“Good. I also want two tactical teams ready to roll ASAP. Get the choppers warmed up. We might have to move fast.”
“Do you want them in combat gear or plainclothes?” Stansfield pondered the question. Because the CIA had no domestic jurisdiction, they weren’t able to deploy their tactical teams in the same fashion that the FBI deployed their SWAT teams. Most of their work had to be done in a way that raised the least amount of attention possible. “Put one team in plainclothes and the other one in full combat gear.”
“I’ll take care of it. What’s going on, Thomas?”
“More fallout from Arthur. Call me as soon as you get the imaging of Nance’s ranch.”
Stansfield put the phone down, no longer tired. The anger that he felt toward Mike Nance had overwhelmed any feelings of exhaustion he had. Nance had been given more than enough chances. If he wanted to continue to play it rough and risky, it was time to end the game-before he could do any more damage. When Liz got off the phone, Seamus forced her to calm down and tell them what had happened.
After she was done, they inspected the broken table. Given the evidence, they had to agree with Liz that things did not look good.
Seamus looked at the broken table and then Liz. “Michael told you everything?”
“Yes.”
Seamus tried to read deeper into her curt answer. He could sense nothing-no judgment, or animosity. Seamus folded his arms and returned his thoughts to Michael. “I
don’t think it’s the CIA, or the FBI.
They were with him this afternoon. They could have done it then if they wanted to.”
“What if they wanted to wait until it was dark?” asked Liz.
Seamus shook his head. “Why take the risk? They could have called him tomorrow and had him come out to Langley on his own. They didn’t need to forcibly take him and raise suspicion. If you had called the cops and told them your boyfriend, who just happens to be a Congressman, was missing and it looked like he was taken…” Seamus rolled his eyes.
“Every law enforcement officer in D.C. would be looking for him. No way.” Seamus shook his head. “Stansfield wouldn’t risk that exposure.
Plus you have to factor in the threat of the tape being released. It has to be Nance and
Garret.” Tim thought about it for a moment.
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“You’re right. Something this desperate points towards them. Now the question is, where would they have taken him?” Seamus shrugged his shoulders.
“Hell, I have no idea. Nance has to have access to at least a dozen safe houses in metro area. They could have taken him anywhere.”
Seamus looked at his watch. “We don’t have a lot of time. We have to get him back before Nance has the chance to interrogate him. I’m going to let Coleman know what’s going on. Tim, you stay here with Liz.
I’ll call you as soon as I find something out.” He grabbed Liz by the shoulders and said, “Don’t worry, everything will be all right. If Stansfield calls, call me immediately on the car phone.” The gray-haired O’Rourke turned and left.
Seamus jumped behind the wheel of Tim’s Cherokee and pulled out into the street.
When he was several blocks away, he turned on the mobile scramble phone. He gripped the steering wheel tightly as he turned onto Wisconsin Avenue. Seamus knew he needed to act fast or they might never get Michael back. Nance had already proved that he would kill, and if he was willing to risk everything in the face of the tape’s being released, there was no telling what lengths he might go to.
Seamus tried to think ahead. How in the hell could they get Michael back? Whatever had happened, he needed to let Coleman know that Michael was missing. Seamus punched in the number for Coleman’s pager.
It rang four times and then the computerized voice told him to leave a number at the beep. Seamus entered the number for his scramble phone and followed it with three more numbers. In their months of planning, Seamus had been insistent that he and Coleman maintain secure lines of communication. They had gone through almost every possible contingency, and the one they had prepared for the most was the possibility that one or more of the group would be put under surveillance. They had designed a system where they would alert each other through digital pagers. After all, Seamus couldn’t just call
Coleman with the FBI camped out on his front step.
After hanging up the phone Seamus swore under his breath. The possibility of losing
Michael was more than he could bear. He forced himself to push the thought out of his mind. Now was not the time to get emotional. It was time to stay focused and find
Michael. He silently chided himself for putting his grandson in harm’s way. They had boxed Nance into a corner, and instead of calling it quits, he had come out swinging.
SCOTT COLEMAN WAS SITTING ON HIS COUCH TRYING TO IGNORE THAT
AN unknown number of FBI agents were watching and listening to his every move. For the last day he had been going over different plans for losing his watchers. Part of his training as a SEAL had been counter surveillance and aversive techniques. As the commander of SEAL Team Six he had been tailed more times than he could count.
Foreign Intelligence services could learn a lot by keeping tabs on America’s top
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commando. An even more dangerous scenario that he faced was the threat of reprisals by terrorists. Coleman had killed his fair share of international outlaws over the last decade, and plenty of groups out there would love to
