Reilly asked whether or not they needed to leave the restaurant. The CIA agent told him not to worry. “Taken care of.”
“Spoken like a true Company man.”
“In 2000, trials began. Five suspects were charged with preparing the explosives. They went to prison for life, and the evidence was never made public. A second trial two years later found two other defendants guilty of terrorism. Their case was also sealed. Now for the fun stuff,” Heath continued.
“Fun? Can’t wait,” Reilly responded.
“When it came to the Moscow bombing, we know that none of the accused were in the city at the time of the explosion, moreover, they weren’t ethnic Chechen. In time, many presumed to be on the inside of the plot disappeared or conveniently and publicly died. A key player, an FSB officer we believe may have actually carried out the bombings, was killed in a car accident. A commission was established to examine the facts. One commissioner was shot in Moscow. The others took great care in what they brought up. But it didn’t end there. A journalist, Anna Petrovich, who had long covered the story and was rumored to have new sources, died suddenly while on vacation in Southern Italy. The earmarks of another FSB murder.”
“With Gorshkov’s fingerprints,” Reilly noted.
“Worth considering.”
It was nearly midnight now. The check had long ago been paid, and Heath wound down leaving an open question. Reilly went for it.
“What does this all mean?” Reilly asked.
“What does what mean?”
“The story, damn it!”
“To the point, we have something of a match on the photograph,” said Heath.
“You know who he is!” Reilly exclaimed.
“No. We don’t.”
“Then?” Reilly was confused.
“We don’t know who he is, but we’ve matched him somewhat confidently to one news photo from 1989 and a more recent CCTV shot.”
“And?”
“The first was taken in Potsdam right after the fall of the Berlin Wall. He was in the background. One of a group leaving the FSB headquarters. The second at a restaurant in Italy with Petrovich. Any idea who he worked for at FSB?”
Reilly ventured a guess. “Nikolai Gorshkov?”
“Absolutely right. And what does this have in common with Tokyo?”
“The bombing was a means to an end.” But to what end?
PART TWO
THREAT ASSESSMENTS
28
MOSCOW, RUSSIAN FEDERATION
THE KREMLIN
Each of the men who sat around the huge conference table represented the views of the leader. Nothing less would be tolerated. Offering anything over and above came with its own risks.
The minister of defense, the chief of staff of the Armed Forces of the Russian Federation, the ministers of Internal Troops, head of Border Service, and the highest ranking generals from the Russian Ground Forces, Aerospace Forces, and the Navy were all present. Also, the director of the FSB. Intentionally absent was the president’s full cabinet.
The most important man at the table was the man Forbes Magazine recently named the most powerful man in the world—Nikolai Gorshkov.
“Gentlemen,” he began. There were no women in this inner circle. “We stand at a crossroads between yesterday and tomorrow. A yesterday from which Russia emerged from failure and embarrassment, greed and bankruptcy. Today we celebrate a rebuilt Russia. We are respected, we are powerful, and we are feared. But we have even greater steps ahead from which there will be no turning back.”
Gorshkov sat at the large conference table adjacent to his opulent presidential office in the Kremlin. He kept an even tone, giving each of his men eye contact, but never looking for approval because he demanded as much from them—in addition to their lives.
“It is the Rubicon to cross for us to restore Russia to its full glory. We will become the leader in space again, a race Khrushchev gave up.”
Gorshkov raised his voice, and his eyes flared.
“We will have the strongest military on the face of the earth again, an advantage Yeltsin forsake.”
The louder he got, the more the veins in his neck bulged.
“We will be an international economic power broker again, a designation that was shamefully frittered away by Kosygin.”
Finally he stood and with a commanding staccato delivery barked, “And we will be safe again.”
Nikolai Gorshkov slammed his fist so hard on the conference table that water and coffee spilled from one end to the other. Now, commanding everyone’s absolute attention, he explained how he would make it all happen.
MINISTRY OF ENERGY OFFICE
“Minister Kang, you beat my most optimistic expectations with your request for a follow-up meeting,” Anton Nechayev said, welcoming his Chinese counterpart. “Thank you for coming to Moscow.”
“I sensed urgency in your proposal and thought that our mutual interests could benefit from another discussion.”
Urgency? Nechayev thought. If he had conveyed that, it had been a mistake in tactical negotiations. He would have to be more careful. To address it now would only reinforce the point. But there was another item worth acknowledging. Mutual interests. It was the essence of the agreement, and completely necessary to secure the loan and help stabilize Russia.
The Chinese minister continued. “The very fact that the principal pipelines transporting Russian hydrocarbons have been laid on Russian and Chinese soil helps both nations avoid third-party contracts and conflicts. It is the cornerstone of our twenty-first-century cooperation. Anything that will further cement our relationship strengthens us both.”
Nechayev read between the lines of Kang’s position, now realizing that Kang had done the same with him. Left unsaid was Russia’s NATO strategy and China’s policy in the South China Sea. Given the unpredictable, shifting political sands in the Middle East, increased oil from Russia would guarantee a market for its reserves. On Beijing’s side of the equation, having Russia as a strong trade partner would bolster its posturing in the Strait of Malacca where China was island-building and island-arming.
