THIRTY-SIX
Washington, D.C. Wednesday, 9:38 A.M.
Loyalty. In the end, that was the one irreducible value of life. It defined one’s sense of honor and priority, of sacrifice and industry. The only question the individual had to decide was to whom—or what—loyalty should be given.
General Carrie spoke with Bob Herbert as she scrolled through her E-mail. The intelligence chief had no new information from China. He was frustrated by that fact and complained that Op-Center had no senior-level executive over there representing their interests.
“Just two former bosses, both of whom have their own agendas,” he said.
“I am working on the problem,” she assured him.
“How?” Herbert said. “We don’t have the money.” He sounded irritable and distracted.
“Let me worry about that,” she replied.
There was nothing in her mailbox that needed immediate attention.
Not yet. Op-Center needed a makeover of personnel and procedures, both of which she would begin today. Since she had the time, Carrie asked Liz to come and see her. Profiling the entire team before contemplating cuts and reassignments was her priority.
The psychologist had just walked in when the phone beeped. The general motioned for her to shut the door behind her, then gestured to an armchair. The call was a surprise. It was from Mike Rodgers. The phone ID said that the general was calling from China.
“It’s a pleasure to speak with you, General Rodgers,” Carrie said.
“Likewise, General Carrie. Congratulations on your promotion and the move to Op-Center.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Are you in Beijing for the launch?”
“Yes, though I won’t be going to the Xichang space center. I just spoke with Paul. He’s going to be Washington’s unofficial representative.”
“What will he be doing?” Carrie asked.
“I am not sure,” Rodgers admitted. “The game plan seems to be to stay close to Prime Minister Le, to watch and see what those around him are doing and who is not present.”
“The von Stauffenburg scenario,” she said.
Rodgers agreed. That was a name given to any plan to cause a catastrophic event to one’s own team. Colonel Claus von Stauffenburg was the German officer who placed a briefcase with a bomb under a conference table at Hitler’s command post in Rastenburg, East Prussia. After triggering the timed explosive, Stauffenburg left. The heavy table saved Hitler’s life when the explosive detonated. Stauffenburg was arrested and executed. Obviously, if an officer or government minister were planning to cause the Unexus rocket to explode, he would not be anywhere in the neighborhood of the blast.
“What will you be doing, then?” Carrie asked.
“That’s the reason I’m calling,” Rodgers said. “Bob Herbert told me there is a field team. I would like to borrow it.”
Carrie was not pleased that Rodgers knew, but she was not surprised, either. It underscored one of the strengths and drawbacks of Paul Hood’s tenure here. His people were more devoted to one another than they were to the organization. That would have to stop.
“For what purpose?” Carrie asked.
“Paul Hood is going there to watch people,” he said. “I want someone watching the rocket and the payload.”
“What makes you think the Chinese would agree to let outsiders near the hardware?” Carrie said. “Isn’t that what Le is worried about?”
“My Unexus tech people can talk to the Chinese tech people,” Rodgers said. “We can try to get private security in openly or off the books. I’d prefer the latter, just to maintain surprise, and I think I can sell that to some of the chief scientists.”
“If Le found out, they could lose their jobs.”
“The only way Le will find out about a covert ops team is if something goes wrong and your guys save his butt,” Rodgers said. “Even if the science team leaders are dismissed as a result, it is better than the alternative.”
Rodgers had a point, and it spoke to a different kind of loyalty: that of the Chinese scientists to their mission. Their allegiance was not to individuals or to a nation but to the hardware, to the science. Carrie could not decide whether that was enlightened or provincial.
She took a moment to consider the ramifications for the United States. Her marines had gone to China to be ready for this kind of mission. But the prep time for the Xichang operation would be distressingly brief. If they undertook what Rodgers proposed and were discovered—especially if their operation failed—her career would be over. Carrie quickly put that thought aside.
Loyalty, she reminded herself.
