Authors: Al Ruksenas
Members of the Omega Group seated in the Treaty Room nodded in agreement, some of them murmuring to each other and shifting in their chairs.
“
Our source Warlock claims it’s Middle Eastern terrorists who have Jeannie. Given the turmoil over there, and our identified sympathies with the Israelis, it’s a very plausible scenario—even without Warlock as a factor,” the Vice President reasoned. “We can presume that the attack on General Bradley’s operatives only strengthen that kind of conclusion.”
General Bradley felt stung by the Vice President’s summary, but he said nothing.
“
The only factual results of the past couple of days are the losses of two of our good friends and colleagues—Ron Stack and Ben Starr,” Stanford Howard, the national security adviser added. “We are investigating the circumstances.”
“
You don’t say that their deaths are tied into this?” FBI Director Worthington asked in frustration.
“
Of course not! If you’re talking of conspiracies, they’re not even in the line of succession to the Presidency,” Howard added for emphasis.
Polite laughs accented his comment.
“
No, they’re not in line of succession to the Presidency—“ General Bradley said, regaining his bearing. He paused, then added with authoritative cadence—“As a matter of fact, they
are
in the Chain of Nuclear Command.”
“
Now, wait a minute! Wait a minute! What is this?” the national security adviser asked keenly. “The Chain of Nuclear Command?”
“
Yes,” General Bradley affirmed. “Ron Stack, the Secretary of Defense and Ben Starr, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, were in the Chain of Nuclear Command.”
“
A sad coincidence, I hope,” ventured Robert Coulson of the CIA.
“
Wait a minute! Wait a minute!” Stanford Howard repeated with urgency. “The Secretary of Defense and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff are in the Chain of Nuclear Command. It’s not the standard line of succession to the Presidency—President, Vice President, Speaker of the House—Jeannie’s mother, as a matter of fact— President Pro
‐
Tempore of the Senate, Secretary of State and so on. Right?”
“
Right,” several voices replied.
“
The Chain of Nuclear Command is the President, Vice President, Secretary of Defense, Under Secretary of Defense, and Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff,” Senator Dunne recited quickly to regain his place in the proceedings.
“
You mean, there’s only the President and Vice
‐
President between you and the nuclear button?” Stanford Howard asked Philip Taylor jokingly, who was seated across from him next to the Vice President.
Taylor stared wordlessly at the national security adviser.
“
What would you do if the President and Vice President were gone, Phil?” added Coulson of the CIA.
“
Anything he wants,” FBI Director Worthington answered, drawn into the black humor.
Some tentative laughter resonated around the conference table.
Philip Taylor maintained a dour expression. He did not seem moved by the jocularity of his colleagues.
“
Well, gentlemen,” Stanford Howard concluded with sarcasm, “The only thing we seem to know for sure in our search for Jeannie McConnell, is that Philip Taylor, our untested colleague here, is two heartbeats away from controlling the fate of the world with the nuclear button.”
The laughter this time was subdued and nervous.
The Vice President sat stoically, not at all amused.
Chapter 25
General Bradley paced back and forth in his Pentagon office and recounted the meeting to Colonels Christopher Caine and Garrison Jones.
“
I should have given him more rope,” he declared. ”He jumped at my statement about ‘bad news’, but I called him out too quickly.”
“
You think he’s our man, General?” Colonel Caine asked.
“
I’m sure of it. He was just able to squirm out with some plausible scenario. I should have strung him along a little more—let him slip on something more. More specific knowledge of the ambush.”
General Bradley stopped at his desk and sat down. “The Vice President picked up on his rationalization of your encounter,” he said in frustration “Predictable—no conspiracy given the political climate over there. I should have given Dunne more rope.”
“
Understandable, sir,” Colonel Jones said. “You have to be careful in how you approach a senior senator about a matter like this. Or anyone at the meeting for that matter.”
“
I’m quite aware of that, thank you, Colonel,” General Bradley curtly replied.
“
He knows you’re on to him, sir,” Colonel Caine offered. “I’m sure he’ll stay nervous and slip up somewhere.”
“
Look where we’re going, gentleman. Are we crazy or something? Suspecting a senior U.S. Senator of treachery? A name thrown around for the presidency? Are we digging ourselves a big and unnecessary hole?”
“
Senator Dunne and the Warlock leads are inseparable,” Caine replied. “So if Warlock’s information is false, it has to be Dunne, since he’s the conduit.”
“
We haven’t considered that Warlock may just have been wrong this time,” Colonel Jones stated for argument’s sake. “Someone giving him ratty information. After all, he’s been reliable for many years.”
The three officers sat silently for awhile, pondering the possibility.
“
I don’t think so,” Colonel Caine finally said. “We were targeted deliberately. Someone was protecting Warlock’s lead and didn’t want us to hear Hammad’s disclaimer. If it was just a bad lead, it would have been an innocent dead end. We’ve had plenty of those in the past. No one tried to kill us over bad leads before.”
“
This was deliberate false information,” Colonel Jones reaffirmed.
“
I have no doubt,” Colonel Caine replied.
“
Why?” General Bradley asked.
“
Like we discussed before, General. To buy time.”
“
For what?”
“
I don’t know, sir,“ Caine replied. “But I can’t help, but think that there’s got to be some connection here. Everything’s happening at once. Two fatalities of high level officials. Curious details surrounding them. They’re in the Chain of Nuclear Command. Someone trying to stifle the fact that the Middle East connection on Jeannie is bogus. The shooting outside the museum with peculiarities we discussed. Something’s going on.”
