Heart Strike

by David Bishop

  After several references to what Vie characterized as France’s situation, Testler gently placed another tape in the center of the table. This one concerned a member of the French government Testler hadn’t recognized. That morning, at the CIA center in the embassy, he had identified the traitor and copied what was relevant.

  Director Vie looked up. “More on Mademoiselle Lefebvre?”

  “No, sir. This tape is equally as damning on a highly placed functionary in the outer office of your president in the Élysee Palace.

  Chapter 18

  Faraj walked toward his one-bedroom rental, the second house in a complex of courtyard units not far from Georgetown University. At the corner just east and north of his street, he saw a picture of a lost Chihuahua stapled to the telephone pole. A reward of seventy-six dollars was offered for the return of Scruffy-2.

  The signal he had feared.

  After walking the remaining block and a half, he was confronted by the second half of his fear.

  Beside his door stood a three-day-old edition of The Express, a secondary publication put out by The Washington Post. The smaller paper leaned against the door with the masthead of the paper toward the ground. The significance of its position confirmed what the picture of Scruffy-2 already told him. Faraj was being called to the front lines of the holy war against America. The paper being three days old meant his instructions would be at the third dead drop on the list of five his trainers required he memorize before he left Egypt. It told him his instructions would be at that drop at three o’clock on the third day following the date on which the paper appeared on Faraj’s doorstep.

  Chapter 19

  The man answered his phone. He didn’t recognize the voice, but this particular cellphone was restricted to one purpose. Before answering, he looked around to confirm he was alone. “Your report?”

  “The package has been offloaded. It is located as you stipulated. You can have it picked up at your earliest convenience. I would not recommend too long a delay. In the alternative, for a fee, we can deliver. I’m guessing your plan is to keep this compartmentalized with no functioning segment knowing the specifics of the action taken by the prior or following segments. If you elect for delivery, you will have to provide confirmation as well as the details on when and where. You know our delivery fee.”

  “No delivery will be needed. I shall take control from where you stated it was left. Your work is completed. You shall never speak of this again. You know the penalty if this requirement is not obeyed.”

  “Understood. Ta-ta.”

  The line went dead.

  He knew that English voice, but not the name of its owner. It mattered little. The English all sounded the same with their bugger bullshit and ta-ta silliness. They could make mayhem come across as cheery.

  Chapter 20

  A cab dropped Ryan Testler and Linda Darby at The Hay-Adams hotel on Sixteenth Street NW, approximately a quarter mile from the White House. With what Ryan revealed to Linda in Paris after the increased risk associated with the mission, she now knew the reason for his assignment, and that his meeting in the morning would be with U. S. President Robert Wellington.

  Linda understood she couldn’t attend the meeting. She knew Ryan’s assignment included a second phase. Upon first hearing this, Linda considered continuing west, home, but decided to stay with him in D.C. Ryan told her the president would likely take a few days to consider any amendments to his doctrine based on Ryan’s report on his phase one meetings with the various European heads of state. He’d anticipated the president would want to discuss his doctrine, revised or not, with members of the U.S. intelligence community and a select group of Congressional leaders. After that, he might reach out to a few of the European leaders to review any revisions or assure them the doctrine remained as it was when Ryan delivered it.

  Should it go down that way, Ryan and Linda would fly to her beach house in Sea Crest, Oregon, for those few days. If not, Ryan would immediately proceed as the president instructed, and Linda would return to her daughter, Stephanie, at their home in Caruthers, Kansas.

  Chapter 21

  The next morning at eight, Ryan Testler walked out the front door of The Hay-Adams Hotel. He spotted a waiting black limousine with blackened windows parked off to the side. The hotel’s valet ignored the limo, apparently recognizing it as White House issue.

  Ryan waved the chauffeur back inside, and got into the backseat. The car drove away from the hotel portico and turned onto 15th street NW.

  Eleven minutes later, Ryan walked into the Oval Office. President Wellington looked up from behind the Resolute desk, stood, and met Ryan as he approached. The president’s steward poured coffee for them, placed it on the table centered between the facing couches, turned and left the room.

  “Give me an overview, then leave it to me to ask questions.”

  “Yes, sir. Germany, the Netherlands, and England each had some kind of reservation regarding plank seven, but otherwise supported it without reservation, in its present wording. France was a bit more resistant. I met with Director Vie who carried your words to his president. His deputy, Mautaint, called me last night. The French president tendered his support, however, if there is a revision, France will require another round of look-see. With the fat trimmed off, that was generally the position of all the countries. They said it a little differently—as is okay, but they won’t publicly endorse a work in progress. I tried to draw Director Vie into the specificity of his concerns. He parried each of my thrusts and, not wanting to become an irritant, I let it be. His general comment, synthesized, was the world might change in some meaningful way, or that complications might arise within France. He wouldn’t bite on any what-if scenarios I put forth.”

  “But, like the others, his reservations dealt with plank seven, right?”

