by Mike Maden
“But?”
“I don’t know. I think I’ll know more after my meeting today with his CFO and we go over all the financials.”
“Sounds boring.” Pearce took a sip of strong green tea. He had a bottle of booze in his desk drawer but didn’t feel right hitting it this early, especially with Margaret on the phone.
“It is. But that’s where the deal is. In the details. Speaking of which, how’s the nomination coming along? Got your votes lined up?”
Pearce hesitated. He wanted to tell her what was going on but he knew if he did, she’d cut her trip short and come back as soon as she could. Better to hold off. He could fill her in after she got back if it came to that.
“Troy? You there?”
“Yeah, sorry. Still working on the votes. Grafton says we’re a fifty-fifty proposition at this point.”
“She knows her stuff. Say, what was the deal with the FAA glitch yesterday? Was that for real?”
Again Pearce hesitated. He didn’t want to lie to her ever, but Lane instructed the room to keep a lid on things. “Oh, it was for real, all right.” He checked his watch. “The planes should be back in the air in a couple of hours.” Or so he hoped.
“Good. Otherwise it’s a long swim home.”
Pearce’s desk phone buzzed on the secure line. “Hon, I’ve got to go. The president is calling.”
“Oh, so you’re a big wheel now, are you?”
“Only because I know you.”
“Tell David I said hello.”
“I will. Take care of yourself, and call me when you can.”
“Will do.” Myers hung up.
Pearce picked up the other line. “Pearce.” The president’s chief of staff, Jackie Gibson, was on the line. Told him to check his e-mail for some forwarded pictures and to please come over immediately. Pearce hung up and pulled the photos up on his smartphone as he headed out of his office, dreading what he might find when he arrived.
—
“IT’S DEFINITELY off-the-shelf technology,” Pearce said. The photos on his phone were also loaded on one of the video monitors in the Situation Room. He was glad to see that neither al-Saud nor Grafton was present.
“Just like the other attacks,” Chandler said.
“It’s an Aerial Assault drone. It’s used for wireless penetration testing. It’s loaded with Kali Linux to test Wi-Fi networks for security weaknesses. Might even have some spoofing software on board, too, to see if they can trick a network into thinking it’s a secure router so they can steal data from the user.”
“Who in the world would sell something like that?” Chandler asked.
“The good guys. There are a bunch of white-hat hackers out there trying to make networks more secure. They use tools like this the same way an air force base will ask a SEAL team to try and infiltrate to see how well their security protocols are working.”
Eaton switched the photo with a remote control. A thirtysomething bleached blonde in an orange jumpsuit pulled up. “The FBI office in Houston had a line on this woman. She’s the head of a radical activist group trying to sue ExxonMobil for ‘crimes against humanity and Gaia.’ They were using this unit to try and find a way to hack into Exxon’s mainframe to scout out any evidence from their database they could use in a federal lawsuit they’re filing against Exxon next week.”
“A private eye in the sky,” Peguero said.
“Signs and wonders,” Chandler said. “Signs and wonders.”
“What does that mean?” Garza asked.
“Something my dear old memaw used to say. We live in interesting times, for sure.”
“So the bottom line is that this isn’t the other shoe we were waiting for,” Lane said. He turned to Eaton. “Still no word of any new hostile actions?”
“No, sir.”
“We dodged a bullet this morning, that’s for sure,” Chandler said.
“Doesn’t mean our bad guys won’t try to do exactly the same thing here or at another facility,” Pearce said. “Or worse.”
“That’s comforting,” Lane said.
“If ISIS managed to hack its way into the Baytown facility, it could wreck all of the control systems and shut down a half million barrels of production a day. That alone would cause a price spike if not outright panic in the oil markets. Imagine if they shut off every valve, pump, cooling system, thermostat, and heat exchanger. At the very least it would shut the entire plant down. It might take months, maybe even years, to find, repair, and replace all of the busted hardware. Worse, it could start a fire that might take weeks to contain.”
“Is that the ‘unquenchable fire’?” Peguero asked, quoting the letter again.
“Maybe.” Pearce frowned with concern. “Hell, a decent hacker could just open up all the valves and dump hundreds of tons of poisonous chemicals into the Gulf. We’d have another BP disaster on our hands.”
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” Chandler said.
“We need to think through how we want to move forward,” Garza said. “We’re going to see more and more of these kinds of protest attacks that have nothing to do with ISIS. This technology empowers everyone, including our own homegrown idiots.”
“We’ve raised a generation of malcontents fed on the themes of social injustice and disdain for the rule of law,” Chandler said. “We shouldn’t be surprised.”
“Spoken like a country lawyer,” Peguero said. “A southern country lawyer.”
“Number one in my law school class and editor of the law journal,” Chandler said with a practiced smile.
“The Houston Chronicle got wind of this story. I’ve asked them to sit on it for now,” Eaton said.
“I think that’s a mistake,” Pearce said. “Tell them to put it out there.”
“Why?” Eaton asked.
