Foreign Enemies and Traitors (91 page)

“Boone, are you a religious man?”

“Religious?  No, not especially.  Not in a formal sense.  But it’s hard not to believe that there’s a higher purpose at work when things like this happen.  I mean, what are the odds?  Zack and Jenny got the other camera to General Mirabeau this morning, and the pictures were on General Armstead’s desk just a few hours later—and then we come walking in.  How does that ‘just happen’?”

“It doesn’t,” said Colonel Spencer.  “There’s definitely something working here, I can feel it.  Like when Phil Carson put that Bible on the flag with the beret.  That hit me like an electric shock, like a bullet.  And it was done by Phil Carson.  Phil Carson?  Who in the hell is Phil Carson?  And where in the hell did he come from anyway, walking out of nowhere into this deal?  He’s just some old Special Forces guy who just
happened
to have run SOG missions with your father.  Then forty years later, he’s shipwrecked in Alabama, and then here he is.  I mean, come on!  None of this ‘just happened.’  Something truly extraordinary is going on.  It’s like we’ve been parachuted straight into the eye of a hurricane.  No, we’ve been put here for a purpose.  Carson showing up—that’s no accident.  That’s something else.  I don’t know what it is, but it’s no accident.”

“Phil’s a trip.  Don’t let his age fool you—he’s an operator.”

“Are you comfortable taking him?” asked Spencer.

“He wants to go, he wants to do it.  And I’ve got tremendous faith in him.  He makes things happen.  He can adapt to anything and come out on top.  I’ve seen it.  Whatever happens at Camp David, he’s somebody I want on my team.”

“But can he pull off playing a general?  He’ll have to be a hell of an actor.”

“He can do it,” said Boone.  “No question.  And he looks like a general—he’s got that hard, flinty-eyed look.”

“He’s not too old for it?”

“Hell no, he’s perfect.  He’ll be a great general.  Armstead has a full day to get him up to speed on Operation Buffalo Jump.  I guarantee you he’ll know that op plan backwards and forwards by Thursday.”

“Boone, I know you’ll be able to deal with whatever happens at Camp David, but everything hinges on what goes down at Raven Rock.  If General Armstead can initiate the EBS, everything will be a ‘go’ here at our end.  We’re going to take down Bullard’s entire rural pacification program, and then I’ll make the case to the 5th Group and the 101st.  I have a good plan; I’ve laid the groundwork.  I have friends at Fort Bragg ready to do the same there, and after that it’ll go viral around the Army and the rest of the military.  But if Raven Rock doesn’t work, if they can’t trigger the EBS, we’ll be able to abort down here.  But that’ll still leave you trapped at Camp David.  Then what?”

“I’m not sure what we’ll do.  We’ll wing it.  We’ll just see what happens.  We’ll improvise, we’ll adapt on the fly.  If Armstead comes back with his helicopter, we might get out that way.  Otherwise, we’ll have to just escape and evade the best we can.  What the hell, Colonel, I never figured I’d live forever.  But that’s only if Raven Rock doesn’t work.  If the EBS is initiated, then we’ll run with the ball at Camp David and hope you can do as much as you can at Fort Campbell and Fort Bragg.  That’s all we can do.  After that, it’s up to the Man Upstairs.”

The colonel said, “You won’t have any way to know if we’re successful down here, getting the 5th Group and the 101st on board.  You’ll be on your own.  And Camp David—that’s ultra high security.  It has a triple fence and the best sensors in the world.  If you’re trapped inside, don’t even try to get out through the perimeter.  You can only get out through the gate, or in a helo.  If the plan falls apart, you’ll be on your own.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Boone.  “I’m used to that.  We’ll just take it as far as we can, once we’re at Camp David.”

“If the EBS is initiated, you mean.”

“Or even if it’s not.”

Colonel Spencer paused to consider the meaning of that remark.  “You won’t be able to get weapons into Camp David.  Not even General Armstead.  You’ll have to anticipate being searched and screened nineteen different ways.  Every door you walk through will probably have a damn X-ray or a demo sniffer built into it.”

