I Minus 72 (6 page)

Another quick look around confirmed he was
still alone, so he reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a
small bottle of gasoline, poured it into the engine compartment of
the car and threw in a match. The Town Car exploded into flame.
With the flames destroying both the exterior and the interior of
the car, no one would notice the missing badge. He knew that any
investigation would indicate the fire had originated in the engine
compartment and was most likely initiated by a gasoline leak caused
by the wreck. The ruling would be accidental death.

The man got back into his truck and drove
away. Early next morning, another man arrived at the government
garage in the District, notified the guard that the previous driver
for the DNI had died the night before in a crash and asked that a
new Town Car be assigned. He said that early this morning, he had
gotten a call and was told that he would be the new driver. The
guard confirmed that the man had a valid badge with the appropriate
picture and everything else was in order. Lacking any other
authority on site, the guard logged him in, swiped his badge, which
came back valid, and gave him the keys to the DNI’s new Town Car.
The man signed the log and drove off. The guard went on to other
things.

I minus 49

The Pentagon

“Hey, good morning. Welcome back, Colonel.”
Sam smiled as Thurmond came through the door to her office.

“Good morning, Sam.” Thurmond returned her
smile and sat down in her guest chair.

Sam started right in. “Well, sir, you’ve
created quite a stir your first week back. The DNI was here looking
for you. I tried to cover; I called General Wheeler for support and
he called the DNI and told him he had ordered you to go. The DNI is
waiting for your report. You might want to touch base with General
Wheeler first, though. Another thing, I called—”

“Whoa. Slow down. I’m having trouble keeping
up. Jet lag, I guess.” Thurmond laughed.

Sam, realizing she had been a little
intense, said, “Oh, sorry. Guess I’m relieved you’re back safely. I
couldn’t imagine what you were doing and what trouble you might
have gotten into. We have to get you a phone that will be active
wherever you are. I’ll work on that today. Did you find the guy you
were looking for?”

“Koslowski. Yes, I found him.” Thurmond
paused and looked around. “Has this room been swept since it was
assigned to us?”

“I don’t know, sir. I haven’t ordered a
sweep. If you didn’t, then I’m sure it hasn’t.”

“Get it swept this morning and stay right
next to the team. If they find anything—anything at all—I want to
know. Okay?” Thurmond wasn’t smiling now.

“Yes, Sir. I’ll get on it right away.” Sam
said, matching Grant’s serious tone.

Thurmond went down to the Navy guys to get
more coffee. Boy, they really knew how to do it. The other coffee
messes in the DIA spaces had coffee that was weak, almost like tea.
It had no character. But the Navy coffee was great. He went from
there to his office. He could hear Sam talking, but couldn’t make
out what she was saying. Must be on the phone, he thought.

Later that morning a team showed up to sweep
Thurmond’s office for bugs. He wasn’t terribly surprised when they
found two. He was told they were the latest and greatest
technology. Even the sweepers were surprised that they were so
current. They told Thurmond that these bugs were created for the
CIA and, as far as the sweepers knew, no other agency, except maybe
NSA, had access to them yet. Thurmond didn’t know exactly who
wanted to listen in on his conversations, but he could guess.
Sometimes, in this business, your colleagues were the ones you
could trust the least.

Very few people had access to offices within
the DIA spaces. Buried deeply inside the Pentagon, there was only
one way to get in. That entrance was guarded by two armed marines,
twenty-four-seven. You didn’t get in unless you were recognized
with a valid badge or were on the guest list. Even with the guest
list, you didn’t get further than the reception area. Each guest,
no matter who they were or what their rank or clearance level, had
to be picked up, signed in, and escorted at all times by the DIA
officer they were visiting. That meant that the bugs had to have
been planted by someone who had free access to all the spaces.
Although he didn’t know for sure who did it, the only CIA person
who had full access and would have any interest in what he was
doing was Garcia.

He told the sweepers to leave the bugs in
place. No use letting whoever planted them know they’d been
discovered. Maybe he could use them to his advantage.

