Flash Point

by Kenneth Andrus

  Gilmore replaced the receiver, picked up the iPad, and typed: (8) counter moves.

  With Montalvo’s visit to Washington two weeks away, he began to formulate a plan. He set the foundation with the essential question: Who is this insider and what can we do to neutralize him?

  Gilmore’s sedan came to a stop at the White House’s security gate. He glanced out the window, noting a cluster of people milling around a satellite feed van. He studied their faces while he waited for the guards complete their checks.

  He placed another call to Cox. “We’ve got an ABC van. Any idea what going on?”

  “No.”

  The security guard waved them through. “Have a good morning, Mr. Gilmore.”

  The news team passed out of sight as his car passed through the gate and pulled into an empty stall. His secure phone rang.

  “Gilmore.”

  “We’ve got something hot,” Cox said.

  “Anything to do with that van?”

  “Yeah, they’re about to break the story on the P-8 incident.”

  “Any surprises?”

  “Don’t appear to be any.”

  “Wonder what took them so long? Do we know their source?”

  “A reporter in Manila.”

  “Got a name?”

  “Lynne. First name, Marie. She was the lead on the series detailing the rescue of the Philippine fishing boat.”

  “Her background material was deeper than anything we had. We have anything on her source?”

  “She’s not about to divulge, but our resident agent suspects someone in the Foreign Ministry.”

  “Our mystery man?”

  “Could be.”

  “It’s time to find out more about Ms. Lynne.”

  “I’ll notify the embassy.”

  “Stop by this afternoon.”

  Gilmore terminated the call and added another bullet to his list:

  (9) Marie Lynne

  Chapter 22

  QUEZON CITY FARMER’S MARKET

  MANILA

  08:40 FRIDAY 14 MARCH

  Lynne began to run. She chanced a look over her shoulder and stumbled over a child playing in the dirt. She caught herself and darted into a narrow aisle between two ramshackle buildings.

  Where is he?

  She caught a fleeting glimpse of the man stalking her. He averted his eyes, turning away in a furtive attempt not to be noticed.

  “Whoever you are, buddy, that’s not going to work.”

  Few Westerners bothered to come to the Quezon City farmer’s market and he couldn’t have been more obvious. Tall, blond hair, wearing a white button-down shirt...with a tie? Really?

  Time to ditch this asshole. She made a feint to the right, then pressed her way down a narrow alley, blending in with the milling shoppers. At the end of the block, she made a quick left and ducked into a side stall, slipping behind a stack of slatted chicken coops.

  Her eyes flicked around the shop. An ancient woman perched on a stool in the corner plucking the feathers off a scrawny chicken. The woman looked up with mild curiosity and resumed her work on the lifeless bird.

  Lynne took several deep breaths and parted the bamboo screen that served as the door. She scanned the alleyway. There was no sign of her pursuer.

  She took a tentative step. A pit bull mix snarled, baring its fangs. Lynne yelped and stumbled back into the safety of the shop. She lost her balance and fell into the coops, prompting loud squawks of protest from the feathered occupants imprisoned inside.

  The old woman looked up, eyeing her with annoyance. Lynne uttered an apology and backed out the door trying to control the trembling that racked her body. She willed herself to walk, sidestepped the dog, and set off for her car.

  * * *

  “Crap. Lost her,” the stalker said to his partner. “Think she found another way out?”

  “There she is.”

  The stalker swung his head around. “Where?”

  “Over there. By the fruit stands. See her?”

  “Took her sweet time getting back. Think she paid a visit to a drop point?”

  “Hard to say, but that change in her routine this morning sure as hell is suspicious. We’ll need help. Do a sweep and set up surveillance in the area where she ducked out of sight. Damn, she sure knows her way around that rabbit’s warren.”

  * * *

  Lynne fumbled for her car keys and managed to unlock the door. She slammed it shut and slumped against the steering wheel, trying to collect her wits.

  She flicked her eyes to the side mirror. Nothing. Assured, she turned over the ignition and eased her rusted Toyota into traffic.

  A street urchin ran up gesturing he wanted to wash her windshield. She waved him off and continued through the traffic light. The omnipresent poverty of the barrios was one thing that never changed. Today, this familiar incident provided Lynne a fragment of reality.

  * * *

  “She’s moving,” the driver said. “The scanner up?”

  “Yeah, we’re good.”

  They had already collected a good deal of information intercepting the signals from Lynne’s wireless Internet in the apartment and counted on her making a call to her boss. The driver tapped the steering wheel waiting for several vehicles to pass, then hit the accelerator, pulling behind the Toyota.

  * * *

  Lynne shot a glance at the rearview mirror. A gaudily decorated jeepney minibus lurched to a stop in front of her. She slammed on the brakes and pounded on the horn. “You crazy son of a bitch.”

  The burst of anger was cathartic. She swung around the bus and back into traffic. I’ve been in that market a hundred times and nothing like this has ever happened. Never even come close. Why now?

  She gasped. He must have been waiting outside my apartment. Why would someone want to watch me? I’m not exactly a national security risk. Who could possibly think...?

