by Tom Haase
"Young man, we need to see to that wound of yours," said a nurse, blocking his path.
"Not now. I’ll be back, and then you can check it."
The nurse told him he could stay in the waiting area and she would come to get him as soon as they could. He knew protesting would produce no results and returned to the waiting area, but soon went outside to make a phone call. This had better work, he thought.
* * *
The helicopter lifted off from the area of the Hartsfield control tower as Honey Jo emerged from the garage steps. "Oh my God!" she repeated over and over. Her hands went up to her mouth in horror. She rush walked toward the tower, took out her cell, and dialed airport security. Every controller knew the number by heart, in case a crew experienced a situation needing armed assistance.
While waiting for the phone to be answered, she skipped past the man with no face, toward a man lying facedown with his hand out. She could see a body holding open the door to the tower. “Oh my God,” she almost shouted as she took in the carnage. She glanced down at the man lying next to where she stopped.
"What you got there?" she said. She thought it looked like Marilyn’s key chain with the miniature red BMW on it. She reached down and picked it up. Surely it must belong to Marilyn. Honey Jo got through to security and told them that bodies lay outside the control tower. She learned they’d already sent people from calls by others.
To go back down to the garage to find Marilyn’s car seemed like a good idea. She hadn’t answered her cell in hours. After walking down all three levels searching for the car, she located it on the ground floor. A thumping noise came from the trunk. She opened it with the remote key, and her friend Marilyn appeared bound and gagged.
* * *
Mary Jean Bergermeyer remained with Mike Anthony. They drove away from Alexandria once Mike had handled all the police details of the shooting in broad daylight in Old Town Alexandria. Her cell phone rang.
"Matt, what’s happened?" she queried.
Matt gave her the details of the events at the airport and the trip to the medical facility. "General, I have the cell phone the terrorist was using to get his instructions. It’s still on, and I can read his messages. I think it means the decrypting program is active. If the phone were switched off, we would probably never get the code to reactivate it. Do you think our friends at NSA could help here?" Matt didn’t know what that entailed but he didn’t have anything else to go on.
"You’ve done marvelous. I’ll get my friends at the FBI to get on the scene at Hartsfield. They’ll know what really happened and will help. I’ll call you back in twenty minutes. In the meantime, see if you can find a secure telephone on the base, and get me a report on the medical conditions as soon as you hear anything." She disconnected and told Mike what the situation was. He started dialing on his cell phone, and Mary Jean dialed her friend, Admiral John Kidd, the director of the National Security Agency at Fort Meade, Maryland.
* * *
Matt requested a secure phone and learned one resided in the office of the commander of the hospital. He went to the emergency room area to wait. He needed to know about Bridget’s condition before he did anything else. In ten minutes, the nurse came out to tell him that a sedated Bridget rested in a private room.
"How is she?"
"In decent condition. She’s young and strong, but she probably will take a long time to regain full use of her arm," said the nurse while leading him to the room.
"How’s the other man?" Matt asked.
"Not so good. If he makes it, it’ll take a long recovery." The nurse stepped aside at the door, and Matt glanced in to see Bridget propped up in the bed and asleep. He went in. Her shoulder was all bandaged up and the color missing from her face. I know Laura likes her. In the last year of training for missions, she has become my best friend and now…
He reached down and held her hand.
His cell phone rang and Mary Jean said, "Go to a secure phone and call this number." She gave him a number and said good-bye.
53
USAF Medical Facility — 3:42 PM
Matt used the secure phone to call Admiral Kidd.
“Hello, Captain, or should I say Mister, now that you’re in the undercover business. I hear you did noble things today to save the president, and now you have a special cell that we need to get info from.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you. I’ve recovered a phone I believe the terrorists were using to communicate. It’s still on, has two bars of power showing out of a possible three.” Matt spoke directly with the admiral and remembered he had spoken with him before, during the recent adventure in Saudi Arabia.
“Don’t turn it off. I have an Air Force technical sergeant coming to your location now. He’ll plug in a power cord and connect a computer to the phone, and the data will be sent here. My people will use that to back trace who sent the message. We’ll be able to send a code to all the servers that were used to learn who received any information from the same source that sent data to the phone you have. Then we’ll know where the computers with the messages are located.”
As the admiral finished explaining the methodology of the tracking system, an Air Force sergeant entered the room and smiled at Matt while holding up some cables.
"I believe your man is here. Nice to talk to you again, Admiral."
"You take care of yourself and that lovely young lady. Is she going to be all right?"
"Yes, she is. Good-bye, Admiral. Here’s your man." Matt handed the cell phone to the sergeant and watched while two different cables connected it to some sophisticated device. Then, he realized, at that moment the phone’s brain wound its way to Fort Meade.
