to believe the man was dangerous.
He said, “No, I don’t mean what he’s contributing to the administration. You put him on the Taskforce Oversight Council, and I’m wondering if that was wise. You work with him. I’m asking if he can be trusted. NSC business is one thing, but the Taskforce is something else. There’s no room for error.”
“Well, he has managed to work his way on the inside a hell of a lot quicker than I would have thought possible, but he’s doing a good job. He keeps me abreast of all the secret things going on. He’s pretty good at collating information.”
“That doesn’t answer the question. Is he a threat? Standish’s answer for anything is brute force. He doesn’t understand the complexity. Doesn’t have the experience or background.”
Palmer reflected for a moment. “No, I think he’s okay. We both know he loves the feeling of being on the inside. He’s like a political groupie, but that’s about it.”
President Warren locked eyes with him. “Palmer, don’t let him become a threat. This isn’t about payback or politics. I won’t tolerate American deaths. That’s got nothing to do with politics.”
Palmer smiled. “Sir, don’t worry about that. He’s a coward at heart. He likes playacting. He doesn’t have the balls to do anything for real.”
57
Lucas Kane fiddled with his PDA, waiting on Standish to finish with a phone call. He played the keys with manicured fingers, looking like any other successful power broker in Washington, D.C. Actually, he looked like an actor in a beer commercial portraying a successful power broker in Washington, D.C. He had sandy-blond hair, an athletic build, and a face that belonged in a weekly Hollywood tabloid. From across the street, women were automatically drawn to him. Up close, when they could look into his eyes, the attraction would usually wilt. His eyes were dead. Not unintelligent, just lacking in any warmth. His last date, after saying she would rather not see him again, commented that they reminded her of a three-day-old bruise. Purple and rotting.
Lucas didn’t give a shit, as long as the date paid him back for the dinner and a movie once they returned to his apartment, which this one had, even if a bit reluctantly.
Standish hung up the phone, saying, “They’re on the way over. Should be here in about five minutes. You sure you can do this?
“Yeah, I’m sure. It’s not brain surgery. The key is the information you gave me. If the phone’s a different model, or the pager information is incorrect, it might not work.”
“That intel’s good. I’ve seen them myself.”
“Shouldn’t be an issue, then. We’ll know shortly.”
He left the office and positioned himself on a bench in the marble hallway within view of the entrance to Standish’s office, but far enough away as to be inconspicuous. He opened a magazine.
He didn’t have to wait long. Two men approached Standish’s office. He focused on the one matching the description of his target. They stopped and placed their two-way pagers and cell phones in the ubiquitous cubicles provided outside every government office that whispered the nation’s secrets. He noted which cubicle his target used. He waited until they passed through the cipher-locked door, then waited an additional few seconds. When nothing happened, he walked at a quick pace and pulled both the pager and cell phone from the cubicle. He raced down the stairs to the equipment he had left in his vehicle parked outside.
His task was to clone the cell phone with a sophisticated Trojan horse virus, which would allow a separate cell phone to act exactly like the original. Anytime the target phone rang, the other would ring too. Anytime it dialed out, his would dial out. It would be like a three-way call every time the target used his phone, except that he wouldn’t suspect it.
In addition to manipulating the phone, he was going to reverse the pager the target wore. Using the information given to him by Standish, Lucas knew that the device was specially constructed, capable of worldwide coverage through a satellite network, and equipped with a “panic button” that would send out a signal based on Global Positioning System satellites. Once triggered, it would give a grid reference to its location worldwide. Lucas was going to ensure that the pager sent a signal without the button being pushed, in effect, making the pager a beacon without the target even knowing it. The trick would be ensuring the signal didn’t enter the normal channels and thus cause an alert. Instead, it would be visible only to someone who knew it was broadcasting. Lucas didn’t yet know exactly why this target needed to be tracked, but something told him that Standish wasn’t finished using him on this particular assignment.
Standish left Kurt and George sitting in the anteroom for five more minutes, just because he felt like being a prick. Eventually, he closed out the solitaire game he was playing and told his secretary to show them in.
He heard them enter, pretending to work on his computer. He let them stand for a few seconds before turning around. He pointed to the chairs in front of his desk and started right in, skipping any pleasantries.
“You received a Prometheus alert two days ago, yet you didn’t notify anyone at all. If I remember your initial information briefings to me, those were supposed to trigger a response, but when I called the Taskforce, I got an idiotic duty officer who acted as if nothing was wrong. Either you’re running an organization that isn’t the caliber you so eloquently brag about in your brief, or you’re attempting to hide things from a member of the council that oversees your activities. For your sake, I hope it’s incompetence.”
Standish watched both of them squirm a little, clearly not expecting to be attacked.
Kurt said, “Sir, we did get an alert, but it wasn’t what you think. Neither of your reasons is accurate — the alert came from an old unit member. It didn’t involve an active mission and thus didn’t require a response from the Taskforce.
“As for you not getting any word about it, I apologize, but if you remember the brief you were just talking about, we get oversight solely on which target to attack and our method of engagement, based on potential second- and third-order effects that might be generated from the action. Once we get the go-ahead to proceed against a target, there is no further oversight, unless one of those variables changes.”
Kurt backpedaled. “Sir, we meant no disrespect, but the Prometheus alert is a tactical control measure used solely by us in the Taskforce, and we didn’t realize a report to you was necessary.”
Standish steepled his fingers. “Well, maybe I should speak to the president about relooking at this little experiment’s rules of engagement. It sounds to me like you think you get to decide what does or does not occur within your little secret world.”
George broke in. “Sir, he’s not trying to tell you that you had no right to know, he’s explaining why you didn’t initially get any feedback. We’re here specifically to provide that feedback. Kurt and I just came from meeting the man who sent the cable. He has an interesting story to tell, and while it may have some merit, the odds of it being true aren’t that great.”
George continued, giving Standish a broad sketch of Pike’s story, knowing that Standish had read the original message. He finished by telling Standish the coordination made with Guatemala and the way ahead.
“So, what’s the Taskforce going to do with this? Anything?”
Kurt said, “Well, it depends on what the CIA finds out. Right now, there isn’t a whole lot we can do and, with the information we have, not much we should be doing. This is more of a CIA issue. Unless you want us to start focusing on it, we’re going to let them take the lead. We have enough on our plate without this.”
Looking at his watch, Standish said, “I’ve got another meeting coming up. I appreciate you two taking the time out of your day to come down. We don’t have to be looking across the fence at each other all the time. I want to work with you. All I ask for is a little courtesy and respect.”
He paused. “Trust me — if I don’t get it, you will cease to exist.”
