PointOfHonor

by Susan Glinert Stevens

  Zhaoxing focused back on the NSA and said, “Our information indicates the submarine is in the Indian Ocean,” he replied, shading the truth.

  The NSA examined his guest. What little truth existed evaporated like the morning mists. “Maybe we have identified the wrong navy. The United States seeks no fight with your great nation. Maybe your submarine has run afoul of the Indian Navy.”

  NightHawkwas never wrong, and it appeared thatNightHawk was accurate again. Zhaoxing sipped his tea, hiding his conclusions. “The Indian Navy, you say.”

  The NSA nodded. “They do maintain a sizable naval presence. Perhaps they detected yourHan boat there.”

  “I never mentioned the Class of submarine.”

  The NSA paused, perturbed with his own stupidity. “Mister Ambassador, I don’t wish to be argumentative, but I’m sure you told me the submarine class.” He spread his hands palm open and upward.

  Zhaoxing pressed the point home, “I’m certain I never mentioned the submarine class, so where would you get the idea it is aHan boat?”

  “Is it one of yourHan boats?” stressed the NSA.

  Zhaoxing nodded curtly. “Yes.”

  “Maybe I just assumed it was that type of boat. I doubt I even know of another Chinese Class submarine. You know, my kids have a new Tom Clancy game based on yourHan boat and one of ourLos Angeles fast attack boats. I’d guess that’s where I heard of it,” explained the NSA.

  Zhaoxing relented. “And I may have misspoken as well. There is another matter.”

  “Regarding what?” smiled the NSA.

  “You are holding two of my diplomats and I demand their immediate release.”

  The NSA nodded understandingly. “I am aware of the situation. Unfortunately, they have run into some problems with our FBI. This afternoon, US Marshals will escort them back to Hong Kong.”

  “Your federal police force?”

  “Yes. Gunshots were exchanged not far from where we are sitting. The two diplomats, as you put it, were identified as being involved in the shootings. Needless to say, this is unacceptable behavior. Of course, we will observe the international rules regarding Foreign Service diplomats.”

  “You seem much better informed on this matter than the submarine,” observed Zhaoxing.

  The NSA chuckled. “Mister Ambassador, I can assure you this matter got me out of bed this morning. I hope we can move beyond this issue and recognize it for what it is.” He spread his hands. “We each have intelligence services. Sometimes operations get out of hand. It is best to quietly deal with the matter and remove the irritant. I hope we can put this matter behind us.”

  Zhaoxing considered the NSA’s words. “I shall report back to my government, but I must warn you there will be repercussions regarding any US diplomatic status in my own country.”

  “Yes, Mister Ambassador, I understand your warning. Understand, too, that the United States is not in the habit of deporting diplomats without cause. There is cause in this matter, and reciprocating with a round of expulsions from our Embassy in Beijing will not be greeted kindly by the Administration. I would not think this is a matter requiring escalation and retaliation.” The collegial atmosphere between them disintegrated.

  Zhaoxing nodded curtly and set his tea down on the coffee table. Reaching for his cane he said, “I thank you for your time today.” He stood and turned towards the door without further acknowledgement.

  The NSA watched the retreating back of the Chinese Ambassador before flipping the video and audio feeds back on to Arthur’s office.

  “Assessment?”

  “They seem to know a great deal,” observed Arthur.

  “Indeed they do,” muttered the NSA. “Indeed, they do. You’ve taken care of the orders regarding the team going into Iraq?”

  “They were transmitted during your meeting. All military support for the operation has been scrubbed. The orders went out over your signature. I doubt we will be hearing from those people again.”

  The NSA grunted. “We’d better not. Anything else?”

  Arthur looked down at his note pad and crossed off another item. “As a matter of fact, there is.”

  “Okay, what is it now?”

  Arthur clicked his mouse on another screen and checked the deployment status. “I think we’d better find out what’s on theHan boat for sure. After all, if this turns nasty and the Chinese Ambassador suddenly remembers it was the Persian Gulf and not the Indian Ocean where they last heard from their boat, then we might need some justification.”

