Viper Team Seven (The Viper Team Seven Series Book 1) (48 page)

“I remember
well, Mr. President. But that does not take away from the fact that there are
many Middle Eastern countries that would like to see Israel done away with, and
we need to defend ourselves.”

“I never said it
did. What I did say is that it’d be better if you kept your military out of
this one. Trust me, Mr. Prime Minister.”

Aziza waited
before replying. “Mr. President, I will take your word. But if that nuclear
missile comes our way–”

“It won’t,”
Winnfield confirmed. “I don’t think the Lebanese will be trying to launch that
thing any time soon. I’m guessing they’ll try and hide it.”

“Why would they
do that?”

The President
wasn’t going to tell the Israeli that there possibly was a mole in his office
that probably had already warned Lebanon about the U.S.’s discovery. “I have my
reasons,” he said flatly. “And I have my work cut out for me.”

“We both do, Mr.
President. I just hope it turns out for the best.”

“It will,” Winnfield finalized. “Lebanon has played with the wrong
country.”

*          *          *

The CIA Director
had done all he could. He had ordered a great many of his intelligence
officials to search for the warhead and to monitor Lebanon to see if there were
any more on their way. UAVs were being trained on the last place the warhead
was seen and Cummins had realized that if he hadn’t known a military center was
under that mosque he’d have never second-guessed the number of people there.

The D/CIA’s
blackberry buzzed and displayed a new message. Cummins made sure his office
door was closed and then he opened the message. It was from his top secret
official working privately for him. It was a short email. “Operation INSIDE is
a go,” was all it said.

Cummins only
read the email once and then he deleted it and cleared it from his account.
That was very sensitive information and if anyone intercepted that message at
the wrong time, the results could be fatal.

Friday, April 18
^th
– 0615 hours

The Oval Office

The President’s
top FBI investigator was ushered privately into the Oval Office and the door
was shut behind him.

“What do you
have?” Winnfield asked immediately. “Anything of importance?”

The agent
shifted nervously. “Yes, Mr. President, I do.” The agent pulled a notepad from
his pocket for a guide. “Let’s see. Well, these might not seem important but
they could be. Anyway, Mr. President, I’ll start with the Director of the CIA.
I found out that lately he has been making some very large purchases, sir. These
purchases include new vehicles, expensive clothes, and even two very valuable
properties in the Midwest. The total purchases came out to over three million
dollars. This could be the result of extra funds transferred to him by
terrorist groups, I don’t know.”

The President
frowned skeptically. “That could be the result of a midlife crisis you know.
That’s not much to go on.”

“Yes, Mr.
President, but here’s what’s really important,” the agent interjected.
“Yesterday evening around 1700 hours, we intercepted an email that the Director
received on his blackberry.”

“You actually
were able to break into his email?” the President wondered with amazement.

“The investigative
team was able to do that, sir. But, this email was very interesting. It only
said, “Operation INSIDE is a go.” We tried to track the sender’s account
address but it was a temporary email account that was deleted soon after the
message was sent. The D/CIA deleted the email almost instantly as well.”

The President
felt strange being briefed by a somewhat low-ranking FBI agent on this matter
but with all of the Directors and the NSA being mole suspects, he didn’t have a
choice.

“Could you at
least figure out where the email was sent from?” Winnfield questioned.

“No sir, we
couldn’t. The D/CIA took the proper steps to delete the message so that we were
left in the dark.”

“Well I can’t
blame that email on a midlife crisis,” the President concluded. “But I’m not
sure what to make of it.”

“Neither am I,
Mr. President. Shall I give the others’ reports?”

Winnfield gave
the agent permission but all of the other prospects’ records were completely
clear of anything questionable.

“Keep monitoring
all of them,” the President commanded. “But step things up on the CIA Director.
Report when you find something. Got it?”

“Yes, Mr.
President,” the agent said.

Winnfield allowed the agent to leave and when the office was cleared, the
President slumped forward in his chair and sulked. He quite possibly had the
mole in charge of finding the Lebanese’s nuclear weapon.

*          *          *

The President,
Vice President, Chief of Staff Steve Danner, and Senior Advisor to the
President, were all grouped in the Situation Room. Winnfield had called upon
the men so he could explain the entire ordeal concerning the mole and what to
do about it. He knew Parks had wanted to keep the people who knew about the
mole few in number but the President still thought he needed other opinions on
this. There was too little time to try and figure out the mystery to keep the
information confined to just a few people.

