by Tom Haase
The Secretary of Defense read a short citation for both Matt and Bridget and presented them with the Department of Defense Meritorious Service Award. This medal help a position high up in the order of military awards that could be presented.
“Thank you, Mr. Secretary. I didn’t know there was such an award.”
“It’s usually for senior officers and it is rare for it to be presented to a captain and never before to a sergeant. All here think you earned it.” The Secretary said the three enlisted men on the team would receive their service’s commendation medal.
“Congratulations to both of you. As you might have noticed, the citation did not exactly refer to any action you really performed while in Saudi,” the President said. “I am sure you are wondering how I know about this and why I am interested in what you did. Well, first of all, I know about your exploits from my old college classmate and best man at my wedding, Admiral Kidd. We have been close friends for nigh on thirty years. He told me about you on Friday night in a close hold poker game.” The President had his vote-getting smile in full bloom beaming across his face.
“Let me say that you have the respect of all here and I am going to rip someone’s tail for not keeping me informed as this whole event unfolded. That’s another story. Right now, I would like to have a private conversation with these two real national heroes. You both showed exemplary courage and devotion to duty and the United States owes you a great deal of thanks for what you accomplished. We could have suffered a catastrophic economic failure if their efforts had failed,” the President concluded and waited for the Secretaries to leave. He pointed to Admiral Kidd and Brigadier Bergermeyer to stay.
“Okay. Everybody is gone except us chickens,” the President said, “and I want to make sure you two know that what is going to be said here in the next few minutes has not been said. Do I make myself clear?” Matt saw the President’s eyes look at him and then at Bridget.
Matt shook his head in unison with Bridget. What was coming had to be important. The President motioned for them to sit around the main conference table. They had stood since entering the White House Situation Room for the formal ceremony. Matt snuck a sideways glance at Bridget and saw she remained just as puzzled as he about this whole secret drama thing that now unfolded before them. What did the President have in mind? Matt remained curious, but now his guard went up. Something was going to happen, he sensed it. As he got comfortable sitting, he returned his focus to the President.
After looking around the room, the President sat back in his chair that bore the Presidential seal. He took a deep breath, and started to talk, looking at both Matt and Bridget.
“I am aware of your intentions to resign from the service, perhaps trying to do the same things you have been so superbly trained to do in the military. Have I been informed correctly?”
Matt looked at General Bergermeyer, knowing she had to be the one to reveal their intentions. She kept her eyes focused on the President. Then Matt nodded his head.
“Well, I have a proposition that may interest you, and it is the reason for all the secrecy.” The President rose from his high-backed chair and started to pace back and forth behind it. He gave the appearance of a man thinking things out. Matt observed the intensity in his eyes as the President turned to face him.
“I want you to do exactly what you plan.”
Matt’s jaw almost dropped open. What in the hell is he up to?
“There is a catch, but let me explain in detail before you make up your mind. I also extend this invitation to Sergeant Donavan. You see, I have been thinking the President needs a team of people he can call on to do things that he can’t call on anyone else to do. Not CIA, FBI, Homeland Security or any other organization. The fiction writers have had a field day over the years postulating all kinds of secret teams the President has at his disposal to solve all kinds of super secret operations to save the country. Well, you two did that same thing in real life. So, why not be the President’s secret force to do that type of thing when I need someone I can tap who is outside of the normal operations of the government?” He stopped and sat back down.
Matt could tell he hadn’t explained it in depth and there were some holes in the offer. He decided to keep quiet even though it would be a great time to ask questions. If this offer was real, and he assumed it was, there would be time to take care of small details later. He looked at Bridget who now viewed him with her head toward the President but her eyes were hard over viewing at him. She made a shoulder gesture that Matt took as “let’s see what happens.”
“For the present, you will remain as serving members of the armed forces but will be removed from all active duty lists and will appear as if you are no longer in the service. Your pay and privileges will continue to accrue and your promotions will be on time. You will report to the two officers in this room or to me personally. No one else. This offer is good as long as I am President and it might carry over to my successor depending on his or her wishes. You will be acting as a private contract security firm. Go ahead, set it up, and operate as any other private organization. You will do business as that entity unless you receive a contract from one of us to carry out a mission. Then you will have at your command all the government’s equipment, technology, communications, etc. that you require. You get the best of both worlds, continuing to serve your country and engaging in the fields you want to as private citizens. Once you are set up you can always fall back on that if future Presidents decide not to continue the program. What do you think?”
Matt could not believe it. This allowed them to do all they could ever want. It gave them access to all the resources of the government and none of the limiting control features that had hampered their operations in Saudi. Bridget was staring at him.
“Mr. President, does this mean the officers here will control any operation you decide to give us?” Matt had to know what controls or limitations would apply on the use of the government’s resources.
