by David Capps
Steinmetz entered his authorization code and clicked “send.”
His secure phone buzzed. It was a text message from the White House ordering him into an emergency meeting in the Situation Room.
Yeah, he mused. Good luck with that. He put his civilian suit coat on, put his computer in his briefcase, looked around his home one more time and headed out the front door where his security detail waited.
“Good morning,” he said.
His personal detail saluted. “Good morning, sir,” they replied together.
“Change of plans today. We’re not going to the Pentagon. Take me to the private airfield instead.”
“Yes, sir,” his driver replied.
* * *
Jake, Honi, Stafford and Ken entered the NSA building just after nine a.m. They took the elevator down to B6. Deputy Director Ellington greeted them as soon as the elevator door opened.
“Congratulations!” Ellington said. “I know there’s more work to do before this is finished, but I just couldn’t let the moment pass un-noticed.”
The people of area 4 crowded around the lobby in front of the elevator, applauding and cheering as Jake, Honi, Stafford and Ken walked through.
“We have pizza and soft drinks for everybody back in area 4,” Ellington said. “And a bottle of champagne for the four of you to share. I am just so very proud of what you have accomplished. Come on, we can celebrate as we work.”
Jake, Honi, Stafford and Ken were grinning as they shook hands with co-workers and were patted on the back on their way to area 4. Brett and Tracy lingered as everyone else picked out slices of pizza.
Honi’s phone buzzed. “Text message from Aaron, in Bolivia. The computer there just received what he believes is an authorization code for the evacuation order to go out. The thing is, the communication originated in the Washington D.C. area.”
“Any idea who sent it?” Jake asked.
“No.” She turned to Tracy. “Have the calls gone out yet?”
“Nothing yet,” Tracy replied. She stared at the bandage on Honi’s right shoulder.
“You’re wounded.”
Honi glanced at the bandage. “Not seriously. What about senior level officials we’re watching?”
Computer screens started trilling. “Something’s happening…” Brett said. “We’ve got senior officials on the move—lots of reports coming in at the same time.”
“But no burner cell phones?” Honi asked.
“No,” Tracy replied.
“Then these people are the upper level of the Phoenix Organization, the ones connected to the encrypted fractal network. Who have you got so far?”
“Five… no, six state governors. The governors of California and New York just left without explanation,” Tracy said.
“Who else?”
“Oh my God,”
“Who?” Honi demanded.
Tracy turned to look at her. “The President’s Chief of Staff just walked out of a meeting in the White House. No explanation. He just left.”
Honi plopped down in a chair. The President is going to be royally pissed, she thought. No wonder they couldn’t find anybody in the Phoenix Organization. Everybody they counted on for information was part of the problem.
“Who else?” Jake asked.
Tracy turned to look at the computer screen. “This is incredible. CEOs and CFOs of the major banks are leaving.” She turned to Jake. “The same thing is happening with our major defense contractors. The top person, or in some cases the top two people have all walked out.”
“Are they being followed?” Honi asked.
“Oh yes,” Tracy replied. “Loose rotating tail.” She looked at the screen again and slowly sat in her chair, a look of astonishment and disappointment filling her face.
“What is it?” Honi asked.
“Our own director just left. I… I just can’t believe it.”
“Would your director have been able to turn on a phone?” Jake asked.
“Certainly,” Honi answered.
“Would he have had access to the phone plot program?”
“No. What are you thinking?”
“The mole. The phone in Colonel Jensen’s office,” Stafford said.
“Precisely,” Jake added.
“So you think the director could have been our mole?” Honi asked.
“One way to tell,” Jake said. “Send Brett to check his system.”
Honi looked at Brett. “Check in with Deputy Director Ellington first.”
Brett got up and walked to the elevator. Honi got up and looked at the rapidly enlarging list of senior officials leaving their offices. “The Director of Homeland Security and the Director of Central Intelligence have also left.”
“Those are all political appointments, confirmed by the Senate,” Jake said. “Any senators on the list?”