  “Yes, Mr. President. Several of our allies sell older versions of their planes, ships, etc. to other countries, just as we’ve done ourselves for decades. Plank seven of your doctrine states we’ll look more closely at future prospective sales. The implication being that, in some instances, we may not sell older weapons systems, and, conversely, that possibly in the past we did some sales without sufficient due diligence. That in the alternative, moving forward, we may opt to destroy the unsold weaponry.”

  “I figured number seven might raise the neck hairs on some of my European contemporaries. The doctrine only refers to what America will do, and does not commit us to routinely deny such sales. The countries you visited would be free to follow their own lead without violating the doctrine even after they endorse it. And, hell, the bottom line is Russia and others will sell to whomever and get quid pro quo in return, if we don’t.”

  “That’s the guts of the challenges to the wisdom of including plank seven. In large part, it states what we already do, and, in return, gains us nothing.”

  The president bobbed his head. “Admittedly, as you said, it merely states what we already do, but it implies a harder look or a higher threshold in the future than what we’ve applied in the past. Conversely, if it’s only to apply to us, we’re free to do that without it being in the doctrine. Truth is most countries, preferring to buy American weaponry, come to us wanting to acquire the previous versions we’ve updated. Maybe we’ll get better quid pro quo with it being in the doctrine.”

  “May I play devil’s advocate, sir?” The president nodded before Ryan continued. “We know countries with fat purses are going to get their new weaponry somewhere. That’s a given. Aren’t we better off if we make those sales? That way we’ll know what they bought and have a full understanding of the limitations of what will become their systems.”

  The president moved his lower jaw back and forth. “One thing is clear. We won’t find the final answer right now. I understand your reservations and share them. Let’s leave plank seven where it is until I hear what our agencies have to say about it. Okay. Back to where we were. I admit France’s situation is a bit tougher. The population of France
is about eight percent Muslim. That’s nearly eight million of its citizens.”

  “I think that’s about right, yes, sir.”

  “What you’ve brought back is in line with what I anticipated. On what I’m guessing may be a related subject, the French president called to say you shook things up in Paris. You uncovered a high-ranking official collaborating with ISIS. Because of your disclosures to his Action Division, they’ve put a second person, an important functionary in the president’s own command center, under investigation. What the hell was that about?”

  Ryan told the president about Henry Benoit, Claude Robin, and Mademoiselle Lefebvre.

  “She was the one who resigned, the collaborator, right?”

  Ryan nodded.

  “And Claude Robin was the one found shot in his bed?”

  Ryan nodded again.

  “Our CIA had suspicions about Robin, but never nailed anything to him.”

  “That’s where Henry Benoit comes in. He’s a bigtime guy in European banking and, in the past, a major money-mover for ISIS and others. He has personal knowledge of which of our banks help terrorists move money, as well as banks in Europe and the Middle East. The hawala network over here and over there move cash around the world without compliance with any existing banking protocols.”

  “So, Benoit was the mover for ISIS. What about his replacement? Who will the terrorists go to now? What about the money from the traffickers in drugs and human slavery?”

  “I expect Benoit’ll be a big help in that as well. He’s offered to give us the names of other bankers who play ball with these curs.”

  President Wellington jotted the French banker’s name on a scratch pad. He held it up toward Ryan who nodded, confirming the president correctly spelled Benoit. The president dropped the scratch pad on his desk blotter and Ryan continued.

  “Some time ago, I had a run-in with Benoit on another matter. While I was in Paris this time, he contacted me and wanted asylum. We met, and when I was satisfied he had sufficient information of value, I coordinated his defection through our CIA Station Chief in Paris. I can now report that Benoit has officially defected. He’s currently somewhere in a circuitous route that will bring him to the U.S. My guess is he’ll be a valuable intelligence asset. I suggest you encourage the CIA and the U.S. Marshal’s Office that runs the WITSEC program to have me participate. I have a certain rapport, shall I say, with Benoit. He trusts me and he’s afraid of me. An odd combination, but one that’s effective with him.”

  “When will he get here?”

  “I called the CIA this morning. Benoit is scheduled to get here in something like twenty-four to thirty-six hours, debriefing should follow soon. The Marshal’s office can simultaneously be establishing his new identity and location. It’s part of the deal that he gets to approve all that. I can pass those details to the appropriate agencies. My immediate involvement will be affected by the timing of your phase two.”

  Wellington tapped his daily briefing. “Today’s daily gave me brief reports on these matters. I’ll put in the word for you to be involved and have full access, but Benoit won’t take priority over my doctrine. I appreciate your taking the time to glue together these seemingly disconnected events.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The president looked over to be sure the interior door was closed. “You realize you went over there simply to deliver my doctrine, not to cause resignations in the French government, to somehow be aware of the death of one of its citizens, and to bring about the defection of an ISIS banker.”

  “Shit happens, Bobby.”

  The president laughed. “Yeah, it surely does. And it seems you often end up stirring that pot. Okay, phase two. You ready?”

  “Yes, sir. When do I leave?”

