*
“Anybody have any idea how the entire government could miss the simultaneous terrorist attacks on the Seattle and Minneapolis malls yesterday?” Linda asked the Rogues Task Force.
“That’s destructive, Linda,” Nancy said. “The same way we’ve missed the previous hundred. No actionable Intel.”
Linda glared at her.
“What do we know, Moose?” Tom asked.
“Your briefing notes are in front of you. Let’s focus on working the problem, not the finger pointing. Thirty-eight dead, scores wounded. All seven terrorists killed. It was two ISIS cells that we all had completely missed. Not inherently different from any of our other failures.”
“Except they were simultaneous,” Nancy said. “And they were completely missed by the Paladins as well, apparently.”
“According to NSA we may be wrong about that,” Moose said. “Somebody iced two ISIS members yesterday morning in an Omaha suburb. And it wasn’t any of us.”
“No signature Samms card?” Linda asked.
“Maybe she’s finally run out of cards,” Tom said. “Or forgot this time.”
“If it’s the Paladins,” Nancy said, “there may be a clue as to who they are from why they learned about Omaha but not the other two. In the past, when they have insufficient resources, they’ve turned it over to one of the Agencies or the President. This feels like they didn’t know about Seattle and Minneapolis.”
“As commendable as their vigilante actions may be,” Tom said, “they’re only stopping fifty to sixty percent of the terrorist attacks that our intelligence is missing.”
“Do you have any idea how horrible that sounds, Colonel?” Linda said. “How bad that makes all of us look?
“Twenty-four seven,” Nancy replied. “I live with it constantly.”
“As do we all,” Tom said. “Sorry.”
Even May missed those two. Even we, apparently, are going to need more resources.
“Let’s move on to agenda item number two, can we?” Moose said.
“Oh, one more thing, first,” Nancy said. “The Director asked me to toss out the similarity between the name Simmons and the head Paladins’ title of Samms.”
Everybody looked at Linda.
“You caught me. Credit a job well done to your Director. My compliments, Nancy. I put together a traitorous group of murderous vigilantes, and decided to leave an obvious clue as to my identity. I had considered Simms first, but thought it would only take the FBI a year to figure it out. It would hardly have been a challenge.”
Nancy’s phone beeped. She looked down, read a text, then looked over at Linda.
“It seems one of our Omaha agents just found a Samms calling card under his windshield. Samms on the front and PJ on the back. That answers the question. The Omaha murders were the Paladins, but they missed Minneapolis and Seattle. No doubt about it. No V in this clue, though.”
“Make sure your Director runs a handwriting analysis on it to make sure that it’s mine,” Linda said. She turned to Moose, “You can then have me arrested and we can all go home.”
Chapter 17
“You remember that assignment you gave me to turn the false Intel back on to them?” May asked Samms.
“Yes.”
“I found a way.”
“Good girl. Tell me.”
“One of two ways. I found a way to encrypt the message you got and send it to one of the other Task Force members as though it came directly to them from the FBI. There’d be no link back to either you or the WTF. With some work, it can be rewritten to lead them to an FBI civilian site looking for hackers without revealing their identity. They would look like cyber-hackers to them. We can make it look like something is imminent and hope they move in for an arrest.”
“They’d still be able to tell the content was based on my set up.”
“Possibly, but there’s a second way.”
“Shoot, May.”
“Simply ignore the Intel they gave you, or, better yet, report that you’ve intercepted bogus Intel. You can embarrass anyone you want. Or not. Then we send a more complex version, from whoever you want to whoever you want that is tracking a group of hackers that bear no relation to your bogus Intel that leads one Agency to jump a group working for another Agency, thinking they are cyber-hackers planning an imminent attack. If you want to spice it up you can make it possible to trace the original Intel back to the WTF.”
“But not to me.”
“Right. Not to us.”
Chapter 18
One week later, the combined FBI and JSOC SWAT unit team, crept up to the house. When they had covered all three doors, they kicked in the front door and entered.
Rifles pointed, shouting variously, “Police.” “FBI. “Hands up.”
Three young men, sitting at their computers raised their hands.
One said over the shouting, “You’re making a mistake. We’re FBI.” Shaking hands straight up in the air.
He was dismissed by the team leader. “Anybody else here?”
“Yes. Two other agents upstairs. On their computers.”
Several voices shouting now, “Come down. Hands out in front.”
Some scurrying sounds came from above them, but no hands or bodies.
“Come out now. Hands first or we’ll shoot.”
“No,” said the kid at the computer, trying to stand. “Don’t shoot. They’re FBI agents too.”
He was knocked flat.
“Now or we shoot.”
Followed by two explosions of tear gas grenades fired up the stairs.
Followed by three members of the FBI team, gas masks on, rifles pointed ahead and up the stairway.
Two more young men came to the top of the stairs, heads shrouded in towels, arms up and out in front, clutching ID’s.
