Sandstorm

by Alan L. Lee

  Alex tried to shake away the cobwebs. He went to the bathroom to throw cold water on his face, running his wet hands through his hair. The reflection in the mirror confirmed what his body was telling him. He wasn’t sure how much more he could accomplish. It seemed clear that whatever was underfoot was going to take place in Iran. With no cover story and no assets, he’d be walking into certain death if he made the journey. Even if he did go, he wouldn’t know what to do next. As much as he’d been able to keep up from newspaper and Internet accounts over the years, he knew Iran had four potential nuclear facilities shrouded in secrecy. Refusing to allow the International Atomic Energy Agency to inspect the sites was either an admission of progress or another defiant stance. It wasn’t like he could just show up at the front gates and ask if the stockpile of centrifuges he’d seen a few hours ago was on the premises.

  He had relayed all the night’s proceedings to Sara, Nora, and Duncan, except for one thing. He omitted the presence of Dmitri Nevsky. The name would have no meaning to Sara and Duncan, but it would register in an instant with Nora. She knew how the name had haunted him, the one piece of unfinished business as he left the CIA. He’d tried to find Nevsky before, but shortly after his murderous spree in Iraq, he vanished into the wind. Nevsky would have known the territory was dangerous once his ally was taken out. For now, Nevsky’s presence was something Nora didn’t need to know about.

  Peering out the window, down upon a relatively quiet Tbilisi, Alex came to the only conclusion his tired brain could hash out. “Sara, there may not be much time, because I don’t know when the Iranians are due to arrive this afternoon looking for Janko or, possibly, Mr. Green. He seemed to at least be careful in that regard.”

  “So what are you thinking?”

  “You need to call Champion.”

  She did the math in her head. It was a quarter to seven at night in Washington, and in all likelihood, the director of the National Clandestine Service was still at Langley. Alex started to suggest she use a secure line but thought better of it, knowing it would only insult her intelligence.

  Champion had been in a meeting, but as soon as the call came through, he cleared his office. He took down everything Alex was saying and wished his once prized pupil were still under his command. When Alex finished his briefing, Champion was quick to follow up, wanting clarity in no uncertain terms, because he was sure his career would be on the line tonight.

  “You say the Iranians are going to come looking for this Janko person in the afternoon? But you don’t know exactly when?”

  “That would be what I’ve been telling you.” Champion could hear the sarcasm in Alex’s voice but attributed part of it to fatigue.

  “Hundreds of centrifuges…” Champion said, but it was more for his own clarity.

  “What?”

  “I’m just thinking out loud. You also said Janko was told something spectacular was going to occur?”

  “You’re totally caught up. Now you need to get someone here who’s an engineer who can possibly go in his place.”

  “Yeah, Rocky, I’ll pull a rabbit out of my hat. Like I have someone in the area with that skill set who can handle himself in a covert situation.”

  “Surely you’ve got some assets on the ground in Iran who can lend a hand.”

  “It’s taken years for those individuals to establish a credible cover. Taking the risk of exposing them now could set us back years, and then we’d be making assessments with virtually no human intel. That’s not a part of the world you want to go dark in right now.”

  “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

  Champion was silent, and for a moment Alex wondered if he’d lost the connection. “You said you’re pretty sure they don’t know who Janko’s associates might be?”

  “That’s right.”

  “But they did see you and him at the airfield?”

  “We were pretty visible and there looked to be Iranians there.”

  “Well then, it’s a no-brainer.”

  “What is?”

  “What name do you want to go by?”

  “Not a chance in hell,” Alex responded when he understood what Champion was suggesting.

  “I’m not the one who got involved here. You laid the foundation on this one when you went out of your way to help Nora.”

  “Let me remind you, I don’t work for the government anymore.”

  “And let me remind you that you kidnapped one and assaulted two government agents. How much prison time do you want?”

  “You don’t have the balls to pull a public stunt like that.”

  “You’re probably right. But how motivated will Senator Lipton be to making your life a living hell?”

  Alex thought about what Champion didn’t know at the moment regarding that matter. Once he got wind that Davis Lipton had been shot in the foot on his orders, the heat would intensify.

  “You know this is bullshit. I’m not qualified for this anymore.”

  “From everything you’ve told me, you’re the only option at this point. I’m going be honest with you…”

  “No, please lie to me.”

  “I’ll go the extra mile to keep you as safe as I can. But if it means exposing vital assets in Iran, that’s not going to happen. Not unless you’re stepping into Armageddon. You pull this off, and we’ll probably learn some vital things we didn’t know before.”

  Alex looked at Nora, who was trying to decipher the conversation by hearing only his half. He couldn’t avoid the subject. “What about Janway?” he asked Champion. “That’s what started this whole thing.”

  “Those responsible will be dealt with.”

  “Does that include the senator?”

  “As soon as I get off the phone with you, I’ll get to work on that. You’re not the only one about to risk a lot. Now, so I can get them started on your cover story, give me a name. And since you’ve been away for some time, I suggest you make it one you can easily remember.”

