The Cloud Collector (10 page)

The terrorist attack had commenced at 3:00
A.M.
, the significance of which had only taken Sally Hanning minutes to realize when, during the assault, she received the full details of the horse and greyhound selections from GCHQ.

That recognition fit all the other missing pieces of the failed jihad jigsaw over the following twenty-four hours.

 

10

The political decision, reached that same day by personal telephone link between president and prime ministers, was to claim the failure of the three attacks proved the overwhelming Western supremacy in its war against terrorism. What wasn't agreed on in the hurry for public reassurances was a commonly worded statement.

In its exaggerated satisfaction at unexpected international admiration, Rome boasted its total crushing of all terrorist activity and ridiculed Giovanni Moro as a politically confused anachronism, inadvertently diminishing Washington's discomfort at its cynical abandonment of an Italian politician for similarly anachronistic reasons. At a glad-handing CIA/State Department meeting at Langley, chaired by Deputy Director Conrad Graham, Jack Irvine—while still not disclosing his Vevak entry—successfully argued that to divert Iranian suspicion of the level of their penetration, their public declaration should indicate the global plot had been detected by Britain's GCHQ. Charles Johnston, the outsider from the president's private praise, tried to get his involvement recognized by disclosing in a memo he security-limited to the White House and Irvine the secondment of a British MI5 officer to Operation Cyber Shepherd, correctly guessing it wouldn't be challenged in the euphoria of the moment. That euphoria was mirrored in London, despite David Monkton's irritation at Washington's identification of GCHQ and MI5. It was mitigated, however, by the recognition of London's speed in unraveling the international coordination of the attempted attacks; Sally Hanning's contribution was acknowledged, by name, in a strictly restricted memorandum circulated to the White House and Downing Street.

Sally's quickly realized significance of the horse-racing forecasts—coupled with the set-in-advance 31 date on what turned out to be Horst Becker's watch—was her ultimate breakthrough. The 31 showed not just on the Sellafield porn film but on the watch Giovanni Moro very visibly wore on his Al Jazeera video. Moro's watch also registered a three o'clock time, as did that on Becker's accomplice on the Sellafield film.

The forecasted winner of the three o'clock race at Rome's Capannelle meeting on the thirty-first was Centurion Revenge. That for the three o'clock at Maryland's Laurel Park for the thirty-first was Washington Demise. The matching time and date prediction for Cumbria's Carlisle racetrack was Atomic Disaster.

The fitting, concluding irony was that none of the predicted winners placed.

At Sally's persistence, as the day progressed, the computer found among Giovanni Moro's belongings and al Aswamy's computer were subjected to the same forensic examination as that of Roger Bennett. Both hard drives contained the same intended horse-racing mockery. The major discovery was the identification of Moro and al Aswamy on the porn movies.

It would take more than a month before every strand confirmed the extent of the global conspiracy and established al Aswamy's leadership role.

The more immediate, culminating sensation that day was the discovery during an obvious security check of two forty-pound bombs, constructed to Afghanistan IED design, within twenty feet of each other inside the Washington Monument. Both were primed by cell phone attachments to detonate when called from al Aswamy's BlackBerry: only the two detonator numbers were stored in its memory.

‘You going to admit how totally fucking lucky we were?' Burt Singleton demanded of Jack Irvine. It was the first time the man had ever cursed in front of Marian Lowell, who once again didn't protest.

‘No!' refused Irvine, drained of any satisfaction at the personal congratulations at the Langley meeting by the unimpressed reception of the Fort Meade team he'd briefed over the previous thirty minutes. ‘I delayed too long before reverting to Homeland Security procedure. That's a mistake that won't happen again. Nor, hopefully, will the CIA lose a target like they lost al Aswamy. But we recovered and that didn't happen despite us: it happened through the professionalism of what we do and how we do it—
your
professionalism. From today, from today's meeting at Langley, any uncertainty's gone about Cyber Shepherd and its continued operational existence. We're a confirmed, active unit that the president himself knows about.'

