Bill and I are about to meet President Blake in the Oval Office. Bill says that the president is worked up about something I told him in a briefing a few days ago.
“Why don’t you review your findings, Buster, so this meeting can have a theme,” President Blake said.
“As I said the other day, sir, Islamic terrorism has taken on a new face, more of a mask than a face. As you know, the CIA keeps a massive database of possible terrorists. Although it drives the ACLU types insane, if we have the slightest hint that a person may have gone radical, he goes into the database. Over the past six months, however, we’ve noticed a problem, a big one. In the most recent 25 terror activities around the world, not one of the suspects was in our database—not one. Dare we call it racial profiling, but we do include in our list of suspicious persons a Middle Eastern appearance. We’re on the watch for people who look Arabic, like me. Both of my parents are from Egypt and that’s why I look like I look Middle Eastern. Of course, we don’t limit ourselves to Arabic-looking people, but it’s one of the traits we watch for. The 25 people involved in the recent actions look like your Midwestern neighbor. I’ll hand you their photos as I tell you their names. James Monahan, Ralph McCraken, Loretta McDonald, Peter Fleming, Rebecca Murphy, and Sean Collington. I could go over each one of them, Mr. President, but you will find that they all bear the same trait—they are all Caucasian and they have typical American or European names. Of the 25, 12 have blond hair, 18 have blue eyes, and not one of them speaks a word of Arabic or any other Middle Eastern language. Every one of them was gainfully employed in typical occupations like insurance, real estate, and other non-eyebrow-raising jobs. Not one of them had a prior incident of terrorist activity. Not one of them attends a mosque, at least not that we know of. Just look at this one, Loretta McDonald. She’s 28 years old, works as a claims adjuster for an insurance company, has two young children, and was seen by neighbors attending church regularly. Not the kind of resume you’d expect for a nice young lady who lobbed a hand grenade into a crowded Starbucks. None of the actions were suicide missions. It seems that their handlers wanted to keep them alive because of their value as operatives. All the incidents involved explosives, like hand grenades or bombs. No knives, no guns, but a ruthless desire to kill and maim. How about this guy, David Walensky, a real estate salesman in a suburban town near Cleveland? He used the most sophisticated device of the group, a powerful bomb with a complicated timing device. His bomb leveled a three-story building on the town’s main street, killing 75 people. Two of the terrorists are particularly disturbing. Navy Petty Officer Robert Jenkins and Navy Lieutenant James Barlow. Those two set off bombs on two Navy ships. Both had been in the Navy for at least five years, and there’s not a hint in their service records that they were anything but dedicated military people.”
“What’s the bottom line to all this, Buster?” Carlini asked.
“The bottom line is that our enemy has drifted into the shadows, into places where we don’t recognize him as the enemy. The two guys in the Navy really worry me. Including the ready reserves, the Navy has about 500,000 people on its payroll. How many of them are like the two bombers I just mentioned?”
“Here’s a blunt question, Buster,” President Blake said. “What can we do about this, especially the radicals lurking in our military?”
“My recommendation, sir, is to embed CIA agents on all our ships and military bases. People trained in gathering intelligence will see and hear things that the average soldier or sailor would miss. It sickens me to say this, because I would hate to see the United States become like North Korea with spies on every street corner, but the danger of terrorism is worse. These scumbags—pardon my language, sir—can use our military weapons against us. The only answer is to gather intelligence and stop an attack before it happens. I don’t see another solution. As far as non-military domestic terrorists, the good news is that law enforcement has gotten a lot more sophisticated since 9/11. The New York City police department, for example, has stopped dozens of terrorists dead in their tracks.”
“Mr. President, sorry to interrupt, sir, but I suggest that you turn on the TV,” Chief of Staff Jake Arnold said as he walked swiftly into the Oval Office.
The president picked up the remote and clicked it.
“Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, Shepard Smith reporting for Fox News. We’ve just received a disturbing report on a possible incident of terror that’s happening right now. No fewer than three large bombs have exploded on the aircraft carrier USS Abraham Lincoln as it sat in port at the huge Navy base in Norfolk, Virginia. One of the bombs exploded in the crew’s mess hall, another one on the flight deck, and the third in the ship’s ammunition magazine, causing a gigantic blast. We don’t have a report on injuries or deaths, but it’s likely to be a large number. According to three witnesses, the words Alahu Akhbar were heard over the ship’s public-address system seconds before the detonations. As you all probably know, those familiar Arabic words mean “God is Great” in English, and they often precede a terrorist incident. We have on the phone Commander Wallace Bream, communications officer of the Lincoln, who is standing next to our reporter on the pier next to the ship. What can you tell us, commander?”
“Shepard, this scene looks like a full-blown battle, as you can see behind me. Yes, I too heard the words Alahu Akhbar just before the explosions. The announcement came from the ship’s radio room. The man who said the words, a sailor under my command in the communications department, was arrested and is in custody.”
“What can you tell us about the man, commander?”
“It’s against Navy policy for me to release the man’s name, but I can tell you that he’s a petty officer first class, a career sailor. He’s worked for me for over a year, and I recently recommended him for promotion to chief petty officer. I’m having a hard time believing that this happened.”
As the commander was summing up his remarks, the camera suddenly picked up a large explosion in the background.
“Commander Bream are you still with us?”
“Oh my God, Shepard, another explosion. From where the smoke’s coming from, I think it was in the ship’s engine room. I’ve got to sign off, Shepard. Please ask your viewers to keep us in their prayers.”
“You heard the commander, ladies and gentlemen, please keep the crew of the USS Abraham Lincoln in your prayers. While you’re at it, please keep our entire country in your prayers. I just got word that President of the United States is about to make a statement.”
The sound and camera crew prepared President Blake for his address. He stayed in the Oval Office, seated behind his desk. Bill Carlini and I stood at the other end of the room.
“My fellow Americans. We’ve just witnessed, and continue to witness, a horrible attack on one of our country’s great warships, the USS Abraham Lincoln, a carrier that was prepared to deploy overseas tomorrow. The White House is receiving reports by the minute, and it looks like there will be an enormous loss of life. One of the bombs was detonated in the crew’s mess hall, guaranteeing that hundreds would be killed at that site alone. Just before the explosions I was sitting here in the Oval Office with two officials from the CIA. In the days, weeks, and months ahead we’ll unleash our intelligence establishment to try to prevent a horror like this from occurring again. This is the worst terrorist attack since 9/11, and it won’t be the last. Our country is at war, not with peace-loving Muslims, but with radical forces of unspeakable violence. It is a war that I intend to win. God bless you, and God bless America.”
***
“Buster,” President Blake said after the technicians removed his microphone, “you were just saying that you feared radical elements embedding themselves into our military. I share your concern about America becoming a nation of spies, but on the other hand we have all taken oaths to defend and protect this great nation. I intend to live up to that oath, and I know you will too. Gentlemen, we’re taking the gloves off.”
Chapter 14
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“Attention all hands, attention all hands. Stand by for Admiral Harry Fenton.”
“My fellow members of Carrier Strike Group 14. You’ve seen the reports on the TV, and I, along with every one of you, pray for the dead and wounded from the attack on the USS Abraham Lincoln. We’re at war, ladies and gentlemen, a war from within the ranks of our military. Like many of you, I have friends on the Lincoln, and I’ve got a hollow feeling in my stomach not knowing what’s happened to them. What we know from the early reports, this attack was an act of terrorism. You heard President Blake say that he was meeting with two executives from the CIA just before his address to the nation. Intelligence, or the lack of intelligence, is what this story is all about. We didn’t see this coming, and the result is horror, pure horror. In the hours immediately after a chaotic event, we tend to get some erroneous information. But one thing has been discovered—this attack was committed by Navy personnel, people who swore an oath to protect our great country. I know that you’ve heard it many times, but I’m going to repeat it. If you see something, say something. If you see an object that has no purpose being where you see it, report it to your superior. Our enemies want nothing more than to kill us. Together, we’re not going to let that happen. That is all. Carry on.”
