him. Anyone leaving Black Chamber — the massive multilevel subbasement facility bureaucratically known as Headquarters/Operations Building National Security Operational Control Center Secure Ultra Command, or OPS 2/B Level Black — was subject to a mandatory search. Had Rubens not been searched, these ninjas would have been summarily fired — after serving a one-year sentence in the NSA detention center for dereliction of duty.
Cleared, Rubens continued from the basement levels of OPS 2 upstairs into the main operations building (known as OPS 2/A or just OPS 2), ran another gauntlet of security checks, and finally emerged outside where a Chevrolet Malibu waited to take him to his appointment in Washington. He slid into the front seat, nodded at the aide behind the wheel — an Army MP in civilian dress — and then leaned the seat back to rest as the driver pulled away from the curb.
Two other similarly nondescript vehicles, a panel van and a pickup truck, followed as they headed through Crypto City — known to the outside world as Fort Meade, if known at all — to get on the Baltimore — Washington Parkway. Both carried ninjas, whose dungarees and work shirts covered lightweight body armor; their vehicles were equipped with a variety of weapons that ranged from handguns to a pair of shoulder-launched Stingers, though the only things they would be tempted to use this afternoon were the M47 Dragon antitank weapons to cut through some of the traffic.
The trip from the Maryland suburbs where the NSA’s Puzzle Palace was located to the West Wing of the White House took roughly fifty-five minutes. Rubens spent it eyes closed, head back on the rest. His mind focused on a one-syllable nonsense word a yoga master had given him years before to conjure energy from the kundalini, a point somewhere near the lower spine that the master believed was the center of Rubens’ personal (and potentially transcendent) soul.
By the time he arrived at the suite where the National Security Director was waiting with the president of the United States, the thirty-two-year-old mathematical genius and art connoisseur felt rested and refreshed. He also felt he had centered his often rambunctious energy and clamped hold of his ego.
It was a good thing.
“The Wave Three mission was not authorized by Finding 302,” said National Security Director George Hadash as Rubens entered the Blue Room, a secure meeting room in sub level two of the building. “Losing that plane was a screwup.”
Rubens had known George Hadash since MIT, where he had been Hadash’s student in a graduate seminar on the use of science in international relations. He was used to the blunt blasts that substituted for proper greetings. “The target was discussed,” he told his onetime professor. “The protocol for Desk Three is that it is to operate autonomously once broad objectives are outlined. Wave Three was the best asset for the job, and it was under our control.”
“The laser facilities were not important enough to risk that asset,” said Hadash.
“I beg to differ. Contrary to the estimate from the Air Force Special Projects Office, the weapon is near an operational state. The CIA analysts believe it’s more advanced than our own Altrus. And there is no question that if it were operational, it could completely eliminate our satellite network over central Asia.”
Hadash’s cheek twitched slightly, but he said nothing. The tic indicated to Rubens that he had made his point.
“We haven’t finished analyzing the data yet,” added the NSA official.
“You’re going to have to explain to the president,” said Hadash.
“Of course. If he wants to know.”
Hadash gave him one of his most serious frowns, though Rubens hadn’t intended the comment as impertinent. The issue wasn’t plausible denial; compartmentalization was essential to successful espionage and covert action, which were Desk Three’s raison d’e?tre.
“He’s not happy,” added Hadash. “The CIA has been all over this, and DOD is reminding him that the NSA has
“Not true,” said Rubens mildly. Silently congratulating himself on the earlier mention of the CIA — which would convey an open-minded neutrality in sharp contrast to the paranoid backbiting of his bitter intelligence service rivals — he took a seat on the couch. Hadash went to see if the president was ready to meet with him.
Both the CIA and the military had made plays to control Desk Three when it was created at the very start of President Jeffrey Marcke’s administration. Both were disappointed that the NSA was given primacy over the operation. CIA and military assets assigned to Desk Three, either on permanent “loan” or for temporary missions, were under Rubens’ direct command until released. This inevitably led to jealousy. While Rubens had foreseen this, it did present an ongoing problem that a man of lesser intellect and ability — in his humble opinion — would have had great trouble controlling.
The idea behind Desk Three was relatively simple in out-line: New technologies such as satellite communications, miniaturized sensors, and remote-controlled vehicles could revolutionize covert action and direct warfare if used properly. The CIA, the NSA, the Air Force, the Navy, the Defense Intelligence Agency, the Army — all had expertise in specific areas but often could not work smoothly enough to leverage that expertise. It was no secret that the different groups charged with national security tended not to cooperate; any number of fiascoes, from the infamous
Desk Three’s evolution could be traced directly to the CIA’s former Division D, which had worked with the NSA in the 1950s and early ’60s planting sensors, stealing code-books, “turning” crypto experts — and assassinating foreigners, though this was not necessarily an NSA function. It was succeeded by the Special Collection Service, or SCS, which had essentially the same job, sans assassinations, which were outlawed by Congress following scandals in the 1970s. In both cases, the arrangement had the CIA working essentially as a contractor to the NSA; the SCS headquarters was not in Crypto City, and the field agents were never, or almost never, under direct NSA control.
Desk Three was different in that respect. It was intended to represent a new, cutting-edge force to be used for not only collecting data but also, when the situation demanded, taking action “ad hoc” to meet objectives outlined by the president. It could tap into the full array of sensors maintained by the NSA, as well as the processed intercepts from those sensors and data analysis provided by all of the major intelligence agencies. It could call on its own air and space assets, including twelve Space Platforms, or ultralarge satellites that could launch customized eavesdropping probes, and eight remote-controlled F-47C robot planes that were arguably as capable as F-22s, with twice their range and about one-third of their size. Underwater assets gave Desk Three similar capabilities in the ocean. And a small team of agents, drawn from a variety of sources, gave it muscle.
Several agencies could have “run” Desk Three. Besides the CIA, the military’s USSOCOM, or U.S. Special Operations Command, had been a lead contender. But the NSA was chosen primarily because it was used to working with the high-tech gear that formed the backbone of the force concept. It also lacked some of the political entanglements that plagued the others.
And, of course, it contained William Rubens.
Rubens was critical for several reasons beyond his outsize abilities. One was his friendship with Hadash. Another was his demonstrated skill at melding the disparate talents required for such an enterprise. Last but not least, he had conceived the concept. He personally wrote the report outlining it, well before Marcke’s election. Titled “Deep Black,” the report formed the blueprint for the operation and was still among the most highly classified documents in the government archives. The report title had become an unofficial name for Desk Three and its operations.
Rubens had long ago learned the difficult and distasteful lesson that sheer intelligence, culture, and genetics often mattered little in Washington, let alone in international affairs. The trick was to use these assets to maintain one’s position and thereby accomplish one’s goals. It took eternal vigilance and, perhaps, a touch of paranoia.
Rubens cleared his mind of external distractions, preparing himself to speak to the president. The room’s spartan furnishings made it look as if it belonged in a suburban tract house. A large video display sat behind a set of drapes where the picture window would be; otherwise the Blue Room was refreshingly devoid of high-tech gadgetry.
The door opened so abruptly Rubens barely had time to get to his feet as the president burst into the room, his hand thrust forward.
“Billy, how are you?” said Marcke, playing the hail-fellow- well-met politico. Marcke was an inch taller than
