Super Sniper

by Rawlin Cash

  Jennifer was still standing by the fire and Hale could see she was visibly shaken. He didn’t blame her. Someone seemed to be systematically working their way down the presidential line of succession and her name was next on the list.

  “Madam President,” he said. “We’re going to have to get you sworn in as soon as possible.”

  “I understand,” she said.

  “And we’re going to have to make some sort of announcement.”

  She nodded.

  “But our first priority is your security,” Hale said.

  He had the high ground now on the question of security. With Goldwater dead, Antosh and Fitzpatrick were the only other top-level security officials, and both of them had insisted on letting Walker out of the safe house. Only Hale had stood his ground. Jennifer knew that. They all did.

  “Hale,” she said. “Could I speak to you in private?”

  “Certainly, ma’am,” he said, following her into the office where he’d spoken privately to Walker just hours earlier.

  “You’re the one I trust most,” she said. “I want to stay alive long enough to get us through this emergency and you’re the man I’m entrusting to make that happen.”

  Hale wasn’t sure how to respond.

  “I understand,” he said.

  “What do you recommend we do?”

  “I’ve got Langley on this, but I think they’re going to confirm very shortly that the sniper is using drones to do his targeting. If he is, that means he can hit anything the drones are able to get a line of sight on.”

  “What is the range on a weapon like this?” Jennifer said.

  “The Russians were working on something like this before they cancelled it.”

  “Why did they cancel it?”

  “The technology was too complicated.”

  “What was its range?”

  “Six miles. A little more,” Hale said.

  “Is there any reason someone else, developing a weapon like this, would be subject to a similar range limitation?”

  “Honestly, Madam President, if someone developed this independently of the Russian program, there’s no reason for it to have any of the same parameters.”

  Hale could see that she was grasping at straws. She was seeking to put the threat in some sort of box that would make it understandable. It was the first step to dealing with it. He understood the instinct. He would have done anything for some concrete information about the limits of the sniper system.

  “Ma’am,” he said. “We’re doing everything we can to get a grip on what this system is capable of. We’re also bringing in new assets to seek out and destroy the sniper.”

  “And in the meantime?”

  “In the meantime, I don’t know what to tell you. We can’t stay here much longer. The sniper knows we’re here. A single wrong move could be fatal.”

  “Do you have another place you can take me?”

  “This safe house is supposed to be one of the most securely kept secrets we have.”

  “But they found us here. Do you think we’ve got some sort of mole?”

  “We’ve always got some sort of mole.”

  “And it's your job to constantly ferret them out.”

  “I’ll get to work on that, ma’am. In the meantime, I recommend we get you to a new location, and that we get you sworn in as soon as possible.”

  “There’s another thing I need to ask you,” she said.

  “Anything,” Hale said.

  “If I’m killed, how does the line of succession stand?”

  Twenty-Three

  The next few hours were like something out of Hale’s worst nightmares. He had to get the president out of the safe house, but without confirmed information on the functioning of the targeting system, he had no way of doing that safely.

  They were essentially pinned down. Apart from himself and the president, the only senior officials present were Antosh, Fitzpatrick, and six of Walker’s cabinet members. The secret service team comprised twenty-four agents, but two had been killed during the attack on the helicopter.

  The Air Force was on high alert and the airspace above the safe house was swarming with military helicopters and fighter jets.

  Hale was on the phone to Fawn.

  “No sign of the drone anywhere,” she said.

  “You’re positive the airspace is clear?”

  “As positive as we can be, boss. We’ve got multiple satellites scanning the space.”

  Hale knew it was the best he was going to get. Maybe the secret service had damaged the drone when they’d fired on it. Or maybe the shooter had withdrawn after his successful hit. He didn’t like making the assumption but Jennifer was antsy and everyone was on his back to get her to another location.

  He made the call. He ordered Marine Two, the chopper assigned to the vice president, to land on the lawn outside the lodge. As it touched down, four secret service agents in identical black uniforms, the hoods of their windbreakers drawn and their faces masked by scarves, dashed the twenty yards to the chopper and took position outside it.

  Hale and the president were disguised in the same way. They came out next with two more agents. They got on board the chopper with the two agents and at Hale’s direction, Jennifer lay flat on the floor.

  “Any sign of a drone and the president’s at risk,” he said to the pilot as they sped at low altitude along the Chesapeake shoreline.

  “Where are you taking me?” Jennifer said.

  “Madam President, I’d rather not say.”

  “Just say it,” Jennifer said. “You’ve got to tell the pilot in any case.”

  Hale nodded. They had to trust the men on board the chopper.

  “The Greenbrier,” he said to Jennifer, and then to the pilot, “I want you to get us there without telling anyone. If this craft can go dark, do it.”

  The pilot nodded.

  Hale looked at Jennifer to see if she recognized the name. She did. It had been a big story in 1992 when the Washington Post revealed the government’s plans for the site.

