An Act of Treason

BRADLEY MIDDLETON was in no mood to be bawled out by a politician. Bobby Patterson, who had returned to his magnificent office from the National Security Council side room, was not expecting to be chastised himself. “How dare you summon me away from my command post in the middle of an ongoing crisis!” The general’s voice had the sound of tumbling boulders, and his eyes were of stone. His driver had brought him over with siren and lights, and Middleton had bounded up the familiar steps of the White House after the usual entry checks by the uniformed Secret Service.

Patterson was standing behind his desk but hesitated in the face of Middleton’s obvious fury. He glanced nervously over to CIA Director Bart Geneen, who was standing with his hands behind his back. Geneen and Middleton did not exchange greetings, but the director chuckled to himself. He was on the general’s side on this one.

“I want an immediate personal report from you to give to the president.” Patterson’s voice, rising slightly in tone. Tentative.

“Okay.” Middleton crossed his arms over his broad chest. “We took down a pair of tangos in Islamabad, as ordered. Anything else?”

“What about the explosions?”

“What about them?”

The chief of staff blinked. “General Middleton, the collateral damage accompanying this mission was supposed to be minimal. That was the purpose of the entire operation.”

“No. The purpose was to kill the terrorists who had butchered an American soldier. We did that.”

“Then the capital city of Pakistan is rocked by explosions! The president is not happy with this.”

The general finally looked to Geneen, who shrugged, then back to Patterson. “And you think that the CIA- Trident shooters were responsible? Have you the slightest shred of evidence to back up that idiotic claim?”

Patterson sat in the big, soft office chair and pulled it up to his desk. He picked up an envelope. “Not yet. But your boy Swanson has a reputation for doing this kind of damage.”

Geneen coughed quietly into his fist to interrupt. “We have not heard from Jim Hall, General. You have anything from Swanson?”

“No. Last we heard, Kyle was being chased by a lot of cops.” The general did not mention the message from the exfil team of Rawls and Stone that the mission was apparently compromised. Never answer questions that have not been asked.

Patterson tapped the envelope on his neat, polished desk, his mood shifting. “You have to admit, however, General Middleton, that Swanson is capable of igniting this holocaust.”

“Well, he could not have caused it with a single bullet, that’s for sure. It takes time to organize something of the magnitude we are seeing over there, a massive set of explosions. Anyway, that isn’t Swanson’s style. Bart?”

“I agree. Same with Hall. No one shot could have caused something like that to erupt.” Geneen sat down carefully and crossed his ankles. He had been through many such meetings in his career. Patterson was injecting politics into the mix. Cover your ass. “What’s in that envelope that you are so nervously tapping?”

Patterson started, almost as if having forgotten that he even had the envelope in his hand. Then he held it up by one end and gave it a slight wave. “Mr. Director, General Middleton, before coming in for this meeting, I removed this from the Oval Office private safe. It is the presidential finding that authorizes the clandestine unit known as Task Force Trident. As of today, Trident ceases to exist.”

Bending slightly to his left, Patterson fed the envelope and the document it contained into a government cross-pattern paper shredder. The quiet buzz sounded like a drill. “You’re out of business, General.”

“That is the act of a goddam coward, Patterson. Kyle Swanson and Jim Hall went into enemy territory with valid orders to fight this country’s enemies. They may have paid the price with their lives. Now you are abandoning them? I demand to speak personally to the president.”

“That is impossible. The decision has been made.”

“By who? You?”

Bartlett Geneen was appraising the deteriorating situation. He did not like what he was seeing. “This is uncalled for, Bobby. The general is right. We do not abandon our agents.”

“We are not abandoning anyone, Bart. We are disbanding a rogue covert operation within the American military establishment. It was an idea that once had merit but has devolved into being a dangerous tumor. Trident is gone. The CIA is now in total charge of getting those men out.”

Middleton reached into the breast pocket of his uniform jacket and pulled out an envelope of his own. He tossed it onto the desk. “I always thought you were just another political snake, Patterson, and not the brightest one in the woodpile. Now I know why you were only a one-term congressman. You’ve got no balls. Here’s my resignation. Leave my people alone.”

Bobby Patterson picked up the envelope and shoved that one also into the shredder. “Negative, General. Your resignation is not accepted. You remain in the military chain of command, and the president remains your commander in chief. I suggest that you return to the Pentagon now and close up shop. You and your Trident people are on indefinite leave, pending reassignment.”

“Bullshit. I work for the president. Not you. I have my own copy of that finding you just shredded, so don’t start trying to rearrange history. I and the members of my team will follow the signed or verbal orders of my commander in chief. Until I hear directly from him, then, fuck you.” Middleton stalked from the room.

Bart Geneen said, “Bobby, you are playing a very dangerous game.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic, Director.”

“And what happens to Middleton and Trident?”

“He got off easy. I just want him on the sidelines for a while. I considered having him arrested as a national security risk. Remember the Patriot Act? We could have them all held without charges, without lawyers, without trial, and at an undisclosed location for as long as we wish. You, of all people, should remember the good old days of rendition, secret prisons, and enhanced interrogation techniques. You guys created this whole apparatus yourselves, and it is still on the books. Reasons don’t matter when national security is involved.”

“You consider Brad Middleton to be a national security risk?” Geneen reined himself in from making a more intemperate remark. “Really. That is absurd.”

Patterson kept his face a blank mask. “I do, Mr. Director. You do not need to know anything more than that.” He paused and made himself hold the stare of the older man, although it was like looking into the cold eyes of a cobra. “Your job is to unravel this mess, so I guess you had better get back over to Langley and get busy.”

“Does President Russell know what you’re up to?”

“Good day, Mr. Director.”

24

ISLAMABAD

THE EARLY REPORTS SHOWED a butcher’s bill that was moderate, in the opinion of Selim Waleed. He had anticipated more, although the sixty-eight dead and two hundred and twelve wounded, many of them seriously, was certainly a satisfactory early outcome. That toll would undoubtedly rise substantially as hospitals reported throughout the day and emergency crews arrived to sift through the wreckage. The capital city still sizzled from the explosions and fire and vibrated with the pitiful cries of the victims.

Waleed had created a whirlwind of uncertainty and violence. Now he had to steer it. The Taliban Wise Ones were swearing they were not responsible. Fundamentalist Muslim fanatics announced that the disaster was not caused by a suicide attack. The elected government condemned it as a terrorist attack by political opponents. The thinly stretched Pakistani army went to a higher state of alert, considering it to be an attack on one of their installations. The Pakistani secret police, the ISI, were in full crackdown mode.

Then Waleed’s agents spread the news that the explosions came immediately after two famous Taliban fighters had been assassinated while at prayers. That further insulated the Bright Path Party from suspicion of any