by David Bishop
“Like you got something better to do? In Paris you told me you had a lot of this already put together. That makes this boasts-become-reality time. Your free-for-life pass to see the U.S.A. hangs in the balance. List everyplace you know where terrorists are trained, along with information about the roads and paths in the Middle East that are used to move fighters from one country to another.”
“That’s a Herculean task.”
“If you’re looking for sympathy, find it someplace else. You wanted free of the constant risk of these people. You wanted a cost-free divorce from Elouise. You’ve lived high on the hog for decades by helping others deliver suffering and destruction. Now, you want to settle down somewhere in rural America, with millions of our money, marry the local school marm, and go fishing with Barney Fife. You gotta earn it, and right now your bill’s far from paid.”
“Any other instruction oh, mighty one?”
“Yeah. Cut the shit. The people around here are not your underlings at the bank who have to take your smart mouth. Bottom line, you got two choices: our team or no team. Get to work.”
Chapter 33
At eight the next morning, Ryan met with CIA agents Billy Dillinger and Clyde Blackstone at CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia.
Dillinger got right to it. “French media is still reporting Benoit as having been abducted. Shouldn’t we tell French intelligence he came to us for asylum?”
By the time Dillinger stopped talking, Blackstone was nodding in agreement.
Ryan shook his head. “Not yet.”
“Look, Testler, you not formally being CIA, at least not on the books, you may not give a shit, but this agency has to work with the French as well as the intelligence operatives of our other allies. They aren’t going to appreciate us leaving them to burn up assets chasing their tails just because you don’t think it’s time, not yet.”
“Okay, fellas, it’s on the table. I get your point, but the French have leaks in their intelligence.”
“Unfortunately,” Dillinger crossed his arms. “We all do.”
“That’s why we don’t tell the French or the intelligence apparatus of any other country. For that matter, we’re even keeping it close to the vest here with our own people. Our priority must be to stop a terrorist attack in America, not play nice with the kids next door. We’ll do that later. If the terrorists get wind we’ve got Benoit, they’ll change the elements of their mission that Benoit might know. At that point, Benoit becomes no help in stopping the act.”
Blackstone ran the back of his right hand down the whisker stubble on his left cheek. “The terrorists know what everyone knows: Benoit is missing. Isn’t it possible, if not likely, they’ll change some elements of their plan just in case?”
“Definitely. We can’t control that. What we can control is whether or not we alert them to a clear need to make changes.”
Dillinger came back with, “I still don’t like it.”
“It’s not necessary that you like it.”
“Maybe you’d prefer agents on your team who are more agreeable to your views.”
“Nope. You’re the guys I got. I’m satisfied. The issue is whether or not you two are. You have one of the two qualities I most desire on my team. You speak your mind.”
Blackstone paused before looking at Testler. “You said two. Okay, we speak up, but what’s the other one?”
“When you have opposing views and I’ve heard your arguments and made a decision, if you still disagree, can you swallow your opposition and follow orders?”
Dillinger took out a piece of gum, unwrapped it, and put it in his mouth. He offered the pack to Blackstone who shook him off. Testler did the same.
“Look, when this is over I’ll buy the drinks until they’re leaking out around our toes. Until then, you’re free to challenge me and my thinking whenever we’re in session, like now, but never when we’re in motion. At that point, it’s your job to get behind the wheel and push in the direction I’ve chosen. Can you do that?”
Dillinger quickly nodded. Blackstone delayed his response, then joined Dillinger.
Ryan stepped toward each man and gripped his hand. “Anything else?”
The two agents shook their heads.
Dillinger added, “We’re good.”
Blackstone smiled. “Bonding time’s over. Let’s get to work.”
Testler raised his eyebrows. “Either of you having any problems getting the resources you need?”
Blackstone spoke first. “None. The word came down, until further notice, we’re,” he grinned, “stuck with you. That you have essentially a blank check.”
“Good. If that changes I want to know immediately. Now, let’s take a look at what we’ve got so far.”
Dillinger stepped closer. “Clyde’s hawking the ships. I’m working the student angle.” He reached out. “Here’s the data on all the Middle Eastern students at Georgetown during the past five years.”
Blackstone interjected, “The list of ships should be here any minute.”
Ryan took the student list from Dillinger and spent several minutes going over it. Scattered data points were missing on some students when the data wasn’t in the university’s records.
“The missing data points are being scrounged up while we’re talking. The first list is five students born in Egypt or who resided there before coming to Georgetown. The second list includes all students, male and female, from any Middle Eastern country. For some reason they repeated the Egyptian students, as you can see, I’ve crossed them off in the bigger list.
“Of the seventeen on the all-Middle-Eastern list,” Dillinger went on, “I suggest we eliminate the ten with the light pencil line through their names. At least for our initial look see. We can come back to them if necessary. Four of those ten are females, with one of those four being on the Egypt-only list. I’ve attached a legend with our reasoning for thinking each is not the sleeper terrorist. For example, one is the son of a civilian worker at the White House who survived a careful vetting before being hired.”