  “I need a couple days to talk with our intelligence people. After that, I’ll need to run it by the congressional leadership. That’s mostly about smoothing tail feathers so I get support rather than resistance when it’s time for enabling legislation. If left as only my doctrine, it could be shit-canned once I leave office. In the end, with or without revisions, the doctrine will be stronger with the support of the CIA, DIA, a few other agencies, and congressional leadership.”

  “I’ll be ready when you pull the trigger on phase two.”

  The president leaned back and crossed his legs. “I’m guessing that’ll take the better part of a week.”

  “Thank you, sir. In that case, I believe a short pleasure trip is in order.”

  “I take that to mean you and Ms. Darby’ll be visiting her beach house in Sea Crest, Oregon.”

  Ryan looked at President Wellington with a surprised expression.

  “I like to know where my major pieces are at all times. I’ve had a complete workup done on Ms. Darby. From what I learned that was classified and unclassified, she seems to be quite extraordinary.”

  “That she is, sir.”

  “She would have to be, to become so important to you. I’m happy for you.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be available on your order.”

  Back in his room at The Hay-Adams, Ryan flipped on the news in time to hear a report from the CNN International Edition:

  The French Sûreté has released a preliminary statement, short on details. Yesterday, a top official in one of France’s leading financial firms, was abducted off a Paris street. The apparent kidnapping occurred sometime mid-to-late-morning. No other details were provided other than he did not appear to be harmed by his abductors. No demands have been received. Details as they develop.

  Chapter 22

  A little past noon, two men came from opposite directions. A fat man walking from the parking area off West Basin Drive wore denim pants and a plaid shirt. A tall man coming up the walkway from the direction of the Japanese Pagoda wore slacks and a sport coat over a white shirt with no tie. Both were headed toward the Franklin Delano Roosevelt Monument along the coast of the Tidal Basin to the Potomac River.

  The fat man took a seat on an open-air bench beside the monument. His low forehead and narrow eyes looked much like a rat staring out from a storm drain. The tall man arrived a minute later and took a seat on the same bench. They nodded perfunctorily, as might strangers sharing the shade of the nearby dogwood trees. Over the next minute or so, they each opened a brown bag lunch, took out sandwiches, and began to eat around their chatting.

  The fat man smoothed his brown bag flat on his lap, his face down, his voice little more than a murmur. “Give me your report.”

  The taller gentleman put the remaining portion of the first half of his cut sandwich into his mouth. While chewing, he removed an apple from his bag. “I received a call that the package has been offloaded. It was put overboard in a wooden crate with floatation gear. It emitted a homing signal. My team picked it up. We have it ready to be delivered to the point of use when the time is near. The sleeper has received an initial contact telling him to pick up his preliminary instructions in …” he looked at his watch, “roughly two days.”

  “Good. Good. What’s the status on Ryan Testler?”

  “He met with the president and left Washington. This means Testler has made his report on his meetings in Europe. The president will probably take a few days to talk with intelligence and congressional leaders. The unconfirmed scuttlebutt being once the doctrine is final, Testler will be off again. Once in its final form, the president’s doctrine will need to be distributed to various Middle Eastern governments.”

  “Where is Testler now?”

  Two bites into the second half of his sandwich, the man providing the answers ignored the nearby trash can, rolled up his empty paper lunch bag, and stuffed it into his jacket pocket. “He’s in Sea Crest, Oregon, at the home of his traveling companion, Linda Darby.”

  “We could eliminate them both while they’re in Oregon.”

  “No!” The fat man’s holler caused a rolling move across his upper body. “Take no action. Certainly nothing that stupid. We’ve learned that President Wellington
will use Testler again. If he’s eliminated, we may not learn the identity of his replacement. Do nothing. We can’t stop the doctrine, we can only monitor it. Doing that is made easier by knowing who will be transporting it. Our clients’ planned strike will speak for them.”

  “How long will Testler be in Oregon?”

  “Our guess is until President Wellington calls him back to Washington.”

  “When is that expected?”

  “Unknown. As I said, the whole thing is with the president. Best guess, in a few days, more like a week. At this moment, I doubt when Testler will return is known by anyone. For the time being our informants and contacts are focused on the frequency and pace of President Wellington’s contacts with the American intelligence agencies and the leaders of both parties and what kind of feedback they’re giving him.”

  The fat one stood, walked toward the restrooms and beyond them to the parking area along West Basin Drive. Five minutes later, the tall man rolled up his lunch bag, clenched it in his hand, and left in the direction he had come, toward the Japanese Pagoda.

  Chapter 23

  Faraj walked into a small tavern three blocks from his home. The quiet bar with lowered lights boasted big screen televisions scattered across the walls. One played the financial news, another the broader news, with the remaining dozen or so playing some sports event. The sound was off on all the channels, but crawl tapes ran across the bottoms of the screens.

  One of the decadent women that seemed to be everywhere in America came toward his table. Faraj, had frequented this tavern several times without previously being seated in her section. She came to a stop, smiled, and leaned forward exposing far more of her breasts than she would dare show publicly in his part of the world. This barmaid was shameless and her boss exploitive. He wanted to attract and keep customers, and she wanted bigger tips.