Dead Water

by Russ Snyder

  He took his binoculars and switched off the night-vision option. He glassed the house carefully. He caught sight of two more guards on platforms on the roof. He carefully flanked the two guards' positions, which brought him behind the one guard who could potentially see him. The second roof guard was now out of his line of sight. He wanted to get close to the house but didn't want to be discovered. That was imperative. He used his binoculars to carefully search for motion detectors and found four under the eaves. He easily spotted the searchlights that the detectors would trigger. He studied the exact positioning of the motion detectors.

  Fuck. No matter how he approached, there was no area that wasn't overlapped. He knew that Ali would have the best, and he figured they would probably sense out at least seventy-five if not one hundred. They were only about fifty feet apart. No way to approach without setting them off. Keeping one eye on his compass, he circled the entire house, taking almost two hours to do so. Every fifty feet was a motion detector. He counted six satellite dishes installed on the roof. He also noticed two more guard platforms on the roof at the rear of the house that were currently unmanned. Frustrated, he decided to head back. He wanted to try to plant some listening devices on the windows but knew the odds of him being seen were too great to make the attempt. He had wanted to place video cameras, but to place them in a good spot, he faced the same problem. Grudgingly, he began his retreat. He made it back to the cabins without incident, carefully retracing his steps.

  As an afterthought, he decided to bug the cabin he'd seen the girl in since she was still out. The window, as in the cabin next door, was open. Slipping inside, he placed a transmitter in the same locations as in Ellhad's cabin. Then it was out the window, replacing it as he'd found it, and back into the woods. Traveling at an angle, he made it back near the first pressure detector when he froze and strained to listen. He was picking up on an extremely faint noise in the distance. Had there been much wind, he'd never have heard it. Two seconds later, he knew exactly what it was, and it could potentially prove to be a bigger threat than the guards. He had to find a place to hide, and quick. Not an easy task at night in the woods. He had an idea. He took two hasty strides over to a large tree and scrambled up. Ten feet up was a large branch, easily twelve inches in diameter. He clasped his hands and arms and hung under it, keeping as much of the branch as possible between himself and the sky. The noise increased. To someone unfamiliar, it would be unlikely it would have been heard. Even if it was, no notice would be paid to it. To Styles, it was a serious threat. Baby drone. And he knew it would be shooting film, both night vision and infrared. It was his heat signature he did not want it to pick up. If it only detected his hands and wrists, it was likely they would be read as an animal in a tree. The baby drone made three passes around the property and then left the area. Styles climbed back down out of the tree and made his way back to his Jeep he'd left almost seven hours earlier.

  Climbing back in, he got Starr on his cell phone. It was just past three o'clock, Sunday morning.

  "Yeah," a sleepy voice answered.

  "Wake up Phillips. Tell her the CIA is in the area."

  "What?" Starr blurted out.

  "A baby drone just made a couple of passes over Ali's house."

  "How do you know it's the CIA?"

  "Too quick to be anybody else. I wonder if the FAA is having a shit fit. There's something in the air, and they have no clue what it is, because you know the CIA sure as hell isn't letting anyone in on what they are doing. From what I know, there is still a big stink going on over regulation of drones. See if Phillips can find out how much they know and what they're up to. If they're in the same game, we need to know, and I'm guessing they're damned close."

  "On it." After disconnecting from Styles and before he could punch in Phillips's number, Starr's own phone rang. Through the speaker, he heard Phillips's voice.

  "We've got a problem."

  22

  President Lamar was back in the Oval Office with his chief of staff. They had just come from a three-and-a-half-hour meeting in the briefing room. They were now read in on everything known about the assassination of President Robert Williams and the threat of the new synthetic toxin. The president was exhausted. He looked around and saw everything the way the former president had left it.

  "Irving, I believe you'll find some scotch in that lower cabinet over there. Pour us a couple." Vickers hesitated. "Irving, I don't think he would have minded."

  Irving came back with the drinks and handed one to his boss. He sat down in a chair opposite the desk. "I have to tell you, sir, I'm a bit uncomfortable in here at the moment."

  "You'll get used to it. It's been the day from hell---worse if I could think what that might be."

  "Yes, sir."

  "So what is your take on everything?"

  "Well, sir, I'd say the immediate problem is this biological problem. I certainly don't mean to be disrespectful, but what's done is done. We have to prioritize."

  "I agree, Irving. I don't know about you, but I'm famished." The president got his personal secretary on the phone and instructed her to order a meal for them both and have it delivered to the Oval Office.

  "If you don't mind, sir, I'm going to go grab a quick shower and a change of clothes back in my office."

  "Go ahead; I've got some calls to make." Once again, he got his secretary on the line. "A. J., get Elliott Ragar on the line for me, please." Exactly two minutes later, his phone rang.

  "Director Ragar is on the line, sir."

  "Thanks, A. J." He punched a button and said, "Elliott, I want you to keep me apprised the moment anything turns up. No matter what the time. You will be my unofficial lead on this toxic agent issue. Sanderson will lead on the other."

  "Yes, sir. I won't hang up my phone before calling you."

