by James Rosone
With that, Director Harper grunted and then turned to look for another victim until she could figure out a way to make this stink stick to someone else besides her.
A minute later, Julie walked toward Mike and handed him two folders. “These are the vetting folders of the two attackers and who screened them,” she said. He immediately began rifling through the papers until he found what he was looking for.
Stone looked up at Harper, who was now about twenty feet away, talking to one of her favorite analyst team leaders, a person she had brought with her from the Senate Intelligence Committee. He signaled with his arm to get her attention. “Director Harper, I have the two attackers’ vetting packages, and the name of the person who did the screening.”
Director Harper began to walk quickly toward him, “What do you have?” she demanded.
He lowered his voice a little. “The vetting was originally done by George Lee. He had flagged both of them as having possible terrorist links. The files were then transferred to Dawn King, who approved them for the refugee program.” As he finished speaking, Mike looked up at Mallory and then glanced back at Dawn, the analyst team leader Director Harper had just been talking to.
At first, Harper was visibly stunned that it had been her friend Dawn who had signed off on the vetting. She began to search her mind for how she could spin all of this so that all the blame wouldn’t have to land on her friend. After some calculation, she muttered, “The way I see this, this is George’s fault. He had the files first.” She knew her argument was weak at best once she uttered it; she felt foolish for even letting the words out of her mouth.
Mike’s face contorted as he obviously controlled his initial response to her statement. “You can’t be serious,” he asserted. “He’s the one who flagged them as having potential terrorist ties. I know you think he’s a problem child because he’s flagging a lot of these people as having possible terrorist links, but he’s one of the best analysts we have, if you ask me. Let’s not forget, he tried to block them from being accepted into the refugee program. It was Dawn King who reversed his decision and allowed them in. She is the one who clearly screwed up, and I, for one, would like to know why she approved two individuals who George had assessed to have potential terrorist links.” Mike’s tone was accusatory, but Mallory couldn’t tell if he was accusing her as well or just Dawn.
Mallory just stood there for a second, thinking about what to say next, what to do. She was under a lot of pressure from the White House to identify who had let these guys in. She didn’t want to sacrifice her friend, but Mike was right. Anyone who reviewed the file would see that Dawn had overridden George on this one and approved their packages.
Sighing audibly, she replied, “You’re right. I’m not sure what I was thinking.” She tried to regain her composure.
After taking a deep breath, Mallory turned and walked toward Dawn, Mike right behind her. She whispered to Dawn for her to follow her to her office. When all three entered the room and the door was closed, Mallory said, “The White House is all over us to figure out how these two attackers were able to gain entry into the refugee program. Mike’s been doing some digging into their electronic files, and we found their packets. We just finished reviewing the files of the attackers, Dawn. It shows that you approved these two individuals.” She let that hang in the air for a moment.
Dawn defiantly replied, “No, I didn’t. I don’t believe you.”
Mike handed her the folders, which clearly showed her name and signatures approving them for entry into the program.
Dawn looked up at Mallory with pleading eyes, begging to be saved. She began to cry. “You told me to approve those names. I was only doing what I was told.” As she spoke, she looked from Mallory to Mike, as if he might somehow be able to help her.
Neither Mike nor Mallory said a word. After a very awkward moment, Dawn whimpered, “What’s going to happen to me now?” She wiped away a tear from her cheek.
Mallory let out a deep sigh before responding, “For starters, I’ll need your badge and ID card. You’re going to be placed on administrative leave until a thorough investigation has been done. As for what will happen in the long run, I really don’t know right now.” She legitimately had no idea if her friend would just be publicly crucified or if she might actually be charged with some crime.
Once she had left the room, Mike turned to Mallory and asked, “What did she mean when she said you told her to approve their names?” He spoke in a tone that managed to be soft and full of accusation at the same time.
Mallory shot him a dirty look before responding, “Mike, I’m under a lot of pressure from the White House to ensure these refugees and asylum seekers don’t pose a threat to our country, while still letting in as many of them as possible. We’re all trying to do our best here. I’m not sure what she meant by her last comment, but right now, we need to focus on making sure no one else we screened is going to carry out another terrorist attack.” Then she opened her office door, indicating that he should leave.
*******
Following his conversation with Mallory, Mike made a quick call from his office to Trevor over at Langley. He was busy, of course, but he agreed to meet Mike for a quick coffee at a nearby Starbucks.
Thirty minutes later, Mike stood in line and ordered a grande caramel macchiato with an extra shot of espresso. It was going to be a long day so he needed the added caffeine. When his drink order was ready, he walked to the counter and grabbed his cup, hurrying to a table that had miraculously just become available. No sooner had he sat down than Trevor walked in and made a beeline to him.
“Sorry for the delay, Mike. I hope you haven’t been waiting long,” he said. He sounded a bit out of breath, which was unusual. Trevor was almost never in a hurry.
Taking a quick sip before replying, Mike shook his head. “No, not long. Just got my drink,” he responded, his voice almost jovial.
