*
“So, Licht.” Nancy said, “In this round, I’m the guilty one asking my innocent best friend and a former CIA operative who I know to be innocent a question to try to trick them into keeping me in the clear?”
Licht looked thoughtful. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. Let me think.”
He looked up at the ceiling. “Well, for starters, we all know that if you’re guilty, Tom isn’t. But we also know that Linda could either be your partner or she could be innocent.”
“Right, I forgot that part. That actually makes it immensely more ridiculous. I’m now guilty, asking a former CIA operative to reveal her innocence or guilt in front of my best friend who we all already know to be innocent?”
“Licht?” Linda asked.
“Yes.”
“Can we dispense with this cutesy former CIA operative shit? I’m no longer a CIA operative. I’m a CIA executive. And it’s probably worth noting, at least for the record, that I’m not even allowed to be working on this purely domestic bullshit security issue.”
“Noted,” Licht said. “We all know your full bio and your military experience. Your question, Nancy.”
She sighed. “This is ridiculous.” She turned to face Linda. “Okay then. Linda? We at the FBI know the CIA knows the identity of the Paladins. Why have you failed to turn their identities over to us?”
Linda shook her head, held her hands out, palms up. “Ridiculous. Licht, let’s dispense with the second half of the game.”
“Humor me. Answer her.”
She turned back to Nancy. “We’re not allowed to have that information. Turning it over puts suspicion on all our ops. We don’t spy domestically.”
“Nancy,” Licht said. “You owe Tom a question.”
“Under the rules, if I’m the guilty party, we’ve learned long ago that Tom must be innocent. There’s no point.”
“Maybe we were misinformed long ago. Maybe the Colonel lied to us way back then.”
Good point, Licht. Samms found it hard to keep from laughing. Pointed two index fingers at Licht instead.
Nancy slumped back in her chair. “Okay, then. Tom? How is it that the Paladins have taken out so many terrorists that were already known to NSA and JSOC?”
“That’s easy. The same way they’ve taken out so many already known to the FBI. A former NSA contractor turned rogue. I haven’t covered up evidence on the Paladins because I’m one of them, if that’s what you’re suggesting. Any more than you have at the FBI. Or have you? Or has Linda?”
“Either of you want to answer that?” Licht asked.
“I’m a no on that one,” Linda said, reaching for Nancy’s bag of candy.
“Me too,” Nancy said, appearing annoyed at Linda’s rudeness.
“My turn to be the guilty inquisitor,” Linda said. “How many of you are there? How are you organized?”
Tom cocked his head. “Interesting question. There are four of us. There’s Samms, of course. Then Cheese and the Asian woman.”
“And you?”
“I’m the fourth,” Tom said. “Samms runs the operation. The rest of us are just good soldiers.”
“Same answer for me,” Nancy said.
“Who’s the fourth?”
Nancy looked startled. “Oh. I see what you mean.” She looked over at Tom. Turned to Licht. “It’s Tom. He’s the fourth. I’m Samms. Tom lied. He actually runs the operation. Cheese and the girl and I just take orders from the Colonel here.”
Licht smiled. “Now we’re getting somewhere. You get the last question, Colonel. Go for it.”
Tom hadn’t taken his eyes off Nancy since her last accusation. “Nice segue, Nan. I can now just continue in my role as the guilty one. The murdering vigilante from JSOC.”
Nancy shrugged.
Tom turned toward Linda and asked, “Is your husband involved?”
Linda bristled. “That’s out of line, Tom.”
He held his hands out, palms down. “Not a rule that I know of.”
Linda looked at Licht. Got no response.
“George is not involved at all. First of all, I’m not one of the Paladins. And if I were, I’m not dumb enough to run around playing Bonnie and Clyde with a public figure like George. And risking getting my husband jailed for life or killed.”
“Nancy?” Tom asked.
“I have no idea whether Linda’s husband is involved.”
They all laughed.
“Oh, she said. “You mean my husband. To my knowledge he’s never held a gun, let alone shot one.”
The three turned as one and looked at Licht.
“Thank you,” he said. “This has been most helpful. I’ll let you know if we need to meet again.”
*
Licht walked into the Oval Office.
“Have a seat,” the President said.
“Did the two of you watch it live?”
“Yes,” Moose said. “We watched it. Replayed parts while waiting for you to get over here.”
“What do you think?”
“I think you were dead right,” Moose said. “The more we get them interacting, the more likely we are to figure out which one it is.”
“So you don’t have a guess from what you just watched?”
“No. But I think we are getting closer to getting them to agree to work together and come to us with a solution.”
“Mr. President?”
“I’m in a different place. I think I know who it is.”
“Who?”
“I think it’s Colonel Edwards.”
“Reason?”
“Partly his body language, but mostly watching Nancy feeling more and more like she’s been betrayed.”
“What do you think, Licht?” Moose asked.
“I want to watch it many, many more times, and I want to get some of my experts to watch it. But I think I know which one it is.”
