Sabotage (21 page)

"How did I do, Mr. Wiley?"

The CIA station chief had been brooding in the corner during the speech, and Hachi could tell he hadn't heard a word he had said.

"Mr. Wiley?"

They'd had a tense meeting before his speech, and Hachi wondered if he'd have to dispose of the man. It would be a shame, and it would be risky, but he'd already come this far. What was one CIA operative compared to the president of the United States?

"My people aren't going to like this," Wiley said, scratching his stubbly chin. “I’ve already got one man in the hospital, and my boss is breathing down my neck.”

"So find more people,” General Hachi said, walking to the small minibar one of his aides had set up before the news conference. He poured himself a stiff drink and after a moment’s thought, he poured one for Wiley.

Wiley didn't even look up from his contemplation, but grabbed the glass and downed it. "We've got to be more careful," Wiley said. "This could really backfire. Are you sure there's no way that this can be traced back to you?”

General Hachi shook his head and tasted his drink. He preferred Johnny Walker Blue, but all his aide could find was some knockoff. He put the glass down.

"We've been careful. The shooter has already been dealt with, and before he took the shot, his spotter confirmed President Farah was also on the plane."

"What about the remains? Have any been recovered yet?"

"What remains?" General Hachi laughed. "That warhead took out the entire plane. I cannot say I understand how all the technology works, but it works remarkably well. It will be months before any of the bodies are identified."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," Wiley said, walking to the minibar to pour himself another drink. "It won't be days, but hours, until my government is all over that crime scene."

"Do not worry, my friend. I have already planned for that. It will be as easy as spinning another tale."

"But what if they find Farah in the remains?"

"We will find someone else to blame it on."

"I wouldn't get too cocky about that, General. You've never been on the receiving end of the FBI, CIA, and every other agency with three letters that calls America home. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if half of Europe jumps in to give a helping hand. A lot of people liked Zimmer."

"Did you?" General Hachi asked with a sly grin.

“That is irrelevant. I wish you had consulted me before you did this. You have no idea how much this complicates our plans."

Hachi waved away the CIA man's worries. “Do not forget we still have the Chinese on our side. They've invested too much money and other resources to back away now."

"I wouldn't be too sure," Wiley said, downing his second drink. "Mark my words, General, we only have twenty-four hours to wrap this thing up tight, and if we don't, we're both going to be dead.”

+ + +

They were all in shock. How could they not be? The had just seen their friend obliterated before their eyes. Cal replayed Brandon's last words in his head.

"I should have stopped him," he said. "He was just so damn hardheaded, but I should have stopped him."

"It's not your fault," Daniel offered, his usually placid face smeared with grief.

One of the air traffic controllers was chatting loudly to one of his coworkers. "Come see this."

There was a small TV in the middle of the tower. The ensemble watched as General Hachi told the world how the events had unfolded.

"It had to be him," Gaucho accused.

They'd already driven out to look at the wreckage. The smoldering pieces had scattered for hundreds of yards. It would take an expert team to piece it all together, if they even could.

They’d gone back to the air traffic control tower, hearts heavy, with the simmering taste of revenge on their tongues. To make matters worse, when they tried to talk to the Secret Service agents remaining, not one would say a word.

When they tried to call back to the States, it was like a steel dome had been placed over Washington D.C. Calls weren't being transmitted. The nation's capital was on lockdown. Cal had no doubt that Vice President Southgate had already been whisked away to safety, and at this time, they were probably rustling up a Supreme Court Justice who would administer the Oath of Office.

Cal thought of Marge Haines, his old friend, and President Zimmer's chief of staff. What was she going through? He’d tried her number but could not get through.

"We need to do something," Trent said.

"Yeah," Cal muttered. "We need to find that guy, and we need to kill him," he said, pointing at the TV screen where they had watched General Hachi's address.

Chapter 29

Vice Premier Wang Ling tapped an unlit cigarette on his desk as he waited for the connection to come through. He'd been given generous leeway from the president of People's Republic of China himself. He'd considered it a great honor that the president had given him a free hand. He had been a longtime supporter after all, and had put in his time in some of the worst and most time-consuming government positions. But now, as vice premier, he was as close to the top as he was going to get, and he knew that. So to say that his job, and probably his life, were clinging onto the cliff face was a drastic understatement.

Finally, a voice came on the line. "Ling, are you there?"

"General Hachi,” Vice Premier Ling answered, his words coming out with all the speed of a stalking snake. He had to be careful with this Hachi. Ling had considered him a peasant-like pawn, but he’d proved himself impudent and ruthless. He could approach the man a few ways. He could be subtle and carefully pry information out of the general, or he could just come out swinging. Vice Premier Ling decided on something right down the middle. "That was an interesting show you put on earlier, General."

"It wasn't supposed to be a show, Ling. It was supposed to be a statement of fact."

Ling lit a cigarette and took a long pull, letting the smoke fill his lungs and then expelled it from his nose. "How have the Americans responded?" Ling asked. He was having a hard time getting any information from his American contacts.

"They have not,” Hachi responded.

"They have not?”

"No, Ling. I have had time to think about it. I think it is only natural they are gathering what facts that are available, and in time they'll come up with their own conclusions."

"You do not seem concerned."

"I would be stupid not to be concerned," Hachi said, "but I am a careful man and I am not without my resources."