***
“Meg,” I said, “nobody is better than you at pulling together a lot of strange facts. Give me your thoughts on the Lincoln.”
Meg and I were having coffee in my office. I put out word to my staff that we didn’t want to be disturbed. Some quiet time with Meg is often the best time I spend.
“Honey, I think your address was perfect. What happened to the Lincoln came about because nobody saw it coming. The reason nobody saw it coming is that they just didn’t know it was coming. I’m sure there were people, maybe a lot of people, who saw boxes or satchels or whatever housed the bombs. They saw them and just shrugged, not knowing what to do. You made it very clear about that ‘see something-say something’ phrase. It often takes a gigantic event, something like what just happened to the Lincoln, to snap people to attention. Your address was perfect. May I make a suggestion?”
“Of course, you can make a suggestion. You’re my top advisor. So, what do you suggest?”
“I recommend that at every staff meeting you remind the officers about the ‘see something-say something’ rule. It should become part of how we function. I know you probably hate the idea of people spying on each other, but shit, what happened to the Lincoln could happen to us.”
“You’re right as usual, hon. Hey, have I ever told you how sexy you look in fatigues.”
“Are you flirting with me, admiral?”
“I’m just seeing something and saying something.”
Chapter 15
“Master at Arms Office, Petty Officer Mike Hamlin speaking, may I help you.”
“Mike, this is Lieutenant Fenton, please put me on with Chief Warrant Officer Ciano.”
“Good morning, lieutenant, Dennis Ciano here. I hope you’re not calling me to fix that parking ticket you got on base.”
“Very funny, wise guy. The admiral wants to see you now, if that works for you.”
“Sure thing, Meg, I’ll be right up.”
Chief Warrant Officer Dennis Ciano was the Ford’s Master at Arms, the ship’s chief law enforcement officer, the top cop. He’s known for his intelligence, fairness, and detective abilities. It’s often said, that if you screw something up, throw it overboard, because Ciano will find it.
“Good morning, admiral, good morning, Meg.”
“Dennis” I said, “you’re about to have some big work cut out for you. You’re an excellent detective, and that’s why I called you here. Everything we talk about at this meeting is of the utmost top secrecy. You’re about to meet a new colleague, and that’s where the secrecy comes in. As you know, the government has been freaking out after the bombing of the Abraham Lincoln. The CIA, with the blessings of the White House, will station agents on all ships of the Navy. Because of her size and all the publicity when she was launched, the White House worries about a terror attack on the Ford, and frankly I’m worried about it too. One agent will be stationed on the Ford, and one each on our frigate and two destroyers. To show you how seriously the CIA takes the Ford, you’ll be pleased to know that the agent assigned to this ship is a guy named Gamal Akhbar, also known as Charles Atkins, but everybody calls him Buster. CIA Director Carlini calls Buster a super spook. Meg and I know the guy well, and we agree with Carlini. Buster is a super spook, and he sees things that most people just step over. You’re a hell of a detective yourself, Dennis, and I think you’ll enjoy working with him. You heard President Blake mention it in his address yesterday, that our military appears to be special targets of a new type of terrorist. Buster will fill you in with more details when he gets here. You also heard my talk about vigilance—if you see something, say something. Those are words that we’re going to have to live with, as Lieutenant Meg keeps reminding me. We expect Buster to land with the COD (Carrier On-Board Delivery plane) in a few minutes.
***
“Commander Atkins is here for his meeting, admiral,” my assistant said.
“Pleasure to meet you, Dennis,” Buster said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“The pleasure is mine, Buster,” Ciano said. “I’m kind of surprised to see you in a naval officer’s uniform.”