“Get them downstairs with the others,” said the team leader.
“What are they holding in their right hands?” Right hands now held up, showing badges. One of them was holding his right arm up with his left. Blood was flowing down his right elbow and onto the ground.
Once the kids were on the ground level, a policeman grabbed the badges. Examined them. Handed them over to the lead FBI agent.
“If these are legit, we just busted a covert FBI unit.”
“Are you five all that’s here?” the team leader asked.
The five men nodded yes.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?” Lowering his rifle.
“You want answers, sir, call that number on the back of my badge. You can ask our boss anything you want.”
“Do you need medical attention?”
“Yes, sir. Your fucking grenade tore off part of my shoulder.”
“Somebody get an EMT unit in here,” looking out the front door.
“Jesus, where did all the TV trucks come from? How did the press find about this before we were even in the house?”
“Lieutenant, get those people off this porch, off this property and out to the street. No cameras.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Jim did you get anyone in D.C. on the line?”
“Yes, sir. These five are FBI, sir. This mission is fucked.”
*
“We have a serious problem, Mr. President.”
“Yes, Moose.”
“We tried to trip up the traitor in the Rogues Task Force.”
“We agreed not to do that. That was supposed to be only as a last resort.”
“Unfortunately, that’s behind us now, sir. Someone might have used excessive zeal, but we did it and it has backfired.”
“Backfired? How? How badly?”
“Badly I’m afraid.”
He handed the President a report. Waited for him to finish reading it.
“Why haven’t I been briefed on this before now, Moose?”
“It was a secret op. It happened forty-five minutes ago, sir.”
“It doesn’t seem so bad on the face of it.”
“That’s because that
report only tells you that police forces busted a terrorist ring in Arlington this morning. The actual details are still playing out. A combined FBI and JSOC SWAT team broke into a house that was reported to be housing terrorists. Terrorists with an immediate, impending, actionable plot to attack the Capitol this afternoon. When they got in they met no resistance from the people on the first floor. People who turned out to be a team of FBI counter-hackers. Somebody leaked this to the press as it was happening. The SWAT team hadn’t even discovered their mistake before the news vans got there.”
“Is this report accurate that you handed me?”
“No, sir. The complete, full version is worse, and the press has that complete version.”
“Go ahead, then. Tell me.”
Chapter 19
”We’re being followed again,” George Simmons said.
“Who?” Linda asked.
They were sitting down at a table on the sidewalk outside a Georgetown restaurant.
Looking at menus while waiting for their Pinot Noir.
“Don’t look up, but see the girl who is just now entering the restaurant?”
“Yes?”
“And the guy in the T-shirt and jeans crossing the street away from us over there?”
“Yes.”
“They have both been alternately following and leading us for an hour.”
“You sure?”
“A hundred percent sure.”
“Damn,” she said. “It’s FBI. I wonder if they’re also following the others. They’re clueless. They’re following me, probably trying to figure out who you are and what we’re up to.”
“Who do they think I am you suppose?”
“They’ve probably ID’d you as retired Marine General Simmons. If they haven’t followed up on the last name coincidence and are no doubt thinking I’m Samms and I’m trying to recruit you as a vigilante.”
“You’re kidding?”
“Of course I am. If they’re following one of us, they would know we’re married.”
“Should we be disappointed then that they aren’t thinking it’s a clandestine affair for you?”
“You and the FBI are each entitled to your fantasies, General.”
“Should we just let them have their fun and get chewed out when they report us?”
“Sure. But let’s go to a gun shop instead of to the movie. Maybe then to a shooting range. May as well make them spend time on a full report so they can feel fulfilled.”
Chapter 20
“I think these meetings are a total waste of time for each of us, Moose,” Tom said.
“I totally agree,” Nancy said.
“Does anybody really think we’re going to come to one of these meetings and one of us is going to break down, start crying and say, ‘I’m guilty. I admit it. I did it. I’m so sorry?’”
Nobody laughed.
“I’m now being followed, even when George and I are out together,” Linda said.
“Us too,” Tom said, looking at Nancy for affirmation.
“Yeah, we were out with our spouses at dinner, this time in Georgetown, and we were followed all night. Two creepy agents actually sat at the bar all night pretending to not be eyeballing us.”
Everybody laughed at that.
“I should remind you that those are creepy FBI agents, Nancy,” Moose said.
“The Director denies it.”
That brought everybody up short.
“The Director said you’re not being followed by FBI?” Moose asked.
“Right. And this would be the first time I ever caught him even being close to lying to me.”
“So,” Tom said, “either the Director’s lying to his counter-terrorism division head or somebody else is following us. Who?”
“Just to complete the picture, I’ve been being followed also,” Moose said.
“If both Nancy and Moose are being followed, and the Director wouldn’t lie to Nancy, then it’s not FBI,” Tom said.