Nothing more he could do here, so he returned to Bridget’s room. He reminded himself to check on the Russian colonel in a while. Then he sat in the single metal chair in the room, exhausted from the ordeal, ignoring the loss of his own blood from his bullet wound, and waited for Bridget to open her eyes.
* * *
The technical analysts section at Fort Meade received the data from the phone and went to work. They had initially estimated calculated four hours to complete the task for the admiral. The experts used the deciphered phone’s internal system to backtrack along the text and email trails. They found the node that had sent the text messages and then followed all the transmissions from the originator to all the recipients of those messages. They managed to implant a minuscule program in each of those receiving units to order those devices to send all information in their databases from the original sender to Fort Meade. This plan gave them the ability, along with other technologies, to be able to locate the unique identifiers of each piece of equipment that had received the original messages. In the end, they would know where each instrument was located and who owned the receiving cell phone, laptop, or mainframe.
As this was a priority assignment, the analysts used the most powerful computers available to the NSA. The banks of computers comprising this super monster covered over thirty thousand square feet and contained their own air-conditioning system. The mainframe would take less than five minutes to accomplish what they wanted once the parameters had been established and fed into the supercomputers. After two hours of analysis, they inputted the data to the computer. Less than five minutes later, the machine gave them the answers to all their questions. Three hours and forty-five minutes after receiving the task, a report of their findings reached the desk of the director, Admiral Kidd, at 8:12 p.m. He called Mary Jean.
"I’ve got what you want, and it‘s a doozy. Sending it by secure fax to you now. It’s your business, but you’ll probably need the FBI on this one. Good luck."
"Thank you, Admiral. I really appreciate it," said Mary Jean.
"Just a show of what we can do together, young lady. Also, I should warn you that the targets might find out we tagged them if they possess sophisticated protection devices. Probably won’t, but you never know in this ever-changing electronic age."
"I’ll take you to dinne
r for your help," Mary Jean offered.
"I’d love that. When?" He pushed a little here.
"Sunday okay?"
"Pick you up at seven," said the admiral, hanging up the phone with a toothy grin. The push had worked. He thought about Mary Jean for a few minutes until the next crisis landed on his desk. This evening he would go home around midnight for a few hours sleep before being back at work at six in the morning.
* * *
Mary Jean viewed the fax from Admiral Kidd. She felt justified. Avery was in it up to his impeccable hairdo. Then another name and number hit her with the force of a fast-pitch baseball, confirming the earlier information from the FBI. The Iranian diplomat had masterminded the plan, as most of the messages had originated from his office.
She picked up the phone, called Mike at the FBI, and told him what she knew. "We need to coordinate our plans on this one. There are some areas you and your people ought to handle, and two I need to do by myself."
"You know the president is on his way back to D.C. right now?" asked Mike.
"What time will he get to Andrews?"
"An hour and a half from now."
"Do you have enough to nail Avery?" said Mike.
“I’ll have to think on it. But the other people on this list are fair game for you. Some might be terrorist cell leaders or members. That’s enough for you to investigate. The Iranian is in your arena, since you’re responsible for diplomats. I’ll secure-fax this over to you in a minute.”
"What are you going to do about your man?"
"I’ve got an hour to think about it. Let me know how you use this info, will you?"
"Of course, I can’t tell you officially. Take care." He hung up.
Mary Jean sat back and pinched her lower lip between her thumb and forefinger. This fax presented a major problem, and decision time was now, without delay. The stakes demanded immediate action, and her job entailed making the decisions, doing the dirty work, and smiling when necessary. She made her determination, got up, grabbed her coat, and headed for the airport.
She fabricated a story that her niece planned to visit tomorrow for a day, then called the SPAT office from her car, hoping Julia might be there. Matt would probably call her to tell her about Bridget. Mary Jean bet she’d waited at the office to hear any news.
When Julia answered, Mary Jean heard Laura and the parrot talking to one another. The parrot wanted Laura to feed it.
"Hello, Julia. It’s Mary Jean Bergermeyer."
"Have you heard anything from Matt? How is Bridget?"
"Nothing new. He told me she’s resting and will be all right. He said he talked to you, so you know about as much as I do." She slammed on her brakes to avoid an accident when someone ran a red light. Recovering quickly, she continued, "I’m calling to see if I can have Laura over tonight to visit with my niece to make up for the visit that never happened last time."
She heard Julia talking to Laura, and then, "Laura said she would like to do that."
"I’ll pick her up in a few minutes. We’ll go on to the airport to pick up my niece. The two of them should have a great time together."
"Okay, I’ll have her ready when you get here." That ended the conversation.
Mary Jean smiled. The second part of her new plan was now complete. The first part had started earlier, when she’d ordered Matt to get to Washington on a military jet.
