosecution for anything he or agents reporting to him did. He was to protect the security of the country any way he saw fit, and he was given total immunity from any prosecution.”

  The tiny hairs on the back of Troy’s neck stood up. Total immunity. Amazing.

  “How many originals of that Executive Order did President Nixon sign?” Dorn asked.

  “Two.”

  “Where are they?”

  Bill shook his head slowly. “I don’t know.”

  “You must.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Who does?”

  “I don’t know.”

  President Dorn’s eyes flashed. “Without those two originals, the cell could be vulnerable, Bill.”

  “Agreed, but if someone tried to prosecute anyone inside the cell for actions taken on behalf of the cell, and one of those original Executive Orders was presented at the right time to the chief justice of the Supreme Court, whoever had tried to prosecute the agent would be in deep trouble. For instance, it would be an impeachable offense if the president of the United States were involved. And there would be no question about it. The chief justice is aware.”

  When Bill finished, the succeeding silence seemed deafening to Troy.

  “You need to find those two originals,” Dorn finally spoke up. “I do not want Red Cell Seven vulnerable in any way. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “When you have located them, you will let me know.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dorn eased back into the wheelchair. “Tell me more.”

  “Since 9/11, Red Cell Seven has detected and derailed six major terrorist plots against the United States. Those plots weren’t mentioned in the information you read while you were at Walter Reed. All six attacks would have been catastrophic and would have caused major loss of life within United States borders. Two of them would have made 9/11 look small in comparison. And both of those attacks were being planned by groups who absolutely had the human assets, the financial capability, and the operational experience to execute them.” Bill paused. “No one outside RCS ever knew about them or what we did to stop them. Until now.”

  “Do tell me about those…attacks.”

  Troy heard cynicism in Dorn’s voice again.

  “No,” Bill answered stubbornly.

  “Why not?”

  “I want you to maintain that genuine deniability I mentioned earlier.”

  “Telling me about the attacks won’t jeopardize that. Last I heard it’s pretty tough to get me to testify.”

  It seemed to Troy that the president was pressing his father because he didn’t believe him. Nothing had been said to that effect, but Troy could tell Bill also figured that was the impetus behind this line of questioning.

  The room went deathly still again as Bill and Dorn glared at each other.

  “There’s a town on the west bank of the Hudson River called Nyack,” Bill finally continued. “It’s about twenty-five miles north of New York City.”

  “I’m familiar with it. Its nickname is ‘Your Gem of the Hudson,’ and it’s actually a village, Bill, not a town. It’s in the town of Orangetown.”

  “Anyway,” Bill continued, “there’s a nuclear power plant north of there—”

  “Which is actually in Clarkstown,” Dorn interrupted. “That’s the town north of Orangetown.”

  “Thank you for the geography lesson, Mr. President, but—”

  “Are you telling me terrorists were planning to attack the Nyack nuclear power facility?”

  “And destroy it in a way that would have created an immense and deadly radiation cloud.”

  “When was this attack supposed to have happened?”

  “Two summers ago. If the terrorists had succeeded, they would have put twelve to fifteen million civilians at risk. It would have been far worse than the situation at the Fukushima plant in Japan in 2011 that was caused by the Tohoku earthquake and the subsequent tsunami. It would have been even worse than Chernobyl.”

  “Do you really expect me to believe that—”

  “In August of last year,” Bill interrupted, “seventeen Somalis were placed in solitary confinement at a top-secret prison the CIA maintains outside Athens, Greece. I know you’re familiar with that prison, sir. The Langley boys told you about it during your second meeting with them. That would have been the trip you took across the Potomac immediately after you were elected to ‘tour the CIA facility,’ as it was termed, I believe.” Bill gestured at the president. “Ask Wes Dolan about those Somalis. He’ll tell you. When he’s done confirming all that, ask him how I could know about those men being sent to Athens. They were the ones who were going to attack the nuclear plant.”

  “That still doesn’t—”

  “Last spring we discovered three nuclear silos in the Ukraine that still had active SS-19s in them. There was a plot under way to fire them. I know you heard about that.”

  Troy’s gaze shifted to Dorn. He figured the president was going to come back at his father even more strongly on this one. Instead, Dorn slouched in the wheelchair, as if he were giving in.

  “The Russians were supposed to have made certain the Ukrainians had all those nukes out of the silos and destroyed back in 1996,” Bill continued, “weren�
��t they, Mr. President?”

  “Yes,” Dorn agreed quietly. “Red Cell Seven discovered those silos?”

  “You’re damn right we did,” Bill said proudly. “And we kept it out of the press. If reporters had found out that several senior Ukraine officials had been bought off by certain wealthy rogue elements in the Middle East, we would have had a public relations nightmare on our hands.”

  “And I would have had a political hurricane on my hands,” Dorn admitted. “It would have set U.S.–Russian relations back twenty years.”

  “More like fifty.”

  “Are those the two situations you were referring to earlier?” Dorn asked. “The attack on the Nyack nuclear facility and the issue with the SS-19s in the Ukraine?”

  “Yes. Now, there have been other situations. Planes coming from Europe and Asia that were targeting skyscrapers and other facilities in the United States; embassy attacks; a dam on the Wind River in Wyoming that was going to be blown up and would have drowned an entire town. We took care of those situations as well as many others during the last decade. But none of them compare to what could have happened at Nyack and in the Ukraine.”

  “For certain,” President Dorn agreed. “Of course, there was that LNG tanker headed for Norfolk as well.” His eyes narrowed as he gazed at Bill. “That would have been because of Red Cell Seven. That would have been on Shane Maddux’s shoulders.”

  “Yes, it would have. But at least one good thing came out of that near-disaster.”

  “Which was…?”

  “No LNG tanker leaves any port in the world and heads for America without a United States naval escort. Not from Malaysia, not from Algeria, not from anywhere. And two hundred miles off the U.S. coast, all those ships are boarded by Marines. And they get fighter jet escorts from a hundred miles in, so nobody can fly a plane into the ship and blow it up. Rogue LNG tankers will never again be a threat to the United States.”

  “Okay, I hear you.”

  The room went quiet for a third time as everything Bill had described in the last few minutes sank in. It was the first time Troy had heard most of this. Information was disseminated only on a need-to-know basis within the cell.