“Experts?” the President asked.
“Experts on tells. There are people who are very, very good at telling from body language and voice changes when people are lying.”
“Even professional liars?” the President said.
They all laughed.
“We’ll see,” Licht said.
“You going to use poker professionals or government investigators?” the President asked.
“Ah, my sources are secret.”
“Who do you think it is, Licht?” the President asked.
“Linda Simmons. I think she’s Samm’s. She was prepared for this meeting. She knew precisely what we were going to be doing in there this afternoon. It’s against every regulation and every principle for the Agency, but she’s clearly had us bugged.”
Chapter 45
“We have a serious problem,” May said.
The other three remained silent, having grown accustomed to her drama, and her need for time to gather her thoughts.
Bob Dylan’s “Not Dark Yet” blaring from Samms’ speakers.
“Samms, I know this is old ground, but does the music really need to be this loud to prevent bugging?”
“You were about to tell us about a problem, May.”
May frowned but said, “Our Philly train station guy is just the tip of an imminent iceberg. Cheese and I have been following up on the cell in Baltimore. The three the FBI has been monitoring.”
Samms cocked her head and leaned in toward her.
“You remember the two jihadists that NSA has been concerned about in McLean? The two the Judge in upstate New York released on a technicality?” May said.
“Yes?” Tom said.
“NSA is right, they’re back in the states. And one of those two is one of the three in Baltimore. The same guy.”
Silence.
“And the other one is the same as one of the four in Philadelphia the FBI has on a watch list.”
“In other words,” Samms said, “they’re all part of one operation?”
“Right.”
“Good work, May. But what’s the serious p
roblem?”
“There are two more connected jihadist cells, one in Richmond and one in Wilmington. Three guys each. One in each place, again, is the same guy in one of the other cells. Eleven guys in total. Cheese and I now have positive ID’s on all eleven and their known locations in each city. Even for the four with dual associations.”
“So far, so good,” Tom said. “And the problem?”
“There are two problems,” May replied. “No, three. We know for a fact that there are two more guys involved who we can’t find or identify. One of them is the presumptive leader. And they are planning an imminent set of terror acts on the train system between Philly and Richmond. The Philly suicide bomber was a feint in case they were being hacked.”
“D.C.?” Samms asked.
"Bulls eye,” May replied. “Union Station. No doubt about it.”
“But the interesting part is that we’re now sure the two mystery guys are outside the U.S.,” Cheese said.
“Is there time to access CIA data?” Tom asked.
“A second Bulls eye,” May said. “I’m working on hacking it. We need CIA data on the two out of the country. Now.”
“By the way,” Cheese said, “the eleven are all in what we thought were three separate jihadist groups.”
“Do you know where the center is for these guys?” Tom asked. “Who’s taking orders from the foreign guy running the show?”
May looked at Cheese.
“We’re pretty sure Philly,” he said.
“It’s the only cell that is hooked in to each of the others,” May said.
“And, to Tom’s point, who’s the leader?” Samms asked.
“Until I get, or until somebody brings us, ID’s from the CIA it’s hard for us to say,” Cheese replied.
“One of them talks to both Baltimore and Philly,” May said. “My money’s on him.”
“How much time do we have?” Samms asked.
“They pushed it off. They’re now planning for Tuesday. Four days.”
“Hitting just Union Station?”
“No. That’s a diversion. Three of them will blow three separate trains in the morning commute. In the ensuing chaos, the other ten will attack the Capitol Building with grenade launchers and machine guns.”
“That’s thirteen, not eleven,” Tom said.
“That’s why we need an immediate ID on the other two. They’re coming home.”
“They have this set up as a suicide attack?”
“No. That’s the third problem. They’re setting this up so they can get out from Reagan.”
“Is it feasible?”
“It would have been. It’s very ingenious. But now they won’t get that far if somebody can get us those two ID’s.”
Everybody stood to go.
“Cheese and I have a plan.”
*
Colonel Tom Edward’s private line rang in his JSOC office. Nancy’s number showed up on caller ID.
“Hey Nan, what’s up?”
“I’ve got those positive identifications from the partial print off the Asian woman in the Dallas airport.”
“How many possibilities popped up?”
“Three. One current, and two former.”
“What are their names?”
She read them to him.
“I recognize one of the former ones.”
“And the current?”
“I know her, too. But there’s no way she could be a killer with the Paladins.”
“Why not?”
“Confined to a wheelchair. I’ve been in meetings with her. Even if the wheelchair is a fake, the Director told me she never travels.”
“You want me to have the Bureau follow up, or do you want to take it from here?”
“Please shoot me that file. I’ll take this. They’re mine.”
“Will do.”
And they clicked off.
“So,” Tom said to himself, walking over to his window and looking down onto the lawn, “it was that easy? We certainly trained you better than that. One careless print and you’re traceable back to Yadi? Yadanar to your family. Yadi, the NSA programmer? How hard would it now be to track you from there? Or worse, trace your legend backwards to the Marine Corp?”