“Make the public aware that a drone was used to break the law, and that it could’ve caused some real damage. Maybe even cost a lot of jobs at one of the area’s biggest employers. Get people pissed off,” Pearce said.
“So we can get the public to help us spot more drone activity without knowing the real reason why,” Eaton said, nodding. “Smart.”
“Bottom line is we got lucky today and we can see what’s at stake. I say we call in the Russian ambassador to talk about options,” Chandler said. “We can’t afford to waste any more time. It will take some planning to get everybody on the same page, let alone actually mount the operation.”
Chandler’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard to Pearce. What was his angle? “I disagree. There’s no point in talking about fighting a war halfway around the world when our job is to find and neutralize the drone threat right here on our home turf.”
“The war with ISIS has already started,” Chandler said. “Better to let the Russians take it to them on their home turf with our airpower for cover.”
“We always have the option to escalate later,” Garza said. “But I agree with the vice president.”
Chandler shifted in his chair, clearly frustrated. “What harm is there in talking with Russians? At least see what the options are?’
“Fair enough,” Lane said. “Clay, make the call.”
Chandler stole a glance at Pearce, smiled. “Will do, Mr. President.”
“If an escalated air campaign really is on the table, we need to pull in General Onstot on this,” Garza said. “But if we don’t change the rules of engagement, it won’t matter how many sorties we fly, they’ll all come back fully loaded because the pilots are scared shitless of the JAG lawyers breathing down their necks.”
“The ROEs are meant to protect civilian lives,” Peguero said. “Indiscriminate bombing creates more terrorists than it kills.”
“Rules of engagement are for the junior cotillion, not a war,” Garza said. The Vietnam combat vet didn’t suffer fools.
“Let’s table the ROE
s until Onstot gets here,” Lane said.
“Shouldn’t we loop in the SecDef?” Eaton asked.
The president shook his head. “Not yet. This thing will gallop out of control if we get too many horses in the traces. The fewer people in the loop, the better.”
“Hate to ask it, but I’d really prefer that the White House press secretary be brought into this discussion,” Eaton said. “It’s one thing for me to call a media outlet and ask them to sit on a story for a day or two, but we need a media professional to spin this stuff if we want to try and keep control of the narrative.”
“You’re right. I’ll call Alyssa in a few minutes. Anything else?”
Nobody responded. Everybody felt the weight of the moment. No need to add more to it. Lane looked at the clock.
“If our ISIS friends hold true, we’ve got just under two hours before they pull their next stunt. Let’s convene back here at noon just in case they do.”
“Is there any doubt, sir?” Pearce asked.
Lane shook his head, resigned. “No, I guess not.”
34
MCLEAN, VIRGINIA
Tarkovsky pointed the assault rifle at the masked gunman’s head, just over the trembling shoulder of the woman the gunman was using as a human shield. The warehouse was dark and the gunman poorly lit.
“Get back, or I’ll kill her!” the gunman shouted.
The woman screamed. “Help me!”
Tarkovsky pulled the trigger once. The weapon leaped in his hand. The gunman’s head snapped backward as blood spattered on the wall behind him. The woman screamed again and dashed away into the shadows as the man’s corpse thudded to the ground.
“Nice shot,” al-Saud said.
“That felt remarkably real.” The Russian smiled. He handed the rifle back to his Saudi host.
Al-Saud racked the Blue Fire wireless smart weapon, a laser simulator rifle with recoil, and pressed a remote control, bringing the lights back on and shutting down the 4K digital projector. “That was a judgmental training system program. JTS is an American device, of course, but our Special Security Forces use it in counterterror training. It’s quite effective. My security staff trains on a similar unit at the embassy. I train on this one in my home because it’s a pleasure.”
“I enjoyed it immensely. I wouldn’t mind getting one of these for myself.”
“Someday you must visit my home in the desert. I have a live ammo shoot house on the property. Same JTS software but an even more lifelike close-combat experience.”
“That is very kind of you.”
“Coffee? Or something stronger?”
“Coffee will be fine, thank you.”
Al-Saud pointed toward the stairwell that led from the expansive training room to the living area upstairs. The white brick Georgian mansion was a bright shining jewel mounted on top of a gently sloping hill surrounded by an acre of closely manicured emerald-green lawn.
Al-Saud ordered coffee from the attendant in his private salon, and the two of them sat down by the large brick fireplace. The room, like the rest of the house, was decorated in traditional American style. Tarkovsky didn’t see any references to the Kingdom, Islam, or the desert. If he didn’t know any better, he would have sworn an American lived here, not a member of the Saudi royal family.
Al-Saud looked completely relaxed in his turtleneck and slacks, like a man on vacation. Tarkovsky felt overdressed in his sport coat and tie.
“I’m so glad we’re taking the time to get to know each other, Aleksandr. I was pleasantly surprised when you called yesterday.”
Tarkovsky nodded. “We have only had the chance to speak briefly in public gatherings. I felt that a private conversation was in order. I didn’t expect to be invited to your home. I’m honored.”
“It’s modest, but comfortable.”