“All of our agents assigned to ships will be in uniform. Mine is authentic. I really am a naval reserve commander.”
“Just one of the many things we didn’t know about you, Buster,” Meg said.
“That’s because I lurk in the shadows, just like our enemy. Should I outline our plan, admiral?”
“Go ahead, Buster. I’ve told Dennis here about the necessary secrecy,” I said. “You can start by telling us if this operation has a name.”
“Some bright light at the CIA wanted to call it Operation SSSS, standing for ‘See something—Say Something.’ But that’s been changed to Operation Shadow Warrior, or OSW. You’ll see why we named it that shortly.”
“Buster, do I understand that you and Director Carlini were meeting in the Oval Office with President Blake when the news hit about the Abraham Lincoln?” I asked.
“Yes, admiral. Bill Carlini and I were standing on the other side of the Oval Office when the President made his address. It was a hell of a way to interrupt a meeting, but obviously the president had to communicate with the American people immediately. The bombings, deaths, and injuries were bad enough, but the causes of all that mayhem were even more upsetting. We have seen recently what may be called shadow terrorists, typically homegrown young people who got radicalized over the Internet and decided to work out their psychotic fantasies by killing innocent people. But in the past few months we’ve discovered some patterns that have us hitting the panic button. Not only are we seeing homegrown civilian radicals, but homegrown members of the armed forces, sometimes even career types who have served for many years. If you put a jihadi in front of a bomb or rocket he wouldn’t know what to do without special training. But if that jihadi happens to be a soldier or a sailor, well, we’ve all seen the results on the Lincoln. Do you agree, Dennis?”
“My question is this,” Ciano said, “do you want me to assign specific sailors from the Master at Arms Office to do specific things? Like, ‘Hey Smitty, your job is to keep an eye on XYZ sailors’?”
“Good question, Dennis. Only a few people will be active in the operation. On the Ford it will be you and me running the show. By its nature, an operation like this must be clandestine, and that means there can’t be more than a few people involved. Loose lips sink ships and all that. But it will take more than just Dennis and me. I recommend that all department heads on all the ships in this strike group be a part of the mission. If those officers are doing their jobs, they should know all about every sailor in their command. They all must be taught the famous words, which are…?”
“I you see something, say somethi
ng,” everyone in the room said.
“Captain Brinkman will introduce me as a visiting officer from the Office of Naval Intelligence. Please don’t say I’m with the CIA. I’m proud that I am, but it would create too many questions.”
“Buster, this may sound like a naïve question, but could you summarize your mission for us?” Meg said.
“No, Meg, it’s not a naïve question. Sometimes I get so busy talking that I forget to come to the point. So, here’s my mission, our mission—first, to discover a threat and prevent it from happening, and second, to prosecute the living shit out of anyone we suspect of planning terror, pardon my Arabic.”
“Thank you, Buster,” I said. “You haven’t just given us something to think about, but an action plan. I’m sure you’ll get into the specifics when you meet with the department heads. As we discussed, you can meet the department heads on the other ships in the group by secure audio and visual broadcast, so you won’t have to swing from ship to ship on a cable.”
I decided that it was time to wrap up the meeting. Unlike a lot of people, I don’t hate meetings, as long as they have a purpose and get things moving forward. My old friend Buster did just that.
“Okay everybody,” I said. “One thing I want to emphasize is that I’m committed to the idea that the Abraham Lincoln disaster will be the last terrorist attack on an American ship. To the extent that it’s a ship under my command, I intent to follow through on that commitment. Thank you, everyone. That is all. Carry on.”
***
After the meeting, Meg and I took a walk around the ship. From outside appearances we were on an inspection tour. But all we really wanted to do was talk to each other and get some exercise on a beautiful day in the Pacific. Meg always carries a clipboard to make it look like she’s on official business.
The Violent Sea Page 5