Jim DeFelice - Threat Level Black

“Now that we’re here, let’s have a brief summary of the plans,” said President D’Amici, leaning back in his chair. “Pentagon first.”

Colonel Victor Thos, who headed the special targeting task force, ran down the highlights of the plans with the help of a PowerPoint presentation. Force One, which had several options, was by far the preferred plan, and this came through in the presentation. Thos also outlined a more conventional plan with a force to knock out the radars and take over Pong Yan, the airfield near the camp.

“If we do that, we’ll start a war with them,” said Blitz. “If we can’t do this covertly, we can’t do it. Period.”

Thos grimaced and then outlined Tacit Ivan, the plan involving the Berkut. For some reason the plan sounded much more reasonable now than it had earlier when they’d gone over the presentation, though Tyler decided he still preferred Force One.

“I have one question,” said the President when he finished. “Would you put your life on the line for any of these plans?”

“Yes, sir, I would,” snapped Tyler.

The words had come out automatically, and Tyler realized belatedly that the President had actually asked the question of Thos. All eyes in the room stared at him.

“Excuse me,” he said.

“That’s quite all right,” said the President. He turned to Thos. “I assume you feel the same way.”

“Absolutely.”

“Well, of course,” said Blitz. “That’s not the question.”

Tyler knew from the meetings he had observed that the President didn’t mind candid exchanges and even arguments, but Blitz seemed almost belligerent. The national security advisor began arguing about the need for alacrity-he used the word several times-because of the deteriorating situation. To Tyler, it seemed as if he was criticizing the plan.

“We can have people on the ground there within twenty-four hours,” Tyler said finally when Thos didn’t speak up in its defense. “I guarantee it.”

The secretary of defense and the head of the Joint Chiefs of Staff glared at him. Tyler felt his jaw set; what the hell did they expect? Of course the job could be done. Otherwise they wouldn’t have brought it here.

“Are you volunteering to take command of the mission, Ken?” asked the President.

Was he?

“Sir, I would in a heartbeat. Absolutely. I want to lead it.”

The President smiled. Tyler sensed that he was coming off like some sort of cowboy gunslinger, which to him was the exact opposite of what he felt: He was here as a professional with a carefully considered, albeit risky, lineup of plans. He wouldn’t have proposed them if he didn’t believe in them.

Were the others testing him? Thos started to say something-either to change the subject or perhaps point out that the unit officers would be expected to command and would be more than qualified to do so-but the President raised his hand.

“I think Major Tyler would be an excellent choice. I have full confidence in him. And in Colonel Howe. I want a plan that has a chance to remain covert but can move ahead quicker than the CIA plan. That’s Tacit Ivan. Get it under way immediately.”

“You figure terrorists are big on irony?” asked Fisher.

“How so?”

“Battery Park. Energy. E-bomb. Get it?”

Macklin’s blank stare went well with his haircut, which looked as if it had started as a fade and veered toward Mohawk. Fisher walked past the museum building out toward the edge of the water. On a clear day you could see the Statue of Liberty from there-but this wasn’t a clear day. A low bank of clouds loomed beyond the thin mist, and the sky above furled with an impending snowstorm.

Though the more optimistic weathermen were calling for sleet.

“You think he called from the middle of Battery Park?” asked Macklin.

“We sure it’s a ‘he’?” asked Fisher. The cell tower that had picked up the call was located on the top of a nearby building, but the fog was so thick Fisher couldn’t see it.

“Good point.”

“No other call, huh?”

“None,” said Macklin.

“Why do you figure that is?”

“Reprogrammed it or used a different cell phone.”

“Could be.” Fisher turned around and looked out at the water. “Maybe he threw it in the water.”

“You want to drag the harbor?”

“Even I’m not that crazy,” said Fisher.

“They use the phones once or twice, they reprogram the chips,” said Macklin. “I was at a seminar a few weeks back explaining how it’s done. So you think he was in the park?” added the Homeland Security agent.

“Maybe,” said Fisher. “Or on the water.”

“What, swimming?”

“Could have been in a boat.”

“Well, sure,” said Macklin.

A ferry loomed in the distance. There were ferry slips at the very southern tip of the island; you could get to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island as well as Staten Island.

“Should we look for a boat?” asked Macklin.

“Probably not.”

“Did they case out the Statue of Liberty, maybe?”

“Could be.”

“ ‘Could be’?” said Macklin.

“Could be a lot of things, Michael. That’s the problem.”

“Well, what the hell are we looking for?” asked Macklin.

“Damned if I know,” said Fisher. “But a good cup of coffee would sure hit the spot.”

“We have to figure this out, Andy. We have to. America ’s counting on us.”

The wind was too strong for Fisher to risk rolling his eyes. Instead he asked, “Where are those apartments?”

“One’s in Washington Heights, the other’s in Queens. They’re under surveillance.”

“Okay,” said Fisher, starting to his left.

“Where are we going?”

“To get some coffee.”

“Andy-”

“Then we’re going to take a subway ride.”

“You can’t command the force,” Colonel Thos told Tyler as they walked downstairs.

“The President told me to do it,” replied Tyler.

“He didn’t tell you to go on the mission.”

As originally drawn up, the ground commander would be an A Team captain working with men already in Korea and the Asia theater. Tyler interpreted the President’s order to mean that he should go along personally and the captain would answer to him. Thos pointed out that the President hadn’t specifically said that. Not only would it be contrary to normal procedure, from a logistical point of view, getting from Washington to Korea in time to be on the raid would be extremely difficult.

Tyler wasn’t going to argue with Thos. As far as he was concerned, the President’s order meant that he was to be there himself personally. Period.

Period.

Tyler replayed the meeting in his mind. Some of the others were looking at him with contempt, but the President hadn’t. The President-his eyes had said something to him.

I need someone I can trust. Can I trust you?

There was no way Tyler was backing out. And screw anybody who suggested he do so.

If he were white, no one would say anything, Tyler thought.

That wasn’t fair, not really, and certainly not in Thos’s case. The colonel was from a mixed background himself: Malaysian as well as European. His argument was based on command structure and the normal rules and procedures the Army followed.

But it did make sense for Tyler to take command of the mission. He sure as hell had the experience and expertise: He’d only recently been an A Team captain and had been in Korea; he undoubtedly knew many of the men who would be on the mission. He had planned it and so knew the details intimately. He knew Howe as well. The only problem was getting over to Korea.

“Look, Tyler, you’ll never make it in time,” said Thos as they reached their car.