  With that insight, the realization hit. The story. Her boss had warned her about an entanglement with Atencio. He’s been reliable in the past, but then, the pictures of the wrecked P-8. Weird. He took them back saying they were very sensitive and no one should suspect I’ve seen them.

  Her gut churned. She felt violated. Who’s doing this to me? The embassy? Why would they suppress knowledge of the incident?

  She recalled the events following the broadcast of her report. A Defense Department spokesman had issued a rebuttal denying the confrontation. The Pentagon’s explanation? The P-8 made an emergency landing due to mechanical failure and was destroyed after hitting a concrete wave barrier.

  While the public affairs officer acknowledged the Lincoln had been in the South China Sea, he noted the Strike Group was merely transiting on the way home after six months in the Gulf. And the two F-18s? They’d been dispatched to conduct a visual inspection of the damaged P-8. Those statements were, of course, completely true––up to a point. They just excluded several critical pieces of information.

  Perhaps Washington and Beijing are trying to avoid a repetition of last year’s international confrontation and are going back-channel to defuse the crisis. If that were true, then what could Raul hope to gain by telling me? He had to know I’d break the story. What’s missing?

  She picked up her cell and punched the autodial. “Ron?”

  “You’re running late. Anything wrong?”

  “Plenty. Someone’s been watching my apartment. He followed me to the market.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I just crossed Valencia.”

  “You still being followed?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Be careful.”

  “Ron? Could they know about my meeting with Raul? He’s been acting really strange and not returning my calls. That’s not like him. He even used an intermediary to set up the meeting. There’s something else odd, too. We met in some hole-in-the-wall and he kept looking around as if he was afraid someone would see us.”

  “Any idea what’s driving his behavior?”


  “None. He even offered to help me set up a cover story and a way to pass more information so nobody could trace him. This is nuts. We usually meet at noon at the Manila Hotel. I should have known something was up. I was focused on the story and not thinking. What have we stumbled onto?”

  Ron cut her off. “Wait till you get to the office. Okay?”

  “I’m scared.”

  “I know. We’ll work it out.”

  * * *

  Across the city, Lynne’s tail commented to his partner, “Appears we’ve got our mark.”

  “Think that’s his real name?”

  “No reason to think otherwise. Sounds like she knows him real well. Maybe too well. My guess is we’re dealing with that midlevel guy in the Department of Foreign Affairs.”

  “We’ve got enough. We gotta get back and brief the boss.”

  * * *

  AMERICAN EMBASSY

  15:00

  “Mr. Ambassador, we have a break in the ABC case. We’ve identified the source. Earlier this week we narrowed our list to four probables and—”

  “Jack, please just tell me who it is.”

  The CIA station chief’s shoulders slumped, deflated by the Ambassador’s response. “He’s a midlevel bureaucrat in the DFA.”

  “I don’t suppose he has a name?”

  “Raul Atencio.”

  “Never heard of him,” the Ambassador said. “What’s he do?”

  “Special Assistant to the Under Secretary for Policy.”

  “Doesn’t help.”

  “I’d be surprised if you’d recognize him, sir,” the Deputy Chief of Mission said. “Like most SA’s, he performs his job behind the scenes. At least until recently.”

  “Enlighten me.”

  “What placed Atencio on our short list was his change of behavior over the past few months. The Under Secretary has allegedly been sick with an unspecified illness. We attributed Atencio’s actions to standing in for his boss.”

  “The problem is, we can’t confirm the Secretary’s illness,” the Station Chief commented. “Atencio has gone from standing in at various functions to participating in the decision-making process. What caught our attention was when he showed up at the table for the policy discussions with Clarke. He’s fronting for Cruz. My cut is the Secretary’s purported illness is a masquerade.”

  The Ambassador frowned. “What’s in it for them? All this palace intrigue is making me nuts. I want something solid.”

  “Atencio and Cruz are members of the opposition Lakas CMD party. By leaking the story, they’re planting the seeds to weaken Montalvo’s government in anticipation of this fall’s general elections. The CMD, National People’s Coalition, and Liberal Party along with several smaller ones, have banded together to promote what they’re calling the Government of National Unity.”

  “Have any polls been conducted? They would give us something.”

  “Nothing formal,” the DCM answered, “but there appears to be significant grass-roots support for their coalition. Much of our analysis is based on the average Filipino’s fear of further military confrontations with Beijing. The coalition has never supported the renewal of the MLSA and they’re linking the U.S. military presence with the difficulties with China.”

  “That’s utter nonsense.”

  “But that’s the risk we took by not exposing Beijing’s actions,” the Station Chief said. “We lost points with Montalvo when we didn’t come out in full support of his government in the fishing boat hijacking.”

  “Can we turn things around?”

  “Possibly. They intend to address the country’s foreign and budgetary crisis by establishing closer ties to regional and political powers.”

  “The Chinese?” the DCA asked.

  “Exactly.”

  The Ambassador’s eyes narrowed. “Do we know Montalvo’s countermoves?”