***

That afternoon in his office, armed with the
knowledge of the bugs, Thurmond told Sam exactly what he had told
Garcia about Koslowski. He’d set Sam straight later, but it would
be good for Garcia, or anyone else who was listening in, to hear a
consistent story. For now, he wanted everyone to think that
Koslowski was a dead end.

I minus 49

The DNI

The new driver picked up the DNI in McLean
at 0730. As the driver stood there holding the rear passenger side
door open, Barry realized this wasn’t his regular guy.

“Where’s Bradley? He sick?” Barry asked,
pausing before entering the car.

The driver responded in a serious voice.
“Good morning, sir. I’m afraid I have some bad news. Bradley died
in a traffic accident last night on the Washington Parkway. I’ve
been temporarily assigned as his replacement.”

“My God. He’s been my driver for several
years now.” Barry exclaimed. “I hardly knew him, but I’m really
sorry he died. Geez, I don’t even remember his last name.”

“Parker, sir. His name was Bradley
Parker.”

“Parker, huh? Well thank you. While we’re at
it, what’s your name? Will you be my regular driver from now on?”
Barry asked as he got into the car.

“My name is Matt, sir, Matt Riley. I would
really like to be your regular driver, but you need to call the
garage and tell the supervisor that you want me as your driver.
Right now, as I said, I’m just temporary.”

“I’ll do that as soon as I get to the
office, Matt. By the way, I assume you’re cleared?” Barry
asked.

“Oh, yes, sir, all your drivers have to have
Top Secret clearance. Here’s my badge.”

“Great,” the DNI said, after satisfying
himself that the driver’s face matched the one on the badge. Also,
the badge contained a small yellow dot under the plastic coating
indicating he was cleared for access to classified information.
Barry knew he should verify the access level by swiping the
magnetic strip located on the back of the badge, but he didn’t have
a reader in the car so he figured he’d have his admin do it later
back at the office. He’d had other substitute drivers in the past
and it had always worked out okay.

After the driver got into the car, Barry
began his daily routine. He generally started the day in his Town
Car, making calls on the secure phone all cabinet level officers
had in their cars. His first call was to Garcia at CIA
headquarters. He knew Garcia was scheduled to be back in the office
this morning, so he put his call on speakerphone, leaned back in
his comfortable leather seat, and dialed.

Garcia answered on the second ring.
“Garcia.”

“Garcia, Barry. I got the full details of
your call while you were in Krakow. Did you find this guy
Koslowski, the old cluster leader? Did he give up the list?” Barry
asked impatiently.

“Yes, sir, we did. However, as you point out
he was old and was completely incoherent so we learned nothing
helpful. Thurmond should have verified this before we left, but,
obviously, he didn’t. So, we wasted four days for nothing.” Garcia
sounded disgusted.

“There was no way to get information out of
this guy?”

“Well, sir, I really didn’t get a chance to
talk with him. Thurmond insisted on meeting with him alone and came
back with nothing.” Garcia leaned back and smiled. This was going
well. With any luck the DNI will assign him to partner with
Thurmond.

“Damn. So where are we?” Barry responded,
gruffly, crossing his legs in the roomy back seat.

“We’re nowhere, sir. Back to square one. Are
you sure Thurmond’s the one to be heading this up?” Garcia hoped he
wasn’t overdoing it.

“I’ll call Thurmond, get his take.” With
that the DNI hung up, not waiting for Garcia to reply. The driver
couldn’t help but smile slightly at how easy this was.

After dropping the DNI off at his office,
Riley remained in the parking area with the other White House staff
drivers. Generally they would talk together, read books, or listen
to music while waiting for a call to take their respective bosses
to the next destination. Today was no exception and the new driver
fitted right in with the others.

I minus 49

The Safe House

“Well, it isn’t exactly a palace, but it’s
not too bad. And it’s safe and functional.” Thurmond and Sam had
been assigned an eighth floor, two bedroom, two bath apartment in a
high rise close to Key Bridge.