A lovely young Filipino woman entered the room, efficient and demure. She set the silver tray down and left wordlessly.
“How do you like it?”
“Black,” Tarkovsky said. He assumed al-Saud was referring to the coffee.
“Same.” The Saudi poured for both of them.
“If I may cut to the chase, Your Excellency—”
“Faisal. Please.”
“Thank you. The reason why I wanted to speak with you was to discuss the situation with the Americans and ISIS. The Americans are unwilling to commit ground troops to battle ISIS on their own soil. However, my country stands ready to do so. But President Lane seems reluctant to accept the idea.”
“And you’ve come to me because . . . ?”
“I would appreciate your assistance in helping me convince him.”
“Strange you should raise this now. Only yesterday I was with the president and some of his advisors. They asked me what I thought about Russian intervention.”
“Would you mind sharing your thoughts?”
“Not at all. I told President Lane it would be better if the United States committed its own forces to the battle.”
Tarkovsky’s smile faded. He tried to hide his disappointment.
“However, I also said that if he was still reluctant to do so, that an alliance with your country would be the next best option.”
“And did he accept your proposal?”
“No, he didn’t.” Al-Saud sipped his coffee.
“Perhaps he would be open to further overtures?”
“I’m reluctant to press the matter. My government has other requests for him, and I wouldn’t want to jeopardize those for a war he doesn’t want anyway.”
“I have it on good authority that Vice President Chandler is strongly in favor of a Russian-American security alliance. You would have his support and ours in other matters if you made this petition with the president.”
“And what is your ‘good authority’?”
“The vice president told me so himself.”
The Saudi nodded. “Clay did seem keen on the idea. But no matter. It’s the president who is reluctant to allow us to purchase and operate our own advanced drone program, not Chandler.”
“Chandler would support such a move.”
“I know. But he isn’t the president.”
“Not yet. If you can be patient . . .”
“Talk to Daesh. Talk to the Iranians. Will they wait patiently for President Chandler to assume office before trying to overthrow us?”
“Of course not. Your country’s strategic situation is quite precarious at the moment, isn’t it?”
“We’re standing on the knife’s edge.” Al-Saud paused. “Your country’s superlative aviation industry is now deploying the next generation of drones.”
“Yes, we are.”
Al-Saud set his coffee down. “Might your government be willing to sell us such systems? We would want complete operational autonomy, of course.”
Tarkovsky nodded noncommittally. “Well, yes, perhaps. Though, like you, we don’t want to alienate the Americans. As you said, Chandler is supportive of drone sales to your country. So is his chief of staff, Vicki Grafton. Have you met her?”
“Only once, briefly, at an embassy function. She was also in the meeting I attended yesterday.” Al-Saud reflected for a moment. Smiled. “A beautiful woman.”
“She’s quite brilliant, actually. And very well connected with senior defense leadership on Capitol Hill. She would also be in favor of selling drones to your country, as would the American corporations that make them. You should try and meet her again.”
“An excellent idea.”
“But even if you got your drones, that won’t be enough to stop ISIS or the Iranians. You still need vast numbers of combat troops to defend your interests. We stand prepared to do so. Our own interests are at stake in the region also, including Iraq. Events could force us to act unilaterally. However, it would be better if we were invited in.”
<
br /> “By us?”
“Of course. But by the Americans, too. The symbolism would be important to the world. And to us.”
Al-Saud leaned forward and poured more coffee for Tarkovsky. “You mean, the sanctions. As in, lifting them.”
“Those as well.”
Al-Saud set the pot back down, thinking. “So where are we, exactly? Where are our mutual interests?”
“I have some influence with Ms. Grafton as well as a few other resources. I will press your case for American drone sales as well as for an American commitment to dismantle and destroy the Daesh Caliphate. If the Americans are unwilling to do so, my government will. And if the Americans refuse to sell you their drone systems, I can safely say that my government stands ready to provide them.”
“All of this is quite generous. What is it that you want from me in return?”
“Perhaps you can use your influence to convince the Americans to lift their sanctions against us and to invite us into the war against ISIS.”
“In effect, you’re asking us to change dance partners in the middle of a dance.”
“Only because the other partner won’t dance to your tune. If the Americans won’t exercise leadership in the region, we will partner with you and the other Sunni governments to protect Sunni interests. But we’re more than willing to partner with the Americans as well. In fact, we prefer it. Shared responsibility is in all of our best interests.”
“Why do you suppose President Lane can’t see that?”
Tarkovsky sighed. “It’s a legacy from his political mentor, Margaret Myers.”
“Is Myers still playing a role in his administration?”
“It’s unclear. However, Troy Pearce is one of Lane’s closest advisors. I suspect he is the biggest problem you need to deal with.”
“Yes, I met him yesterday as well. A quite unpleasant fellow.”
“Former CIA special forces. Very dangerous. And smart. The CEO of his own security company, specializing in drone operations.”
“Any suggestions about how we might deal with him?”
Tarkovsky set his cup down and leaned forward. “Yes, as a matter of fact.”
—