Rubens, who at six-four was not short; though in his early sixties, Marcke had an incredibly strong handshake and was said by the media to work with serious weights every afternoon.
“Fine, sir.”
The president released him and sat on the couch. Hadash and the secretary of defense, Art Blanders, entered belatedly. Both remained standing as the president leaned toward Rubens.
“How’s your boss?” asked Marcke.
“Admiral Brown is still traveling, sir.”
Vice Admiral Devlin Brown was a recent appointee to head the agency; he’d only been on the job for a few weeks. Rubens didn’t know Brown very well yet and, frankly, didn’t feel he’d be much of a force. It would take considerable ability to outperform the previous head of the NSA, in Rubens’ opinion — though if the opportunity presented itself, he certainly would be willing to try.
“All right, Billy,” said the president with the air of a favored uncle. “Tell us what happened to your airplane.”
“The Ilyushin carrying the Wave Three magnetic data reader was targeted and shot down for reasons that remain unclear,” said Rubens. “We haven’t been able to identify where the MiG came from, which has complicated matters.”
“How is that possible?” asked Blanders.
“We’re not omniscient,” said Rubens, managing a smile to keep his tone mild. The secretary had come to the administration after serving as CEO of a bank; it was difficult to take him seriously. “More than likely, it was a renegade PVO unit working out some sort of dispute over ‘fees.’ But the possibility that both the program and Wave Three itself have been compromised cannot be ruled out.”
“The lasers,” prompted Hadash.
Rubens launched into a quick but detailed summary of the Wave Three target, a data center related to the Russian-directed energy program.
“The Russian president denied there was a laser program in an interview with the BBC two weeks ago,” said Blanders.
The defense secretary was obviously interested in pushing DoD’s own laser program, but that wasn’t what motivated his comment. Rubens noted for future reference not only Blanders’ disdain for Alexsandr Kurakin, the Russian president, but also the hint that Blanders believed Marcke trusted Kurakin too much.
“Perhaps you should bring it up with President Kurakin when you speak with him tomorrow,” added Blanders, alluding to the president’s biweekly telephone conference with the Russian president.
Doing that would inadvertently reveal quite a bit about the agency’s capabilities. But before Rubens could find a way to point this out semitactfully, Marcke cut him off.
“Of course we’re not going to do that,” said the president. “Why show him our hand? The question is, will he ask about our aircraft?”
“I don’t believe so,” said Rubens.
The Wave Three compartment was rigged to self-destruct. According to protocol, none of the crew carried parachutes, though there was always a possibility that some had been carried anyway. Still, transmissions from the plane indicated that there had been no survivors.
“How can you be sure?” asked Blanders.
“The plane went down in a fairly remote area,” said Rubens. “We have one possible site that we’re keeping track of, and I have a team en route to survey it.”
“You didn’t see it on satellite?” Blanders asked.
Was that a criticism or a play for the comprehensive optical survey satellites, which would give the U.S. worldwide around-the-clock coverage? Rubens decided to interpret it as the latter.
“At the moment, we don’t have the resources for complete coverage,” said Rubens. “That would be very desirable. We did, however, pick up the explosion. We have data on the possible wreckage. Now we send someone there to look at it and make sure it was destroyed. Routine.”
Hadash cleared his throat and began speaking in the slightly loud, slightly rushed tone that indicated he’d been rehearsing what he was to say for some time. “Given the controversy—”
“What controversy?” asked Rubens.
“Given the controversy, I — we — feel there should be someone outside of Desk Three along.”
“What?”
“A neutral observer,” said Hadash. “Just to see the wreckage and make an unbiased report.”
“I don’t see why that would be necessary.” Rubens had been taken by surprise, but he labored now to hide it. More difficult to suppress was his anger at Hadash for failing to warn him.
He remembered his yoga mantra.
“You don’t understand the political situation,” said Blan-ders.
“What political situation?” said Rubens.
The president put up his hand. “Billy, here’s the problem. The CIA wants to chop off your head. They have some friends on the Senate Intelligence Committee. The committee wants a briefing. George is going to give it to them based on what his personal investigator finds out. We need to be able to tell them definitively that the plane was completely wrecked, that there was no screwup.”
Collins, the deputy director of operations over at the CIA. She was responsible for this. The bitch.
“There was no screwup,” said Rubens.
“It’s for your own good, William,” said Blanders.
“Sir, we’re talking about something that’s at Level Five VRK,” said Rubens.
“George’s man won’t know anything about it, either,” said Blanders. “What’s the big deal? Assuming the plane really was trashed.”
The president’s gray eyes met Rubens’ and held them. Did he want Rubens out? Were they going to use this as a pretext to bag him?
“This isn’t a matter of trust, William,” said Hadash.
Rubens turned slowly toward him, deciding not to answer or debate the point — it was obviously already settled.
“If the politicians have any reason to run with this, they’ll compromise Desk Three and a great deal else,” Hadash added. “We don’t want that.”
“You have someone in mind?” said Rubens.
“I do. His background has already been thoroughly checked. We can trust him. All he needs to do is confirm that the plane was destroyed. He won’t even know about the original mission, just that he’s to tell me what he sees.”
“We don’t need more CIA people with axes to grind.”
“He’s not. He has no axe to grind; he’s a complete outsider.”
It was possible, just possible, that Hadash was trying to help Rubens. A neutral observer could be trotted out for the Intelligence Committee and then turned out to pasture without jeopardizing anything.
On the other hand, he could do serious damage gathering ammunition for someone like Collins.
“Who is he?” asked Rubens.
“Charles Dean,” said Hadash.
“Dean? As in
Hadash nodded.
Dean had been used on a cooperative venture with the French some months back. An ex-Marine, he had proven himself brave and resourceful. His background had been thoroughly checked, and he had proven able to keep his mouth shut.
He’d also been a bit slow to figure out what he’d gotten himself involved in. And the project had been opposed by Collins.
So maybe Hadash was helping him out after all.
Or not. Collins might have feigned her opposition. Rubens would have to reconsider what had happened carefully and review Dean’s background.