  “If our analysis is correct, and there are weapons of mass destruction being transported, then we could justify our actions like JFK did during the Cuban Missile Crisis.”

  “You mean a picture show at the UN and a couple of well placed editorials,” he murmured.

  “We did the same thing when the Soviets shot down the Korean 747 over Sakhalin Island. George Schultz played the tapes of the Soviet pilots. We nailed the Russians hard, and we could do the same with the Chinese if they start to get out of line.”

  The NSA nodded. Nailing the Chinese hard could become a major policy issue. “Okay, I’ll bite. What have you come up with?”

  “According to the regional deployment roster, we have the DSRV-1 sitting on stand-by in Diego Garcia,” Arthur explained hurriedly.

  The NSA held up his hands. “You’re spouting jargon again.”

  “Yes, sir. TheMystic is a deep submergence rescue vehicle. We’ve got two of these on active duty. They are there to rescue downed submarines. You know, like the things they used to go and findTitanic. ”

  The NSA nodded. “What has this got to do with anything?”

  “We’ve prepositioned one at Diego Garcia. The Naval Support Facility has one on stand-by alert. This is probably to handle anything that might go wrong in the Gulf.”

  The NSA continued to nod as if he had a clue as to where Diego Garcia was located. “Still not tracking, where is this Diego place?”

  “In the middle of the Indian Ocean. We can scramble theSpringfield to rendezvous with theMystic’s transport and bring her into the site of theHan. The capabilities of the DSRV will let us find out exactly what was on the boat. Plus, we can record the entire session and uplink it directly to the Pentagon.”

  “You mean we’d have photographic evidence of the rescue attempt.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The NSA considered the possibilities. They already knew theHan was dead in the water, and they knew its location. “If the Chinese discover our involvement, we could claim we were using our resources to perform a humanitarian mission.” He paused. “You believe that something might still be on board?”

  “It seems reasonable. We know the transfer did not complete and that the Iraqis started shooting. The acoustic evidence of the sonar tracks indicates there was significant structural damage to the boat. I think they never got the hatch closed they were using to transfer barrels. It stands to reason that they had a significant loss of life and were simply trying to run away.”

  “All right, get those orders going as well.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Washington, D.C.

  Sunday, November 16, 1997

  1:00 P.M. EST

  Larry Wheeler tapped the file folder in his hand with a staccato urgency. He waited for Harvey to get rid of the State Department geek. They had enough problems with this investigation without tipping the State Department and subsequently the White House to their next target. He waited while tapping the folder, knowing it held some answers.

  Harvey looked down the corridor towards his partner. The stress and shock of the past twenty hours was beginning to tell. He had achieved a long-standing goal of getting his man. The victory seemed somewhat hollow, because the real problem was still walking around free and they were no closer to identifyingGoldenrod’s agent today.

  The problem was thatGoldenrod really did not care. He had been compromised. He had been trussed up like a criminal. He was about to be deported in handcuffs and h
e did not care. Harvey was missing something. Thatsomething seemed rather important, but he could not seem to visualize the problem. If the State Department knew aboutGoldenrod , then his target would know, too.

  The damage is already done. There is nothing you can do to prevent the damage. It’s already done.The words were spoken with the confidence of an intelligence officer who has already achieved the end game. Could they have possibly transmitted and acted on the intelligence already? What could possibly be damaged? How couldGoldenrod know? They had to be extremely confident in their source, but over confidence is always a weakness.

  Brook Hamilton, the smaller State Department man, had to hop step to keep pace. He was explaining something about the niceties of diplomatic relations and the importance of China in the world. “After all, Agent Randall, you have to understand the special relationship between the United States and China. China and India together represent over two billion people, and they are the keys to the modern Asian economy.

  “We are a Pacific Rim power. We must maintain a level of influence with all the major players. You can’t simply threaten diplomats and bundle them back to Hong Kong because of certain animosities you may hold personally. These are delicate relations which must be nurtured between countries, and—“

  Harvey paused his stride and turned to the smaller man. “Mister Hamilton.”