The general was not serving in this office to practice loyalty to Morgan Carrie. She was here to do what was best for America and Op-Center. In that order. A failed mission could hurt the NCMC and result in her dismissal. It would cause the Congressional Intelligence Oversight Committee to impose stricter controls on Op-Center, at least cosmetically. But most important, what was the downside for the nation? Risking American lives to help protect a Chinese launch was a no-lose situation. They would not be accused of spying. Not with Hood there as an invited guest. Not with technology that was provided by the West. The upside was a historic first, a demonstration that American intelligence could be used to help other nations.
Perhaps it was also kismet. Hood had made his reputation at Op-Center by boldly preventing an attack against an American space mission. General Carrie could do the same.
“Here’s the deal,” Carrie said. “If you demonstrate that my team can get in and out of the facility, I will give you a go. But I want the names of the sympathetic scientists in time to run a background check. I want to know how you intend to get them to the facility. I want to know how you’re going to get them in and then out of the facility. If there are security cameras, their faces will be on file. We will have to pull them, whether they act or not.”
“I plan to move them in by truck, with other scientists,” Rodgers said. “No security cameras.”
“Most important is the exit strategy,” Carrie said. “If they are forced to act, you will need to get them to safety until everything is sorted out. We cannot have them arrested, held, and interrogated.”
“Paul Hood can help with that, if you have no objections.”
“I do not,” she replied. “But if the numbers fall too far short of one hundred percent, I will not authorize this.”
Rodgers told her he understood. Carrie hung up and regarded Liz. There was something different about her. Carrie saw at once what it was. The psychologist had not been wearing lipstick the day before. She was now.
“Did you know that our late political liaison had a nickname for this place?” Liz asked.
“That would be Martha Mackall?”
“Correct.”
“No,” Carrie said. “What did Martha call it?”
“OTS-Center,” Liz told her. “It stood for zero to sixty. Nothing in crisis management ever accelerates slowly.”
“It’s just a different avatar of national defense,” Carrie said.
“How so?”
“Intelligence work is action of the mind, crisis management is action of the hands,” Carrie told her. “One of the reasons I am here is to make sure said defense is an action of one well-trained and fully integrated body.”
Liz considered that in silence. Something in her eyes said she approved.
“You heard what transpired,” Carrie went on. “We have talked about other former employees. What is your impression of General Rodgers?”
“Mike Rodgers is a bulldog with a high percentage of bottom-line success in the field,” Liz told her.
“Is that a spin doctor way of saying, ‘Pyrrhic victory?’ ” Carrie asked.
Liz laughed. “Maybe.”
“From everything I’ve read, Mike Rodgers is like Ulysses S. Grant,” Carrie said. “The Union won battles because he kept throwing men and ordnance at the enemy until they caved. Compared to Robert E. Lee, Grant’s losses
were always improportionately high.”
“Mike’s units do take casualties,” Liz admitted. “In his defense, he rarely had more than the duration of a plane flight to prepare and often with limited intelligence. Yet he always found a way to get to the end zone.”
“This time will be different,” Carrie said. “Op-Center needs human intelligence operatives on the ground in potentially hostile nations. If Rodgers is going to borrow my team, I want to see a game plan that is more Lee than Grant.” Carrie ended the conversation by opening the staff dossier on her computer. “There is just one person we have not yet talked about,” the general said. “My psych officer. Are you ready and able to take on increased responsibilities in profiling and forensic projections about the mental health of my team?”
Liz started slightly. The psychologist obviously did not expect the attention or the question.
“General, I have been waiting years for a director of Op-Center to ask for my input and mean it,” Liz said. “I would be happy to be more fully integrated with NCMC command and its missions.”
“NCMC command meaning this office?”
“If you are asking the extent to which analyst-patient privilege applies—”
“I am asking whether you will implement without question any and all projects not expressly forbidden by the chartered mandate of the NCMC.”
“ ‘Not expressly forbidden,’ ” Liz said. “Interesting choice of words.”
“These are interesting times,” Carrie replied.
