Terror At Dawn

sympathetically, her eyes showing their own signs of strain. “He’s waiting for you.” She gestured at the closed door behind her.

“Any advice?” he said halfheartedly. Janie Felts had on occasion made his job a little easier by giving him a hint about which way the wind was blowing, but not so now. Not that it was necessary. She looked away.

Hell of a nice lady, though. If I ever had more than just enough to cover rent and child support, I wouldn’t mind taking her out. Assuming she’d even go out with a special agent.

He let himself into the office, bracing himself for the worst. Chassen never yelled. He didn’t have to. The clinical precision with which he dissected his victims didn’t require it.

“Sit down, Hank.” Chassen’s voice was cold — but then, wasn’t it always?

Not “Have a seat, Hank,” or “Thanks for coming right up,” none of the social pleasantries that existed to make life flow just a little bit easier. They both knew Greenfield had no choice, that he would do as he was told. What was the point of rubbing his nose in it?

Greenfield sank into the available chair, suppressing a groan as he sank into it. He’d be damned if he’d let Chassen see him wince, not with what was coming.

“So. You blew it. I spent the morning at the White House taking the heat for it. Tell me why.” Chassen leaned back in his chair and interlaced his hands behind his head. A dangerous sign, one that exposed his midsection, indicating subliminally that he had nothing to fear from Greenfield.

“It went badly.”

Chassen arched one eyebrow at that and waited. It was a favorite tactic of his, saying nothing, provoking the agents into tumbling over their own words as they tried to fill the silence.

Greenfield was having none of it. He could wait as well. It was a skill born of long hours on stakeout as a junior officer, hours in which he could barely keep his eyes open. Then the sudden rush of adrenaline as the target appeared, when things started happening too fast to do more than react automatically to them.

He could feel the adrenaline course into his veins now, warning of the danger. It didn’t matter that it was not physical, other than the fact he could end up a homeless bum on the street without his paycheck. The limbic system didn’t distinguish between threats. It wasn’t designed to.

“Understatement,” said Chassen. Again, the silence.

I’ll be damned if I’ll talk. Not now. Nobody listened when I told them it would go wrong. Anything I say now will sound like an excuse. He settled for a noncommittal shrug.

“Well, then.” Chassen leaned forward and clasped his hands on the desk in front of him. “Under the circumstances, I’m sure you’d welcome an opportunity to redeem yourself.” Again, the sardonic lift of one eyebrow. “You do well on this one, and a year from now nobody will remember Idaho.”

Right. No chance of that. And even if everybody else in the world forgot, I’d still remember it. For a moment, he heard the screams again, mixing with the noise of the fire.

“The President has decided to assemble a special task force to deal with situations such as this,” Chassen said, his voice betraying no opinion on the matter. “It will be composed of both American and Canadian military forces, as well as representatives from the appropriate law-enforcement agencies. Including, as deemed necessary, our brethren at the CIA. The President feels that we need to deal firmly with incidents such as these, bringing all of our assets to bear on a speedy and appropriate resolution. You’ll be heading up our contingent for the next operation.” Chassen stopped and waited, only a crease at the edge of his eyes betraying his amusement.

“When? And where?” Greenfield said, keeping his voice neutral.

“A few days from now. Back in Idaho. Since you’re already familiar with the area, that will save you some time. You can hit the deck running, as they say in the Navy. You were in the Navy, weren’t you?”

“Marine Corps.” As you well know, you bastard.

“Yes, of course. Uncle Sam’s Misguided Children. Well, then, you should be right at home.” Chassen closed the folder he’d been studying and slid it across the desk to Greenfield. “The details aren’t finalized, but this is a rough draft of the composition of forces and rules of engagement for the next operations. Also budgeting and manpower allocations. As you can see, we’re throwing our full support behind this.” Again that sly look of amusement.

Sure. All the resources of the Bureau. And that includes the one agent that’s entirely expendable. That’s what you call giving the President full support? Greenfield took the folder without speaking. He didn’t open at. He waited.

Chassen appeared slightly unsettled. “Well, then. Study up on it and see me if you have any questions. You should be contacted by the military officer in charge within the next couple days to finalized details.”

“Military officer?” Greenfield said, not moving. “We’re on American soil.”

“Of course, the whole issue of posse commitatus. I think you’ll find that the whole doctrine will be changing shortly.”

Since the failure of domestic intelligence agencies to predict the strike against the World Trade Center, there had been increasing talk in Congress about giving the military a freer hand in domestic security. The problem was that the country was founded on a doctrine known as posse commitatus, a doctrine that prevented using federal military forces inside the United States for law-enforcement activities. The National Guard units, which were state units reporting to the governor, were not considered in this category unless “federalized,” i.e. called to active duty and placed into the military chain of command. The FBI had managed to work out some kinks in their operations with the National Guard to their mutual benefit, but other than some small cross-training, not with the regular military forces.

“So whose operation is it?” Greenfield asked again.

“Theirs. There’ll be a military commander. You’ll work for him.”

“Is that legal?”

Chassen shrugged. “The President seems to think so. I imagine it will be a test case of sorts.”

And no matter how it goes wrong, I’ll take the fall for it. The Justice Department will say I should have known better, I should’ve cleared it through them. But the whole thing will be wrapped up in so many security classifications that there’ll be no way to do that. I’m the sacrificial lamb.

“I see.” Greenfield stood, paused for a moment, then headed for the door. He could almost feel Chassen smiling behind him.

THIRTEEN

Bull Run, Idaho

1900 local (GMT -7)

Drake placed her hands on her hips and glared at the Army officer standing in front of her. “ ‘No comment’ isn’t going to hack it right now. I want to know what’s down the road. Barring that, I want to know why you won’t let me go down and see for myself.” Behind her, she could hear the familiar noises of the camera crew as they captured everything on tape.

The Army officer was stiff and correct. “I’m sorry, ma’am. A small plane crashed in the area, and the National Transportation Safety Board has ordered that no one be allowed into the area until they completed their initial survey.”

“Right. What airport was it from? What kind of aircraft? Who is the pilot, and how experienced was he? Any passengers? What caused the incident?” Drake shot the questions at the man, hammering on his defenses.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t know the answers to any of those questions. There will be a formal briefing held in three hours time. I’m sure the briefing officer will be able to answer your questions.”

Three hours. Too late. I won’t sit in what passes for a press room and quietly wait to get the same news that everyone else is getting.

She motioned to the cameraman, and said, “I want to do a standup. Now.” She positioned herself in the middle of the road with the two Army jocks and a squad of men directly behind her. No doubt one was waving to his mother as she spoke.

“This is Pamela Drake, reporting from Bull Run, Idaho. We have information to indicate that a tragedy along the lines of Ruby Ridge has occurred in the valley behind me. As you can see, it is accessible only via the road I’m