  "Very good." After placing the phone back in the cradle, he turned and stared out the window at the Rose Garden, lit up beautifully. This is not starting out fun ...

  Myra Banks was walking down the hall to Bernard Backersley's office. Her high heels were clicking loudly on the highly polished maple hardwood floor. Bernie, I wish to hell I could get through to you about investigating the DPO. This is not going to end well. I can feel it. She actually shuddered a bit from the slight chill going down her spine.

  She walked past his secretary, nodding, knocked on his door, and then entered. He was talking on the phone; he pointed at one of the leather chairs in front of his desk, so she sat. She put the red folder in her lap. He ended his phone conversation and turned toward her.

  "Bernie, I've got some more info on Darlene Phillips." She paused.

  "And?"

  "Phillips appears to do the majority of her work at home. Curious, though, it appears she spends quite a bit of time away."

  "Where?"

  "I don't know. There's no record of her using the airports---or trains, for that matter. She certainly would not use a bus. Her vehicle is extremely low mileage, so she doesn't drive, and I can't find any information as far as rental vehicles go."

  "Well, if she isn't home, and if she isn't traveling, does she have a boyfriend or someone she stays with?"

  "I thought of that. There is no indication she has a boyfriend, or any friends at all, for that matter. I can't find any record of her being with anyone at any time or anywhere. She just comes and goes; I don't know how, where, or with whom."

  "Myra, how can that be?"

  "You still don't recognize this woman's abilities. I have no doubt this woman could travel to the moon and leave no trace. For the last time, you need to comprehend that this one woman can do more with a computer than my entire staff."

  Backersley was quiet for a moment. "Do you think she knows what the CIA knows?"

  "I think Darlene Phillips knows just about anything she wants to know. Against my better judgment, I have her apartment staked out. The next tim
e she shows up, I'll have a tail on her 24-7. I've tried to ping her cell phone, but that was a dead end. It's always turned off. At least the number we have on record. I'm sure she has burn phones. At one point, she was issued a satellite phone, but the records show it was turned back in over a year ago. Whether she did or not, who the hell knows."

  "You and your team did an incredible job in tracking down this Ryyaki Ali. I have three teams in place and have a drone flying reconnaissance over the estate you found. Within the hour, we should have an idea of how many guards are on that property."

  "Shouldn't you be turning this intel over to the FBI or Homeland or even the NSA? What about President Lamar?"

  "What about him? He thinks I'm out of the country. He called two meetings, and I skipped them both. I've got bigger problems to worry about than holding his hand. When we're done, we'll concentrate on the Williams event."

  "Event? Bernie, the president was killed."

  "Yes, and it's unfortunate. However, everything that happens is an event to me. That's how I have to look at it. That's how I attack and solve problems, by looking at them as such and not letting them get personal. I couldn't do my job otherwise. Myra, I'm not trying to be cold or insensitive here; it's just how I work. It's how my brain works."

  "That's hard to understand at times."

  "I know."

  "One other thing about Darlene Phillips. She was caught by facial recognition out in Oregon, before we even knew anything about Oregon."

  "What the hell was she doing there?"

  "My guess is running down the same leads we're chasing, only she is out in front of us."

  "How in the hell could she have known that?"

  "You tell me, Bernie. However, that also gives credence to my thought that there is more to the DPO than what is said."

  Backersley was quiet. After a few seconds, he looked Myra Banks square in her eyes and stated emphatically, "You find out just what is up with her and this damned DPO."

  Ryyaki Ali was internally gloating. He had accomplished what no other jihadist had ever attempted. He had assassinated the president of the United States. While the other men in his company were jubilant, he maintained the strictest of composure. No one in his immediate company had any suspicions that he was responsible. These individuals were participating in phase two of Ali's attack on America: the releasing of his newly acquired biological warfare agent. He held up his hand in a signal for quiet.

  "Let us praise Allah for this unseen intervention on our behalf. Give thanks, but prepare yourselves, for we are about to begin."

  T-Minus 28 Hours

  At six thirty in the morning, Phillips addressed the team. "We've got a situation. The CIA is here. Styles called it last night with the drone, and he was right. They have three separate teams here. Two of them are sequestered one floor down at the opposite end of you two," she said firmly, referencing Styles and Starr.

  That brought a look of both surprise and concern from Starr; Styles showed no emotion.

  One team of three is the intel group. They are over at a Quality Suites; it's six miles from here. The teams over at the Comfort Inn are the shooters. My guess is they are planning an assault on the compound. The exact time hasn't been determined yet, but they are on standby. The problem for both of us is we don't know where the hell that toxin is."

  "Yes, we do," Styles interjected. "Ellhad is the bastard that's going to deliver it. I'm sure of that. I'm also sure that it will be done Labor Day. They want to make a statement, and that would be the best way. Just like Indianapolis."

  "How?" asked Phillips.

  "He's ex--Republican Guard. I doubt there's anyone harder or sicker or especially more arrogant in that group than he is, so he'll be the one. He will leave within the next eighteen to twenty-eight hours, depending on his destination. I want to take him out away from the compound."

  "Why not try to take the compound?" Christman asked.