  Alex wanted to protest some more, but exhaustion was washing away his resistance. He wanted to stay with the surname of McBride. It had served him well so far.

  “Wayne McBride,” he decided.

  “Mr. McBride, get some sleep. You sound like shit.”

  Rather than offer a sarcastic response, Alex hung up. Nora immediately stepped forward with raised arms.

  He tried to brush by her, pretending not to notice. “I need to get some sleep.”

  She halted his exit by grabbing an arm. “If I understand that conversation, I can’t ask you to do this! It’s foolish. Hell, it’s suicidal!”

  “There aren’t a whole lot of options here.”

  “You’ve helped me do what I asked, which was to keep me safe. You’ve done that. You don’t need to do anything more.”

  “What about Janway?”

  “Now that I know which direction to head, I’ll eventually take care of that.”

  “Hey, I hear Iran is beautiful this time of year.”

  “Damn it, Alex! No!”

  He smiled. “I’m going to bed.”

  “Listen, I should have never involved you in this. Coming to St. Thomas was a mistake. Washington, Brussels, and even here are one thing, but trekking through Iran on a whim with little or no backup is sheer madness.” Nora closed her eyes, hating herself at the moment. Once Alex made up his mind, there was no sense in trying to convince him otherwise. She pleadingly looked into his eyes. “Don’t do it. Don’t do it for me. I was wrong years ago, and I was wrong for seeking you out.”

  “You might be dead if you didn’t, and on some level, if that had happened, I’d probably get involved anyway.” If Sara wasn’t in the room, Nora would have rushed into his arms and kissed him with all the passion they used to share. Instead, Alex turned for the bedroom, pausing at the door to reach into his pocket. He tossed Davis Lipton’s cell phone to Sara. “Apparently someone’s been burning up his phone with messages. Find out who it is, and if necessary, make an appropriate response.
Don’t want any more complications at this juncture. Wake me up if there’s something important or if any Iranians come knocking at the door.”

  CHAPTER 50

  Champion caught Amanda Jergens in transit. He could hear the intermittent blasts of police sirens in the background. That, coupled with her guarded tone upon answering her cell phone, led him to one conclusion. She was part of the presidential motorcade.

  Upon seeing the caller ID, she almost didn’t answer. Doing so meant apologizing and excusing herself from the ongoing conversation, interrupting the president in the process. The only reason she did answer was because of their lunch meeting from the other day.

  She spoke just loudly enough to be heard, turning her head into the window and away from the rest of the occupants in the vehicle.

  “This had better be good.” Despite being a whisper, her tone came across loud and clear to Champion.

  “I told you I’d call when there was something to lose sleep over.”

  She gave a reassuring smile to the commander in chief, who was mildly interested as he continued his discussion on economic matters.

  “Does this concern any of the gentlemen we talked about the other day?”

  “Yes, and as a result, there might be something in the works that needs drastic attention.”

  Amanda didn’t like the sound of that. “Well, why don’t you make sure it gets in the PDB?”

  Champion laughed for a moment. “No way can this go in the President’s Daily Brief. I need to see him tonight. One-on-one.”

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Why tonight? Why me? It figured that, on what was supposed to be an uneventful agenda, things would get complicated under her watch. Her immediate boss, the White House chief of staff, felt the lax atmosphere was a good opportunity for her to spend time with the president. He reminded her that the most powerful man in the world had handpicked her all by himself. No small order on anybody’s political menu. Being seen at his side only increased her prominence in Washington. These jobs weren’t going to last forever. She also knew the chief of staff was relishing the opportunity to play Texas Hold ’em with certain congressmen from the Hill, all men who could bluff with the best of them.

  Champion was in a similar situation. The spy stuff he could stomach. Dealing with flip-flopping, opportunistic, and partisan politicians was something he had yet to acquire a taste for. Nonetheless, after hanging up with Alex, he’d immediately gone to his boss’s office. Director Doyle had greeted him warmly, as always. As a mentor, he’d always been even keel with his protégé, passing along knowledge of not only how the world operated, but on Washington’s inner workings as well. It would’ve been easy for Doyle to pick up the phone and handle this matter, but he explained to Champion this was a perfect opportunity to impress the president. Champion mentioned that his only encounter with the White House’s newest resident had come when he’d been the president elect, and on that social evening, there’d been hundreds of hands to shake and certainly more-important faces and résumés to remember.

  “So you’ll hit the ground running,” Doyle pointed out with a sly grin. “Of course, if you’re wrong and you screw this up … what was your major in college?”

  Doyle was certain Champion would be the right person to succeed him. There’d be strong opposition for sure, and his confirmation hearing wouldn’t be a walk in the park. Doyle knew the biggest objection, sadly, would come from his demographic: a bunch of old fart politicians who didn’t relish the idea of giving such a high-profile job to a man in his forties. Never mind that Champion had done more to keep this country safe than they had ever accomplished on Capitol Hill while sitting on their butts.

  Champion waited for Amanda to give him an answer. If she said no, he was prepared to go over her head. He prayed he didn’t have to go that route.