  “The Greenbrier?” Jennifer said. “You’re kidding me.”

  “Its a good option, ma’am. Just trust me.”

  “I’ve been there. It’s a fucking casino, Jeff.”

  “It’s more than that, ma’am.”

  Jennifer sighed. She knew the site was more than just the resort it appeared to be. She just couldn’t believe there wasn’t a better plan.

  “What’s our ETA?” she said.

  “Three hours, forty minutes, ma’am. We’re flying wide around the capital.”

  “Does this strike you as a slightly ludicrous situation, Hale? Or is it just me?”

  “The GC list has been compromised,” Hale said.

  GC referred to Government Continuity, the list of plans and sub-plans, secrets within secrets, that had been designed to protect the US government in the event of a catastrophic attack. Hale had never been a fan of such plans. They were overly complicated and useless in a real emergency. He knew from archives that an official continuity plan had never been effectively used during a national emergency, and the only time one had even been partially initiated, during the 9/11 attacks, it was completely ignored by senior personnel.

  Jennifer was unimpressed but Hale knew the plan was their best bet. It had the advantage of being completely secret, since he’d only just thought of it, and it also kept her relatively close to the capital, unlike many of the official plans which involved sending the president thousands of feet underground, in bunkers built during the Cold War in places like the Cheyenne Mountain Complex in Colorado.

  The Greenbrier was a luxury, five-star resort built by the Chesapeake and Ohio Railway Company in 1913. It was located near the town of White Sulphur Springs, West Virginia, and had been intended as a luxury hotel with access to the local hot springs. It had eleven thousand acres of land around it, and almost seven-hundred-fifty luxury hotel rooms, ranging in price from a couple hundred to over a thousand dollars a nigh
t. Twenty-six US presidents had stayed at the facility.

  On top of that, it had been the site of one of the country’s most important, and in Hale’s view, most practical, Government Continuity plans.

  Code-named Project Greek Island, the plan from the late fifties provided for the government and congress to be secretly relocated to the facility in the event of a nuclear attack. While the project was cancelled after it was made public, all the structures were still in place and still in working order. Hale knew this because he’d recently visited the site as a tourist. You could book tours to the whole thing, view the old blast doors and reinforced concrete, and then eat in one of the hotel’s many restaurants.

  A secret agreement between the government and the owners of the resort had provided that in the event of a national emergency, the entire facility could become government property. It was not just a hotel, but a huge underground facility that was built beneath the hotel’s east wing, containing its own secure dormitory, kitchen, hospital, and broadcast facility. Inside its reinforced, two-foot thick concrete, which could survive a direct nuclear attack, was an 89 by 186 foot great hall supported by eighteen massive concrete columns. It was large enough to house all 435 members of congress. There was also a hall for the senate.

  Everything had been planned meticulously and it had all been preserved perfectly. For example, Hale had seen that the broadcast facility still had its massive backdrops, designed to look like broadcasts were being made from Washington DC in any season of the year. It also had its hundred-foot high radio tower for making broadcasts.

  The six-month supply of emergency food wasn’t maintained but he didn’t need that. He only needed the buildings. He knew it was his best chance at keeping the president safe until he found out what was going on.

  “With your permission, ma’am, I’d like to keep our location secret from everyone other than the five people on this helicopter.”

  “Is that permitted under the constitution?”

  “We’ve got a serious breach,” Hale said. “We’ve lost two presidents and the chairman of the joint chiefs in the space of two days. As you know, Safe House One was protected by the most stringent security protocols we have.”

  “And it was breached.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So what are you suggesting, Hale?”

  “No one knows where we’re headed, ma’am. I thought of Greenbrier because I’d been there last summer. I haven’t told anyone about it. Not even the pilot knew our destination until I told him.”

  Jennifer was overwhelmed. She hadn’t even been sworn in yet. The enormous responsibility of the presidency was on her shoulders and she had none of the usual infrastructure to support her.

  “I’m putting my life in your hands, Hale.”

  “I understand that, ma’am.”

  “The lawyers, the politicians, they’re going to need to know where we are.”

  “And we’ll tell them, but only after you’re secure. We can deal with all of that after you’re safe. It’s going to take time to find out who’s making these attacks, and I don’t intend to lose you while we get our shit together.”

  “Agreed.”

  “The Greenbrier has a broadcast facility. You can address the nation.”

  “There’s going to be panic in the streets when they realize we’ve lost another president.”

  “Just imagine how much worse it would be if they lost you too,” Hale said.

  The helicopter was so low Hale could practically see in the windows of the farm houses.

  Jennifer looked at the ground then up at him.

  “Hale, what exactly is our plan for getting this situation under control?”

  “I do have an idea, Madam President.”

  “And what is it?”

  “You heard of Mantis?”

  Hale knew she’d heard of it. Congress had subpoenaed every detail of the the cartel crisis. It had hurt to have to disclose the details of Preying Mantis, but given the fact Hunter took out the cartel leadership, there was no avoiding it.

