CIA Headquarters, Langley,
Virginia
April 26, 2011, 1125 Hours Local
Time
“What’s the latest from Abbottabad?” Vince Mercaldi peered across his desk at Stu Kapos and Dick Hallett.
“No change,” Hallett said. “The brothers Khan are in residence. The mystery guest, if there is one, is also on the premises. The families are maintaining radio silence, and the food is still Arab as opposed to Pakistani.”
The director looked at Stu Kapos. “So whatta we do?”
“First? First we break down Valhalla Base. Today and tomorrow. However POTUS decides, we gotta get out and get out clean before the Paks get wise.”
Vince nodded in agreement. “Do it.”
“Second, Wes Bolin wants a Paki-speaking native on site during the operation. In civilian clothes. To play the part of an ISI agent or a cop. Just in case any of the neighbors come around.”
“Good idea. I wish we’d thought of it.”
“Actually,” Hallett broke in, “we did. I discussed this with Larry Bailey, the SEAL Wes detailed to BLG, last week. Been looking for a candidate.”
“And?”
“And we already have one.” Hallett saw the quizzical look on the director’s face. “Charlie Becker. And we save one-way air fare.”
The director laughed. “Brilliant.” He looked at the BLG chief. “Does he have his legs with him?”
“No. They’re down at SAD in his locker. Well, they were. Now they’re on their way to Fort Campbell, because the package is departing tonight. Moon phase determines operational window, and the moon phase—last eighth—starts on the twenty-ninth and lasts until the fifth of May. Go or no-go, Wes wanted his package prepositioned before the window opens.”
The director bit his lip. “Did you send someone Charlie knows?”
“Affirmative. Paul Fedorko, his section chief.”
“Then make sure our guy makes it onto the assault package to deliver ’em. That way Charlie doesn’t get himself shot.”
Hallett made notes in his secretarial notebook. “Will do.”
“Also, he should be there because we need at least one senior Agency officer present. After all, on paper at least, JSOC’s package is under CIA control.”
Hallett looked at the director. “Is that it?”
“Affirmative,” Vince said. “You get moving. I need a little time with Stu.”
Hallett slid his notebook into a folder. “On my way,” he said. “Thanks, Boss.”
Vince waited until the door closed behind the BLG chief. “Stu, we may be in trouble.”
“Trouble?”
“This whole project may be scrubbed.”
“You’re not serious.”
“I am. And this is very close-hold. But I got a call from someone at the White House at my home last night. Landline to landline. The individual was very, very nervous.”
“And?”
“I was told as follows. The president’s political guy, the guy who took Axelrod’s place, my source heard whispers that he’s supposedly conducting a secret poll—outsourcing it to give the White House very deep cover. And one of the questions they’re allegedly asking is, ‘If a military raid failed and American soldiers were killed, who would you most hold at fault?’
Kapos’s face fell. “Oh, shit.”
“So don’t be surprised if I get a call tomorrow or the next day.”
“Does Wes Bolin know?”
“Nah. He’s got enough to worry about. He’s sending the package out tonight. Three or four Globemasters from Fort Campbell.”
“Godspeed.” The clandestine service chief cracked his knuckles. The sound made Vince wince. “Sorry, Boss.” Kapos sighed. “Do you see POTUS today?”
“No—I asked and was turned down. Too busy, they say. Not tomorrow either. It’s evidently a full day of travel. Chicago—Oprah’s show. Then New York—all politics and money. They want Wes and me in the Situation Room on Thursday morning, eleven-thirty.” He stared at the ceiling. “Wes will be gone by then. I’ll take Spike. Dammit, don’t do that!” He gave Kapos a dirty look because the NCS chief had cracked his knuckles again. “I think they’re putting us off.”
“Because?”
“You want my honest opinion?” The CIA director looked grimly at his top spy. “I think because they’re waiting for the goddamn poll results.”