“
I’d like to agree,” General Bradley said. “But it’s nothing definitive for the Omega Group. Too much
abra cadabra
.”
“
A real dead end for a career,” Colonel Caine said, noticing his general’s stern return look. “No offense, sir.”
“
None taken.”
General Bradley sat thoughtfully for a moment. “You know, when Dunne kept vouching for Warlock, he did slip out a tidbit some of us weren’t privy to. Top Secret information.” “What’s that, sir?” “Warlock’s identity. He’s Colonel Nicholai Kuznetsov. Old time
KGB.” “Heavy. Dunne must have been feeling the heat,” Colonel Jones observed. “Colonel Nicholai Kuznetsov,” Caine repeated. “Interesting.” “Needless to say. That information goes no further.” “We understand, sir,” Jones affirmed. “Arie. I need you to look deeper into these accidents. In light of everything, I’ve still got to urge some new approaches for the Group.” “Yes, sir.” “Chris. Go see Sherwyck. Jeannie’s still out there somewhere.” “Maybe Sherwyck, sir.” Caine said in response. “Maybe he’s the one buying time. He was with her last.” “Don’t say that out loud, Chris. They’ll have you a Private in some Arctic assignment in no time.” Colonel Caine nodded slightly in reluctant assent. “I’ll make nice with Senator Dunne,” General Bradley declared.
“
Maybe I can tease some more information from him—or apologize. In any event, I want to keep him off balance.”
Caine looked over to his fellow officer. Both rose slowly from their chairs to see if General Bradley would say anything more. Their General seemed preoccupied. He raised his hand in a half salute, half wave of dismissal.
“
Can someone get me a cup of coffee?” he said past them. The two Colonels uttered “thank you, sir” and left.
***
“
What do you think?” Colonel Jones asked his partner as they left the Pentagon Building. “I don’t know, Arie. There’s something nagging about that museum. I shot two men and it’s as if they didn’t exist. I need to find out more. Besides, I promised the professor, I’d check it out.”
“
Pro
‐
fes
‐
sor,” Colonel Jones stretched teasingly. “Check
her
out, maybe?”
Caine eyed his friend with a raised eyebrow. “Then I’ll drive out to Sherwyck’s estate.”
“
Don’t you need an invitation?”
“
Not if I’m investigating a matter of national urgency.”
“
Don’t forget what the General said.”
“
No political correctness in cases like this, Arie.”
“
I agree. Just watch your back.”
They walked to the parking area at the northern wing of the building looking for their vehicles in the expansive acreage.
“
I’ll look up Two Beers. Things always filter up from the streets.”
“
Stay in close touch. Especially if you run into trouble.”
“
Aren’t you the one shooting up Washington?”
Colonel Caine looked at his friend seriously. “Somebody around here tried to sink us in the ocean! Remember?”
Jones looked at him. Caine knew he did not need reminding.
The roar of his Viper’s engine demanded his attention as he drove out of the Pentagon complex onto Washington Boulevard winding his way southward around Arlington National Cemetery. He wondered for an instant if he might prematurely find himself on some hallowed lot inside.
Caine shifted into third gear and shook the thought from his mind. He could have left it in second, but the higher pitch of the engine would be too distracting for other motorists. The dark red roadster—meant more for the racetrack than the street—was a form of relaxation in the secret, often deadly world of his profession.
He smiled roguishly at the thought of Laura Mitchell. He could envision a more normal existence in the stimulating company of the lovely, vivacious professor, so different from the staid, ritualized mannerisms of the genteel Davis’. They seemed trapped in their own traditions and behaved as if on cue. He liked them, to be sure, but could not see continuing those traditions with their Samantha. He barely knew Laura, but she mesmerized him.
As Caine entered the cloverleaf for the Columbia Pike toward Arlington Village, he began to take note of traffic. After a third look in his rearview mirror, he noticed a dark blue sedan was keeping an equal distance behind him. He deliberately accelerated and the sedan kept pace. He slowed down and the car did not pass him. Being followed was not a new phenomenon for him. He often drove to places in a deliberately roundabout way to test or shake off tails. Working his roadster through the gears added to a devious pleasure in traffic because it quickly weaned out whoever might be deliberately behind him.
Colonel Caine presumed it could be one of the intelligence arms of a foreign embassy posing under some other title. He matter
‐
of
‐
factly presumed that other powers had at least an inkling of his membership in a secretive operations group. Caine credited his own operational successes and longevity on the basic presumption that there was no such thing as a well
‐
kept secret.
Now he even had reason to believe that someone in his own government wished him ill. He was resolved to ferret out the source one way or another.
Caine downshifted, gunned the engine and lurched his Viper forward. He quickly accelerated, changed lanes, shifted back into higher gear and saw the blue sedan recede farther and farther in his mirror behind a line of traffic moving normally along the city boulevard.
“
Inter
‐
agency nonsense or inept foreign agents,” he thought as he glimpsed the sedan turning off the Pike into a side street. “It could be someone from the brass,” he thought smiling to himself. “Maybe the General’s decided to see if we’re all there,” he reflected more seriously. After all, he and Colonel Jones had reported some strange scenarios and added curious asides involving birds, dogs, and cloven hoofed animals in their search for Jeannie McConnell.