I Minus 72 (29 page)

Grant was impressed with the Director’s
forcefulness. “Thanks, sir. We’ll need all the support we can get.
Oh, by the way, as I mentioned, I got Garcia involved in this. He’s
actually been a big help. I’d like him to be the CIA lead on the
taskforce.”

Now it was the DNI’s turn to be impressed.
He said, “Done. Anyone else in particular you want?”

“I’ll think it through on the plane coming
back. I’ll fill you in on the plan as soon as I return.”

“Thanks. Gotta go, I’m here,” and the DNI
hung up the phone without waiting for Grant to reply.

Five minutes later, after having dropped the
DNI off at FBI headquarters, his driver left a message on an
answering machine. It was a long message that detailed everything
he’d heard. Vladimir picked the message up before Grant had arrived
back at the safe house. So, Thurmond had survived the attack and
had taken retribution. Damn! Oh well. Vladimir couldn’t be bothered
with that now. There was nothing more he could do and he had a lot
to set up before leaving for America. His flight was in two
days.

I minus 13

The flight back to the US was crowded, even
in business class, so Grant and Sam sat separately. They couldn’t
talk through the plan. After landing, Grant reminded Sam that they
needed to return to the DIA apartment near Key Bridge when they. It
was one place they could be safe. With all that had happened to her
recently, Sam readily agreed.

During the flight, Sam alternately dozed and
read a novel she picked up at the airport prior to boarding. Grant,
however, spent most of the flight looking out of the window and
thinking about what to do next. By the time they arrived in
Washington, Grant had a plan outlined in his head. Tomorrow would
be used to contact each agency and asking for a lead person from
each. If he could get quick action on that, he’d have a meeting
tomorrow afternoon to talk through the plan with the agency leads.
They would probably need a day or so to pull together their other
team members and Grant wanted to have a complete task force
briefing the following afternoon—two days from now. They had a lot
to do and no time to waste.

Grant spent the next morning contacting all
the appropriate agencies—CIA, DIA, FBI, NSA, Secret Service, State
Department and the District of Columbia police department. He also
contacted an Air Force agency responsible for all DOD spy
satellites. He wanted to make sure they had satellites in position
and relays set up to closely monitor the entire inauguration site
for any suspicious activity. They all agreed to send
representatives to a joint taskforce meeting that afternoon. The
D.C. Chief of Police volunteered a meeting room, but Grant had
already arranged for a freshly swept room at FBI headquarters. The
FBI was located in the J. Edgar Hoover building on Pennsylvania
Avenue and had a secure entrance where everyone was logged in and
out. Grant wanted to keep good records of everyone who had access
to the information he was about to provide.

Precisely at 3:00 p.m., the meeting started.
Grant stood and addressed the group of eighteen people. “Thanks for
coming on such short notice, but when you hear what’s going down,
you’ll understand. First of all, the information you are about to
hear is highly classified and is for your ears only. Do not discuss
this with anyone not on this taskforce, . . . no one who hasn’t
been read in.” Grant paused a moment to let that soak in, then
continued. “We have information that points to an assassination
attempt on the President-elect on inauguration day, possibly at the
swearing-in ceremony itself.” A murmur went up from the people in
the room.

Grant continued, “We’ve
spent the better part of two months running down clues from all
over Eastern Europe and Russia. However, our target is extremely
elusive. Although we refer to him by his code name, Vladimir, we do
have another possible name, but we believe that name is false and
that his documentation was forged. What this means is that we have
very little to go on. We do have a grainy badge picture, which we
believe is him, but it’s several years old.” He clicked on a slide
with Vladimir’s picture. “We’ll get copies of that picture to
everyone who’ll be screening visitors, but not until inauguration
day. I don’t want him to know that we have his picture. We need to
get it into the immigration computers to compare against biometric
chip pictures of everyone entering the country, but I don’t know if
we have time for that. Other than the picture, we only have a
probable target, the President-elect, and a date, January
17
^th
.
I say probable because we are acting on solid, but unverified
intelligence.

He cleared his throat and scanned the faces
in the room. They were attentive and quiet. “I have to add that I’m
having serious doubts about finding this Vladimir prior to the
inauguration. If that turns out to be true, I don’t have to tell
you that we’re looking at a very dangerous scenario. I intend to
meet with the President-elect and make a strong plea that he
consider moving the inauguration to a more secure location. I’ve
been told, however, that he has been asked several times and has
consistently said he will not hide from America’s enemies. I think,
in this case, that is an unwise decision and I’ll tell him so later
today. Assuming that I don’t get my head handed back to me on a
platter, let’s plan to meet here at 0800 tomorrow and I’ll fill you
in on what happened.”

The rest of the meeting went well, with each
agency accepting assignments and tasks and agreeing to meet the
next day. The guy from State approached him after the meeting and
said he’d see if he could get the photo of Vladimir into the
customs and immigration system overnight. He said he couldn’t
promise anything, but he’d give it a shot. He also said he’d
request that immigration authorities all have the picture and be
required to visually check out all arrivals who did not have a
biometric chip picture imbedded in their passport. He said that
might take a couple of days but it was the best they could do.
Grant thanked him and said that if he ran into any stalling or
roadblocks the DNI could help clear them.

I minus 12

January
8
^th

As Vladimir left his small, dingy apartment
for the last time, he carried a medium–sized, roll-aboard suitcase
and a small pouch containing his new Russian identity papers and
passport. The man said it was an authentic passport that would
stand up to scrutiny by both the Russians and the Americans. He
assured him the biometric chip imbedded in the passport was also
authentic and contained photographic information about Vladimir, so
the scan would go fine. When they scanned the passport, Vladimir’s
current picture would come up. He had already mailed his other
papers, the US identity he planned to use afterwards, to a post
office box in Fairfax, Virginia. In fact, he’d had the man make up
two identities, both showing him as a US citizen. He’d pick them up
when he arrived. Would it work? Well, he’d find out soon enough.
His flight was in just over three hours. Amazing, a direct flight
from Moscow to Washington, D.C. in Business class. On an American
airliner. He looked forward to the in-flight meals and free vodka.
Or, maybe he’d drink American bourbon.