“Good work in short order,” Ryan held up his copies of the two lists. “What’s being done right now?”
Dillinger put down his coffee cup. “I’ve assigned two desk-jockey analysts and two field agents to dig deeper into the remaining four Egyptian male students. Their focus is the students’ source of funds, the mosques they attend, and a review of their phone records. As soon as we adjourn, I’ll contact the NSA to see if they have any flagged phone or email contacts between any of those four and organizations or individuals in the Middle East. We’ll have those results in two to four hours.”
Ryan crossed his arms and turned to Agent Blackstone.
Blackstone, who moments before stepped out into the hallway, returned with the list of ships. He gave it to Testler, keeping a second copy for himself which he used to summarize the print out. “One hundred and ten ships left Cyprus during the period we stipulated. All destined for a U.S. port. Dozens of those made earlier calls in European ports before heading for some port here. Of that total, ninety-nine were initially eliminated because they would only be putting in at the New York-New Jersey port. Again, on first blush, we assumed they would want the weapon into a port closer to D.C. Of the remaining eleven, three were going through the Panama Canal to stop at Los Angeles or Long Beach California; and one through the canal and on to Seattle, Washington—all on the west coast. Of the remaining seven, three were headed for ports in Florida or continuing down around the Florida Keys and on to Texas. The remaining four ships have already or will tie down at the southeastern U.S. ports of Norfolk, Virginia; Savannah, Georgia; Wilmington, North Carolina; and the port nearest us right here, Baltimore, Maryland.”
Ryan put up his hand. “So, your initial focus is those four ships?”
“Yes. But only,” Blackstone clarified, “after a lot of deductive reasoning. It’s the point where we’re starting, but not necessarily the point where we’ll finish.”
Testler raised his
eyebrows. “Unless we get lucky.”
“We’ll keep our fingers crossed.”
“Your conclusions seem sound. If the attack is to be in D.C., why release the weapon at farther away ports and risk transporting it farther by land after it comes ashore.”
“That was my thinking.” Blackstone nodded his head. “However, that reasoning rests on the very weak assumption that the terrorists could transport their weapon on any ship of their choosing. I doubt that was the case. Sure, they’d rather use a ship docking close to D.C., but the other half of the decision is which ship had an officer they could bribe or otherwise control? That ship could dock in New York, or anywhere else for that matter.”
“Okay. Let’s cut to it. Focus first on the closer ships as you’re recommending. However, be ready to pull back and incorporate all the other ships docking anywhere in the U.S.”
Blackstone pumped a clenched fist. “Agreed. First thrust will be about the officers on each of our first wave of ships. That effort is underway now. Those results could push us away from the initial ships.”
Dillinger pinched his nose and leaned forward. “Have we considered the terrorists mentioned D.C. in front of Benoit simply to create a false trail? Their plan could really involve a ship going to any other U.S. port.”
“Sure, it’s possible.” Testler shrugged. “Hell, on some level, anything’s possible. But I doubt it. If they had reason to suspect Benoit they could have simply not said anything about their plans in front of him. In other words, rather than lay down a false trail, don’t lay one down at all. And, if they knew or highly suspected Benoit was planning to cut and run, they could’ve simply killed him. So, again, we gotta go with stuff from Benoit as if it’s the real deal. Contrary to that, we don’t have a good option.”
Testler pointed at Dillinger who summed up his thinking. “I agree. They trusted Benoit. He’s been moving money for them for decades. Or, they spoke in Arabic and assumed he couldn’t understand them. He told us he played it that way. Benoit’s not stupid. I think he’s been working on his getaway plan for a good long time.”
Testler’s body language showed he accepted Agent Dillinger’s thinking. “And a top executive at a major European bank is nothing to sneeze at. He’s a very valuable cog in the terrorist wheel. … Either of you have anything else to mention on the issue of Benoit’s veracity?”
Each of the agents shook their heads.
“Okay,” Testler said, “let’s get back to those four ships.”
Blackstone nodded and looked down at his notes while Testler continued his instructions.
“For those four ships, contact the shipping companies and request they release what they have on the top officers of each ship. Be sure that includes the officer in charge of receiving and releasing containers on and off each ship. After you have the nationalities and backgrounds on those officers, contact the intelligence agencies of the relevant countries to get whatever they have on them.”
“What about the officers on all those ships going to the New York/New Jersey port? I mean that’s not all that much farther from D.C., or, for that matter those headed for ports in Florida.”
“Let’s first focus on the four heading for the nearest ports. Hell, some of them may have already called on those ports. … No. Wait a minute. Getting data of the officers of all the ships is not a mammoth task. Get some people on doing them all, include the ones going to Texas and the west coast. It’s possible some of the shipping companies may grant us a day pass directly into their computers.”
“Pass on my thanks for the good work our people are doing on this stuff. Then let the analysts and agents know they’ll need to double their efforts. Get them cleared for overtime as needed. We need the analysts to finish those four ships before they leave work today. If I’ve left here, have them bring the results to The Hay-Adams Hotel, to my room and hand it to no one but me.”