“Eight, so far.”
“What about the military?” Stafford asked.
Honi turned to him. “The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff didn’t show up at the Pentagon this morning.”
“That could mean anything,” Stafford replied.
“Except he was called into a meeting in the White House twenty minutes ago. He’s not there, either.”
“General Peter Steinmetz? Is anybody following him?” Stafford asked.
“No,” Honi said. “Nobody thought he would be involved.”
“Membership on the Joint Chiefs of Staff is also a political appointment,” Jake said. “Again, confirmed by the Senate.”
“The Joint Chiefs advise the President, the CIA, Homeland Security and a few others,” Stafford said. “They have no direct command authority.”
“Which puts the President right smack in the middle of it,” Ken said. “He appoints all of these people. The senate just confirms them.”
“Then why would he have us working directly for him if he’s involved?” Honi asked.
“He wouldn’t,” Jake said. “The President isn’t involved in the Organization. His Chief of Staff would have vetted all of the people who were appointed. The President makes the appointment, but his Chief of Staff would put the list together and make all of the recommendations.”
“So where does that leave us?” Ken asked.
“We follow the people and see where they go,” Honi said.
Jake paced back and forth in the aisle. “Something is wrong.” He looked up at the ceiling, thinking. “This is the most critical moment in our country’s history. Why would the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff not be at the White House? Nor in the Pentagon? With the events of the last 48 hours, he had to know something was going on. Why wouldn’t he be there?”
He looked at Honi. The expression on her face told him she was thinking the same thing he was.
“Oh crap,” she said.
Jake pulled his cell phone and called Briggs. “I need an FBI team at General Peter Steinmetz’ house, now!”
He turned to Major Stafford. “If Steinmetz sent the authorization code, and he’s running, we’re going to need a Black Hawk helicopter to catch up.”
Stafford grabbed his phone and relayed the order for the helicopter. “Black Hawk on its way. It’ll land in the parking lot.”
* * *
General Peter Steinmetz’ secure phone rang.
“Steinmetz,” he answered.
“General, the President is waiting for you in the Situation Room. Where are you?”
“I’ve been unavoidably detained, but I’m on my way. Please extend my apologies to the President and have him start without me.”
“Yes, sir.”
He smiled in satisfaction. Being the country’s top general carried a lot of weight, and when necessary, bought you the time you needed for more important work. Today everything changes. I no longer serve you, Mr. President. If you’re lucky, really lucky, you will get to serve me. Otherwise…
CHAPTER 22
At precisely 10:00 a.m., the burner phone plot in B6, area 4 at NSA lit up like the Ch
ristmas tree in Rockefeller Center.
“Calls going out,” Tracy said. “Format is encrypted text. It could take us days to break the encryption.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Jake said. He turned to Honi. “Your people have been going through the content of the phone calls, haven’t they?”
“Yes, they have, for the last two weeks.”
“Have they found any encryption software being downloaded?”
“I’ll check.” She wandered off to a quiet section and made her call. She returned a minute later. “No encryption software downloaded in the last month.”
“Then the encryption should be on the phones we got from Teague, Sylvia Cuthbert and Senator Thornton. If we send the message to one of those phones, shouldn’t it automatically decode it for us?”
Brett walked back into area 4. “You were right. The Director of the NSA was the mole. Unbelievable.”
“Tracy, can you check to see if one of the confiscated phones will decrypt these text messages?”
“I could handle that for you,” Brett said.
“No,” Honi said. “I need you going through traffic cams and satellite images. We have to find General Steinmetz, fast!”
“Any idea how many different messages we have, based on content?” Ken asked.
“Running a comparison,” Tracy said. “They’re all the same message.” One of the burner phones buzzed. “Message decrypted. ’Leave now’ is all it says.”
“Time to put the frosting on the cake,” Ken said. “Send out the press releases about the solar storm. When people panic, they are less aware. We want them walking right into the trap without thinking.”