Winnfield had
gone through the basics of what he knew – he kept Parks and his team
confidential of course – and though everyone was shocked they admitted that the
information concerning the D/CIA did suggest that he was the mole, if there was
one. Still, the advisors were wondering how the President had found out that
there was a mole.

“So,” the
President started, “you guys are just going to have to believe me that there is
a mole even though I can’t give you the details about how I know. But I need
some help from all of you. I don’t know how to find out for sure if the
Director of the Central Intelligence Agency is the mole. There’s a great
possibility that he is, and we must remember, he’s heading up our efforts to
find that Lebanese warhead. If he is the mole, our chances of finding that
weapon are even more miniscule.”

“I doubt that Cummins
himself is heading up the search,” Danner pointed out. “Though he probably
would influence how thoroughly the search is done. But I would think that the
individuals who are actually doing the looking would keep him pretty much in
line.”

“I hope you’re
right,” Anders voiced. “But I don’t see how that’s possible. If he is
conferring with Lebanon then he would tell them to hide the warhead in a place
where he knows his searchers would never look. Maybe in a place they’ve already
looked. Mike’s a smart guy. If he wanted to do bad things he could very easily.
My opinion is that you’d better get someone else to look for the warhead.”

“That’s hardly
possible,” Danner retorted. “If we took that mission away from him he’d know we
were on to him.”

“Well for what
it’s worth, I’ve alerted the Mossad and they are now on the hunt as well,”
Winnfield told everyone. “That should help some.”

“It sure will,
Mr. President,” the Chief of Staff confirmed. “The Mossad knows Lebanon like it’s their backyard. If anyone’s going to find that weapon I’d say it would be
the Israelis.”

“But that raises
another question. When the Israelis share their intel with us, it’ll go right
through the D/CIA’s office,” the Vice President declared. “The same thing we’re
concerned about will happen whether the Israelis are searching or we are.”

“Well maybe the
agents I have monitoring the Director will pick up any suspicious
communications from him after the weapons’ location is disclosed or almost
disclosed,” the President hoped.

“That
investigating team had better be good if we’re going to rely that much on what
they find,” Danner stated.

The President sighed. “True. But aren’t we already relying on what
they’ve discovered?”

*          *          *

Parks walked into
his closet and searched for a suit. It was Easter Sunday and the National
Security Advisor had called him yesterday evening explaining that everyone had
the morning off but would have to be in the office by 1400.

Nothing had been
found concerning the Lebanese’s nuclear weapon, and tension was beginning to
rise as the days passed. Parks had been hoping that he’d have found some clue
that would help point him to the mole but that too was a vain hope. Nothing was
going as planned.

Parks picked out
a black suit and threw it on his bed. He hadn’t worn a suit in years and he was
wondering why he was now. Maybe it was because it could be his last Easter
Sunday to attend church, or possibly because what Renee had said prompted him
to go. Parks wasn’t sure. Solomon would be joining him at 1030 and would be
attending the service with him. Parks had invited him the night before, and his
friend reluctantly agreed.

Parks dressed in
his suit, went to the bathroom mirror, and tied on an eagle, globe, and anchor
tie to his white shirt. Then he tacked on a Marine emblem tie tack, and
finished it off with a Marine insignia lapel pin. He looked into the mirror and
nodded with approval.

He then walked
out of the bathroom, grabbed his work cell phone, and went downstairs to the
living room. As he entered the room he remembered his pistol. Should he bring
it or was that being overly cautious? He didn’t think he would need it but it
was a good safety precaution to have it around at all times.

I’ll bring it
and leave it in the truck,
he decided.
That way it’ll be close by but I
won’t be bringing it into church.

Minutes later,
Solomon knocked loudly on the front door. Parks answered it and invited him in.

“How’re you,
Solomon?” he asked.

“I’m good. What
about you?”

“Fine.”

Solomon glanced
around. “Is this fancy enough?” he wondered as he tugged on his suit coat.

Solomon was
clothed in an immaculate, florescent violet suit, white shirt, and matching
violet tie. He was so bright that it almost made Parks’ eyes hurt to look at
him. But Parks had never seen him in a suit and was surprised.

“Yeah, that’s
all the fancier I am,” Parks said. “I didn’t know you had a suit, Solomon.”

“Well you know,
I had it stashed away ever since my Langley days,” Solomon replied. Then he
looked at the ground. “What are those on your feet?”

Parks stared at
his boots. “They’re cowboy boots, Solomon. Haven’t you ever seen them?”

“Not on you.”

“I wear them
because I like them and I don’t want to wear those tassel shoes like you’ve got
on.”

Solomon nodded
and switched the subject. “Hey KP, I’ve never been to church before. What do I
have to do?”

