He waited while the deputy made a note on his iPad.
“I want an ironclad guarantee of our safety forever. I want it all in writing signed by the president.”
“I don’t know if we can do that.”
“There’s one more condition.”
“Another?”
“One more.”
“What is it?”
“I’ll tell this one only to the president. So, you see, he does need to speak with me.”
The deputy looked at Trace, started to say something, but stopped himself. He briefly looked off in space, then refocused and looked back at Trace. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I can, Mr. Austin,” he said. “Sit tight.”
CHAPTER 121
Quarantine
Day 36
Viktor sat at his kitchen table staring at the black market bottle of vodka he’d just emptied. He was feeling unusually content.
He opened his notebook and added two strokes to its left hand column, making the total for that column — the number of policemen or soldiers he’d killed after curfew — six in all.
Not bad, but just the beginning.
He looked at the right hand column — the number of civilians killed during the day — and thought, nine is good in such a short time. It will strike terror in the heart of this gulag.
Viktor stood up, went to the cabinet over the sink, and pulled down a fresh bottle of vodka.
As he poured it into a tumbler, he thought, Not as interesting or challenging as Chechnya or Afghanistan, but better than nothing.
He had already resolved that he would keep hunting targets — civilian and the fascist police and soldiers — until he was caught or until martial law ended. He didn’t care which. He was having too much fun to stop now, and the hunt relieved his boredom.
CHAPTER 122
Quarantine
Day 37
The day after Trace met with the deputy secretary of defense, he was taken to an empty office at ODMC’s Headquarters where he waited for the deputy to return to meet with him.
This time he wasn’t handcuffed or wearing leg chains, and he no longer was guarded. That meant, he figured, that for now they were accepting his demands and statements at face value.
Trace looked up when the door opened.
The deputy walked in followed by General Vista. There were no guards this time.
Trace resisted the urge to stand as they approached.
“Good morning, Mr. Austin,” the deputy said. “I hope you had a restful night.”
Trace nodded. “All things considered, Sir.”
“I have some news. The secretary of defense has agreed to meet briefly with you and listen to your story. Not that he believes your innuendo. He’s curious, however, and feels he owes it to the president and to the country to hear you out.”
“We’ll fly you to the Pentagon in about one hour, so get yourself ready. You’re not to tell your wife or anyone else where you’re going or, on your return, where you’ve been. Understood?”
“Understood,” Trace said. “But first you need to do something for me.”
“What’s that?”
“I want my wife flown immediately to the Mayo Clinic for a complete physical, treatment for her hives, and treatment for anything else she needs, without limitation. All on the government’s nickel. First class all the way.”
“No problem.”
The deputy turned to Vista. “Make it happen, General.”
“I’ll talk to my wife,” Trace said. “Pick me up when we’re ready to leave. I’ll see that she’s ready for her trip. I’ll be ready for mine.”
The Blackhawk landed at a heliport located between the Pentagon and the parking lot designated as the North Parking Area. As a security precaution, the Pentagon Forces had declared the North Parking Area off-limits to all vehicles and pedestrians for the day.
A black Ford Expedition with heavily tinted windows waited for Trace and the deputy at the heliport. As soon as they were hustled aboard, it drove them into a secure tunnel leading to a staging area deep below the Pentagon.
The first thing that occurred was that Trace’s blood was drawn to determine if he had developed any Melioidosis antibodies since his last test. His results were back in forty minutes. He tested negative. The meeting would go forward.
Trace and the secretary of defense did not meet in the secretary’s office. Instead, Trace was led to a room that lacked the trappings of power Trace expected to find in a cabinet-level secretary’s office. The room had no trophy wall of photographs and certificates; no large American flag; and no executive desk, among other missing power indicia. But when the office door opened and the secretary of defense strode in, Trace had no doubt he was in the presence of understated, but genuine power.
The secretary seemed to Trace just as he appeared on TV, but thinner and taller. His actual presence intimidated Trace who, as a former SEAL, still had great respect for federal authority and the chain of command.
The man’s swagger as he entered the office and stepped across the room was theatrical. But his cold, unblinking stare as he approached Trace, and his impeccable grooming, all demanded attention and commanded deference.
“Hello, Mr. Austin,” he said, as he approached Trace. He smiled with what to Trace seemed to be a well-practiced smile, and extended his hand to shake.
Trace hesitated, originally intending to salute the secretary, but then shook hands instead.
“Why don’t we sit,” the secretary said, sweeping his arm toward a sofa and two cushioned chairs surrounding a low coffee table. “I appreciate you taking your time to come to see me.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
They settled in, Trace low on the sofa and the secretary slightly higher on an elevated chair.
“It seems we have an important matter to deal with, Mr. Austin. I’m sure we can work this out. After all, we’re both reasonable men and patriots.”
