“Yes, it is. Twenty year old single malt. Only the best.” Jameson sipped from his glass then set it down gently on the corner of his desk. “So, why are you really here?”
Robert shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I, uh, was curious. What if Chesterfield pulls it off?”
Jameson shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.” He leaned forward and eyed the younger man carefully. “You see, that’s the glory of this plan, Robert. Even if this low level nitwit salvages his precious operation, the damage will be done. Once word hits the hill that this operation took place without the consent of the Secretary of Defense, your boss will be hung out to dry.”
Robert nodded, understanding fully the ramifications of their operation. “Yes, but…there are rumors.”
“Of?”
He cleared his throat and took another sip of the scotch. “I’m hearing that Bridger and his crew may have gotten their hands on certain documents that…” he trailed off, unsure that he wanted to explain the entire situation to the man.
William Jameson held a hand up, stopping him. “I’ve heard these same rumors. In fact, I believe there was an internal memo coming from within the agency…” He leaned across his desk and punched the keyboard of his computer, bringing the screen to life. “Ah, yes. Here it is. We had a break in, didn’t we?” His smile broadened.
“And this doesn’t worry you?”
“Why should it? They didn’t get anything except what we wanted them to get.” Jameson shook his head and closed the screen. “All roads lead to Rome, so to speak.”
Ingram felt his hand shaking and set the glass down. “I’m hearing that they used the computers to access files that they already had.” He eyed the man warily. “Files that were pulled prior to our changing them.”
William Jameson continued to rock in his chair, his eyes never leaving Ingram’s. “What are you saying, Robert?”
“I’m saying that the doctored files that we planted in the system weren’t accessed. They’re still sitting there waiting to be pulled.”
Jameson shrugged. “Then we wait. We have deniability either way.” He stood slowly and stretched his back. “You see, Robert, if they release the files…even the original files, we can claim that they’ve been altered and then we can pull our copies for a comparison. Since ours come from our own internal servers, they will be deemed original and theirs will be declared fakes.” He held his hands up. “Easy peasy.”
Ingram blew his breath out hard. “Director Aikens is a good man. I hate to—”
“Don’t tell me you’re still nursing a conscience, Robert.” Jameson walked around his desk and sat on the corner, his eyes boring a hole into the top of the younger man’s head. “You were fine with this plan of operation before we ever laid the groundwork. Any misgivings should have been left at the door long ago. We can’t be having you get cold feet now.”
Robert shook his head. “I’m not. I mean…I still want the job.”
“Then I don’t see the problem.”
Ingram inhaled deeply and blew it out slowly. “I just wish there was another way to do it without ruining his career.”
Jameson laughed and slapped the man on the shoulder. “Oh, my, Robert. You truly don’t know how things work on the hill, do you?” He sat back down at his seat and steepled his fingers together. “Aikens will most likely be shown the door and in a few short months, he’ll be right back but at a position much higher. Oh, there will still be upward momentum to be had. Hell, in a few years, he might well be the Secretary of Defense.” He groaned inwardly. “Or worse.”
“You really don’t think that this will lead to ruination?”
Jameson shook his head. “Quite the opposite. Think back to all of the politicians and players that truly stepped in it only to be back a few weeks later with even more power.” He shook his head again. “No, once you’ve made it to the inside track, you’re always on the inside track.”
Ingram sat back and finished his drink. “I hope you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right,” Jameson huffed as he poured another scotch. “I’m the director of the C.I fucking A!”
Houston, TX
ALI BIN-HAMZA hung up the phone and took a deep breath. “We are active.” He turned to the others gathered in the small apartment and smiled. “Our brothers need us to find a traitor here in the states. He ran off with the infidels rather than face up to his acts.”
The men all murmured their excitement and waited for Ali to tell them more. “They will be sending us information on the men. Our best computer people are already searching for them.”
“Are they near here or will we be traveling?”
Ali turned to the babyfaced man and shrugged. “We do not know yet. Only that we are to prepare and be ready to do what needs doing.”
Another man stepped forward. “The fax machine.” He pointed to the corner.
Ali stepped to the corner of the room and scooped the papers from the desk. “This is our traitor, Muhammed al-Abadi.” He held the image of the little arms dealer up for them all to see. “And these are the infidels who removed him and brought him here.” He held up the images of the Baba Yaga group.
“There is another.” The babyfaced man held up the sheet of paper. “And he is not far from here.” He waved the paper above his head. “Bridger.”
29
Dallas, TX
“WE’RE STOPPING BY the hangar first. We have gear to load,” Jay yelled over the loud exhaust of their panel truck.
Bridger leaned closer. “Wait, I thought the hangar was your home turf. You got another place I don’t know about?”
Jay smiled broadly and pointed to Deric. “D bought a place a few years back. Got into serious survivalist mode…”
“Kind of like you.” Deric clapped Bobby on the shoulder. “Except I grew out of