“Yes, we do,” Jake said. “But after that last solar storm, we don’t want the general public to panic, so how about if we say it’s a weaker storm—that no damage is expected.”
“Sounds perfect,” Honi replied.
“I love it,” Ken said. “The Phoenix Organization members will simply believe we are lying about the severity of the storm.”
“And we are,” Jake replied. “Just not in the way they think we are.”
“Our Black Hawk is sixty seconds out. We need to go,” Stafford said.
“Brett, call me as soon as you get a location on Steinmetz,” Honi said.
“Will do.”
* * *
Jake, Honi, Stafford and Ken exited the front door of the NSA building as the Black Hawk was landing in the far corner of the parking lot. They ran between the parked cars, ducked under the whirling blades of the helicopter, and climbed on board.
“Vests,” Stafford shouted as he pointed.
The pilot of the Black Hawk watched as they fastened the bullet-resistant vests around themselves and strapped into the seats.
“Where to?” the pilot asked as soon as everyone had their helmets on.
“North, toward Washington,” Jake said. “That’s his starting point. From there, we’ll just have to see.”
The Black Hawk lifted off and banked north. Honi texted Brett. “Location?”
“Not yet,” Brett texted back.
The Black Hawk swooped over the Potomac River as the pilot called in for permission to pass through the restricted airspace of Washington. Major Stafford opened a weapons container and handed out rifles and ammo clips.
“Same kind you used in Bolivia.” After a short pause, the voice of General Davies came on the radio and through the headsets.
“Who are you after?”
“General Peter Steinmetz,” Jake replied. “He’s running.”
A few moments of silence followed. Jake’s phone buzzed. “Steinmetz home cleaned out. People, clothes, gone. Briggs.”
“Are you sure?” General Davies asked.
“Affirmative,” Jake replied.
“You are cleared through Washington airspace,” General Davies said. There was a short pause. “The Steinmetz family is wealthy. I think he has a private jet.”
“What airport?”
“No idea.”
“Thanks, Hunter out.”
Honi typed a text to Brett and waited for the reply.
“Steinmetz Foundation. Learjet 75. No location. No FP.”
“Okay,” Honi said. “We’re looking for an airport that will handle a Learjet 75. No Flight Plan filed yet.”
“Look for civil airports, general aviation. Nothing too big, and not military or commercial,” Jake added.
“I get a minimum runway length for a Learjet 75 of 4,440 feet,” Stafford reported.
“That narrows it down to six possibilities,” Ken said. “Cumberland, Easton, Frederick, Hagerstown, Salisbury or Westminster.”
“Cumberland and Hagerstown are too far,” Jake said.
“I think Salisbury and Westminster are too far, as well,” Honi added.
“That leaves Easton or Frederick,” Stafford said. “But those two are in opposite directions from each other. We have to pick one and go with it.”
Jake texted Briggs back, “Steinmetz house location?”
“Bethesda,” came back.
“Okay,” Jake said. “Steinmetz lives in Bethesda. He didn’t show at the Pentagon or the White House today. If he left from home, would he drive through Washington, or away from it?”
“Away,” everyone answered together.
“So, Frederick.”
* * *
General Peter Steinmetz’ armored limo pulled into the hanger with the Learjet 75 waiting inside.
“As soon as the family jet takes off, you can go home,” Steinmetz said. “Let the night crew know they have some time off, as well. I’ll call you when I’m ready to return to Washington. Until then, enjoy your vacation.”
“Yes, sir,” the head of Steinmetz’ security detail replied.
The General collected his briefcase with his computer inside and climbed up the steps into the plane.
“Let’s go,” he said to the pilot.
He heard the jet engines starting to rev up as he poured a glass of Boudreaux for himself and settled into his seat. He took a long sip of the wine and looked out the side window. As soon as the solar storm has done its job, I’ll step into the top military position on the planet. In the middle of all the destruction and chaos, our soldiers will quickly subdue any resistance that remains.