“Yes, Mr. Secretary, I’d like to think we are.” Trace waited, but did not smile back. He would not speak first, not bid against himself in this game of high-stakes bridge they were playing.
When Trace did not pick up the cue, the secretary nodded at Trace, silently commanding him, Trace realized, to speak first. He yielded to his trained respect for the higher authority.
“Mr. Secretary, I have some conditions to be met. They’re very important to me. I don’t think you should have any problem with them.” He took a slow, deep breath and continued.
“But I’ll need absolute assurances my conditions will be fulfilled, with appropriate safeguards to protect me and my wife. If the president can accommodate us on those matters, Sir, we’ll all do just fine.”
The secretary looked hard at Trace, then said, “What is it you think you’ve found, Mr. Austin, that gives you any right to make any demands on your country’s president?”
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Quarantine
Day 37
Trace thought about the secretary’s provocative, but fair question, and said, “I’m sorry, Sir, but I can’t tell you. As you probably know, it has to do with something I found, but I’ll only tell what that was to the president, in person.”
The secretary glared at Trace. “That’s nonsense, Mr. Austin. I have the highest possible security clearance and the full confidence of the president.”
“With all due respect, Sir, not for this you don’t. You’re not cleared to see this.” At least I hope you’re not, Trace thought.
Trace continued. “Once you and I have an agreement on my conditions, I’ll disclose my discovery to the president. Only to him. If he chooses to bring you into the loop, that’s up to him. I won’t do it on my own.” He paused, then said, “That’s non-negotiable, Mr. Secretary.”
The secretary face darkened. He wasn’t used to being talked to this way. On the other hand, on balance, he definitely liked this response. It made him feel a little more secure, even with the secret being out there, because this man before him seemed t
o have a measure of honor.
“Let’s talk about your conditions, Mr. Austin. What do you want from your president?”
Trace repeated his conditions, this time adding Ibrahim and, after considering Viktor’s offer to help him rescue Bella, also adding Viktor to the list of people he’d require be extricated from the Quarantine Zone. He had considered including Jenna, too, but decided that the military would have to determine her fate as part of her ROTC responsibility. He did not mention her to the secretary.
Then he added, “There’s another condition, Sir. I didn’t raise it with your deputy, but it’s just as important as the others for reasons I hope you’ll accept on trust, without my disclosure of it to you.”
“Now what is it, Mr. Austin?” the secretary said, his impatience asserting itself. “I hope this is the last stipulation you have. You can’t keep piling on every time we talk with you.”
“That wasn’t my intent, Sir, and that’s not the case now. I assure you it will be the last condition. I just didn’t feel it was appropriate to tell your subordinate because of its implications. It might not even be right to raise this with you rather than with the president.” He paused to let this sink in.
“Tell me now, Mr. Austin,” the secretary said. “This is becoming irksome.”
Trace hesitated, then said, “All right. In addition to what I’ve already told you, we want a large, lump-sum, tax-free payment as monetary compensation for the deaths of our son and my mother-in-law in the Quarantine Zone.”
“Why should we agree to that, Mr. Austin? Many unfortunate people have lost loved ones during the terrorists’ attack and the quarantine. I sympathize with your losses, but why should your government compensate you, but not compensate everyone else who suffered a family loss?” He shook his head and glared at Trace.
“Perhaps the government should compensate everyone, Mr. Secretary, for reasons I won’t disclose to you. But, Sir, my only concern has to be for me and my wife. As for why the government should compensate us, I won’t tell you. You’ll just have to accept that as my last condition. I assure you, Mr. Secretary, that the president will understand this condition.”
The secretary frowned, then nodded. He knows. Somehow he found my file — my insurance policy against the president — when he penetrated the Pentagon’s network.
Trace watched the secretary nod once, and thought, He’s agreed to my last condition.
“Let’s talk about your other conditions, Mr. Austin. Assuming we agree to them, we’ll need the originals and all copies of the files you stole given back to us. I gather from what you’ve hinted that they’re the source of your perceived leverage over the president.”
“One original file is all, Sir, not files, and one copy. But I won’t hand them over, Mr. Secretary. These files are the only means I have to protect my wife and me from harm, protect us from future retribution. It’s our insurance policy, Sir. I won’t budge on that.”
“How will we know we can trust you not to disclose its contents sometime in the future. Maybe when you’re elderly and at the end of your days?”
“I’ll give you my word as a decorated former SEAL and as a citizen patriot. If that’s not good enough for you, consider the practical side. If I ever disclose the contents of the file, I’ll have given up my family’s only protection against harm, even if I’m gone.”
He paused to let this sink in.
Trace continued, “Although the government would be harmed by the disclosure, it would survive. But there’s no measure to how much injury the government then would be able to do to us and our heirs.