“Let me make this very plain. You will receive a mission and you will be in control. All assets of this government will be at your fingertips and these two will provide that support. Your job will be to get the task completed by whatever means and to send me the bill including your own compensation as a contractor.” The President sat back in his chair and waited for this to sink in.
Matt looked at Bridget who nodded.
“In that case, I accept your offer. We might need our two other team members.”
“That can be arranged,” said the President. “Anything else?”
“With the mandate you have given us and the resources you will make available there is nothing else we could ask for,” he said as he looked to Bridget.
“Mr. President, I’m afraid I must pass. I want to get out of the Army and go back to school to pursue a career in archeology. My enlistment is up in six months,” Bridget said.
“I may have to rethink the manner of your employment with me. Perhaps Matt might have to go to the FBI where another close friend of mine is the director. That might make it easier for him to operate in certain areas. I’ll decide later. Right now, young lady, as a personal favor to me could you help Matt here get set up?” the President asked.
“That I could do,” Bridget responded. “I would be willing to help get the rest of Hanbali’s men, if we ever can.”
“Okay. Now we have settled that. It is time to fill you in on parts of your operation in Saudi you were not aware of. You went after the two devices that were assembled by this guy, Tewfik al-Hanbali, to detonate in the city and the oil reserves. You do not know some things. One of the men who got away was al-Hanbali’s brother, at least we believe he is, and the other a Russian.” The president moved to a map on the wall.
“What Russian?” Bridget said in open astonishment.
“We believe he is the one who is responsible for the actual construction of the weapons. The technical boys, who evaluated the weapon you brought back, think the methodology is consistent with the
way the Russians construct their nuclear weapons.”
The President turned to Matt and said, “We think the Russian is the one who owned the computer Matt took at the gas station. It had some useful information on it, and we did recover an e-mail address on that computer, but unless he uses that same e-mail account on a new computer we have definitely lost him. Other than that, we now have lost any way to track them or perhaps communicate with him. Admiral Kidd will fill you in on the details of that after this meeting. You eliminated all but two members of that terrorist cell and destroyed it as an effective unit. Where the two that got away are, or what they intend to do, is unknown. We have to assume they will take some time to get operational again.”
The President took a moment to let his words sink in. “Your first mission, after you get set up, is to deal with it. Now that Bridget has agreed to work with you on this I have one directive. Go get them.” The President rose from his chair to indicate the meeting was over. He walked over to them and said, “Good luck, good hunting, and keep in touch. They’ll tell you how for normal times but you may have a need to contact me. Here is my personal cell phone number.” He handed it to Matt and then left the room.
“Well, Mr. Higgins, since you are unofficially out of service, are you satisfied with this arrangement?” the admiral asked.
“We both thank you for what you both did,” Matt said.
“You two now have a presidential directive and a specific mission from him. Why are you standing around here like two deer in the headlights?” The admiral smiled as he said this.
“We are on it,” they said together.
* * *
At precisely that moment, thousands of mile from Washington, Basam al-Hanbali and Yuri Marchanovich were driving across the southern Saudi Arabian desert toward the Yemen border. There they planned to disappear for some time in order to reorganize and rebuild an organization. They regretted they had lost that crucial computer in the trade for the car due to their need for a quick getaway. At present, they continued without that item, but they still had their prize. Yuri could reconstruct most of the data on the computer.
Their loss remained a small secondary concern because strapped safely in the back seat rested the third atomic weapon.
THE END
Secret Device
The Donavan Adventure Series (Volume 2)
To my son, Michael Anthony Haase
1
Air Force One – 2:13 p.m
President Christopher Brennan relaxed his old frame in the comfortable leather chair on Air Force One. He rolled down his white shirtsleeves to prepare for the landing in Atlanta, still twenty minutes away. His personal cell vibrated, and on seeing the number of his special agent, he answered it.
"Hello, Matt. What's happened?"
The voice of the president's agent, who operated in an off-book capacity, came over the phone in a rush.
"Mr. President, you can't land in Atlanta. I'm convinced there’ll be an attempt to detonate an improvised atomic device when you touch down. I know for sure the bastards got it into the country."
Brennan sat upright and leaned forward signaling his press secretary, Gary Fazio, who prepared to leave, to remain in his seat.
"Are you sure? We’re only a few minutes from landing. What proof is there?"
"Sir, we've little time. I've tracked them from Savannah to Atlanta. The trail ended at the home of a female FAA flight controller. I believe the Russian kidnapped or murdered her to get access to the control tower. They know you’re landing shortly." Matt made a gasping-for-breath sound over the phone with what sounded like the noise from helicopter rotor blades in the background. Matt continued, "The weapon is with him. Bridget and I are on the way to the airport to intercept him."