“I never do anything without question,” Liz said. She smiled. “But my questions are only meant to stimulate discussion. You’re the boss.”
“Very good,” Carrie said. She closed Liz Gordon’s file and opened two others side by side. “Then let’s talk about Bob Herbert and Darrell McCaskey. I will want you to watch them closely over the next few hours. I want to know how they are handling the demands of this Chinese project. Whatever Rodgers comes back with in terms of a plan, this is a good way for me to see how the team functions under pressure.”
“They will be watching their front and their rear,” Liz said.
“Because of me, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“I am counting on it,” Carrie said. “I do not want personnel who will crack under the strain, but I do not want a team that is complacent, either. Hood ran this place as if it were a town meeting. I will not.”
“Order is the basis of creation,” Liz said. “I’m all for it.”
They began by going over Herbert’s file in detail. The impact of the Beirut explosion on his work, how the loss of his wife might affect the way he related to women, and more. But Liz’s remark stayed in her mind. Carrie had always believed in one of the Nietzschean cornerstones: “Out of chaos comes order.” But the follow-up was equally true: from order comes progress. For Carrie, the order was simple. We were one nation under God.
And below Him, organizing creation, would be the watchful eyes and sure, powerful hands of the DoD.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Washington, D.C. Wednesday, 9:51 A.M.
Bob Herbert was stumped. Worse than that, he was idle.
Op-Center did not have resources with an extensive background in China. Before speaking with General Carrie, Herbert was on the phone with Kim Hwan, Director of the Korean Central Intelligence Agency. As deputy director, Hwan had been an important part of Op-Center’s successful Korean action several years before. Hwan’s sources had confirmed what Herbert suspected, that General Tam Li and Director Chou Shin were engaged in what he described as “acts of purpose.”
Herbert took that to mean a pissing contest.
But Hwan had no new information. Herbert had also contacted Sergei Orlov, director of the Russian Op-Center. Orlov’s agents in China also anticipated the power struggle but had no idea about where it might erupt next. Herbert believed Orlov. The two countries shared 4,200 kilometers of border. If the situation in Beijing or Xichang worsened, or if the nuclear-powered satellite did in fact explode, violence or refugees could turn the region into a no-man’s-land.
After talking to the men, Herbert wondered how and why this had become strictly an American situation. There was the involvement of Unexus, but that was an international concern.
Once again, a global crisis has become Op-Center’s problem, he thought. By extension, the intelligence gathering became his problem. Ordinarily that would be a challenge. At the moment, it was also distracting. Herbert had a sense that he was being graded on his performance. General Carrie’s questions and the fact that new officers tended to make changes had him feeling defensive, insulted, and definitely off his game. He had not even been that paranoid in Beirut, where there was every good reason to be. And apparently, this was Op-Center’s problem alone. Herbert received on-line intelligence summaries twice daily from Homeland Security, part of their IDEA program: intelligence data, external access. The mailings offered headlines from every major division of the CIA and FBI as well as the National Security Agency and the National Reconnaissance Office. No one had the Chinese satellite on their agenda. Even the FBI, which had the Charleston explosion on their active-investigations list, had logged the attack as “having the earmarks of an intranational conflict that happened to fall on American soil.” That was probably true. The FBI had obviously read the report Herbert and his small staff had filed on the IDEA Web site the day before.
A call from Mike Rodgers lifted Herbert’s mood considerably. The sound of Rodgers’s voice from Beijing held the promise of information. More, it momentarily returned him to a time when the mission itself was more important to him than how it—or he—were perceived.
Herbert’s soul deflated when he heard that Rodgers was phoning to follow up on a conversation he had just had with General Carrie.
“She’s giving you command of our field team,” Herbert repeated when Rodgers had briefed him. The intelligence chief could not help but wonder if this was general to general or if Carrie would have given Paul Hood the same access. His instincts told him Hood would not have gotten the team.
“This is a loan, in case it’s necessary,” Rodgers said.
