Harvath thought he noticed General Venrick wince.
“And of course once word got to the FBI about the package you had received, Lawlor hightailed it back from Park City,” said Scot.
“Exactly.”
“Director Jameson, how do you suppose the kidnappers obtained the routing codes to get a package right to your desk and also the direct-dial number straight into Lawlor’s office?” Scot asked.
“How do you think they did it?” the director parried back.
“Unfortunately I think we’ve got a leak and a big one at that. I think this same leak might have given them the frequencies we were using so they could jam our communications while they snatched the president.”
“I’d be inclined to agree,” said the director.
“So would I,” said General Venrick. “Agent Harvath, like I said, I’ve reviewed your service record, and it’s pretty damn impressive. I know what an asset you were at the SEAL think tank, and I can imagine how you must feel having lost so many men on your watch.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Scot. “I appreciate that.”
“What does your gut tell you on this one?”
“Well, General, at first, when they found that Middle Eastern guy face down in the snow, my gut said there’s no way a Middle Eastern group could be behind this. There’s no way they could get the amount of personnel and equipment they would need into Utah without being noticed.”
“Why do you say that?” asked the general.
“Sir, I saw three African-Americans the entire time I was there, and they were all fellow Secret Service agents. Utah’s about as white-bread a place as you can get. The people there notice outsiders. Sure, there’s a couple of growing minority communities in Salt Lake City, but Middle Easterners would stick out like a sore thumb.”
“Apparently, there was at least one. We’ve got his body to prove it,” said the director.
“Yeah, but now he bothers me even more. Here we find this guy dead with a Skorpion next to him. He’s a PLO long gun, and he’s found with a weapon that pretty much screams Liberate Palestine right from the get-go. It doesn’t fit. I mean, if he’s going to do that, why not have him in ‘I love Yasser’ undies? Besides, I can think of a hundred better offensive firearms he could have been using, none of which would have connected him to the Middle East.”
“But, Agent Harvath, if you take one look at the man and can see he’s Middle Eastern, what difference does the Skorpion make?” asked the general.
“Maybe it makes no difference at all. Why would the people on his team leave him behind? They must have known we would be able to ID him quickly and be on their trail,” said Harvath.
“But,” interjected the director, “it did take us a while to dig his body out from the avalanche.”
“It’s all true and it all makes sense, but you asked me what my gut says and it says there’s no way a Middle Eastern group pulled off something this complicated.”
“Agent Harvath, isn’t that a little prejudiced?” asked the general.
“PC or not, Middle Eastern groups, including Abu Nidal’s, are not tacticians. They walk into nightclubs strapped with explosives, plant car bombs, spray crowded markets with machine-gun fire, and fly hijacked planes full of fuel into buildings. Plain and simple, they’re cowards. They won’t confront anyone on a one-to-one basis. They don’t have the savvy or the courage to do in-your-face operations.”
“Suppose, just for a moment,” offered the general, “that the reason Abu Nidal and the FRC have disappeared for so long is because they have been training for this exact scenario. One of the biggest coups in the history of terrorism-something right up there with September eleventh.”
“I don’t buy it. Not for a second. This kind of training would have involved years of working in cold climates practicing skiing, mountaineering, and winter warfare tactics. To train and outfit a crew from the ground up on something like this would have been exorbitantly expensive.”
“The FRC has a lot of money,” countered the director.
“Supposedly. All I’ve heard is that one of their people got caught in January trying to pull out seven point five million dollars and that the Egyptians have got another four that belongs to them. So, that’s eleven point five they couldn’t lay their hands on.
“That Korean jamming system, the ability to get inside information, the wherewithal to pull it off…I think we’re dealing with something and someone completely outside the realm of Middle Eastern terrorism.”
“But why would the kidnappers send a note like this,” said the director, waving his photocopy, “making demands for the release of two convicted Islamic bombers with suspected FRC ties and the unfreezing of Abu Nidal’s assets?”
“It doesn’t make any sense,” acknowledged Harvath. “But if it was the FRC, how could they have recruited a known PLO sniper, even if he has been freelancing, when the FRC has killed some of the PLO’s most important members? Maybe the sniper was turned-I don’t know-but it creates more questions than it answers, and that makes me nervous.”
“Me too,” said the general. “How about you, Stan?”
After shoving the photocopy of the kidnappers’ note back into his folder, Director Jameson began massaging his temples. “Yeah, I’m nervous. The neatness of some of it is what scares me. I’m beginning to think tonight might not be such a good idea.”
“What might not be such a good idea?” asked Harvath.
“The FBI trace on that phone call today locked up. We got a fix on the location of the caller, but God help us if this is wrong,” said the director.
“I don’t understand,” said Harvath.
The general took a deep breath. “Vice President Marshfield, in accordance with the United States’ position of no negotiating with terrorists, has green-lighted a Special Ops team to attempt a rescue. We’re on our way to the situation room at the White House. The mission will launch in less than two hours.”
“But they couldn’t have possibly gathered enough intel yet. They have no idea what that team will be walking into,” said Harvath.
“That’s exactly what we’re afraid of,” said the general, “aren’t we, Stan?”
30
The White House situation room buzzed with noise, most of which came from Vice President Marshfield’s chief of staff, Edward DaFina. The VP had wasted no time moving himself and his people into the power positions in the White House, and DaFina had bullied anyone who resisted or resented the changing of the guard. He was a perfect example of a man who sought power solely to lord it over others.
Because of his background and top secret clearance, Harvath had been invited to attend a comprehensive tactical briefing with the general. He spent two hours listening to the general and his staff discuss the makeup of the JSOC team and the reliability of their intelligence. The insertion and extraction methods were reviewed, and as the team would be supported by Israeli intelligence, the makeup and components on that end were gone over as well.
Several recent security and communications enhancements at the White House made it possible to use the situation room as a command-and-control center for the mission. Using the sit room, as it was known, meant that not only could the vice president preside at the head of the table in the high-backed leather chair reserved for the president, but all of the players would come to him. The idea of getting the Washington establishment used to seeing him in power greatly appealed to Marshfield’s ego, and so he was adamant that the main command center for observing the operation be the White House.
The directors of the FBI, CIA, and Secret Service had grudgingly agreed, only with the caveat that NSA and CIA headquarters be kept available on open lines. If the satellite picture went down, the consensus among those truly in the know was that the White House’s redundant backup systems were not entirely fail-safe and might not be something to count upon.
As Harvath entered the sit room behind General Venrick, he quickly glanced around, assessing those