Dillinger and Blackstone left the room.
* * *
Testler’s cellphone rang. The ringtone was the one he set for calls from Linda Darby. It wasn’t even seven in the morning where she was. “Good morning. You’re up early.”
“Yeah. Don’t sleep as late when you’re not here. Given the time difference, I got to thinking your day was well on its way. How’s it going?”
“A lot of busy, not much hard. What’s up at your end?”
“I got that call, last night. The one you told me to expect from the First Lady. Wow. She’s really nice. I accepted their invitation to visit with them at Camp David.”
“When?”
“That’s the rub. The date’s uncertain. The First Lady said her husband was thinking around the end of the month, but that some unexpected things have come up. Would that be what you’re working on?”
“Could be. But the president has lots on his plate that I don’t know about. In any event, I understand the Camp David visit is an as-soon-as-we-can kind of thing.”
“She told me her husband has a full security and communications setup at Camp David, but that you can’t get away—not right now. I’m concerned. First, your Middle East trip was tabled, now the Camp David go-to has been delayed. What’s going on?”
“Not yet. Maybe when I see you.”
“Do you want me to come to D.C.?”
“You’ll be happier there on the beach. I’ll be working twenty-four-seven and stealing catnaps for … I don’t know how long.”
Besides, I have no idea what these bastards are up to. Until I do, I’d rather you not be in D.C.
“When whatever you’re doing slows, is that when we’ll go to Camp David?”
“Could be. But phase two, you know about that, is still hanging around to be done ASAP. Everything swings on the president’s schedule.”
“I’ll stay here. Keep me posted. I miss you.”
“Will do. Miss you too.”
Ryan hung up, dumped his cold coffee and poured a fresh cup. After glancing at his watch and seeing it was already ten, he gulped some of the coffee, grimaced at its heat, and left his unfinished cup in the sink.
* * *
Just before noon, Testler met with President Wellington and Donald Templeton, Director of the U.S. Central Intelligence Agency. During that meeting, the president officially put a hold on Testler’s trip to deliver the Wellington Doctrine to the Middle East. The threat on American soil was to remain Testler’s and Templeton’s only priority.
Templeton brought the president and Testler current on Henrietta Sullivan. “It’s all true. She’s a traitor, plain and simple. She’s been selling the details on her meetings and discussions with you. We’ve been following her and Administrator Joseph Khouri, his real first name is Dawoud, from the Arab-American Loyalist Council. Ryan had it figured right. He’s her contact. I’ve put in motion an effort to get someone inside their organization.”
“Khouri, Khouri,” Ryan repeated, looking at the CIA director. “I recognize the name but can’t place him.”
“He makes the political talk shows now and then. A huge man of maybe six feet, and about four hundred pounds.”
Testler nodded his head several times. “What kind of information has Khouri been pushing Sullivan to find out?”
“Status and revisions the president has made or is considering making to his Middle East Doctrine. In addition to that, from what we’ve heard since we put Sully under twenty-four-seven surveillance, he’s always pestering her to learn the latest on the president’s itinerary.”
Testler looked at Templeton. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Templeton pointed at President Wellington.
“It fits.” Testler also looked at President Wellington. “The weapon is here or headed here. We believe the sleeper’s a GU student. Sir … the odds say you may well be the target. The date of the attack is uncertain because of the fluidity of your schedule, thus Sully’s constant questions about your itinerary. They’re trying to determine when and where.”
“Templeton, you need to g
et with the head of my Secret Service team and bring them current on all this.”
After another fifteen minutes of discussing logistics, the president redirected the conversation. “Okay, enough on this. I could be the target. We don’t know and won’t until we learn more. Ryan, fill us in on what’s going on with the ship and the Egyptian students that might include the hands-on terrorist.”
Testler brought them current on Benoit and the two projects headed up by Dillinger and Blackstone.
When they’d heard it all, the president said he would check with the prime minister of Israel to find what, if anything, the Mossad knew about the matter. He asked the CIA director to make quiet contact with an Egyptian general who’d proven his loyalty to America, a graduate of the international cadets program at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point.
There was a six-hour time difference between D.C. and Egypt. Israel was one more hour, seven ahead. It would be early evening in both countries so the director and the president committed to making these calls immediately.
They agreed to be available to Testler whenever he had an update on his investigation. And, he would immediately respond to any contact from them or their offices.
Chapter 34
When Testler got back to mission central, Dillinger was sitting with a cafeteria tray that held a cup of soup and a half of sandwich. Ryan walked over to him. “How’s the soup?”
“Mmm mmm good.”
“Maybe I’ll get some. Been here long?”
“Nah. About thirty minutes. Stopped to pick up the latest refinement of the student list. Give it a look over while I finish my soup.”
Testler leaned down to Dillinger and scooped up the two-page report on the four male Egyptian students at Georgetown. He looked over page one, turned to page two, and glanced down at Dillinger. “Looks like you favor the first and third names as the more likely?”
Dillinger took a drink of his soda. “To quote you, ‘yep’.”
“Why not students two and four?”