* * *
It was almost six before Charlotte swept in, definitely looking pleased about something but determined to keep Anderson guessing, insisting he explain abut Louisa Marcelo first.
“And definitely no terrorist attacks?” she asked, once Anderson had finished.
“Not yet; I guess MI6 will be in touch with Manila about McDowell, but it’s still not obvious what he’s up to.”
“Talking of McDowell,” Charlotte said with a superior smile. “I had some success with his comment about Virginia.”
Anderson had guessed as much, annoyed with himself for not persevering. “I would have solved it; I just had more important things to do.”
Charlotte shook her head in exasperation, checking her phone to ensure the relevant facts were correct. “Of course you did, Mike… McDowell’s remark about not breathing indoors is to do with Radon gas. There’s hotspots in most states with buildings needing to add extra ventilation; worst for Virginia is Highland County. The state’s black bear population is mainly concentrated around the Blue Ridge and Alleghany Mountains, plus the unfortunately named Great Dismal Swamp. Intriguingly, it turns out that the Alleghenies form Highland County’s western border.”
Anderson tried hard to sound impressed but failed miserably, “So you think McDowell was referring to one particular area of Virginia, specifically Highland County. How can you be sure he wasn’t just repeating something he’d heard; a piece of Virginian folklore to keep Gabriel happy?”
Charlotte chose to ignore Anderson’s sarcasm and his obvious lack of enthusiasm, “It gets better. The capital of Highland County is Monterey – a bit smaller than it’s more famous Californian namesake. There was a Civil War battle just a few miles to the east, known as the Battle of McDowell.”
Anderson just stared at her, mind numb. Eventually he found his voice, “McDowell: and it’s spelt the same way?”
“Yup; it’s named after a James McDowell, Governor of Virginia 1843 to 46.”
Anderson didn’t know quite what to say – after all it was just a name; the fact it was the same just coincidence. “Let’s just take a step back here, Charlie. What exactly are you suggesting?”
Charlotte bit her lip, trying to put in words what didn’t really make a lot of sense, “McDowell’s comments about Virginia are too personal for him not to have lived there, at least for a while. I know he could be anywhere; I just thought it was somewhere to start...”
The sentence trailed away as Charlotte saw the look on Anderson’s face. “Well let’s not argue over it,” she said huffily. “It’s obviously a stupid idea. On a totally unrelated matter, I thought it would be a good plan to extend your Washington trip into more of a joint holiday. Since you always leave everything up to me, I used my initiative and booked a ten-day break starting Monday; I’ve even sorted out the plane tickets.”
“Ten days,” Anderson repeated slowly, it taking time for him to digest what Charlotte was actually telling him. “That’s great, Charlie.” The second sentence at least sounded more enthusiastic than the first. And he really was pleased that Charlotte was tagging along – a couple of wasted days spent traipsing around the wilds of Virginia while searching out irradiated bears seemed a not unreasonable trade.
Charlotte gave him a hard look, sensing his concern, her eyes brooking no argument, arms metaphorically folded. “My treat, unless The Washington Post decides to pay; hire car already booked. I’m really looking forward to it; should be nice to see Virginia in the fall and experience a proper American Halloween.”
Washington, D.C. – 14:12 Local time; 18:12 UTC
Jensen believed that he was fairly competent when it came to technology, but he had been amazed by how much could be garnered from a few grainy photographs. The two images of the stone blocks shown behind McDowell had been enhanced and analysed, the blocks measured, their colour and texture assessed. The details had then been compared with buildings throughout Germany, the hundred most likely then receiving a visit from Germany’s Federal Police, the BKA. The Hotel Regent had been number sixty-three on the list, a second call from the BKA ensuring Homeland Security had access to the hotel’s records and security files. Having confirmed McDowell had spent two nights there, the next step had been to search out any possible associates.
Evgeny Sukhov had been the first to be identified, Jensen learning more about the Russian by the hour. For one of Golubeva’s aides to be working with McDowell had been a shock, Jensen unsure how it all fitted together and what relevance Wilhelmshaven played. The symposium had discussed all four submarines on both days, their final recommendations left until the second afternoon. So why then had Hanson and McDowell met on the first evening and not once the decisions had been finalised? It just made no sense.