But there were two even more important considerations. With 39 percent of Chinese oil imports passing through those waters, China needed more global muscle, or at least the threat of it. Additionally, and tacitly understood by both negotiators, but not brought to the table: the expansion of the accord between Russia and China would buy China time.
The China National Offshore Oil Corporation had invested some $20 billion on research to confirm that seven billion barrels of crude oil and 900 trillion cubic feet of natural gas were below the ocean floor. For a country that currently pumped a mere 1.1 percent of the world total, yet annually burned through 20 percent of the entire planet’s reserves, the South China Sea offered a solution for ultimate energy independence. Tap it, refine it, sell it, and defend it. Together, China and Russia could control much of the world’s oil.
Nechayev and Kang shook hands. The deal, like the current political borders on the map, wouldn’t last forever. It didn’t need to. As long as it worked to the aspirations of their regimes, there’d soon be signatures on paper. As diplomats, they’d done their part.
29
WASHINGTON, DC
KENSINGTON ROYAL OFFICES
“So do we promote that we’re upgrading safety? Seems like a surefire way to get sued.”
This was a perfect question from Chris Collins. It had legal ramifications, but created marketing issues as well. It was also a perfect way to lead off the reconvened security committee.
“In a word, no,” former CIA director Carl Erwin answered. “Travelers are used to seeing a higher level of security, especially in metropolitan areas. So don’t worry them. But visibly heightened security is as much for the bad guys to see as it is for your clientele.”
“How do we prioritize? What countries? What cities?” asked COO Tiano.
“Basically we break the world down into risk zones: high, medium, and low,”
Erwin stated.
“Are there any no-risk zones?” PR VP June Wilson asked.
“Not anymore,” Erwin said. “Those days are over.”
Wilson looked deflated.
“And when it comes to high risk, don’t limit that to Iraq, Egypt, Yemen, or Afghanistan. Depending on active intel, France and England could be at the top. Brussels for sure these days. They’re right up there on the UK’s Joint Terrorism Analysis Centre lists. Plus key American cities and, of course, your Asian properties.
“Beyond that it’s really quite simple. Terrorists focus on soft targets where people assemble—airports, train stations, restaurants, nightclubs. In your case a hotel or resort. More often than not, they’ll pick a place where satellite news coverage can quickly pump out live video. They want that. They want to control the news cycle.”
“Good lord,” Wilson said. “No one’s going to ever feel safe again.”
“Safe? Maybe not,” Erwin replied. “Safer, yes. I’ll explain. You need to develop a plan.”
“That’s what we’re here for, Mr. Erwin,” Dan Reilly noted.
“Educate your core customers,” Erwin continued, “develop relationships with local governments, and subscribe to advisories. Cultivate intelligence sources. You absolutely must have inside information.”
Reilly smiled inwardly. He was doing exactly that.
“And for God’s sake,” the ex-CIA chief added, “drum this into your managers. They have to train their staff to report. Don’t wait. And be ready to go to DEFCON 1 without question on a moment’s notice.”
Lou Tiano was beginning to feel this was not the business he had signed up for or a world he thought he’d ever be in. “How can we possibly succeed?” he asked quite honestly.
“How do you eat an elephant?” General BD Coons countered.
“What do you mean?” the COO replied.
“Very simply, how do you eat an elephant?”
“We don’t.”
“Come on, if you had to.”
Tiano straightened up in his chair. “I suppose one bite at a time.”
“Exactly,” said the retired general and former number two in the previous president’s national security team. “That’s how. Look,” he stood up and crossed over to a whiteboard on the conference room wall, “there’s a method to the process. You probably do it yourself and don’t even think about it.”
General Coons drew a square and then divided it into four quadrants. Over the top left box he wrote URGENT. Over the box on the right he wrote NOT URGENT. Then to the left beside the first box he scribbled IMPORTANT. Below it and adjacent to the bottom left box, NOT IMPORTANT. The next thing he did was number the boxes 1, 2, 3, 4, and inside each box he jotted down some terms.
“Ever see this?”
Reilly and Cannon had, along with all of the other consultants.
“It’s an organizational chart,” Tiano ventured.
“Yes,” the general confirmed, “but much more. It’s a critical management tool to develop strategies, time/duty analyses, and battle plans.”
“Battle plans?” Brodowski nervously asked.
“Too strong a description, Ms. Brodowski?”
“I just don’t understand.”
“For now just write it down.”
The KR team followed the general’s directive.
“You fill in the blocks yourself. Whatever you plan, your plan will inevitably change. Whatever you change, you’ll constantly reevaluate. You’re not in control until you seize control. This basic organizational chart will help you. Before we leave today, we’ll review our work. Tomorrow you’ll start the day revising it.”
“Any idea who came up with this tool and its significance?” Coons asked.
“Yes, sir,” Reilly said. “Dwight Eisenhower. It’s called the Eisenhower Method. He used it to lay out the strategy, one bite at a time, for D-Day.”