  Starr answered, "We don't know where the agent is. There could be contingency plans in place for such an attack. Too many variables we can't control."

  "Exactly," confirmed Styles.

  "Okay, that makes sense," agreed Christman. "But how do we stop the CIA?"

  "We can't. We just have to stay sharp," affirmed Phillips.

  Christman persisted, "How the hell can the CIA even be involved in this? I can see if it was the FBI, but the CIA?"

  Phillips answered, "The CIA will go in strictly black ops. When it's over, Lamar's administration will credit the FBI, which will piss off the CIA, but there isn't anything Backersley will be able to do about that. Those two don't play well. The FBI probably isn't too far behind, but they have to jump through more hoops, which will cause delay. The CIA doesn't bother with hoops; it gives them an edge in response time. Merritt should have the info, but knowing Backersley, he's not coming clean. He doesn't give a shit about public opinion, but he wants the new boss to know he's top dog. The infighting between agencies is intense."

  She continued, "It looks like there are five shooters. I hacked the motel's video and was able to see them check in. Or make that I actually saw three. The other three stayed around the vehicles. I did get a glimpse of all of them in the parking area. Ten seconds later, the video went down. It's in the motel's system. I'm betting our friends had something to do with that."

  "You think they've got any idea we're here?" Starr asked Phillips.

  "They don't know who we are. I'm sure they've got the registration list at the motels, but our covers will hold. From here out, I think we'd better stay apart. You can bet your ass everybody will be watched."

  "So Ellhad didn't show last night," Styles said.

  "No," Starr answered. "Phillips checked the camera feeds, but facial recognition proved negative."

  "I've got a search on for any credit card he might have used before, but none has shown up," Phillips added.

  Styles looked at J. C. "Get us a chopper that we can have on standby. I've got video on the main house. You and I are going to take a drive. Take your ride and meet me at that McDonald's about two miles back. We'll meet there, and then I'm going to show you where I think you'll be picking me up in that copter, and then we'll go pick up my 'baby,' just in case, and a couple of other things I might need."

  Phillips spoke up. "There's one more thing. I got a call from a neighbor; some guy was asking about me, said he had a package I had to sign for. Asked her when would be the best time to catch me home. She just said she had no idea."

  "Let me guess," Starr said. "You haven't ordered anything."

  "Correct. According to Merritt, for the moment, DPO stays intact, but there's no way to tell what the new guy is going to do." She was still having a hard time calling the new president by name. "I'm still going back and forth on whether to stay or not, if DPO stays."

  "Why don't we let that be a group decision when the time comes? That okay by you, Phillips?" Starr asked.

  "Yes. Actually, I was going to ask that. We are a group now, a team. I think that all decisions that affect the group should be made by the group. Everybody okay with that?"

  Everyone nodded.

  "All right. I'm going to get back on my computers; I've got a lot to do."

  "J. C., meet me at that McD's in half an hour. Okay, let's hit it," Styles directed.

  The first place Styles drove by was the Quality Suites, and he immediately spotted two vehicles that screamed agency: two black Chevrolet Suburbans. How the fuck you supposed to be undercover driving those? Might as well be driving a damned billboard. Then he made a pass on the opposite side of the road that ran in front of the Comfort Inn where he and Starr were staying. Two more suspicious vehicles, but these were those new Dodge high-top vans. He wanted to get a look inside them, but he would have to wait until dark. Plus he knew they'd be watched.

  23

  Bernard Backersley tried h
ard not to glare at President Lamar, but he just couldn't help himself. He was fully aware that his boss could see the contempt on his face, and he didn't care as he sat across from him in the Oval Office. He acted like he'd already served a full term, while in reality, he didn't even have his own coffee cup on the desk.

  Backersley was getting his ass chewed out and did not like it.

  "Backersley, I don't know or care about whatever relationship you may have enjoyed with President Williams, but with me, when I call a meeting of all my directors, I expect you to be there, and should you find that inconvenient, feel free to submit your resignation."

  "Sir, my apologies; however, I was in the middle of assigning teams to observe and intercept people we strongly feel may be directly involved with this new toxin. Coverley Merritt has been read in on what we are doing."

  "Backersley, let me see if I understand this. You have decided to take action inside our borders where you know it is expressly illegal for you to do so. Why have you not brought in Matt Sanderson and Elliott Ragar and turned your intel over to them?"

  "Sir, I felt time was of the essence. I assumed Merritt would bring Matt and Elliott up to speed. I was waiting on contact from them and prepared to turn the entire operation over," Backersley lied.

  "The fact that you moved teams into place within our borders is illegal. This is the crap that starts Senate investigations, and none of us need that right now. I want you to personally meet with Sanderson and Ragar immediately. I have already had my secretary contact them. You are not to leave the building until after they have been fully briefed. If you have material that you need that might be back at Langley, I suggest you figure out how to get it here. Got it?"

  "Not necessary, sir. I have everything up here," he said, pointing to his head.

  "I hope so." The president paused and then said, "You are to toe the line. I would rather not have to make changes in the middle of all this, but if I can't count on you to do your job in the manner in which you are prescribed by law, I will replace you immediately. Do you have any questions?"