“But the bottom line, Mr. Secretary, is trust. You and the president have to trust my integrity and my loyalty to our country, respect my patriotism — the same patriotism I showed as a Navy SEAL. That’s what it’s all about, Sir, in the end.”
The secretary looked at him for almost a full minute, saying nothing, his face impassive.
Trace stared back.
The secretary finally spoke.
“You wait here, Mr. Austin. I’ll get back to you.”
He stood, turned away from Trace, not offering his hand this time, and left the room.
Just over two hours later, the door opened.
Trace stood up as the secretary of defense walked back in.
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Day 37
The secretary of defense entered the room alone and quickly walked over to the same chair he’d left hours earlier. He had a grim look on his face. This time he ignored Trace completely as he settled himself. Then he looked over at Trace.
“Let’s get started,” he said. “I have a busy day ahead of me.”
Trace wondered about the secretary’s change in demeanor, but dismissed this concern as irrelevant. What counted now was to get as much for himself and Isabella as he could, and to arrange to have Ibrahim and Viktor allowed to leave the Quarantine Zone. Anything else was just ego.
“First off,” the secretary said, “the president will not meet with you. That’s final. And furthermore, he has no idea what you’re referring to, and no time to lay on his hands to bless your wild, implicit assertions.”
He paused to let this sink in.
“The president instructed me to tell you either deal directly with me or there won’t be any dealing.”
Trace was stunned. He had not expected this. He cleared his throat.
“Let’s take that condition off the table for the time being then, Mr. Secretary. Let’s see how we come out on the other conditions. If we can reach accommodation on those, I might be able to forego meeting with the president.”
The secretary reached inside his suit jacket and pulled out a slip of paper. He looked at it for a few seconds, then crumbled it into a ball and put it back into his jacket’s side pocket.
“Here’s what we’re willing to do and here are our conditions for doing it, Mr. Austin.”
He paused and stared hard into Trace’s eyes. Then he said, “I will add, by the way, that we’re agreeing to some of your conditions only to avoid wasting any more valuable government time. If I had my way, Mr. Austin, we’d hold you under the Patriot Act and lock you away so deeply inside a maximum security military prison you’d feel like you’re Dumas’ man in the iron mask.”
The secretary shifted in his seat. “We will fulfill all but one of your conditions. In return, you will turn the original and all copies of the files over to us.
“You and your wife and those other two people will sign oaths that none of you will ever, under any circumstances, disclose either the existence or the contents of the files or the existence of our agreement here. Not ever. Not even if a court orders you to disclose them. Not even if your silence will land you in prison for contempt of court.”
He waited a few seconds while he studied Trace’s face to discern his reaction. Then he continued.
“You all will support cover stories we’ll create for you explaining how you were able to leave the Quarantine Zone before the lifting of the quarantine. In the alternative, you will take on new identities we will create for you. It’s up to each of you which one you choose.”
He continued to look at Trace.
“One more thing,” he said. “There won’t be any lump sum payment to you, tax free or otherwise. Your request offends your president.”
Trace nodded. I guess there has to be some horse-trading.
“That’s the price of your freedom and peace of mind,” the secretary said. “I suggest you accept it.”
Trace rose from the chair, then immediately sat back down.
“I’ll accept the oath requirement for me and my wife. I assume Ibrahim and Viktor will also accept that condition, although they will not understand why they are being let out from the Quarantine Zone or why they must remain silent about it. But they both have military experience so I expect they will go along. The government will have to deal with them on that matter.
“I will not return the file or the cop
y, however, under any circumstances. And if anything ever happens to me or my wife, the files will be sent by third parties, who have copies, to national news organizations. I already told you, this has been arranged to protect us and is not negotiable. It’s not on the table.”
“I’ll also want the president’s word, in writing, that Ibrahim and Viktor will not be harmed since they have no idea what this is about.” Trace paused, then added, “I know I can’t enforce this condition, but I hope the president will be a man of honor concerning it.”
The secretary stared at Trace for a beat, then said, “Go on.”
“As for your cover story versus a new identity, I’ll have to talk to my wife. Either’s fine with me, but I’ll defer to her on that. Also, someone from the government will have to talk to Ibrahim and Viktor about this condition and let them decide for themselves.
“Finally, my wife and I will want blanket immunity for any crimes we may have committed in connection with this matter, as well as a full pardon from the president with respect to any such crimes. All in writing, of course.”
“All right, then,” the secretary said. “I’ll go along with your refusal to turn over the files. Frankly, I don’t blame you if they are as important as you’ve hinted.”
The secretary continued, “We’ll have to work out the details of the oath, the punishment if any of you violates it, and the terms of your immunity, the pardon, and the guarantees of safety. My deputy will meet with you later today to go over this. We’ll deal separately with your friends.”
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