The jet moved out of the hangar and taxied to the far end of the runway. As the jet paused, ready for takeoff, he watched the bulletproof limo, with his security detail inside, leave the hangar. He smiled and raised his glass to them, knowing he would never see them again, at least not alive.
* * *
Ken Bartholomew strained to see through his side window as the Black Hawk helicopter approached the airfield from the southeast.
“Is that it?” Jake asked as he watched a jet takeoff from the Frederick Municipal Airport and climb into the sky. “Did we miss it?”
Ken Bartholomew used his hands to shade the glare on the window. He studied the markings on the body and tail section of the jet as it flew overhead.
“I don’t think so. It looks more like a Gulfstream to me, not a Learjet.”
“So where is it?”
“Brett has three traffic cams with Steinmetz’ limo heading in this direction. We’re in the right place,” Honi reported.
“I think it’s the one lining up on the runway now. Can we land in front of it and block it from taking off?” Ken asked.
“Can do,” the pilot replied.
As the Learjet 75 paused at the beginning of the runway, the Black Hawk dove and swooped in over the runway in front of it.
“Is that the right jet?” Jake asked.
“When we land, you can go over and ask them,” the pilot said.
As the Black Hawk was about to land, Ken unbuckled, took off his helmet, and opened the side door. He grabbed his H&K MP5, ready to jump out and secure the jet on the pavement.
* * *
“What the hell?” the driver of Steinmetz’ limo shouted. “They’re after the General!” He spun the wheel,
stomped on the gas and raced across the grass and onto the runway.
“It’s an army chopper,” his partner said. “We need to wait.”
“It just looks like an army chopper,” the driver said. “If it was a real army chopper, they would have called the General and he would have returned to the hangar. They’re trying to kill him!”
The armored limo raced down the left side of the runway, turning to the right at the last second to collide with the Black Hawk and push it off the pavement, clearing a path for Steinmetz’ jet to take off.
* * *
The impact of the armored limo with the left rear side of the Black Hawk violently jammed the helicopter forward and to the right, spilling Ken out of the open door and onto the crumpled hood of the limo, where he slid off, falling to the asphalt pavement below. His right knee hit first and hard. Because of the pain of impact, he lost his grip on the MP5, which skittered across the runway coming to rest fifteen feet away.
The tires of the limo screamed and burned, heading toward Ken’s side as it pushed the Black Hawk to the side of the runway. Ken rolled away from the smoking tire, as he yelled in pain from his injured knee.
* * *
The Black Hawk tipped suddenly to the left. Jake grabbed the harness strap to keep from falling out of the open door. He glanced down to see Ken disappear behind the limo as the back of the vehicle swung to his right, shoving the helicopter off the runway. He fired his M-16 into the roof of the limo on full auto, hoping to stop the people inside, but the bullets seemed to have little effect.
* * *
As the Black Hawk tipped, the blades sliced downwards toward the limo, striking the pavement in front of Ken, slashing up pieces of asphalt in the process. The blades struck the rear fender of the limo, both opening wide sections of the vehicle and shattering the rotary wings. Ken covered his head, waiting for the impact of the next blade to hit him.
* * *
Jake fell forward landing just inside and against the left side door, which was in the process of slamming shut. Part of Ken’s seat harness was hanging out of the opening. When the side door hit the harness strap, it jammed. As the helicopter came to rest, Jake tried to open the left door, but it wouldn’t budge.
* * *
As the limo cleared the runway, Ken looked behind him. The Learjet 75 was taking off, coming right at him. I’m in the middle of the damned runway! He watched the tires on the landing gear. The front tire was going to miss him, but a rear wheel wasn’t. He glanced at his MP5. If he rolled away from his weapon he could avoid the wheel and the jet exhaust. But by the time he could get to his weapon the jet would be long gone. As the front tire rushed by him, Ken rolled toward the MP5. The jet passed over him as he covered his head with his arms, tucking both hands under the shoulders of the bullet-resistant vest.
