As Ciaran Burris gets into his office, he gets a call from Frank Cullen.
“Good morning, Frank.”
“Morning.”
“You know, I wish you wouldn’t do that,” Ciaran states with annoyance.
Burris has just walked through the cube farm past, among others, Frank’s office. Burris’ appearance puts Frank on notice, which gives Frank a chance to call Burris before anybody else can. Especially before anyone can walk into his office, call, email or otherwise grab his attention. This tactic annoys Ciaran, and Frank does it too much. Now Frank is following him into his office.
“You’ll forgive me, Ciaran, when I tell you that we’ve got something on Wang, the Chinese dissident.”
“Oh?” Burris sits on the corner of his desk. Frank remains standing.
“Yeah, there is a report this morning out of the Indian province of Rajasthan that an American student was found severely injured in Jaipur. Press spokesperson for Jaipur Hospital states that the young man, going by the name Arjun Kamat, had apparently fallen from one of the balconies at the City Palace. This is especially odd in that tourists are not permitted above the first floor of the palace, which remains a royal residence.”
“I’m lost. What’s this got to do with Wang?”
“We’ve got a list of this Miller’s contacts. We know who all his friends are, and they’ve all pretty much scattered. This Arjun is one of those friends. He’s from Jaipur.”
“The Chinese do this?”
“Could be I suppose, but it seems more likely that it’s their underworld.”
“Trying to get one over on their government?”
“Something like that. They are also reporting that Kamat suffered a number of injuries inconsistent with a fall and had lost a lot of blood. He’s critical.”
“Pass this along to State and contact the Embassy there to make sure they know we’re interested.”
“No problem.”
“You’re tracking all these people?” Burris knows the answer to this without even having to ask, but he does so anyway. After all, this is what everybody is paid for.
“You bet. Who are you interested in?”
It doesn’t take Burris long to figure this one out.
“Zak Miller and Kimberly Scott.”
Cullen takes a beat.
“Of course. They flew to Paris with tickets for Dubai. Once they were in Paris, they didn’t make the scheduled flight to Dubai.”
“Which means they’re still in Paris?”
“Yep. We put Dubai authorities on notice to detain them for questioning. Somebody must have informed them.”
“Who the hell was that?” Burris is angry. This had been mishandled. It could not have happened otherwise.
“We have the boys at Fort Meade working on it. One of their friends I suspect. Whoever it is, this character is accessing intel traffic. We’re searching, trying to isolate. We do know this. Whoever it is, it’s an encrypted source located somewhere in Europe.”
“Find the bastard!”
“We will, Ciaran. I promise.”
Burris pulls his monitor around and sure enough it’s signaling him.
“Gotta go.”
“See ya.”
Ciaran steps around his desk, sits down and types a few characters. There is a short wait. It’s Josephine Catral.
“What the hell?” Josephine exclaims, her voice feeding through his computer.
“Yeah, well, we’re on it.” Burris tries with limited success to hide his dismay.
“Jaipur?”
“Yes. We’re in contact with the embassy.” Actually, not quite yet, but they will be soon. “And the hospital and family,” Burris throws in for good measure, doubling down.
“And the Paris Dubai thing?”
“What do you mean?”
“Who tipped them off that they were to be detained?”
“How did you know about that?” But Ciaran thinks he knows.
“The NSA request.”
“Yeah, well, we’re on top of it.”
“Doesn’t look that way to me. Call Lonnie. Get this Harris guy, or Christopher Grey, or whoever the hell he is, on it.”
“He’s one of ours.”
“I noticed. Do it. Oh, and Ciaran.”
“What?”
“No more Palo Alto adventures.”
Bang, she’s gone. She’s abrasive. He really hates her.
Burris leaves a message for Lonnie James, who cannot otherwise be reached. This is a guy who never has time to sit on his ass. By time he gets back to Ciaran, it’s after lunch.
“Ciaran!” Lonnie comes on the phone with plenty of fake bonhomie.
“Mr. James I presume?”
“I hope we haven’t got you in trouble with your boss?”
“God forbid. Water off a duck’s back. Like that would make any difference if you know what I mean.”
Lonnie laughs.
“You know I know. What can I do for you?”
“We have a problem in Europe.”
“The same problem you had in California?”
“One and the same. Only the problem is they have a source supplying them real time intel. Also somewhere in Europe. Frank Cullen of my staff can fill you in on the details. We need to get somebody there who can help us isolate the source. “
“You want me to put Christopher Grey back in play?” Lonnie suggests.
“Please do. The Chinese have to be getting diarrhea over your superspy.”
“Possibly. Couple million reporting worldwide, you’d think they’d have the world on a string.”
“Yeah. Just don’t pull on it.”
Lonnie hangs up and sits back deep into his leather chair in a new office park in the suburbs of DC and looks out full length walls of tinted glass onto the post-modern buildings and gracious lawns, annuals planting beds, and not yet mature shade trees that surround him. He calls Todd Harris.
Harris is playing tourist in the Blue Room of the White House when he gets James’ call. Of course everyone in his tour group looks at him like he should be arrested on the spot. Harris ignores the glares and steps aside after seeing who’s calling him.
“Hi Lonnie,” Ted whispers.
“Why are you whispering?” James is concerned that something is happening to Todd.
“It’s nothing. I’m on the White House tour.”
Lonnie guffaws loudly, directly into the phone. It’s harsh.
“Seriously?”
“What do you mean? You’re the one who told me to take things in, not to head to California just yet!” Harris would sound wounded if he could. But he can’t. It’s not in his nature.
“I was at a dinner in the East Room once,” Lonnie offers, sort of in the form of contrition.
“Bully for you. Que pasa?”
“We have work for Mr. Grey in Europe.”
“Oh. Let me see. Zak Miller?”
“Too logical. They want you to find someone who is interpreting signals intelligence for him.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere on the continent. Why don’t you get in the air? We should be able to find out more before you hit the ground.”
“How’s Frankfurt then?”
“Fine.”
“Wheels up.”
Chapter 52
On Fire Page 51