54
On board Air Force One — 8:23 PM
Dean Avery again felt important, after the president heaped praise on him a second time for his assistance on the policy speech delivered in Atlanta. Subsequently, he settled into his seat after visiting with his old friend and boss. It felt comforting to be liked, and it felt even better to be alive. The threats he had been warned about had not materialized. He figured that he should be dead now, as the Iranian had warned him not to go on the plane. No matter, he would give his life without hesitation if it proved necessary in the attainment of their long-term goal, the conversion of America.
All these years, no one had suspected him. He had always conducted himself in a careful manner, but lately some things did appear to have slipped just a little. Ever since he had met Julie again, things seemed to get disjointed from the totally organized and predictable life he had led for so many years. She was the same as when they’d attended college. Those were the days. They’d loved, walked, converted to Islam at the same time, and thought they would be together forever. He started to recall the events that had led to their breakup, but his phone rang, interrupting the nostalgic trip.
"You’ve been discovered," said the voice of the Iranian.
"What?"
"They have breached our security and found out the names of all my contacts. Our analysts assure me they did this less than an hour ago."
"What are your instructions?"
"You are probably not in a position to eliminate today’s target while on the plane. When you get back, go to the Islam of America camp in the Blue Ridge Mountains near Charlottesville, Virginia." The specific directions followed. "You will be met there and provided for. If you stay in Washington, there will be a public trial sooner or later, and all our connections will come out, damaging you and our cause."
"I understand," Avery said and closed his phone. The world changed in a few seconds from an amazing place at the pinnacle of his influence to a disaster. Now it became necessary for him to run, at least for a while, until he could figure out what his future held. As soon as the plane landed, he would get Julie and head for the safe hideout. His connection with the radical Islamists and the jihadists could never come out, or the public image damage would be disastrous for the cause. First he took out a pen and wrote a note on a plain piece of paper.
“Mr. President. I hereby resign my office as national security adviser, effective immediately.” He signed it and put it in an envelope, planning to hand it to the president’s aide when he deplaned, with instructions to give it to the president in the morning. The president would want to know where he was when he didn’t arrive for the early-morning intelligence briefing.
With only a few minutes before landing, Dean Avery looked around at the symbols of power displayed in the aircraft, the Great Seal of the United States, the Presidential emblem, etc., for the mightiest nation on earth. Someday soon, they would all come down and be replaced by the green banner of Islam. He maintained no doubts about this, and he would go undercover to work for that goal. All the secrets of the great Satan were in his possession, and his knowledge could enhance their efforts to achieve an easier victory. They would protect him to get at that trove of information.
The plane landed and taxied to its parking space. The president deplaned first, and then Avery gave the envelope to the aide. He descended the steps last.
On the tarmac, Brigadier General Mary Jean Bergermeyer greeted him. Matt Higgins stood at her side. What in blazes was she doing here? She couldn’t already know about him. Not this fast. The Iranian had called only a few minutes ago, and that would provide him time to get away. He raised his hand in greeting. Might as well gut this out, he decided.
"Mr. Avery, a word with you if I may," the general said.
"I’m in a bit of a hurry. The president wants me to meet him at the White House as soon as possible to discuss some issues. You understand?" he said in a conciliatory manner.
"I understand perfectly. This’ll only take a minute." She took him by the arm and led him away from the few people standing around chatting after a ride on Air Force One. Matt waited out of earshot.
"What’s this all about?" he asked.
"Don’t play stupid, you fucking traitor. You’re guilty of treason and I’ll prove it." She spat the words at him.
"Whatever do you mean?" he continued meekly trying to attenuate her animosity. My God, she does know, he thought.
"Listen to me, you piece of shit. You informed the Iranian diplomat of the movement of the president’s special team of Matt and Bridget to Texas. You knew the location of t
he terrorists’ attacks we’ve been experiencing over the last two weeks in advance and did nothing to stop them." She moved right up to his face, stared hard at him and appeared to want to hit him.
He stepped back, "You’re crazy, General. What proof do you base these accusations on?"
"When I have all the proof, you will be charged with high treason by the attorney general. You and your girlfriend set my people up to be eliminated, assisted a terrorist to import a weapon of mass destruction into this country, and knew about the plot to kill the president on his trip to Atlanta today."
"All wild accusations that you will regret making after I talk to the president about you. You won’t have a job tomorrow morning," he said, stiffening and standing tall.
"Let me assure you, mister, you won’t when I’m through. You’ll be ruined."
"If you’re through making accusations, and don’t have a warrant for my arrest on these ridiculous charges, I have a job to do, General. Good night," he concluded, then swirled away from her and walked to his car.
* * *
Mary Jean stood on the tarmac until he drove off in his car. She smiled. She had him. His act hadn’t fooled her. Fear had permeated his eyes, and he’d started to perspire under her accusations. Her plan continued to take shape. Keep the pressure on him. She re-joined Matt and told him, “I believe the Iranian will have to take care of Avery, not because of his value to the cause but the damage he would do to it if he were brought into a courtroom. We will see in a short time.”