Chapter 46
Two days later, Moose walked into the Oval Office.
The President looked up, “Yes?”
“Samms is on the phone for us.”
“Samms?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What does she want? Are we tracing the call?”
“No idea, and of course. But it’s a secure line from somewhere in Asia. She asked me not to try to trace it. Usual procedure, she’s going to hang up every three minutes and call back from another line until we’re done.”
“Is she on the line now?”
“No. She said she’d call back on your private line. Her voice, as usual, is clearly masked through some sort of voice changer technology. Yet again, we’ll be unlikely to successfully use voice recognition to identify her.”
The President’s private line rang, and both men looked at the phone like it could solve a mystery for them.
The President answered on speaker phone. “Yes?”
“Mr. President?”
“Yes?”
“This is Samms. Are we alone?”
“No. Moose is here, and all my calls are taped.”
“We need to talk.”
“We’re talking.”
“Muslim jihadists are planning an attack tomorrow during morning rush hour on Washington. Blowing up three trains under or approaching Union Station, and then attacking the Capitol Building with grenades and eight machine gunners.”
“Why don’t you guys just take them out? As usual?”
“My people want to do that, but I don’t think we have the manpower to assure success. They’re furious that I’m turning this over to you.”
“Samms, this is Moose.”
“No need for introductions, Moose. I know your voice.”
“Okay, how do you want to proceed? The President is not usually involved in planning counter-terrorism strikes.”
“Nor are you.”
“Good point. Are you willing to work with FBI and Metropolitan Police team leaders?”
“No. We are not willing to compromise our mission or our identities to help you get this done.”
“Then I repeat Moose’s question, Samms,” the President said. “How do you want to proceed on this call?”
“How long will it take you to bring in some tactical people into your office?”
“I have no idea, Samms,” Moose said. “Where can we reach you?”
“I’d laugh, Moose, but the Bureau’s voice recognition devices might be able to read my laugh despite the voice changer. Too risky.”
Moose looked at his watch. “A half hour? Can you call my office?”
“No I want this in the Oval Office. I want the President as my witness if your antiterrorist people fuck this up. As my people tell me they are going to.”
She hung up.
*
The phone rang exactly thirty minutes later.
Moose answered.
“Samms?”
“Who else is in the room, Moose? No names, just their agencies.”
“The President, two antiterrorist agents each from the JTTF and JSOC, and three from the Metropolitan Police Department.”
“Mr. President, please confirm the details.”
“Moose has told you the truth. Those are the only people in the room. But, remember the call is taped.”
“No doubt. I have my Paladins’ SWAT team here with me. There will be pauses before I answer your questions. I’ll be doing all the talking at my end.”
“Got it,” the President said.
“Mr. President?”
“Yes, Samms.”
“Thank you for letting us do this our way.”
“No problem, Samms. You left me little choice.”
“These seven have been
briefed, Samms,” Moose said. “They’ve heard the recording of your first call to the President.”
“Great. Here’s what else we know. There are eleven jihadists from cells in Philadelphia, Baltimore, Wilmington, Mclean, and Richmond who have converged on Washington over the past three days. Some are ISIS and some are Al Qaeda. Unusual I know, but there it is. They are scattered over four motels in the Virginia and Maryland suburbs.”
“Do you have the motels and the room numbers?”
“Not precisely. And we’re not willing to give what we have to you. Given the armaments involved, we fear that taking out only some of these guys will lead to unpredictable behavior by the survivors. We think it would be a mistake to try to intercept the eleven where they are staying.”
“With all due respect, ma’am,” one of the Washington police said. “If we’re going to have to deal with these terrorists, we’ll need to be making those decisions on the ground.”
“Mr. President?”
“Yes, Samms?”
“Who do these seven agents think I am? We are?”
“We’ve told them that you’re a U.S. intelligence community friend. That your code name is Samms.”
“Would you please tell them that I am in charge of this operation? They’ll be responsible for the details, but we will lay out what’s happening. I agree with whoever spoke that once all hell breaks loose, they will need to take over on the ground. But I’m in charge at this particular moment in time. At least until we give them everything we know. My team is still unconvinced that those of you on the ground can successfully carry out a counter-terrorist mission like this. If we don’t have agreement on this, we can just proceed on our own. My team on this end is pretty hot against me on this right now, anyway. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” the President said.
The line disconnected.
*
Five minutes later, the phone rang.
“Hello,” Moose said.
“We good?” Samms asked.
“Yes, we’re good. All here understand how we’re proceeding.”
“Excellent.”
“Samms?” the JTTF SAC said.
“Yes?”
“Were these eleven jihadists under surveillance by our agencies?”
“Not the Metropolitan Police. But, yes, NSA, DHS, and the FBI had all of these guys under watch.”
“And how is it they’ve made it this far, with only you putting it together?”
The Point Of A Gun: Thriller Page 24