Parks twirled
his keys and moved to the door. “Sit in a chair and listen to a pastor speak,
from what I can remember. You shouldn’t have to do anything. Well I take that
back. Sometimes they pass some kind of plate around and ask for donations.”

“Do you have to
give them a donation?”

“No, but it’s nice to. I guess that’s how they keep the church running or
something,” Parks answered. “Come on, let’s go. It’s already 1035.”

*          *          *

Parks parked his
truck in front of Capital Independent Baptist Church.

“Here we are,”
he told Solomon as he turned off his truck.

Solomon looked
nervous. “We’ve still got five minutes until it starts. No sense going in and
sitting around is there?”

Parks agreed to
that and looked at the sign and declared, “Sunday School started at 1000,
Sunday Morning Service will begin at 1100, Sunday Evening at 1800, and
Wednesday Prayer Meeting at 1900. Man, how many services can you go to in a
week?”

“I don’t know
anything about church so don’t ask me,” Solomon responded. “I’m wondering why
I’m here now.”

“Oh come on, it
won’t be that bad,” Parks encouraged as he stepped out of his vehicle. “It’s
only once a year.”

Solomon also got
out and brushed himself off. “Depending on how I like this, it could be my last
time. We’ll see.”

“Quit
complaining,” Parks ordered as he led the way to the church doors. “This is a
special Easter. Apparently both the Greek Orthodox and Western religious groups
are having it on the same day.”

“What does that
have to do with anything? I’m not part of a religious group.”

Parks reached
for the large, oak church door. “Neither am I, and supposedly this church isn’t
part of a group either. We should feel right at home.”

The two entered
the building and the sound of a piano could be heard, echoing through the
church.

“Good morning,”
somebody greeted. “Good to see you.”

Parks and
Solomon exchanged glances.

“It is?” Parks
asked.

“Yes,” the older
man confirmed. “Welcome to Capital Independent Baptist Church. Have you ever
attended here before?”

“No we haven’t,
sir,” Parks stated.

The man handed
each of them a small card that asked for their personal information. “Could you
please fill that out then?”

“Yes sir,” Parks
conceded.

“Oh are you a Marine?”
the old man questioned as he pointed to Parks’ tie.

“Yes sir, I am.”

“All five of my
sons are Marines,” the man continued. “Are you at the Marine Barracks or
Headquarters?”

“I’m sort of
doing joint forces work right now, sir,” Parks explained, hoping the old man
wouldn’t press any further because he couldn’t tell him about his job.

“That’s nice to
do sometimes,” the man said.

After a short
visit with the old man, Parks and Solomon were finally allowed into the
auditorium. It was a large room but there were only about seventy people
inside. A large pulpit was positioned at the front of the room and several
suited men were sitting nearby.

“Let’s sit here,
Solomon,” Parks suggested once they were about in the center of the row of pews.

The duo seated
themselves and attempted to fill out the cards. As far as Parks was concerned,
they were asking for too much information, and he simply gave his name,
address, and checked the “Are you in the military?” box. Next to the box there
was a line that asked for which branch. Parks boldly wrote “United States
Marine Corps,” and then decided that he had filled out enough of the card.

“Are they going
to start soon?” Solomon wondered as he folded his card in half.

“I think so,”
Parks whispered back. “Yeah, the guy’s going up now.”

The song leader
stepped up to the pulpit and welcomed everyone to the service. He then led them
in songs that Parks had never sung before. Parks tried to sing along but even
with the songbook in front of him he couldn’t keep the tune. Solomon, on the
other hand, was singing very loudly even though he was dramatically off tune as
well.

The songs ended
and the announcement came that the offering would be taken. The pastor prayed
and the plate was passed around. Parks put in a five-dollar bill with his
information card and Solomon gave a one-dollar bill.

“Was that too
little?” Solomon asked Parks in a hushed voice.

Parks shook his
head. “That’s fine. It’s an optional deal.”

The offering
ended and the pastor stepped up to the pulpit, Bible in hand.

“All right,
welcome everyone,” the short, rather thin man began. “I’m Pastor Rob Wills, and
I want to thank you all for coming to the services today. If you would please
take your Bibles and turn to the book of Luke and chapter twenty-four. We’ll
begin reading in verse one and go on down to verse nine. When you’ve found it,
please stand out of respect of the reading of the Word of God.”

Parks and
Solomon stood but they didn’t have a Bible. In fact, Parks wasn’t sure he even
owned one.

“Here,” someone
said as he gave them both a Bible. “You can use these.”