The specialist group looking into Hanson’s involvement had come up with several unlikely possibilities as to what McDowell was after. Their present favourite was a decoy programmed to match the acoustic signature of one of China’s Attack Submarines, its purpose as yet unknown. Now, with Sukhov’s involvement, the group would most likely need to think again.
Then there was Michael Anderson. To call him an associate of McDowell’s perhaps wasn’t quite correct, but they certainly knew each other. However, it could hardly be a coincidence that Anderson had turned up at the Regent just two weeks after McDowell and asked for the same suite number, even if he’d actually ended up in the room next door. Anderson had recently led a somewhat charmed existence, with a knack of being in the wrong place at the right time. Jensen assumed Anderson was also looking for McDowell, and so far he appeared to be doing rather better than America’s Intelligence Community – not an encouraging sign.
Now that the British intercept seemed to be gaining credence, there was one other aspect that concerned Jensen. The transcript of the conversation between Hanson and McDowell had begun with the words ‘told to emphasise’. That indicated Hanson was under orders from someone, quite possibly someone else in the ONI. The trouble was that didn’t appear to be her head of department, Captain Nolan incompetent and lazy but probably not a traitor.
Overall, they were making progress, just not quickly enough. If the South China Sea was to be the new focus for McDowell and his associates, then what had actually happened in London, and was the murder of two Congressmen in Mississippi part of the same campaign or not?
Jensen knew all the right questions, just none of the answers. The other three men involved in the Mississippi attack had still not been positively identified, and there was nothing definite to suggest that McDowell was anywhere other than in Europe.
Despite his unwillingness to jump to conclusions, with every day that passed Jensen was becoming more convinced McDowell was the key player in recent events, the similarities to last year’s crisis in Russia becoming difficult to ignore. There might not be terrorists planting bombs but the American people’s trust in their leaders was slowly being eaten away all the same, some new political scandal hitting the headlines seemingly every other day. Taken separately each incident was fairly insignificant; taken together they were fast becoming an unfortunate trend, the cumulative effects just starting to provoke public comment.
President Golubeva’s own rise to prominence had been due in part to the terrorist murder of a Kremlin rival – just one more parallel to what was now happening in the U.S. The political response to Mississippi had quickly moved on from shock to outrage; Congressman Dan Quinn had been highly regarded amongst his peers and would likely have progressed from Chief Deputy Whip to become House Majority Leader in January, thus making him the Republican Party’s most influential voice behind the Speaker of the House. His younger colleague was in his first term as a Congressman, carrying forward a long-standing family tradition; yet he was still a virtual unknown and a political motive for his murder seemed unlikely.
Social media had been rather more transient in its approach to the Mississippi shootings, the expected sympathy and condemnation lasting a bare twenty-fo
ur hours before interest began to wane. Suggestions as to a motive for the murders covered everything from a jealous lover to political divisions within the Republican Party; pushed off the road and then shot twice in the head seemed an excessive reaction in either case. The news media had been less ambivalent, the majority assuming it was indeed a terrorist attack, several ready to put the blame at the door of right-wing extremists; the two Congressmen might be Republicans but that didn’t stop them being a target.
Jensen had grown more frustrated by the hour with the Intelligence Community’s slow progress; although the investigation into Hanson was led by the Department of Homeland Security, the FBI were effectively the lead agency, agents specifically looking into the political repercussions of the attack in Mississippi – who gained, and what precise implications would it have for the Republican Party and the political system as a whole.
Personally, Jensen was keeping an open mind as to whether McDowell had anything to do with Mississippi, but he was not prepared to ignore the possibility of some complex operation against the United States. If the world had learnt anything from last year’s terrorist campaign, it was that Russia had wasted months simply reacting to August 14, apparently unable to wrench the initiative back from the terrorists until the very end.
Or maybe Russia hadn’t even managed that, the link between the terrorists and Golubeva now revealed: August 14 – McDowell – Sukhov – Golubeva. If the Russian President’s grab for power had been deliberately driven by August 14 and its murder of hundreds of Russians, then Golubeva was no different to the worst of her Soviet predecessors. If she could do that to her own people, she would hardly care what new terror McDowell planned to unleash upon some other nation.
And might that nation actually be the United States?
It was a slightly improbable thought, but Jensen kept it handy at the back of his mind, just in case future events showed that the improbable was about to come true.
The Trust Of The People Page 12