“Not exactly a beautiful place,” Sam said
quietly, running her hand over the back of a worn green sofa.

“Well, I guess it. . .” Thurmond started to
reply.

“Better than a tent in Iraq, though,” she
said, smiling at him.

Although the furnishings weren’t plush, they
were adequate. Looked to Thurmond like they were standard rental
stuff. The apartment was located just down the road from the
Pentagon, but that’s not why Thurmond liked it. DIA had some secure
offices in the same building that Thurmond could use.

Thurmond still didn’t know
for sure who had bugged his office in the Pentagon, but it was a
sure bet he wouldn’t trust it in the future. Their new office space
was on the unmarked seventh floor of the same apartment building
within a Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility, or SCIF,
maintained by DIA. Because the space housed computers and
communications equipment that handled the most highly sensitive
intelligence information, it was one of the most secure spaces
outside of the Pentagon itself. No elevator stopped on that floor
and, in fact, there were no markings in the elevator that would
even indicate there was a floor there. To gain entrance, one had to
go to either the 6
^th
or the 8
^th
floor (marked 7 in the
elevator) and take the stairway either up or down to the floor in
between.

The gray steel door on that floor was
unmarked and always locked. There was absolutely no indication of
what was behind the door. To get inside, you had to pass your badge
through a reader, then press your palm to the scanner, and finally,
enter a code on the cipher lock. If the magnetic strip allowed
access, the reader pulled the badge into the interior for the
guards to view. You then had to stand in front of a one-way mirror
situated at face level in the center of the door for positive ID.
Just knocking on the steel door did no good—no one answered. If the
badge didn’t pass the scan, or was suspect in some other way, or
the picture didn’t match the person standing there, it was retained
on the inside by the guard and you were denied entrance. And you
could count on having company very shortly.

“Oh, I think this place will work out fine,”
Sam said, looking around with her hands on her hips. “We even have
a TV and a DVD player. I also saw a blender in the kitchen.
Margaritas anyone?” she asked with a smile. “Oh, by the way, I had
this place thoroughly swept this morning . . . no bugs.”

“Great, but don’t get too comfortable—we
won’t be spending much time here. I just need a couple of days to
think about our next steps.” Grant said, impatient to get
started.

“As you requested, I managed to get us
entrance authorization to the SCIF spaces. Here’s your new badge. I
used the photo you had taken for your Pentagon badge. The cipher
lock code is 6392 and it’s changed weekly. We have a fairly large
office with plenty of file space. I also arranged for the paper
files we need to be transferred from the Pentagon to the SCIF. The
first time in, you’ll have to go through some administrative
procedures, like registering your palm print and things like that,”
Sam explained, sitting down on the living room sofa.

Grant sat in one of the two easy chairs.
“You’ve been busy. Good work. Who knows we’re using these
spaces?”

“Only General Wheeler, sir.”

“Not Garcia or the DNI?”

“No, sir. Thought I’d leave that up to you.
The General assured me he won’t tell anyone about it.” Sam
responded.

“Well, the DNI will probably have a fit when
he finds out. Wheeler’s on our side, but he’ll have to tell him
when asked. We’ll just keep Garcia guessing for awhile. He’s
probably okay, but he’ll end up being a pain in the ass. He can’t
help it, he’s CIA. Sam, there’s another thing I need to talk with
you about.” Thurmond paused.

“Sure, sir. Go ahead, ask anything. You have
my full attention.”

Grant leaned forward in
his chair with the outer sides of his hands on his knees. “I’m
going to need help. I can’t count on the CIA, and my own agency
might have been the one to bug my offices. I don’t know who I can
trust . . . except you. I trust you. And,
because
I trust you, you’re the only
one I can turn to for help. What do you think? Are you ready to
jump into the middle of this?” He stared directly into Sam’s
eyes.

Sam recognized how serious Grant was. “I
don’t know exactly what it means to jump into the middle of this,
but I do know that I am fully committed to doing what I can to
help.”