‘Does the president also know that we've lost al Aswamy, who from my reading of everything you've told us from today's assessment is a top-level Iranian agent moving freely not just around America but around the world—which obviously means different identities supported by different passports—organizing international attacks?' said Marian.

‘Of course State took that on board,' said Irvine, exasperated at their lingering doubt at the justification for what they were doing. ‘Today's meeting was a review of what we know of an ongoing situation, with still more to come out. But it was obvious Tehran is going to be hung out to dry diplomatically when we get more from Italy and the UK.'

‘I don't think Rome's statement was well phrased,' suggested Shab Barker, tentatively offering a Muslim mind-set reaction. ‘These were major, coordinated state-sponsored acts of terrorism, more so even than 9/11. There's a lot of jihadists and fundamentalists who'll read it as a challenge.'

‘That's my assessment, too,' supported Akram Malik, savoring the acknowledgement at identifying the Washington Monument target.

‘And State's view,' confirmed Irvine. He looked at Singleton. ‘You can add Rome's mistake to your list.'

‘I'm not making lists or issuing challenges, just trying to establish parameters,' dismissed the older man. ‘On the subject of which, how was it between the CIA divas?'

‘Strained,' judged Irvine, shrugging. ‘The White House congratulations were to Conrad Graham for approving Cyber Shepherd. Until his announcement of a UK involvement, Johnston was virtually a sidelined observer.'

‘What about that UK involvement?' pressed Marian. ‘Whose idea was that?'

‘What I know, you know,' said Irvine, shaking his head. ‘That's why Harry Packer stayed behind in Washington, to find out more.'

‘But it's MI5, not GCHQ?'

‘That's what Johnston said.'

‘So it doesn't directly impact on us like Tempura and hacking the telephones of world leaders did?'

‘I supposed I'll have some contact at Langley,' said Irvine. He went to Singleton again. ‘I went into the Tehran botnet before I came down today. It's dormant.'

Singleton indicated his illuminated screen. ‘It still is. I expect it to stay that way, don't you?'

‘Locating al Aswamy here in America is down to Homeland Security and the FBI now. We stay with the Vevak botnet, permanently monitoring.' Irvine hesitated, the lack of response burning through him. ‘Who knows,' he continued, concentrating on Singleton, ‘maybe our luck will hold,' and wished he hadn't the moment he spoke.

‘What more practicably have you got in mind?' asked Singleton, refusing to rise to the remark.

‘What we've today been overwhelmingly sanctioned to do: move on, find more. Destroy more.' Irvine hoped this time the pause was better planned. ‘I'd like to think you're all still with me in doing that.'

Barker and Malik smiled in reassurance, Malik actually nodding. Singleton and Marian Lowell remained expressionless.

*   *   *

‘What you achieved, in such a short period of time, was remarkable,' opened David Monkton. That afternoon's one-to-one encounter in the Director-General's river-view office was more formal, but the diminutive man still avoided the embarrassment of sitting behind his expansive desk, instead pacing around his office as if physical movement were part of his thought process. Twice he'd stopped close behind her, once with his hand on her chairback.

‘Thank you,' said Sally inadequately. The Thames House rumor was that the bachelor Director-General was a misogynist, which made the very idea inconceivable, but it would have been easy to imagine that the man was working up to some physical approach. She was more curious than alarmed at the possibility.

‘There've been a lot of high-level exchanges between Downing Street and Washington; your contribution's been made very clear,' said the man from somewhere behind her.

‘That's extremely generous.' And a potential procedural breach, she thought: individual officers were never identified, under any circumstance.

Monkton came into view but ignored his chair, perching instead awkwardly on the front edge of the desk. ‘What would your reaction be to my appointing you my director of operations?'

Sally was unaware of instinctively pulling her skirt farther to her knees until she was actually conscious of doing it and stopped, irritated. ‘I'd appreciate the confidence, but it's not a role in which I've ever imagined myself. I've always considered myself a field officer, like my father.'