  “I’ve got that,” the DCM said. “He was preparing to release details of a comprehensive plan of his own, but he pulled the announcement after the flap caused by the ABC story. Malacanang is exercising spin control while Montalvo revamps his Ten Point plan. He’s dropped rumors to the press that he may announce a wholesale reshuffling of his cabinet.”

  “He going to remain in our court?”

  “My read is he will, but he’s hedging his bets.”

  “In other words, Montalvo will initiate talks with Beijing.”

  “The tricky part is, he doesn’t want to lose the support of the military.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “The AFP remains our strong card. We need to maintain a firm commitment to them.”

  “I’m not so sure,” the Station Chief responded.

  That statement caught the Ambassador off guard. “Excuse me?”

  “The AFP’s been accused of conducting a dirty war against leftist activists.”

  “Collaboration?” the Ambassador asked.

  “Human Rights Watch.”

  “The U.N. looked into similar accusations and implicated the army in the killings,” confirmed the DCM.

  The Ambassador massaged his temples. “That’s not helpful.”

  “No, sir.”

  The Ambassador stood, clasped his hands behind his back, and began to pace. “We’ll need to get a read from the Palace to determine if we have to move back our timetables for negotiating the MLSA and related issues. We might get a better return on our investment if we focus on economic assistance to strengthen the government without stirring the pot over basing.”

  “Should we pull the plug on the Truxtun’s visit to Subic?”

  “Too strong a signal,” the DCM answered. “Considering the lead time to complete negotiations, I’d leave it on the table.”

  “Makes sense,” the Ambassador said. “Let’s get our plan together. We’ve got a week before Montalvo leaves for Washington.”

  “I’ll have our analysis and recommendations to State ready for release tomorrow morning,” the DCM responded.

  The Ambassador’s eyes hardened. “Now what about that damn reporter? Lynne, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Should we bring her in for a little chat?”

  “Not yet, but we can use her to link Atencio to the Chinese Ministry of State Security. We need to take him out of circulation.”

  “Do it.”

  Chapter 23

  THE WHITE HOUSE

  14:00 TUESDAY 18 MARCH

  Stuart cast a cursory glance through the arched windows lining the north wall of the cabinet room. Under different circumstances the Rose Garden would have beckoned him from across the colonnade. He took his seat and called to order the Principles Meeting of the National Security Council.

  “Justin, what’s your read on the ABC story?”

  “As much as our friends at The Post wanted to keep the story alive, it’s been pushed off the front page by the leadership changes in Tel Aviv.”

  “What else?”

  “Malacanang is backing our version of events. The Chinese have remained silent except to say they couldn’t comment on the loss of an American plane over international airspace.”

  “Richard?”

  “I’m concerned about the leaks.”

  “I’ve that covered,” Gilmore said. “Last Friday, I received a Field Appraisal from our station chief in Manila identifying the source.”

  Stuart’s lips tightened. “Who is it?”

  “The Special Assistant to the Undersecretary for Policy. Guy named Atencio. Our information is credible, but not yet actionable.”

  “Understood.”

  “There’s evidence he’s fronting for his boss. Both of these men belong to the governing coalition partner, Lakas CMD Party.”

  “How’s that significant?”

  “They’ve been working with the new National Coalition Party to unseat Montalvo in this fall’s elections.”

  “Montalvo must know Cruz is trying to undercut him,” Valardi said.

  Gilmore ignored Valardi’s body
language. “Presumably so. We believe Montalvo is buying time until he can announce a reshuffling of his cabinet. Having said that, there’s something sinister at play. We uncovered evidence that Cruz is on the payroll of the Chinese Ministry of State Security. If Montalvo’s aware, he’s not showing his hand.”

  Valardi’s pen rolled off the table. “What?”

  Brown retrieved it. “Surprised me too.”

  Given the moment to regain his composure, Valardi nodded a ‘thank you’ to Brown. “Should we inform Montalvo?”

  “I’ll do that,” Stuart said.

  Gilmore blinked. There was no mistaking Stuart’s tone. “We’re working on substantiating the details of his contacts and payoffs.”

  “When will you have proof?”

  “Thirty-six hours. In time for Camp David.”

  “Cutting it close,” Stuart said. “I’ve got to have that package for Montalvo. You have the evidence of collaboration from your Philippine sources. Surveillance photos, copies of bank statements?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Richard, this would be a good time to share what you have.”

  “A pattern emerged when we looked at the actions of the DFA. A case in point is a report we received from our embassy in Brazilia that’s been substantiated by a story in today’s Manila Bulletin. Their banner reads: ‘RP, China Considering Joint Gas Project in Spratly Islands.’”

  “What the hell?” Payne said. “After what just happened. They can’t possibly be serious. Why would they drop this on us before Montalvo’s visit?”

  “Leverage,” Brown replied.

  “Pretty damn inconsiderate considering we just saved their sorry asses,” Payne said.

  “Does it matter if China and the Philippines pursue joint development of the natural gas fields in the South China Sea?” Brown mused. “Would this represent a potential short or long-term threat to us?”

  “If this agreement was taken as an isolated event, it would not warrant the characterization as a threat,” Valardi said. “In fact, I believe a persuasive case can be made that a bilateral agreement between Beijing and Manila would be a positive development.”