“Correct. And it’s exactly what we’re going to do to get you operational.” The general tossed the marker to Reilly. “You start.”
Reilly joined the general at the whiteboard. He began by filling in boxes 2 and 4, with the team calling out suggestions. Quadrant 4 was the easiest to fill. Distractions. Too much email, too many people copied on those emails. Facebook, Instagram, YouTube, and all the other interruptions that interfere with the day’s work. From there they went to quadrant 1: URGENT/IMPORTANT and 3: URGENT/NOT IMPORTANT.
The KR team pitched in ideas. Some were shot down. Others led to lengthy discussions, requiring further evaluation. Over the next three hours they adjusted their priorities and formulated an initial strategy.
“Very good,” Coons observed as he considered what they had developed.
“We’ll see,” countered Don Klugo, the private security consultant. “Now, I’ve got a hundred bucks for anyone who can tell me where the term terrorism originated. Worth knowing your history.”
He removed a crisp new bill from his wallet and slammed it on the table.
“Come on. Someone must know.”
But no one did.
“Like I tell my men, you have to know history to be in the fight and understand the enemy’s tactics and motives. Here it is, plain and simple,” the mercenary said. “The root is from a Latin term that means ‘to frighten,’ which later became part of the phrase terror cimbricus. Ancient Romans used this idiom to describe the intense and overwhelming fear they would inflict on their enemies. Centuries later, during the French Revolution, Robespierre executed thousands in what became known as the ‘reign of terror.’ The notion has worked damned well for brutal dictators and terrorists ever since.”
“That’s not our strategy,” Pat Brodowski exclaimed.
“Of course not. But you are going to have to think like the enemy to beat them.”
KIEV
Miklos reviewed the target report, which he would burn shortly thereafter. Security was typical. Completely lax. This was all the more surprising given the threats to Ukraine.
The operative laughed to himself. Incompetents. They’ll never learn. He recalled the expression, which he thought was American in origin: Like shooting fish in a barrel.
He concluded that the surveillance report gave him carte blanche.
Blackout areas on CCTV cameras
Hotel security unarmed
No active scanning devices
Young, inexperienced staff
No outside barriers or stanchions
No bomb-sniffing dogs
No additional security measures at the delivery entrance
So easy, he thought. But never too easy. He would check more himself before going mission active.
WASHINGTON, DC
“General, you brought up DEFCON 1, the highest state for America’s defensive posture. We also need a way to differentiate threat levels,” Reilly said. “Numbers, colors, probability. A system where we can determine the risk and act on preestablished procedure.”
“Very good, Mr. Reilly,” General Coons replied. “Spoken like someone with skin in the game already.”
“We’re all here because of it,” Reilly said.
“But coming to the realization is another thing. So is the money it will take.”
Lou Tiano spoke up. “The money will be there.”
“Excellent. We’re moving along more rapidly than I imagined. Most organizations don’t get as far as you have already.”
“It’s no longer an option,” Cannon interjected. “The toothpaste is out of the tube. No way to squeeze it back in.”
KIEV
He left his room as Richter, the visiting German. In the elevator, which was not wired for cameras, he reversed his jacket, donned an insignia cap and wire-framed glasses, slung an ID lanyard around his neck, and removed a clipboard that he’d tucked into his belt at the small of his back. All in fifteen seconds.
He emerged from the elevator as Yarik Danko, a credentialed inspector from Kiev’s building department, the kind of authoritarian figure everyday workers avoided
. Andre Miklos acted the part, and hotel employees steered clear. He’d give himself ten minutes. No more, to access visible weaknesses. He figured that weaknesses would not be hard to find.
WASHINGTON, DC
Cannon proposed that Reilly take the key position as crisis team leader, and he accepted on the spot. The other stakeholders on the Kensington Royal side of the table took specific duties in keeping with their own positions.
“That’s a first step,” Erwin stated. “You’re owning problem areas, but you’ll need to delegate and supervise. Under you, regional supervisors will have to report up. People in food services must become experts in foodborne illnesses. Your chief architect needs to evaluate construction issues. Risk management to work with legal and PR. That’s just off the top of my head. I’ll prepare a full list for the committee.”
KIEV
There’s something intimidating about a man strutting around taking notes on a clipboard. It’s even more intimidating when that man has an ID that’s feared. For the Klovska Classic Hotel, it was a city inspector. Any city inspector. Cash usually kept them away, so when one showed up, it probably meant a shake-up, some finger wagging, a few citations, and a possible firing. So for the sake of their own jobs, the staff working in the subterranean floors steered clear of the bureaucrat. That included the chefs and cooks, electricians, housekeeping, maintenance, and even security. No one wanted to be asked a question and written up.
The clipboard was a powerful weapon and a ticket to anywhere Miklos wanted to go. He quickly made his rounds, thinking to himself that a real inspector should have written the damned hotel up. In the electrical office door keys to every critical area hung from an open box. Every one of them were properly labeled; all easy to take. There was no sign-out book; no means to keep inventory. Electrical had to have access everywhere. And with multiple copies of most keys, they were literally there for the taking.
RED Hotel Page 16