The monitor near their seats was showing CNN coverage of the horrific attacks. Trevor’s eyes strayed as he watched for a moment, transfixed. Then he turned back to Mike. “You said this was important—so, what is it?” he asked gruffly.
“Remember when I told you that Chicago and Baltimore were receiving an unusually high percentage of single military-age males through the refugee program?” Mike asked as he too watched the carnage unfolding on TV.
“Yeah, I remember. Our analysts found it odd and unusually high compared to the other cities. What of it? Did you find something else?”
Mike nodded softly so as to not give anything away. He then leaned in slowly and whispered, “Two of the four attackers were part of the refugee program.”
“I already know that, Mike. The rest of the world is about to find that piece of information out as soon as someone in Congress leaks it,” Trevor replied angrily.
“No, you don’t understand yet. They were both originally flagged for having potential links to terrorism. They should’ve been denied entry, but their recommendation was overruled by one of the senior analysts and approved anyway. The analyst who made the final approval said she was just approving the names Director Harper had given her,” Mike added.
Trevor shook his head slowly. This little piece of information painted an entirely different picture. “You have to be kidding me, Mike,” he finally replied. “Are you sure this is correct?”
“Once we saw the ISIS videos and we learned who these guys were, we ran their information through the refugee screening program. Sure enough, two of them popped. We found the initial screening packets and dug into them. The original recommendation was to deny them entry into the program based on possible terrorist links. Something in their background was a red flag, a past associate or CELLEX or something. Either way, they failed the screening. Then the lead analyst overrode that decision and approved them anyway. Both of those analysts still work in the department. When Director Harper and I questioned the lead analyst who approved their packets, she said she was just approving the names of the people
Harper had given her. Before she could say anything else, Harper placed her on administrative leave until things could be sorted out. I tried to ask Harper about it, but she stonewalled me.”
The two of them sat there silently for a moment, watching the TV footage as the other patrons in the Starbucks did likewise. A woman nearby wiped away some tears, while a man openly sobbed in a chair as he looked at his cell phone.
“Trevor, I think you’re right,” Mike admitted. “Something isn’t adding up with Mallory Harper. I’m not sure what it is, but if she’s approving people to be a part of this refugee resettlement program that shouldn’t be, then something terribly awful is going on, and this may be the first of many dominoes to fall.”
*******
Washington, D.C.
White House, Oval Office
The President was in the middle of the worst day of his life. Thousands of Americans were dead, all on his watch. A meeting had been called at the Situation Room, but he had a little time before everyone assembled, so he went to his office to clear his head.
“For the next fifteen minutes, I don’t want to hear from anyone, understood?” he said to his secretary as he opened the door to the Oval.
“Yes, Mr. President,” she replied.
As he sat alone in the room, the silence was deafening. He was confronted by thousands of conflicting thoughts, some angry, some sad. At one moment he wanted to cry, and then he felt like punching a wall. None of these responses seemed to appropriately express what was happening that day. A few moments went by like this. Nothing was happening, but at the same time, everything was happening.
The buzzer rang. “Mr. President?” asked his secretary tentatively.
“Kathy, I thought I told you I didn’t want to be disturbed,” he shot back.
“I know, Sir, but it’s Karen Philmore on the line. Do you want to take it?”
As much as he wanted to, he really couldn’t refuse a call from the former Secretary of State, who was now the Democratic presidential nominee. He sighed. “OK, Kathy. I’ll take it,” he reluctantly responded.
“Secretary Philmore, you are on the line with the President,” said Kathy, and then there was a click as she got off the call.
“Hi, Karen. What a horrible day, huh?” he began, not sure how to begin the conversation.
“Horrible doesn’t even begin to describe it,” she snapped. “How on God’s green earth did this happen?”
“It’s too early to be sure, but you know every agency is following all available leads right now,” replied the President.
“Well, I want some heads to roll over this, do you understand? If we don’t come down on this with an iron fist, then you might just have cost me the election,” barked Karen.
“You think this is my fault?” he retorted.
“Well, it happened under your watch, didn’t it? At the end of the day, that is how history is going to see this. So, you’d better make someone an example, or else you—and by proxy, I—will go down as the incompetent fools that allowed the death and destruction of thousands of innocent Americans.” Secretary Philmore’s voice dripped with condescension.
“I understand, Karen,” the President snapped. “You’ll have your head.”
There was silence on the phone for a moment as both of them spoke anger without using any words.
“I have to go now, Karen. I have a meeting in the Situation Room.”
“Good day, Mr. President,” Secretary Philmore said in an overly sweet tone.
*******
Having had his own moment, the President now fumed at his National Security Advisor, Leah Bishop. “You assured me the refugee program was secure, that we had the resources in place to make sure this type of attack could never happen!” As he shouted, everyone in the room tried to appear as small as possible to avoid being a target of his anger.