"How could you do this?" Ling snapped, his patience now boiling over. "Everything we have worked for, every promise that we made, is now invalid. They will figure it out. If you think they will not, you are an imbecile.”

General Hachi laughed. "The Americans will believe what we tell them to believe. If they do not accept the story concerning President Farah, then the CIA man you met on your last visit is already creating multiple contingency plans. What you seem to be forgetting here, Ling, is that President Zimmer flew into an area known for its general instability. We will, of course, apologize profusely and do everything we can to help, but it was not our job to protect their president from some terrorist scum who decided to slither across our border. He came to our country without asking, thinking he could do what America always does, step on us, take from us, and give little back in return. The time for that has ended. Now I must ask you, Vice Premier Ling, is this not the goal we have been working toward? Is this not the partnership that you wished when you first contacted me?"

"You were supposed to frame the president, not kill him."

"Have you ever seen combat, Mr. Ling?"

"You know the answer to that."

“As a soldier, you live with uncertainty every day. You grasp opportunity when you can; I saw an opportunity and I took it."

"How can you be certain America is not preparing air strikes and an invasion as we speak?" Ling asked.

"Because Wiley would have told me. He said there has been no movement and that the politicians in Washington are whispering that President Zimmer flew to his death of his own volition. He took too many chances, and he turned into a renegade cowboy. They are saying that maybe he got his comeuppance. So you see, Ling, the twisted halls of Washington are already working for us. A few more leads planted, dead bodies found, and they will have their culprits."

Ling wanted to tell the general that he was insane, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. Hachi actually thought he was going to get away with the assassination of two presidents.

"General, I order you to release the prisoners and turn yourself in to the American authorities. Make up some excuse and explain that you were not behind the attack, but that you had received information President Farah had been planning the assassination. However, even with this knowledge, you were too slow to stop it. Maybe they will show you mercy, but maybe they will not."

"I will not let the prisoners go, and I will not turn myself in," Hachi said, haughtily.

"Then you will not receive any aid from us. We will go to the Americans and tell them that our people will aid in the investigation, and you can imagine where that will lead.”

"If you do that, Mr. Ling, I will give them your head, and the head of the man you sent here."

Ling knew he had overstepped his bounds as soon as the words left his mouth. Now his chest tightened. The man he'd sent to deal with the general and to prepare the prisoners was Ling's own son.

"You will not get away with this, General. Somehow, I—"

Hachi cut him off. "You will sit there and continue to do what you have always done. The money will continue to flow, and your investments and loans will increase. Have I made myself clear?” There was no answer from Ling. “I will take your silence as acquiescence. And be careful to remember this, Mr. Ling, if you decide to turn on me, not only will I tell the Americans that the Chinese people are just as guilty, but I will also see to it that your son is hacked apart, limb from limb. I will ensure he watches moments before his death as his body parts are fed to my dogs.”

Chapter 30

Like much of the world, Congressman McKnight sat in absolute shock when he watched the statement from General Hachi. Of course he was horrified on whatever level was still considered human inside him, but what really had him frozen to the spot was the consequences. He, a United States congressman, being considered up for the Republican nomination for the highest office in the land, had been involved in the assassination of an American president.

He quickly scanned his memory for any mistakes he might have made. McKnight wasn't aware of any; however, he continued to scan conversations and actions that might have compromised his aspirations. Before he knew it, his mind was spinning, and he felt the outer edges of what could only be described as a panic attack. He’d never had one before, and the panic gripped him as lucidly as a jab to the stomach.

Then he heard it. It was soft at first, like the grumbling of a truck outside. Then it got louder.
Laughter?
No, not laughter. It was more like a chuckle from some obese man who'd smoked for sixty years. It was gravelly. But when he turned to look around the room, it was empty, except for himself. There was no one there. He put his palms to his ears, but still he heard the laughter. Like an electric shock, he suddenly knew the sound was coming from his father, the specter, back again to mock him.

"Go away", McKnight demanded as the grumbling chuckle got louder in his ears. Now it echoed, like he was in some tunnel he couldn't get out of. "Go away", he said a bit louder. Finally, he screamed, "GO AWAY!" and the laughter stopped.

A knock sounded at the door.
Wait. Was it a knock in the real world or in his head?
McKnight tried calming his breathing to settle his racing heart.

"Congressman?" came a voice from the other side. The voice was familiar. It was real; it had to be.

"What? Uh, yes—"

"Congressman, is everything okay?"

It was one of the staffers, he couldn't tell which. He was still frazzled.

"What? Yes, I'm fine. I was just—um—practicing."

The staffer went away.

After a few more panting breaths, McKnight's clarity returned. There was no use worrying about it. He knew the damage had been done, and he would have to distance himself. How could he have been so rash? It was stupid. Of course he wanted Zimmer out of the way, but not like this.

When he thought about it more, he realized maybe this was the right way. The only snag was that he had the chance of being implicated.

And then his ruthless alter-ego grasped at hope. It had been Zimmer's decision to fly overseas, not his. McKnight had already been planning on using Djibouti as a major talking point. Could this have worked out better?

As a failure of the Zimmer administration, this could be the icing on the cake. Maybe this was a way to inform the American people that while it was important to be a strong president who believed in the welfare of their troops, making such a rash decision was not in the best interests of the many. It just got you killed, and a dead president could not serve his country.