Jim DeFelice - Threat Level Black

“Agreed.”

They broke for breakfast, the conversation turning to the new grandchild. Jane stayed for a few minutes, then excused herself to go take a shower. When she was gone, Anthony and Blitz resumed their discussion of what to do next in North Korea. All of the ballistic missile sites had been secured, and separate teams had already completed preliminary reports on the technology. According to Anthony, there were no surprises: American intelligence had already done a decent job of psyching out the capabilities of the weapons.

The Koreans’ small store of cruise missiles-primitive weapons based on a Russian antiship missile-were all accounted for. Several stores of chemical weapons that had not been listed on reports prior to the coup had been found. As of yet, records to check the inventories had not been located.

“What about the E-bomb?” Blitz asked.

Anthony shook his head. “Still looks like they snookered us on that. Two members of the Korean security police were arrested in Japan last night, and it’s possible one of them was Colonel Howe’s passenger.”

“I doubt that,” said Blitz. “Too low-level.” His main candidate was the head of the DPRK intelligence, who had not been heard from since twelve hours before the coup. “Colonel Howe mentioned seeing some UAVs, or possible UAVs,” added Blitz, remembering his conversation with Howe.

“One of our people checked into that. He’s recommending a check at the site.”

“As a CIA operation?”

“We don’t have the resources at the moment,” admitted Anthony.

“Perhaps we should run a military operation through the NSC,” suggested Blitz.

“Might be an idea, if you can arrange it.” Anthony took a sip of his coffee. “Is Howe going over to NADT?”

“He’s the top candidate,” said Blitz.

“I wonder if Howe is the right man for the job,” said Anthony. “He’s an outsider to Washington. And he was only a colonel.”

“He’s had a good deal of experience. He was responsible for the Velociraptors and has worked with NADT.”

Blitz wondered if Anthony saw Howe as a potential political threat. The CIA did not deal with NADT on any sort of regular basis, but whoever took over as head of the agency would be at least a potential power in Washington.

“Is there something else about Colonel Howe I should know?” Blitz asked.

Anthony shrugged. “We’re initiating an intelligence review in connection with the Korean operation.”

“How does that affect him?”

“Just that he was part of it.”

“He had nothing to do with the intelligence,” said Blitz.

“It’s odd that he was connected with that, and with a plot to steal one of America ’s most advanced weapons.”

“He’s not connected at all,” said Blitz.

The matter was of more than passing importance, since it represented a potential scandal: He could just imagine what an unfriendly congressional committee would do with the information that the U.S. government had helped a Korean villain escape. Howe’s involvement could be especially problematic; Blitz wondered whether his appointment should be delayed until they had captured the man.

The doorbell rang: Anthony’s driver and aides had arrived. The conversation turned to more generic, benign matters. Blitz fretted about what to do. A review of the Korean matter could easily take months.

A way would have to be found to shortcut the process. In the meantime…

In the meantime?

One of the aides had the morning news summary with him, a compilation of important items prepared for the President and other top members of the administration. For a change, the item leading the roundup wasn’t from Korea: A joint task force headed by Homeland Security and the DIA, with help from the New York City Police Department and a long list of others, had found a cache of sarin gas in a warehouse on Staten Island.

Anthony pointed out that the discovery had been made by the group originally put together to investigate the E-bomb rumor.

“So it wasn’t a total waste after all,” he said. “Keystone Kops stumbled onto the real thing.”

Blitz made a mental note to call Jack Hunter at the FBI and congratulate him-and see whether the connection was just a coincidence as it appeared.

As the others went out to the car, Anthony held Blitz back for a second.

“About that review,” said Anthony. “We’ve suspended security clearances for everyone involved.”

“What?” said Blitz.

“It’s routine.”

“Like hell,” said Blitz.

“Don’t get mad, Professor. The review isn’t going to take that long.”

“Are you trying to torpedo Howe’s appointment?”

“Absolutely not.”

Blitz knew a lie when he heard one, but there was nothing he could do about it at the moment.

Fisher had a prime seat for the press conference: back near the coffee and doughnuts laid out for the media types. That meant he couldn’t get a good view of Macklin and Kowalski as they smiled for the cameras: another plus.

It was a crowded podium. Besides Macklin and Kowalski, the city mayor, the police commissioner, the local federal attorney, the governor, and the district attorney from Staten Island were all on the stage at Gracie Mansion in Manhattan to announce the triumph. So much for setting up a sting.

They had, at least, made an arrest on the person who had leased the warehouse. He was an Egyptian émigré who’d been in America for four years. His name was Said Ahmet, and he claimed he had rented it to people who wanted to store auto parts. The story was so lame that Fisher was tempted to believe it. In the meantime, warrants had been arranged for several business associates of Ahmet, and city detectives were out looking for them. Faud, who had not been connected to the warehouse except by Fisher’s roundabout logic, was now on a list of people to be apprehended but his name and description were not being released to the press.

If Fisher had had his way, nothing would be released to the press, and there would be no press conference at all. But at least the cheese blintzes were good.

“Andy, it’s been great working with you,” said Macklin after the TV cameras shut down.

“You going on vacation?”

“No. The case is closed.”

“No it’s not,” said Fisher.

“Well, yeah, we have to wrap up loose ends and such. But Jeez, Fisher, don’t you ever relax? We celebrate today, take off a long weekend, then come back and kick down doors Monday.”

“Whose doors?”

“It’s a figure of speech. Besides, you’re out of here.”

“How do you mean that?” asked Fisher, shaking out a fresh cigarette.

“Your assignment only lasted until we broke the case. I’m supposed to give you back to the Bureau as soon as I can. The case is closed. We’ll be turning it all over to the U.S. attorney anyway and disbanding the task force. So thanks.” He held out his hand.

“Who says we broke the case?”

Macklin just about crossed his eyes.

“We still don’t understand the connection between the E-bomb and the sarin gas.” Fisher hated stating the obvious, even to a fellow investigator, but there seemed no other choice.

“There is no connection. God, you’re the guy who figured that out. You said-”

“That alone ought to be enough to bother you,” said Fisher, walking away.

Tyler tapped the keys of his laptop, jotting the notes about the performance of the different weapons systems as the major assigned to brief him continued. Though he wasn’t here to evaluate weapons or the unit’s performance, Tyler let the officer vent. He was complaining about the failure of the coordinated information system that was supposed to provide battlefield commanders with coordinated real-time information from a variety of sources. Potentially revolutionary in design-in theory, the smallest fighting unit would have access to battlefield intelligence that only a few years before would have been hard to get at any level-the system was prone to failure. In place of real-time topographic maps with enemy positions, soldiers had found blue screens on the vehicle displays, laptops, and handheld computers they had carried into battle.