Mark Greaney - Full Force and Effect

Veronika said, “A nation that can’t feed their people or keep their lights on is entering into the high-tech mining sector alone?”

“If they really could do it alone they wouldn’t need us. No. They are not alone. Our client isn’t North Korea. That would be illegal, of course. Our client is New World Metals LLC. A completely aboveboard mining consortium from Mexico via a dozen shell companies. They have a wholly legitimate contract to partner in the mining concern as a third party.”

Veronika was bored, and she let Sharps know. “My assignment?”

“You are going to California.”

She sat up straighter on the sofa. That sounded nice. A hell of a lot better than Vietnam, anyway.

“The North Koreans don’t trust the Chinese to process the ore once they dig it out of the mountains. This presents a serious problem, because the processing of rare earth materials is particularly complicated, and special equipment and know-how is required. New World Metals has purchased the computers for the processing equipment from Europe and they will fly them into North Korea via Bulgaria, but without proprietary software they are useless. They have asked us to send someone to Valley Floor, a NewCorp rare earth mine in California, and obtain the proprietary software they are using on the computers in their processing plant there.”

California, to Veronika Martel, meant Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco or Rodeo Drive in Los Angeles. Wayne Sharps seemed to be describing a strip mine somewhere far away from these locations. Still, she was a dutiful employee.

“Okay, Duke. What specifically do you need me to do?”

“We need the software, every last bit of it. You will get it.”

“Of course.”

He moved again on the sofa, and this time there was no question—he was coming closer.

She stood up quickly.

He just smiled. It was clear to Veronika that he had expected her reaction and it didn’t bother him at all. She took him for a man much more thrilled by the chase than the kill, and she knew she had just thrilled him greatly.

He did not miss a beat, continuing as if nothing had happened. He stood up as well. “Your contact will be Edward Riley. Know him?”

She raised an eyebrow. “The scandal in Italy?”

“Right. That’s in his past. He’s a good man. A Brit, but we won’t hold it against him. He’s running the entire New World Metals operation from stem to stern. We are positioning you as a quality-assurance officer from the Canadian company that manufactures some of the processing equipment. You will be there to run some diagnostics on the machines and to survey the operation. This will put you in contact with the software we need.”

“Fine,” she said.

Duke smiled at her. “It was nice to see you. Until we meet again.”

He shook her hand, then held it. He hesitated, and she knew what was coming. Some sort of verbal attempt to hit on her, since his physical approach had failed. She expected it to be overt and charmless.

She was right.

“Your coldness only enhances your sex appeal. Has anyone ever said that?”

“Certainly not to my face, Duke.” She pulled her hand back with a smile, turned away, and left his office, aware of his eyes on her every step of the way.

18

President of the United States Jack Ryan would have normally called in his entire National Security Council to discuss a situation as important as the capture of the material for weapons of mass destruction on its way to North Korea, and he had intended to do just that. But when his chief of staff, Arnie Van Damm, contacted both Director of National Intelligence Mary Pat Foley and Director of the CIA Jay Canfield, he’d received requests from both to delay the meeting for a few hours while they worked on something that would be crucial to providing the President with a bigger and better picture of what was going on.

One does not normally tell POTUS “No” when he asks for a meeting, but Van Damm knew Ryan would have no problem allowing his top intelligence community officials more time to do necessary work, so he pushed the meeting back until nine a.m. the next day. The only problem with this from a scheduling standpoint was that the President had to fly to London for a NATO conference on Russia first thing in the morning.

They could have conducted the meeting via video conference, as Air Force One had the secure telecom necessary to keep the President in touch with Washington wherever he flew, but Mary Pat made the last-minute decision to go to Andrews early in the morning and fly along to Europe with her President so she could present her material in person. Mary Pat had known Jack for more than thirty years, and more than any public figure she had ever worked with, she knew how much he enjoyed rolling up his sleeves and putting his hands on the intelligence itself.

She had an objective with today’s meeting, and she knew she’d get a lot further with POTUS if he understood and agreed with all the intelligence she presented, and taking the flights to London and back would be a small price to pay for having his undivided attention for an hour or so.

Ryan agreed to the private conference with Mary Pat in the President’s office on Air Force One. The full National Security Council meeting could wait—for now.

As the plane taxied to the runway, Ryan sat at his desk working on some early-morning paperwork. He heard a knock at the open door next to him, and he looked up to see Arnie Van Damm.

“Aren’t you supposed to strap in for takeoff?” Ryan asked.

“Aren’t you?” Ryan’s desk chair had a seat belt, but it dangled off the side.

He said, “I’ve been doing this so long, I have it down to a science. Right when I hear us go throttle up I buckle up and clear my desk.” He snatched his coffee cup with a smile. “Then I grab my coffee so it doesn’t spill.”

Van Damm entered the room and sat in the chair across from the desk. It, too, had a seat belt. “For a guy who hates flying, I’d say you’ve got the hang of it.”

Ryan just chuckled and looked back down to his papers. He could tell they were still taxiing, and would be for another few minutes. “What’s up?”

Arnie said, “Secret Service wants to talk to you again about Mexico City.”

Ryan shook his head without looking up. “We’ve talked. I’m not canceling. They need to drop it.”

Arnie was the only member of Ryan’s staff who regularly argued with his boss. “I think you should reconsider. We’ve got some outs, don’t worry about that. Lots of problems in Asia and Ukraine that need attention. President Lopez will forgive you if you send regrets.”

Now Ryan did look up. “ No , Arnie. I’m going. What’s Secret Service’s specific argument against the trip?”

“Well, I think they want to talk to you to make their case in person.”

“I’m asking you .”

“It’s the Maldonado thing.”

The President waved it away. “That was six months ago.”

“They are concerned that—”

Ryan called out to the hallway next to his office. “Andrea, can you come in here a second?”

His lead protection agent, Andrea Price O’Day, was in the room in two seconds. “Yes, sir?”

“I’d like to ask you to pistol-whip Arnie for me, but I bet you’ll give me some song and dance about you having rules against that.”

Andrea laughed and looked to Van Damm. “How about I just keep a close eye on him for now? He looks pretty harmless.”

Ryan said, “What’s this about you guys not wanting me to go to Mexico?”

Andrea replied, “That’s not me, Mr. President. I understand our threats and assessment advance division had some concerns.”

Ryan shrugged. “So as far as you’re concerned, I should go?”