  Amanda assessed the request and the evening’s itinerary. They were on their way to Woodrow Wilson Senior High School and, amazingly, on time for once. The president was to honor the school for its continued academic prowess and for the diversity of its student body. The school stood as a glowing example of the fact that when young people were determined and pointed in the right direction, a great deal could be accomplished. It was the perfect platform for the president to hit home his education agenda. Amanda felt she could make the meeting happen, but it all depended on how quickly Champion could get to the school. By her best judgment, making it from Langley would be pushing it at best, and no way in hell was she going to hold the president up. That went against everything the Secret Service had drilled into their heads. When in transit, follow procedure.

  “George, how quickly can you get to—”

  “Woodrow Wilson? I’m already here.”

  Amanda pursed her lips until they were like prunes.

  “I’m beginning to not like you.”

  CHAPTER 51

  After ending her phone conversation, Amanda tried to wait for an opening but was left with no choice except to interrupt the president. She spent several minutes explaining that an important member of the intelligence community needed to steal a few minutes with him at the school before he addressed the student body. When pressed what it was about, Amanda admitted she didn’t feel comfortable mentioning any specifics in front of the press secretary and the secretary of education. She promised it wouldn’t take much of his time, though that was a stretch, since she really had no idea what Champion was going to convey. In any event, she hoped her friend realized he was putting his career on the line. If this turned into a total waste of the president’s time, she would be reprimanded but still a part of the inner circle.

  Once the president agreed, Amanda called ahead to the Secret Service detail and conveyed what had to happen. Champion had already identified himself, and after her call, the agents whisked him inside the school while searching for a secure location.

  Because it had no windows and each exit could be guarded, the Secret Service settled on the cafeteria’s kitchen. After doing a quick sweep, they told Champion to stay put and left him in place, alone.

  The kitchen was exceptionally sterile: white marble floors, white walls, and shiny stainless-steel appliances. Overhead fluorescent lights completed the environment. Outside the doors at each end of the kitchen, there was a Secret Service Agent posted. In the distant background, he could hear a muffled youthful assembly growing louder by the minute. He was isolated with his thoughts for roughly ten minutes, ample time to go over and over how he was going to present his case. It wasn’t lost on him that this was also, as Director Doyle pointed out, a golden opportunity to impress the man who, with any luck, would see fit to promote him in the near future. That was an unnerving thought in its own right, but in all truthfulness, he didn’t give a damn at the moment about becoming the next director of the Central Intelligence Agency. What concerned him was squashing those who were attempting to run their own unsanctioned endgame with US government assets.

  He snapped to attention when the thunderous noise of the assembled masses came crashing through one of the kitchen doors when it swung open. A burly Secret Service agent came through first, shielding the people following directly behind him. He gave Champion an indifferent stare. If the need arose, he’d pull out his semiautomatic weapon and blast Champion into the next world while maintaining that same look. Satisfied, he stepped to the side.

  Champion’s attention immediately focused on the familiar face of Amanda, who was revealed when the Secret Service agent peeled away. The look on her face was not that of an old friend who was happy to see him. Her pace was quick as she headed his way, and flanking her was President Travis Hudson. He was taller and thinner than Champion remembered. He could imagine there were a few square meals left unfinished as a result of constantly being on the go. Hudson had been in office just past a year, but the stress of the job hadn’t affected his fashion-model looks much. Pair that face with his eloquence and ability to rally people, and it was understandable why he was the man standing in
the kitchen at this moment.

  “Mr. President, this is George Champion.” Amanda had informed the president of Champion’s title while still in the sedan, where she had further explained the situation after the other occupants had departed upon arriving at the school. The president didn’t quite understand the urgency of the situation or the unorthodox circumstances. He had asked Amanda why this meeting couldn’t take place later at the White House. She had cursed her friend’s existence for about the seventh time when she had to admit she wasn’t clear why, only that Champion had stressed it was time sensitive.

  “He used to be a friend of mine, sir,” Amanda added. “George, President Hudson.” They exchanged a firm handshake.

  “Sir, thank you for seeing me,” Champion said, feeling every bit out of place.

  Hudson nodded with a courteous smile. “We’ve met before. At a function in the District shortly after I became president elect.”

  “That’s correct, sir.” Champion looked at Amanda for a second, wondering if she had fed him that tidbit or if his memory and powers of observation were that keen.

  “Director Doyle and others speak highly of you. So, what’s on your mind?”

  What ensued was an awkward moment as Champion shifted his attention to Amanda.

  “What?” she demanded.

  Champion couldn’t spare the time to be diplomatic. “If you don’t mind, I need you to leave right now.”

  Amanda threw him another look, which told him he could add this move to the growing list of things there would be hell to pay for later.

  “Fine!” Amanda said, making her way out. “I’ll be right outside, sir.”

  Still not satisfied, Champion looked past the president at the lone Secret Service agent. Based solely on praise bestowed upon the man in front of him, President Hudson spoke over his shoulder. “Bob, give us a minute.” The secret serviceman’s demeanor didn’t waver as he slid through the door, leaving the two men alone.

  “The kitchen is yours,” said the president. “What’s on the menu?”