The president put the call on hold and ordered Gary, "Get Avery in here." Brennan swiveled to look out the window, where his image reflected a wrinkled brow and his wavy uncombed gray hair. He took off his glasses and swung back and forth in his chair. A few seconds later, Dean Avery, the national security advisor, entered the compartment. A short, stocky man, his face always exuded confidence, and his dress was immaculate, including the combed-over hair.
"One of my agents tells me there may be an atomic weapon detonated when we land in Atlanta," he said to Avery, trying to mask any trepidation in his voice. His right hand, however, tightly clenched the phone on which Matt waited on the line.
"What? Is this a joke? Surely, it has to be." Avery appeared calm.
"Mr. President," said Gary in rat-a-tat New York style speech, "we must go on. This is a crank. What proof is there of anything? No specific warning from the intelligence community about a threat in Atlanta. This will be a splendid opportunity for you in that city with the dedication of the new runway. Come on, you worked hard to get this." He walked back toward the president, going around the bulky national security adviser.
"Who is this report from? How reliable is the information?" Dean Avery demanded. He was not only the president’s friend, but also his closest adviser on most matters. He wanted answers. Christopher Brennan did not respond to the questions.
"I hear you both. But the man on the phone is someone I trust. Dean, assuming the existence of a bomb, what's your input?" the president asked.
Avery put one finger under his collar and moved it from the right side of his neck to the left. Sweat formed on his forehead. "Your safety is paramount. We should return to Washington."
"No. Come on." Gary paused. "We need this appearance. You promised to support that Georgia governor. We are behind in the polls. This will help you. Besides --" The President signaled for him to stop talking. Gary Fazio was a young man to hold this important job, and the president valued his knack for accurately predicting any public reaction, but public relations weren’t the issue here.
Brennan said, "If we mention this to the Secret Service, they’ll want to turn us around. They’ve done this before with other potential threats. I’m still the boss, and I’ll decide what to do."
Avery moved toward the president. His stern face started to redden. "If we proceed to Atlanta we could be vaporized." He paused, seemed to review his options, and in a more measured tone, continued, "If we don't land, your people may use this chance to find these terrorists before they can target you again."
The president heard the fear in his friend’s voice, but Avery always gave a considered response, even in a crisis like the one now brewing. He remembered that Avery hadn’t wanted to come on this trip. The president had insisted he come along because of some foreign policy matters he’d planned to address during a reception at the governor’s mansion later today.
"You’re assuming they won’t set off the weapon if I’m not there." Brennan pushed his fingers through his hair.
"Mr. President, we don't even know if there is a bomb. The press is going to eat us alive. Do you really want to run?" Gary almost yelled at his boss.
"Mr. President," Avery said, "we should go back to Washington. It doesn’t make sense for them to waste a weapon if they couldn’t get you as well. The target they’re after is you." After taking a moment, he continued at a faster clip. "Remember the intelligence briefings we received today on the Russians warning us of an attack, and on the recent calls for your destruction by the Iranian leader? You’re the bull’s-eye, and if you’re not there, there's no reason for them to take action."
"I’ll have to get a story together to cover the cancellation," said Gary, almost resigned to the decision being used against him.
"No cover story would hold up to the press scrutiny on this," Brennan said, and he took a few moments to think before continuing, "I can’t. I don't want to turn tail and skedaddle, and not support the people running for reelection on my ticket." He closed his eyes for a moment, while noting that Matt remained on hold. Recently, Brennan had sent Matt and his partner, Bridget, to track down a suspected terrorist. He concluded there could be a direct connection between that incident and this new threat. He took in both m
en’s countenances and rapidly shook his head side to side, then continued, enunciating every word, "I don’t like giving in to a terrorist threat."
“Mr. President,” Gary said, “you realize the press will have a field day, since by turning around, it would appear you fail to support your party's candidate for governor. They might speculate that your failure to show meant you believe in the unavoidable loss of another governorship.”
Brennan barely heard Gary as he calculated that if Matt did not succeed in stopping the detonation, thousands would die, including everyone on board Air Force One. On the other hand, if his agent stopped the terrorists and the president failed to land, he could write off all the political capital he would have garnered at the dedication.
Matt, he thought, could not be certain about the weapon. They regularly received many terrorist threats. At the same time, with all the lives at stake, it wasn’t worth taking such a risk.
"The only alternative. . . I don’t like it, but right now it’s the correct course of action. We go back to D.C.," the president said.
Fazio nodded and let his shoulders slump. He exhibited that pissed-off face a New York cabbie gives at a cheap tip.
"Good decision," Avery chimed in, "because I was coming to tell you that I learned from the National Security Council staff that they believe a Russian counterterrorist team is operating on our soil."
The president held up his hand to Avery, "Stop, let me finish this first. One bloody crisis at a time." He released the hold button on the speakerphone and put the receiver up to his mouth to tell Matt his decision. The red phone on the console next to his chair buzzed. He used his free hand to pick up the direct connection to the White House Situation Room. "Yes?"