be able to maintain the existing service agreements.
The conversation then turned to Craig Middleton and his coconspirators. The only two people currently in custody were Kurt Schroeder and Martin Vignon, neither of whom appeared to have had any knowledge of the proposed attack or the overall big picture plot. But both were guilty of a string of other violations, as were a significant portion of the rank-and-file at ATS. When they began discussing legal strategy, all eyes turned to the Attorney General.
He had already been playing various scenarios in his mind and didn’t need time to collect his thoughts. All of the charges against ATS employees could be handled in federal court. That didn’t worry him. His concern was the company’s fifteen-member board of directors. Because of their prominence, openly trying them in public could be the equivalent of a public relations loose nuke. If it detonated, the fallout would be devastating. The knowledge that so many well-known and trusted figures had been conspiring against their own country might actually do more long-term damage than anyone could predict. Though it would demonstrate that the United States eventually discovered and stopped the plot, and might act as a deterrent, he didn’t think the nation’s psyche would survive it.
Citing the Patriot Act and the National Defense Authorization Act, the AG stated that an argument could be made for indefinite detention of any and all board members and possibly even military tribunals. There was another option available, but it would be up to the President.
Upon mention of the list, the Treasury Secretary was asked to leave the situation room and wait outside. Discussion of the Black List was outside his purview.
It might have been argued that the only people who should have been allowed to stay in the room at all were the CIA Director and the Secretary of Defense, but the President asked Carlton, as well as the FBI and NSA directors, to remain. Going around the conference table, he asked the men one by one to weigh in on utilizing the Black List.
The FBI Director was adamantly opposed to it. He did not like the idea of the United States government being able to target and kill American citizens without due process. Immediately, the Attorney General jumped in to argue that there was a process, it just didn’t take place in a courtroom.
The FBI Director finished his argument by saying that if you couldn’t face your accusers and personally answer the charges against you, it was not due process, and it was not what the Founders intended.
Not only did the CIA Director disagree with his FBI colleague, so too did the NSA Director and the Secretary of Defense. They argued that ATS had intended to overthrow the United States. After failing to achieve their goal, the board members couldn’t then come back and lobby for the full rights and protections that they had been actively working to subvert.
As the debate wore on, the FBI Director continued to remain steadfast in his position. No argument could change his mind. Eventually, the President thanked him and excused him from the room.
The final person the President queried about using the Black List was Reed Carlton. Very carefully, he laid out his argument.
As he saw it, the President had no choice. He agreed with the Attorney General that the spectacle of a public trial was out of the question. Indefinitely detaining the board members or trying them via a military tribunal would also be a huge spectacle. When word got out—and it would—that so many once-respected national political figures had been involved in a plot to subvert the nation, the effect would be irreversible. The Black List had to be used. Around the table, every head nodded in agreement.
The only weak point that the NSA Director could see was that even if the kills were handled covertly, someone at some point was going to connect the dots. You could only have so many “accidents” before suspicions were raised.
The CIA Director looked at Carlton, who then looked at the President and said, “There’s actually a way to handle that.”
FORTY-EIGHT HOURS LATER
The Gulfstream G550 business jet registered to Advance Technology Solutions reached its cruising altitude and leveled off over the ocean.
Each of the aircraft’s fifteen passengers had received a phone call from Martin Vignon, a man they had all known for many years and trusted. Citing security concerns, he had kept the conversations brief.
With Reed Carlton listening in on each call, Vignon relayed two pieces of information. The first was that Middleton had been able to short-circuit the attack. As they’d all heard that it was imminent, yet it failed to materialize, Vignon’s claim made sense. It also made the second piece of information even more believable.
According to Vignon, Middleton had established a contingency that required the board’s immediate attention. Because the Virginia estate was an active crime scene and the ATS corporate headquarters were crawling with investigators, Vignon had arranged transportation for the board to the company’s Grand Cayman property.
After the flight attendant had gone through and conducted the second cocktail service, the pilot summoned her to the cockpit. Stepping inside, Gretchen Casey closed and locked the door behind her.
As the CIA pilot began reducing the oxygen in the main cabin, Scot Harvath, uniformed to look like the copilot, handed Casey her equipment. One by one, they took turns getting suited up in the tight cockpit. When the pilot flashed them the signal, they donned their helmets and began the flow of oxygen into their face masks. Ten minutes later, they opened the cockpit door.
It was obvious from where they stood that hypoxia had kicked in. Quickly, Harvath and Casey moved through, certifying that each of the ATS board members was in fact dead.
Once complete, Harvath returned to the cockpit and flashed the pilot the thumbs-up. As the CIA operative finished tweaking the autopilot settings, Harvath and Casey gave each other’s HAHO equipment a final inspection, then did the same for the pilot once he stepped into the main cabin and joined them.
Harvath looked at his wrist-top computer and gave the two-minute sign to the others. He then stepped forward and made ready to open the main cabin door.
At the one-minute mark, he signaled his team and opened the forward cabin door.
As alarms blared from the cockpit and the roar of the slipstream filled their ears, Harvath counted down the remaining seconds and then gave the team the signal to jump. The CIA pilot leapt first, followed by Casey and then, after one last look back into the cabin, Harvath.
The jet continued its flight out over the ocean toward its rendezvous with a deep, watery grave. Papers would carry the story about how the ATS board of directors, already reeling from the tragic loss of their managing director, had also discovered that he had embezzled significant funds from the company. They had been on their way to an emergency meeting with their bankers in Grand Cayman when their plane crashed. None of the bodies would ever be recovered.
Harvath navigated Casey and the CIA pilot to the drop zone out over the open ocean where a U.S. Navy vessel was waiting.
A flotilla of rubber Zodiacs rushed out to meet them, fish them out of the water, and return them to the ship.
From there, a Sikorsky SH-60F Seahawk helicopter ferried the team to Naval Air Station Key West, where the CIA pilot caught a flight back to D.C. Harvath and Casey, though, had other plans.
Cash, a change of clothes, and a vehicle from the motor pool were waiting for them when they arrived. Climbing in their car, they headed north on US-1 toward Little Torch Key. With the windows rolled down, the car was filled with the scent of the ocean. Though they were both quietly concerned about being late, they smiled when a Jimmy Buffett song came on the radio. Somehow, it felt like Riley Turner was sending them a message.
Undergoing the same training the Delta Force men did, the women of the Athena Project attended the U.S. Army’s Special Forces Combat Diver Qualification Course in Key West. But unlike for the guys in Delta and SF, who enjoyed spending their R&R in a handful of bars in Key West, Little Torch Key had become the destination of the Athena women when they had downtime.
It was Riley Turner who had discovered the Little Palm Island Resort and Spa on Little Torch Key, and she had dubbed it her favorite destination in the entire world. It seemed a fitting place for Harvath and Casey to say good-bye.
They checked in and were shown to their waterfront bungalows with a few minutes to spare. Poking her head into Harvath’s, Casey asked, “What do you think? Margaritas?”