  Even though Mantis was the reason the cartel had been defeated, Jennifer Blackmore had been its most vocal critic. She’d sponsored legislation that would have outlawed further experimentation in the enhancement of human soldiers, particularly attempts to make them more compliant or ruthless on the battlefield.

  “You know I have.”

  “I want to call in the operative.”

  Jennifer said nothing. She was trapped between her principles and her desire to stay alive. In her mind, there was no question Mantis was unethical. It was poisoned. Any operative that came out of it, even one as effective as Hunter, was tainted. He was the fruit of the poisoned tree.

  “He’s the only remaining Mantis operative, am I correct?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “You’re sure of that? If I recall correctly, you’ve concealed the truth about this in the past.”

  “He’s the only one.”

  “What do you call him?”

  “We call him Hunter. Jack Hunter.”

  “Jack Hunter. How appropriate.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And you think he’s our best chance of keeping me alive and getting to the bottom of this mess?”

  “Our best chance, ma’am. Yes.”

  Twenty-Four

  As the helicopter crossed from Virginia into West Virginia, Hale received the president’s permission to call in Jack Hunter.

  He phoned Fawn immediately.

  “You need to bring him in,” he said.

  Fawn let out a short laugh. “A few hours ago, you were debating whether or not to kill him.”

  “Things change. That president is dead. We have a new one and we need to protect her.”

  “You have to take care of the swearing in soon. The country’s been four hours without a president. They’ll take steps.”

  “We’re still in the air.”

  “You better land and call in, boss. I’m not kidding. Fitzpatrick has his finger on the button.”

  “That grubby little finger. I shudder to think what he’s used it for.”

  “Just get on the ground and report in. You can’t keep her to yourself forever.”

  “I know,” Hale said.

  “So how did you get her to green-light Hunter?”

  “I asked if she wanted to stay alive.”

  “Subtle.”

  “I know. Now get in touch with him.”

  “I don’t even know how to contact him.”

  “Sure you do. You two are penpals.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Fitzpatrick noticed your little data exchange.”

  “Oh.”

  “Were you going to tell me about it?”

  “Of course I was.”

  Hale sighed. He’d let his house get out of order. It was the first step in the demise of a spymaster. Underlings taking liberties. He could see all the rest of the steps that would follow. In the end, there was only one place they could lead. His downfall.

  “We’re going to need to talk to Fitz about that. He’s got Hunter on video surveillance from the data facility.”

  “Well then he knows more about it than I do.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true,” Hale said.

  Fawn was smarter than she let on. One of her biggest talents was getting people to underestimate her.

  “I’ll turn in a report,” Fawn said. “For the record, the data came to me anonymously and I don’t know how to decrypt it.”

  “Put it in your report. I’ll be interested to read it.”

  “All right.”

  “And Fawn, don’t keep things from me.”

  “Okay, Hale.”

  “If you ever turn on me, do it to my face.”

  “Jesus, it was an anonymous file transfer, Hale. One I couldn’t even read.”

  “We both know what it could lead to.”

  Fawn hung up.

  Jennifer was looking at h
im, she’d overheard the conversation, and the look on her face told him she’d enjoyed seeing him squirm a little.

  “That was your little sidekick? The cute one with the cropped hair?”

  “Yes it was,” Hale said. He sounded more exasperated than he intended. “Fawn Aspen.”

  “She keeps you on your toes, doesn’t she.”

  “She’s the best agent I’ve ever seen.”

  “And she’s beginning to see that the sun and moon don’t rise out of your ass.”

  “They shall eat every man the flesh of his own arm.”

  “Is that the bible?”

  “Yes it is.”

  “And it sums up your view on the work we do, I take it?”

  “You ever heard of a rat king?”

  “Rattenkönig,” Jennifer said. “I studied medieval literature in college.”

  “Then you’ve seen the photos.”

  “I’ve googled it.”

  “Well that pretty much sums up my view of Washington, the government, all of us.”

  “A big mess of rats with our tails tied together.”

  “A big knot of rats. We can’t move without bringing the whole damn pile along with us. And slowly, we’re devouring each other.”

  “Well, I can’t say I’m quite as pessimistic as you are, Hale, but it’s good to know where you stand.”

  “I can tell you one thing with certainty, Madam President. We will all be devoured from within.”

  “You think these two assassinations are an inside job?”

  “I think almost every major threat to this nation originates from the inside.”

  “And external actors?”

  “The Russians, the Chinese, ISIS, the Taliban?”

  “Right.”

  “They play a role.”

  “A side role?”

  “I think that’s a fair assessment, don’t you?”

  “I think the main drama of America is a drama of our own making, yes. But isn’t that how it should be?”

  “I don’t know. Domestic affairs are domestic affairs. My job is foreign threats. Until very recently, I was constitutionally barred from operating within our own territory. I’m supposed to be protecting the nation from outside threats.”