“How will they get in?”
“I have notified my associates to provide entry codes and passes for your people,” Rodgers said. “I have also asked them to identify all access areas to the rocket and the satellite. The NRO will be sending me up-to-date images of the facilities and will also be watching for unusual activity. What I need from you are photographs for the IDs and a patrol pattern our unit can pursue.”
“You want photographs of our undercover HUMINT personnel,” Herbert said.
“The Chinese will see their faces anyway—” Rodgers said.
“But Chinese functionaries will be uploading them into a computer to print badges. They will remain in Chinese computers.”
“The work roster will list them as on loan from various universities to help with different facets of the countdown,” Rodgers said. “Their real local covers will not be blown.”
“Mike, you don’t think the Xichang director will check that?”
“He’s the guy who’s helping me organize this,” Rodgers said. “He will sign off on their credentials. When this is done, the photographs will be deleted.”
“So he says,” Herbert said. “Your boy may end up looking for a budget increase by turning in spies.”
“Spies that he allowed in,” Rodgers said. “There is no gain for him. Look, Bob, there are risks in any operation. These are worth it.”
Mostly to Unexus, Herbert thought. Rodgers may have turned in his uniform, but he was still a gung ho general. He had substituted one team for another and was ready to make any sacrifice for them. Arguing against that was pointless. What Herbert had to do was find a way to minimize the damage.
“We disagree about that, but if Carrie has given you the okay—”
“She has.”
“Then it’s my job to help make it work. I will ask her to let me send you the photogra
phs. You’ve got a secure Ethernet link?”
“Unexus equipment is more secure than what they’ve got at the DoD,” Rodgers said.
“I will send you the photographs with no information, not even the names,” Herbert said. “Then I will sit down with Darrell and go over the layout of the facility. We will send a patrol plan ASAP.” McCaskey used to organize and run stakeouts for the FBI. He had a good eye for creating effective zone management.
“Thanks,” Rodgers said. “I will meet them somewhere outside the facility. I will let you know where. I’m having our HQ send over radios so I can communicate with the team.”
“And those won’t trigger alarms?” Herbert asked.
“The Xichang radios all operate between 121.5 and 243, AM frequencies,” Rodgers told him. “We will be running our communications at 336.6, piggybacking on a NORAD signal. Unexus has an arrangement with Cheyenne Mountain to use one of their carrier waves for sensitive operations.”
“Really? The DoD is okay with that?”
“We designed the system components that allow NORAD to interface with NATO for quick response in matters pertaining to Homeland Security,” Rodgers said proudly. “The Pentagon actually appreciates having us test that international system from time to time.”
“I see,” Herbert replied. “Mike, are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“What?”
“Having this kind of symbiotic relationship with the military?” the intelligence chief asked.
“What’s wrong with it?” Rodgers asked. “It benefits everyone. The more Unexus knows about field operations, the better we can protect our personnel. That’s one reason Unexus hired me. No one but me is going to know the specifics of the Op-Center field action. You don’t have to worry about the mission being poisoned by other civilian eyes and ears.”
“I’m not,” Herbert said.
That was true. Mike Rodgers knew how to quarantine information. But Rodgers was very wrong about one thing. The plan did indeed trigger a signal, this one in the head of Bob Herbert. The intelligence chief knew that NORAD had changed its mission over the last few years, from watching the skies outside American borders to watching the skies for terrorist threats. To this end, they received a steady flow of data from every airport in the nation. Any significant deviation from a flight path would result in fighters being scrambled and the aircraft destroyed. But Herbert did not know that NORAD had become tight with civilian agencies. He was willing to bet that the firewalls protecting the military from private industry were formidable. But in their desire to land lucrative government contracts, how defensive were companies like Unexus? How tapped in were places like Cheyenne Mountain and other facilities into the nonmilitary world? What kind of access did the DoD have to civilian records, surveillance, other capabilities? Herbert was willing to bet these tendrils were extensive.
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