  Brook Hamilton stopped.

  “That man in there tried to kill me last night. Forgive me if I don’t quite grasp the subtleties of why he is more important than my own hide. Secondly, let me point out that I have him on film retrieving something from a dead letter drop. We know it was high-grade information, and considering that he dealt with it personally, it indicates he was summoned or sent.

  “In case that was too technical, let me put it bluntly. We’ve got another Chinese agent inside the White House—and I mean inside. Not at the Commerce Department or running little fundraisers with Buddhist Monks in California. No, I mean we have security problem compromising American interests. And you know what happens when something like this is allowed to fester. People get killed. Good people who trusted us to keep their names secret. They get killed.

  “It’s my job to stop those sorts of things. Maybe you don’t like the way I do my job, and maybe I don’t like the way you do your job, but those two are going back to China in chains with Federal Marshals. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some spies to catch.”

  Harvey turned away from an opened-mouthed Brook Hamilton and heard, rather than saw, Louis Edwards award a slowclap—clap—clap. Hamilton quit his incessant hopping up and down as if Harvey were somehow unaware of the State Department man. Larry Wheeler turned towards Edwards recognizing the face, but failing to place a name to the sardonic look. He stood half in shadows in the corridor where the track lighting did not fully illuminate his features.

  Both Harvey and Larry found the disconcerting bodyguards flanking him. Edwards acknowledging their looks and smiled. “Permit me to introduce Mister Smith and Mister Jones.”

  Harvey recognized them for what they were—freelancers. He had little doubt they had all the necessary permits to carry the obvious artillery. “Charmed, I’m sure,” he replied.

  “Agent Randall, I understand you’ve apprehended a Red Chinese agent known asGoldenrod ,” he smiled.

  “I really wish you people would quit using such inflammatory language,” whined Hamilton.

  Harvey focused on Edwards and ignored the State Department man saying, “I may have. But I’m not in the habit of volunteering information to just anyone.”

  Louis glanced disdainfully at Brook Hamilton, then suggested, “Mister Hamilton, could you excuse us? Perhaps we could have a private chat. The three of us.” He nodded to Larry Wheeler.

  Harvey looked back to Brook. “Is there anything else?”

  Brook shrugged. “You must understand the seriousness we take with regard to China’s special relationship.”

  Harvey nodded. “Yeah, yeah. I understand we don’t want to do anything to upset the Chinese. The cost of tennis shoes might go up. And I explained to you, I don’t like people who shoot guns at me.”

  Hamilton gave up and walked away towards the elevators. Edwards waited until the elevator doors slid shut behind Brook Hamilton.

  “You don’t trust the State Department?” queried Larry.

  “Agent Wheeler, do you?”

  Harvey turned from the elevator doors to Louis. “You have some credentials, Mister…”

  “Edwards, Louis Edwards.” He flipped open a small wallet displaying his CIA identification card. “Maybe you remember me from the Henderson case a couple of years ago.”

  Harvey frowned. “Can’t say that I do.” He opened a door into a conference room, and three of them shuffled in leaving Smith and Jones outside.

  “Well then, how about Jim Harper? He was the key to that whole affair.”

  Larry snapped his fingers. “And you’re the guy who showed up and explained it would be best not to arrest Harper.” He turned to Harvey saying, “Remember, Harper was some sort of special combat spook. The kind they keep tucked away for really nasty missions.”

  Harvey nodded. “Yeah, and the Henderson thing was pretty messy. Harper did most of the work for us, but he slipped his leash and made a big mess of Henderson.”

  Larry shrugged. “Henderson was a pretty foul character as I remember. Once we got inside the shack, well, I’ll never forget it.”

  Harvey glanced from Larry back to Edwards. “Your man Harper saved the government a trial. Not that I condone his methods.”

  Edwards smiled briefly. “Jim does have a habit of doing his own thing. It’s kind of his own code of honor, and Henderson broke that code.”