‘Which is what you've overwhelmingly proven yourself to be and why I've changed my original intention.' Monkton smiled, a quick on-and-off expression. ‘I'm attaching you, nominally, to our embassy in Washington. But you won't be working from our
rezidentura
. You'll be attached to the covert CIA unit that got onto the Sellafield attack in the first place. Will you have any personal difficulty with the posting?'

‘Absolutely not,' said Sally, covering her surprise.

‘I'd hoped there wouldn't be.'

She came forward in her seat, her concentration absolute. ‘They've already agreed to this?'

Monkton's smile was longer this time. ‘Without any hesitation.'

‘Why so quickly?'

‘I know, very slightly, the covert operations director in overall command of the unit.'

That wasn't sufficient reason, Sally decided. ‘So you approached him? They didn't come to us?'

‘Approached him accidentally, initially. And before you put so much of Sellafield together as you did.'

Which made the acceptance of an outsider even more difficult to understand. ‘Who's my case officer?'

‘Me, quite separately from the
rezidentura
. This is a totally restricted operation.'

More interoffice resentment, accepted Sally, who knew Jeremy Dodson had seen her pass his office on her way to this meeting with Monkton. ‘What's my brief?'

‘To find out how they did it. We almost missed out on Sellafield. I don't want to get that close to disaster again.'

Monkton surely didn't believe the CIA was casually going to share some secret route or source! Sally said, ‘I can leave right away.'

‘Be very careful.'

She'd need to be, Sally guessed.

*   *   *

All three sat unmoving in the covert director's suite, each mentally circling the other for the greatest territorial advantage.

‘We could scarcely have imagined presidential approval,' opened James Bradley, establishing the high ground.

‘But that's what we've got,' insisted Harry Packer, striving to keep the satisfaction from sounding too obvious. He'd had a personal congratulations from the White House: the name Harry Packer was known to the president! He hadn't missed a trick so far, now that Irvine's relocation costs had passed unchallenged. A lot of rungs—all with the very necessary salary increments—in Meade's promotional ladder were still to be climbed.

‘As long as you continue to justify it,' qualified Johnston, distancing himself. ‘What's the progress with al Aswamy?'

‘Highest Homeland Security priority,' insisted Bradley. ‘Every appropriate agency involved, top of the FBI Most Wanted list. Picture selection on every TV newscast tonight, in every newspaper tomorrow.'

‘You think it's possible to entrap someone like al Aswamy, whom we now know to be a major Iranian terrorist, in a country the size of America, with the length of its seacoasts and land borders with Canada and Mexico?' said Johnston.

The other two men shared a hesitation. Point up the defeatism, Bradley decided. ‘No, but we've sure as hell got to try, along with all the other agencies.'

Packer said, ‘And we've still got our electronic trace.'

Johnston shifted, preparing himself. ‘Unfortunate that you lost him when you did.'

The cocksucker had them under surveillance! seized Bradley. Why hadn't his own watch team picked up the tail!

‘We didn't lose him electronically,' exaggerated Packer. Johnston was covering his ass against any later accusations.

‘But you haven't got him in the bag.'

‘We identified the Washington Monument—with its proximity to the White House—as the target,' insisted Packer.

‘And risking the leak wasn't a difficult decision for me to make,' came in Bradley. ‘I'm sure you would have confirmed it had I been able to reach you earlier than I did.'

‘It's got to be us who gets al Aswamy, not another Homeland Security agency,' insisted Johnston.

‘How do you intend this UK participation to work?' demanded Packer, more interested in the future than the past.

‘She pulled together all we so far know about the combined attack,' said Johnston, also welcoming the subject change. ‘She'll have useful input.'

‘She?' questioned Packer.

‘Middle East background, like your guy,' said Johnston, who'd withheld the gender at the earlier, larger meeting. ‘Name's Sally Hanning. Jordanian diplomat mother, father an MI5 station chief in Lebanon, Turkey, and Syria; both died in a Hamas ambush. She's bilingual in Arabic, Oxford educated … the whole works.'