“Oh, that’s not a major problem.  We can pick up weapons there if we need them.  All of those Secret Service agents and Diplomatic Security Service guys will have guns.  We’ll just take what we need along the way.”

The colonel laughed.  “I’m sure you will.  You never lacked for confidence, I’ll say that for you.  But what about the Raven Rock mission?  Do you have confidence in this Doug Dolan?”

Boone grimaced.  “Yes and no.  But what happens inside Raven Rock is almost entirely up to General Armstead.  He says he can get them into the EBS studio.  And we don’t really know what kind of resistance or cooperation they might get once they’re inside.  Dolan was a communications major in college, and he’s up to date on television production and broadcasting.  I think he’s the only one of us who can figure out the EBS on the fly, and make sure it happens.  Ira Gersham will be with him, and he’s damned good with the technical stuff too, especially on the military side.  Anyway, it won’t involve any fighting, just studio work.  Dolan and Gersham should be able to pull it off, if anybody can.  Plus they’ll have the massacre pictures and the videos, so if they have to recruit some of the Raven Rock support staff to initiate the EBS, they’ll even have a shot that way.  I think they can do it.  General Armstead says they can do it, and he knows the system.  So I think they can pull it off.  If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have agreed to fly into Camp David.”

“But if they can’t get the show on the air, and we abort down here…your asses will still be hanging out a mile.”

Boone sighed.  “It doesn’t matter.  I talked it over with Phil already.  We’re going to take this to the end.  Once we’re at Camp David, no matter what happens, we’re going all the way.  I just wish I knew how the Marines were going to react.”  An elite company of Marines with special counterterrorist training was assigned to Camp David, to bolster the Secret Service guard force around the president. 

“I’m working on the Marines,” said Colonel Spencer, “but we can’t risk tipping our hand in advance.  It’s a fine line.  A very fine line.”

“I know, I know, small and fast is the best way to go.  The more players that you bring into it, the greater the chance of mission compromise.  I just wish I knew how those Marines are going to handle the situation if it gets ugly.  They’ve been trained to protect the president no matter what.  But they also swore the oath to protect the Constitution.  I just wish I knew how they were going to react, when they have to choose one or the other.”

                                                       
28

“Director Bullard?  It’s Harry.” 
The phone call
came from the senior controller at UAV flight ops.  “We have activity at the new target area.”

               
“Oh?  Tell me about it.”  Bob Bullard sat straight up at his desk.  It was 8:15 Wednesday morning, and he was still having his coffee and going through his email, getting up to speed for the nine o’clock staff meeting.

               
“Three unknown subjects just arrived at a house in our primary watch area.  They came in a white SUV a few minutes ago.  The house is owned by an Iraq War vet.”

               
“Men or women?  What?”

               
“All men, as far as we can determine.”

               
“Where are they now?”

               
“They’re inside the house.”

               
“Where’s this house in relation to the call’s triangulated position?”

               
“It’s not exact, of course, but I’d estimate pretty darn near the center of the box.  Plus or minus a few hundred yards.”

               
“Hot damn!  Has Dolan made any more calls?”  As soon as he said it, Bullard knew that Douglas Dolan could not have used that cell phone again, or he would have been notified immediately.

               
“No.  That phone’s been quiet since Monday night.  We’ve been trying to remotely activate it, but either its batteries have been removed, or it’s shielded in something thick.  Or it’s been moved outside a cell zone.”

               
“Any evidence that Dolan is one of the three men in the house?”

               
“We can’t confirm that yet.  The SUV is parked under a roof; we didn’t get a good look at them before they went inside the house.  About all we can tell from reviewing the film is that it’s three men.”

               
“What about the license plate on the SUV?  Did the snooper pods catch anything?”  These remotely controlled surveillance devices could literally be tossed out of a passing vehicle.  Outwardly, they looked like ordinary rocks the size of a misshapen loaf of bread.  Once on the ground, they would right themselves if they had landed inverted, and then creep on treads into a surveillance position.  The snooper pods could film in all 360 degrees, and send their video data up to the UAVs circling overhead for retransmission to base.  Three pods had been dropped off at different vantage points during a single pass along Roaring Hollow Road.  “Power company” technicians had also installed a video camera on a utility pole at the intersection of Highway 79 and Roaring Hollow Road.  The Predator videos from on high were obviously the most useful, but for some information you needed ground-level cameras.