  “You can say that again,” echoed Wheeler.

  “Yeah, that’s real nice. Now what can I do for you, Mister Edwards?” asked Harvey flatly.

  “You did apprehendGoldenrod?”

  Harvey let himself smile. “We got him. We got him good. He’s on tape servicing a dead letter drop himself and firing on Federal agents. Diplomatic immunity—he goes home today.”

  Louis nodded. “Fine, fine. I’m not here to ask for his custody or interrogation. In fact, it would be better if we did not meet. However, a Red Chinese agent poses certain curiosities.”

  “Such as?” asked Larry.

  “Gentlemen, I’m going to tell you something that is highly sensitive and it involves the lives of six men right now. I realize you are cleared for classified information, but—” he sighed, “how can I put this… but I’m afraid there may a mole somewhere inside the intelligence community. I am concerned because I have men in the field prosecuting a hostile action against Iraq and China. I’d prefer you didn’t share this with your superiors.” Louis had considered the coincidence of a China/Iraq transaction, and the fireworks surrounding one of China’s premier spymasters. The correspondence of events bothered him the more he considered the possibilities—none of which were healthy for Harper and his team.

  Harvey stared at Edwards. “What do you know about last night?”

  “Merely that you were fired on, and this morning you took two Chinese nationals into custody.”

  Harvey looked to Larry, who nodded. Harvey nodded back. “Okay, Mister Edwards, same rules with what we tell you.”

  “I’ll go first as a gesture of good will,” continued Edwards. “Jim Harper is one of the men in the field. Considering past dealings, you understand that he is not an asset we activate frivolously.

  “Friday night a U-2 spy plane observed, quite by accident, the transfer of several barrels from the deck of a Chinese nuclear submarine to an Iraqi trawler in the Persian Gulf. We have reason to believe the barrels contain some sort of chemical or biological weapon system. We also think something went very wrong.

  “Last night I sent Jim Harper and a team into Iraq to find out about those barrels and a few other things. Before they left Andrews, Harper told me he thinks there’s a leak somewhere in my
organization. Now, I find it hard to believe the Iraqis have the skill or resources to mount a major and sustained intelligence operation inside the United States, but China is a totally different story.

  “We joked earlier about Harper’s code of honor. I think he might take it very personally if something were to happen this time inside Iraq that smells of a leak from Washington."

  “But you have Smith and Jones out there,” replied Larry cocking a thumb towards the door. He was referring the Louis’s bodyguards hovering in the corridor.

  Edwards permitted himself a slight smile. “Let’s be very clear as to who and what Jim Harper is. He’s a weapon, created by this country, designed to seek and destroy those people and/or assets that pose a national security threat.”

  “You make him sound like a machine,” protested Larry.

  “No, he’s no machine. He’s a man of extraordinary moral character, and, believe me, I do not say those words lightly in the current climate. Make no mistake; if this mission is compromised by something taking place in Washington, Harper told me he would hold me personally responsible.” Edwards nodded to the door. “Mister Smith and Mister Jones would never even know what hit them.

  “Jim Harper is part of an elite corps trained to fight anybody, anywhere, anytime, with anything. We trained fifty teams in the early eighties. We sent them into Cuba, Iran, Iraq, China, Russia, Central America, and several other hellholes you’ve never even heard of. Most of them are dead. Even those who died accomplished their missions.

  “It’s all history now, but the purpose of this elite corps was to nudge the Soviet Union towards collapse. It’ll never get written into the history books. We prosecuted a very real war against the Soviets during the Reagan years. Harper and others like him were key elements in making that war happen.

  “Those who survived their missions are watched. These are men and women who have performed exemplary service to their country. So they’ve been released back into the civilian population where they came from. It’s kind of like releasing wolves back into a sheep herd. One of my jobs is to make sure they stay out of trouble and do not come to the attention of various law enforcement agencies. Of those survivors, Harper ranks close to, or even at the top of, his class.”