Peter Kirsanow: Second Strike

McCoy shuffled papers, skipping several pages. “On or about July 17, and while still a fugitive, Garin received information from an Israeli agent, Ari Singer, that a clandestine Iranian effort to construct a nuclear weapon and place it on an ICBM had reached completion and the missile would be launched within hours. Accurate?”

“It is, Senator. Mr. Garin determined that three ICBMs armed with nuclear warheads were to be launched imminently. The ICBMs were constructed in and for Iran—largely by Russian personnel—with assistance from North Korea. Two of the ICBMs were targeted at Israel. The third, with a one-megaton yield, was targeted at the United States, to be detonated at an altitude of one hundred miles between Chicago and Kansas City, thereby creating an electromagnetic pulse that would cover most of the continental United States. The EMP would knock out anything and everything that uses electricity, sending us back to the Dark Ages.”

“We’ve heard from witnesses who estimate that the death toll from disease, starvation, and unrest would be in the millions in the first year alone,” McCoy informed the room.

“Conservative estimates put the death toll at twenty percent of the population,” Olivia confirmed.

“How did the Iranians think they could do that without massive nuclear retaliation on our part?”

“The Iranians believed all three ICBMs were targeted at Israel. They didn’t know one was targeted at the US. The Russians had controlled the entire project, permitting Iranians to assist only with the warhead, so that the nuclear signature would be Iranian. Thus, the entire world’s tracking systems would’ve seen the ICBM launched from Iranian soil. The Russians would’ve been in the clear.”

McCoy’s brow furrowed. “Ms. Perry, in anticipation of your appearance, staff has examined all of the FBI, NSA, CIA, and DIA reports on the matter and found absolutely no intel gathered by such agencies showing Russian, Iranian, and North Korean involvement in constructing an Iranian ICBM ostensibly designed to detonate a nuclear device and set off an EMP. Yet this administration launched a massive bombing campaign, still under way, premised on Iran’s having deliverable nuclear capability poised for imminent use against the US in the form of an EMP. When and where did the administration get that info?”

“From the Israeli operative, Ari Singer, who prior to his death had relayed it to Mr. Garin.”

McCoy raised a skeptical brow. “All of this came from Singer?”

“Yes, Senator, most of it.”

“Most of it,” McCoy repeated. He glanced back at an aide, who nodded in return. “And where did the rest of it come from?”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow, Senator.”

“I’m certain that you do, Ms. Perry. Where did the rest of the details concerning the imminent EMP attack come from?”

Perry hesitated a moment. McCoy filled the void. “They came from the very same Julian Day whom my colleague Senator Cross referred to a few moments ago, didn’t they? Except they weren’t supplied by Mr. Day voluntarily, were they, Ms. Perry?”

Olivia shifted in her seat. “I was in the room when Mr. Day provided the details of the EMP strike. He provided the locations of launch sites, payload capacities, and timing of the launches. The warhead that was going to detonate over central United States was to have been launched from an underground facility at the base of Mount Azud Kuh in the North Alborz Protected Area of Iran.”

“But again, he did not supply that information voluntarily, did he?” McCoy asked.

“I don’t quite follow, Senator. He may not have wanted to supply the details because doing so confirmed his complicity in treasonous activities, but upon being caught, he provided them.”

“My point, Ms. Perry,” Mr. McCoy said harshly, “is that Mr. Day supplied that information only after being tortured by Garin, isn’t that true?”

Olivia appeared shaken. “I observed no evidence of torture, Senator. I was in the room when Mr. Garin interrogated Julian Day. At no time did Mr. Garin make any physical contact whatsoever with Mr. Day.”

“Isn’t it true, Ms. Perry, that you were in the room with Garin and Day for only part of the time? Isn’t it true that Garin was alone with Day for several minutes before you entered?”

The hearing room was absolutely silent but for the voices of the senator and the witness. The purpose of McCoy’s line of questions was plain to everyone in the room. This was his preemptive attempt to shift attention from his aide’s traitorous conduct to alleged torture by Garin. The media was almost certain to seize upon the torture angle, which, in their judgment, would eclipse Day’s treason.

“Senator, I was in the very next room when Mr. Garin and Mr. Day were alone together for, perhaps, a few minutes. I heard no evidence of torture when I was in the next room and I observed no signs of torture when I entered the room.”

McCoy held up a sheet of paper. “According to this affidavit from a member of FBI HRT who was present after Mr. Day emerged from the room you and Garin were in, Day looked, quote, stunned, terrified, and exhausted, end quote. What do you think accounts for Mr. Day’s condition at that time, if not torture?” McCoy asked sarcastically.

“Perhaps, Senator, he was stunned at having been caught, terrified of the consequences, and exhausted from the effort in avoiding detection of his involvement in a plan that would have resulted in the deaths of millions.” Olivia’s voice became more strident with each word, a small vein pulsing at her left temple. “Mike Garin was singularly responsible for preventing an extraordinary catastrophe, and he did so at great risk to himself and his family—all while members of this body were sticking their heads in the sand and behaving as if the world is populated by unicorns threatened only by American imperialism; and all the while your assistant was conspiring with the Russians.” From behind, Brandt kicked the back of Olivia’s chair. She was swerving precariously close to contempt of Congress. “Michael Garin should be given an awards ceremony by this committee. Respectfully, Senator.”

A scowl grew on McCoy’s face as it turned crimson. His aides seated behind him winced and looked down at the floor. McCoy would have to find another diversion.

Senator Cross spoke up. “Mr. Chair?”

“The Chair recognizes Ranking Member Cross.”

“Thank you, Mr. Chairman. Ms. Perry, it’s our understanding that the Russian agent involved in this entire matter evaded capture and disappeared. It’s only logical that he put as much distance between himself and the United States as possible. I’m sure his whereabouts are at least as big a concern to you as they are to everyone on this committee, but the FBI and every other law enforcement agency we’ve asked has no idea what happened to him. Do you or anyone on the staff of the NSC have any information as to his whereabouts?”

Olivia Perry felt a familiar twinge of anxiety for the first time in weeks.

“We do not, Senator.”

Olivia cast a shy smile at the security guard whose eyes were riveted to her.

As she stepped out onto the sidewalk and into the brilliant sunshine outside the Hart Senate Office Building, she was still on edge from the hearing and walking at a brisk pace, not the best speed for a hot, humid August day in Washington, D.C. Pedestrian and vehicular traffic were slow. Bureaucratic Washington was on cruise control during the August recess, the committee hearing one of the few signs of political life in the nation’s capital.

The swarm of cabs that usually patrolled the streets of Capitol Hill had winnowed considerably, so Olivia headed in the direction of Union Station, where they remained omnipresent. She needed to get back to her office at the Old Executive Office Building, known to Washingtonians as the Eisenhower Building or OEOB, and draft a memo recounting the hearing while it remained fresh in her mind. She had a meeting with Brandt and Iris Cho to discuss the hearing and what, if anything, Brandt should tell the president about it.