Clearing her throat, Leah defiantly replied, “Mr. President, with the exception of the Saudi national, none of the attackers recently came to the US. They had all been here for at least two years. They were clearly sleeper cell agents, which the FBI should have caught.” She stared daggers at the Director of the FBI.
The President shifted gears, zeroing in on his FBI Director. “She is partially right. Why did these attackers go unnoticed?” asked the President, a bit more calmed.
“Mr. President, we’re doing the best we can with the resources we have. The refugee program has brought thousands of questionable people into the country over the past three years. ISIS has also said on numerous occasions that they would infiltrate the US through the refugee programs. After today’s attack, it appears they have successfully done just that.”
The President was livid. He was about to go on national television to calm the nation and assure them that their government was doing everything in its power to protect them. He brooded, wondering if they really had done the right thing by accepting these refugees from the Middle East.
Every moral fiber of my being tells me this was right, though, he concluded.
The President huffed. “Listen, the public is going to want to know how this happened, and so is Congress.”
He turned to look at Leah again. “I want a head to deliver them. Who’s handling the screening for the refugee program?”
Before Leah could respond, the FBI Director replied, “Director Mallory Harper, at the National Counterterrorism Center.”
The President couldn’t help but notice that Leah was burning a hole into the FBI Director’s head with her eyes. She turned toward the President but didn’t break her angry gaze at the FBI Director. “I was going to say that Mitchel Liam at the State Department is technically in charge of the program,” she declared.
The President sat back in his chair. He couldn’t just throw the State Department under the bus, not right now, with the election in full gear. His former Secretary of State was running to replace him, and any dirt that got thrown at State would certainly stick to her as well. His eyes focused as he made his decision.
“Take care of Harper,” he announced. “I want her gone by the end of the day. Everything is to fall on her. Do you hear me, Leah?”
“Yes sir, Mr. President,” she responded. The tone in his voice had indicated that she had better not challenge his decision.
Chapter 18
Not Over Yet
Undisclosed Location
Streaming Live
As the man only known to a small circle of people as “the Ghost” sat in the corner of the room, he watched the spokesman for ISIS, Taha Falaha al-Baghdadi, read the script for what must have been the tenth time. This was going to be a big speech; their first attack against the Great Satan had succeeded beyond their wildest dreams. This video would trigger the second wave, which would wreak further havoc on the Americans.
The Ghost and his backers were certainly getting their money’s worth out of their venture with ISIS. As Taha walked over to the wall that had the black flag of ISIS hung across it, he could hardly contain his excitement as their elaborate plan was starting to play out.
The room became quiet and all eyes turned toward Taha. He signaled that he was ready to begin. The camera turned on and his compatriot gave him the signal.
“My fellow Muslims, may peace be upon you and his prophet Mohammed. Today, with the merciful help of Allah, our Muslim brothers struck a great blow against the Great Satan in the city of Chicago. The Americans have come to our lands to strip us bare of our resources, wage war on our people, and kill our women and children in the name of freedom—their deluded, misguided version of freedom. Today, we brought the war to them, just as they have brought endless war and conflict to our lands.
“Today, I want to announce to the world that the Islamic State now claims control of the city of Chicago. I call upon our fellow Muslims living in the lands of the Great Satan to rise up and join our forces in Chicago. I call upon you to use whatever means you have at your disposal: knives, weapons, and even your own vehicles can be used as a weapon. Br
others, Sisters, now is the time to rise in defense of your religion. To our fighters in America, the Islamic torch is lit.”
The message quickly streamed across Twitter, Facebook Live and YouTube. The men in the room took down the props and packed everything up with a sense of urgency. It wouldn’t take American intelligence long to track the IP address to this location in Yemen and send a drone their way. As Taha finished wrapping something up and placing it in his backpack, he walked toward the Ghost.
“Your message has been sent. Our fighters will carry out their orders,” he said and then quickly walked out of the room. His entourage would escort him to a safe location where he would spend the next couple of weeks in hiding.
The Ghost got up and followed his bodyguard to their waiting vehicle. From there, they drove to a small airport where his private aircraft was waiting to take him back to Riyadh.
*******
McClean, Virginia
National Counterterrorism Center
It had been a rocky three days at the NCTC. Director Harper had been relieved of her position by the end of the day of the attacks in Chicago. As the highest-ranking person in the department, Michael Stone had been placed in charge of the department until a more permanent solution could be found. He came in guns blazing. His first order of business was to recommend a temporary block on any new refugees coming into the country until his department could reinvestigate everyone who had entered through the program over the last three years. Then he requested that all the screeners and analysts currently supporting the program in Turkey and Jordan be reallocated to his department stateside to assist in processing all this additional work.
Despite some initial pushback from the National Security Advisor, his request had been approved. Congressional leaders were calling for inquiries and investigations, and some were calling for a complete end to the program. Mike managed to satisfy both sides by convincing the administration to take a pause while they focused on rooting out any potential terrorists that might have slipped through the program during former Director Harper’s tenure.