“At least not Nancy,” Linda said. “He didn’t deny agents were following the three of us.”
“Nancy and I would know,” Moose said.
“Really?” Linda said. “You guys are that naïve? Nancy, you think your Director would admit he was having you followed by your own agents? And Moose, you really think the President is telling you everything?”
“While they keep us under surveillance without telling you?” Tom said before Moose could answer.
They grew quiet.
“I agree, we’re wasting our time here,” Linda said.
“And each of us, and all our people, are wasting valuable resources focusing on us instead of terrorists,” Tom said. “Whoever they are, they aren’t competent enough to follow us without our knowledge.”
“And planting false leads blew up in their faces,” Nancy said.
“What do you mean by false leads?” Tom asked.
Everybody looked at Nancy, then at Moose, who was red in the face.
“Nancy, can I please have a private moment with you?” Moose said.
Linda looked at Tom. “I have no idea what she’s talking about either,” she said.
Ten minutes later the two walked back into the room, clearly angry.
“Your show, Nancy,” Moose said.
“I thought this was general knowledge. I know the President and your bosses know.”
She then related the combined FBI, JSOC attack on the covert FBI computer unit. Circling back to the bogus Intel that they had each been fed, none of which had been used or acted upon, but a common thread had been pulled and used to set up the botched raid on themselves.
When she finished, it was clear nobody knew what to say.
Tom finally broke the silence. “You knew that JSOC had participated in an action that attacked an FBI unit and you never mentioned it to me?” He was staring straight at Nancy as he finished. Then turned toward Moose.
“I wasn’t at liberty to discuss it,” Moose said.
“I thought you knew, Tom,” Nancy said. “I was waiting for you to bring it up to me.”
“While you both sat there, each sure that your best friend was the traitor,” Linda said. “Well, isn’t this nice.”
Maybe not such a waste of time after all.
Chapter 21
“What a mess, Moose,” the President said. “What have we learned from this cross up?”
“We’ve learned not to try to set up Samms. Clearly the Rogues’ Intel is better than the sum of ours.”
“Plus, we had agreed not to do that.”
“True, sir. It was a mistake. I take full responsibility for it, sir.” Changing the subject quickly, Moose went on, “We’ve also learned that the JSOC Commander no longer tells everything to the head of his own U.S. anti-terrorism division.”
“As, unfortunately, has Colonel Edwards.”
“Correct. And I think we’ve learned that if there are two traitors, it’s not both Nancy and Tom.”
“Which is useful how?”
“It isn’t. It just dramatically reduces the probability that we’re dealing with two traitors.”
“Except for one big mistake,” the President said.
“What’s that?”
“Colonel Edwards is now vulnerable to being recruited by the Paladins. Very vulnerable.”
“We never considered that putting these three together would actually increase our risk.”
“No we didn’t.”
Chapter 22
The man they only knew as Dark walked into the video room.
“I want to see everything you have on video from that Quonset hut.”
“Including the shooting?”
“There was no electricity and the shooters were wearing masks and goggles, right?”
“Right.”
“No point, then. I want to see everything going backwards from the moment it went dark in the hut.”
“Yes, sir.”
”You’re now familiar with and able to identify the thirty-one members
of the militia on sight, right?”
“Yes, sir. We have their pictures on the wall over there. Numbered from one to thirty-one. One through twenty-two are the ones killed that day.”
“And you’ve interrogated twenty-three through thirty-one?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Any suspected yet of being involved?”
“Involved in what, sir?”
Dark just stared at him.
“None are suspected of being involved in the assassinations, sir, if that’s what you mean. They’ve all been charged as accomplices in the attempted grid shutdowns, sir.”
“Any of them remember any strangers enter the hut in the days before the assassinations?”
“Nothing but routine maintenance and supplies?”
“Seriously? They actually let non-members come in for tasks they could have completed themselves?”
“Not often, sir. But, apparently, yes.”
“Let’s focus on finding the non-members for now, then, okay?”
“Yes, sir.”
*
Dark looked at the stills of the six non-members who had been in the hut in the weeks preceding the murders.
“What do we know about these guys?”
“These four are legitimate food suppliers. The FBI has nailed them to a wall and cleared them.”
“And these two?”
“That one there came once, claiming to be a computer technician. They didn’t get a company name. The FBI is checking the area.”
“And this one?” He looked carefully at a picture of a man in a baseball cap with a full red beard, but long, black hair on his head. Black hair visible on his arms. Dark sunglasses.
“No idea, sir. None of the surviving members remember him or know who he is.”
“They have a guest sign in log or anything?”
“They did, but it’s disappeared.”
“Have you shown this guy’s picture to the FBI and local police?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And?” Dark looked up at the kid, annoyed.
“They both came up empty. They both think the red beard and long black hair are wigs. They think he was in disguise.”
The Point Of A Gun: Thriller Page 11