He had less than two weeks to pull
everything together and he’d need all of it. He had to scout out
the layout of the inauguration ceremony, assemble the necessary
components, buy explosives and craft the device. Fortunately, the
detailed layout and timetable of the ceremony would be printed in
the newspapers well in advance. That would help a lot. He smiled.
Stupid Americans. The old Soviet Union would never take chances
like that. He didn’t know what it took to buy explosives in
America, but he didn’t think it would be too tough. He’d read about
American farmers buying sticks of dynamite. What about dynamite
powder? TNT? Could he buy C4 or other plastique explosives? Well,
he’d find out when he got there. His internet research indicated
that he could. If not, he had the formula to make strong explosives
from fertilizer. Not the ideal way because it was so bulky and
required a large container, but he knew it would work.

His newly printed business cards showed he
was an explosives expert with a demolition company specializing in
bringing down buildings. He’d been able to create that company over
the internet. He set it up in a place called Montana. The map
showed it to be pretty much isolated, well west of Washington. His
story was that he was in Virginia on a job to bring down an old
building. He thought he’d go to Roanoke and Charlestown, West
Virginia to buy the explosives, but not too much in one place. He
wouldn’t want anyone to get suspicious.

He had decided to rent one car using his
temporary US identity, both of which he’d abandon later, and also
to buy another car using his permanent US identity. That way, no
one would be suspicious about a Russian renting a car. He’d
accumulated quite a bit of money, so that wasn’t an issue. He
thought that if he rented a car, then afterwards, after the
inauguration, he could just abandon it and then use the car he
bought to get away. That way, if anyone remembered him buying
explosives and could describe the rental car, it wouldn’t lead to
him.

He would end up with a new car, enough money
in the bank to last the rest of his life, assuming he was careful
with it, and an ironclad identity. His permanent identity came from
a long time Soviet-era mole who had returned to Russia several
years after the Soviet collapse. He’d been planted when he was a
teenager, went to college in the US, was a citizen, paid taxes for
many years and then, when the wall came down, wanted to return to
Russia. The Russian government was accommodating and took him back,
but told him to just quit his job, sell his house, then assume his
Russian identity and return to Russia through Canada using his
Russian passport. There would be no record of an American leaving
the country and not coming back. After a while, someone might
check. When he had first hatched this scheme, while he still had
access to Russian intelligence files, he’s searched the data base
and picked out the ID. He knew the old American identity was still
valid, so Vladimir had taken it. He even had a social security
card. He was certain the Russians no longer even remembered the
identity existed, so he was safe there.

If he ever needed another US identity, he’d
do it the way they’d taught him as he was being trained years ago
in Russia. He’d read the obituaries in the newspaper, identifying a
recently deceased person who was about his age and use that
identity. Usually they contained the place of birth. He would then
write to the bureau of records in the state where the guy was born
and, posing as the guy, request a copy of his birth certificate.
After he received the birth certificate, he would use that to get a
driver’s license. Without a passport, which might be too risky to
get, he wouldn’t be able to travel outside the US, but with a birth
certificate and driver’s license, he could get credit cards and
have a completely fool-proof identity. He hoped he wouldn’t have to
go through that process, but knew he could if necessary.

All the details were lined up. Take out the
new president, assume his new identity, and enjoy a new life in
America. Perfect. Oh yes, and one small other detail that could be
taken care of later. Get rid of Riley.

I minus 12

January
8
^th

“Yes, sir, I understand your position, but I
really think you ought to reconsider,” Grant said, perhaps a little
too forcefully, to the President-elect. They were sitting at a
conference table in the President-elect’s office. The DNI was also
there.

“Colonel, this is something I have to do.
I’m asking . . . no, I’m telling both of you not to bring this up
again. Understand?” The President-elect said with finality in his
voice and a grim look on his face.

“Yes, sir. We understand. We’ll continue our
efforts to find this man, while at the same time strengthening
security at the ceremony. We’re also working on tightening security
at all your functions after the swearing-in, including the balls.
Following your instructions, we will try not to inconvenience the
public any more than we have to,” the DNI responded.

“Thanks. Keep me up to speed on how you’re
progressing. Now, if there’s nothing else, I have a busy schedule.”
Mason said standing up, clearly dismissing Thurmond and Barry.

As they walked away the
DNI turned to Grant and said, “Colonel, do whatever is necessary to
stop this assassination. If you run into any barriers or get
pushback from
anyone
, call me immediately. I’ll take care of it. This is my
highest priority right now so I’ll take your call no matter where I
am or what I’m doing. I’m available by cell phone twenty-four hours
a day.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll do what I can and keep
you informed of where we are every step of the way,” Grant
said.

It was past six p.m. by the time Grant
arrived back at the apartment and Sam was already in the kitchen
preparing dinner.

“Smells good. I didn’t know you could cook,”
Grant said entering the kitchen.

“Well…I can,” Sam replied, laughing.

Grant smiled. Living with Sam, even though
they weren’t sleeping in the same room, was getting really
comfortable. He asked, “What are we having?”

Sam put him off a bit by saying, “First, you
have to tell me how your talk with the President-elect went.”

Grant sighed, “As predicted. He said he
wouldn’t move the ceremony and told both of us not to bring it up
again. So, we won’t.”