               
“We got the tag number, but it looks like it might be stolen, a fake or a duplicate.  It’s a Tennessee plate, but the number doesn’t appear to be current, and it doesn’t match the vehicle.”

               
“All right!  Wrong tags means they’re dirty, so they’re probably our unknown subjects.  Harry, this is looking very promising.  Is the on-station Predator armed?”

               
“It sure is.  Two Vipers and four thirty millimeters.”

               
“Good.  I want missiles ready to drop anytime I say.  I’m coming down to flight ops, so be ready.”

               
Director Bullard terminated the call, and then telephoned the leader of his tactical response team.  “Jackhammer, what’s your status?”  John D. Hamlin was a former captain in the Army Rangers who had come to the rural pacification program from the DEA.  He was universally called The Jackhammer, a nickname and a radio call sign that he relished.

               
“Leaning forward, sir!  We’re locked and loaded and ready to roll.”

               
“How long will it take to get your team to the objective?”

               
“Twenty-two minutes from when you say go.”

               
“Well, I’m saying!  Move the team to your forward staging position and stand by.”

               
“Roger that, boss.  We’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

               
“Let me know when you’re at hold and ready to launch.”

               
“Okay, boss.  Will comply.  Jackhammer out.”

                ****

The member of the “working group”
on audio surveillance duty in the Fort Campbell branch telephone exchange played the call back two times.  Dolan?  He had heard that name before.  Wasn’t Dolan the name of the third man who had come from West Tennessee with Boone Vikersun and Phil Carson?  This could be a disaster in the making!  This had to be taken care of right away.  He made the call to alert the team that they needed to come and retrieve the audio.  As instructed, he let the phone ring four times, and hung up.

                ****

Director Bullard swept through the old gym
that housed thirty of the UAV stations, each with dual pilot controls for their two-man crews.  Today only about fifteen Predators were up, judging from the level of staffing.  Servicing and maintaining adequate numbers of UAVs in flying condition was a chronic problem.  He went straight to the former coach’s office that was home to the Reconnaissance Oversight team. 

                “Okay, Harry, put me in the picture.”  His senior controller had vacated his workstation so that Bullard could drop into the padded chair.  A paved road was visible below bare trees on the color video screen.  The homes were spread about a hundred yards apart on the curving road, which followed the course of a stream running down Roaring Hollow.  It was a clear day, so everything was in sharp focus except where trees obscured the ground.  At least it was still winter, and the branches were mostly bare.  Come springtime, the rebels would be able to hide from aerial surveillance much more effectively.

                “The crosshair is on the suspects’ house.  The three unknown subjects are still there, but we don’t know if anybody else is inside.  The SUV that brought them is the only vehicle on the property.  It’s parked under a roof attached to the side of the house; you can see the back of the vehicle when the slant angle from the Predator is right.  It looks like a white Ford Expedition, an older model.  The tag is off a pickup truck with an expired registration.  We got the tag number from a snooper pod.”

                “If they’re switching tags, then they’re guilty of something,” said Bullard as he settled into the UAV controller’s seat.  “Oh, it’s them, I just know it.”  While they watched the live streaming video, a man appeared from the back of the rectangular house, walked to a small outbuilding, and entered it.  A minute later he reappeared, carrying what looked like a duffel bag, and walked around to the SUV.  They could see that he was moving around the rear of the vehicle, as his form shifted in and out from beneath the roof.  Bullard chewed a fingernail and then said, “He’s loading the truck.  Probably weapons.  They might be getting ready to take off, or they might be splitting up.  I don’t like this; I want to keep them all together.”  He turned to his assistant, who had accompanied him on this trip to the UAV flight ops center.  “Jeff, where’s the tactical team?”