by Martha Carr
The tunnels had been put in place after the British tried to burn down all of Washington and it became apparent there was the need for safe exits.
Other tunnels were added later including a shorter one that could take the President and his family from the private headquarters on the third floor of the West Wing down a fire proofed passage to a secure section in the basement. There was even a newer tunnel that linked to the nearby Metro Center station but was rarely used and never during the day when it would be impossible to guarantee moving about undetected by commuters.
All of the tunnels had been built using the simple cut-and-cover method from the bottom up with an excavated trench that was covered over by a clay roof. The oldest passageways were still lined with rows of large, handmade bricks and had initials etched in some of the stones by past presidential children starting with Theodore’s rambunctious brood.
A clay-kicker had been used by the early nineteenth century construction crews to quietly remove the hard clay soil by hand without attracting a lot of unwanted attention. The method made it possible to build the system of tunnels without disturbing any of the properties above or making a lot of undue noise.
Every tunnel originated from somewhere within the White House and there were even rumors that there were a few that had been boarded over and forgotten that at one time had led to less reputable parts of town.
The current president was known to use the passageway that burrowed under Lafayette Square in front of the White House to the Hay-Adams hotel with a side shoot that ended at the rector’s office in St. John’s Episcopal Church. It was necessary to meet with Circle operatives within the Episcopal Church from time to time who were known to wear vestments rather than a pin. Many of the ministers and bishops had managed to go undetected by Management or lower level Circle members for years and were seen as neutral mediators. Occasionally, it was even necessary for an operative to be spirited through the tunnels to the Hay-Adams where a safe room would be set up to keep them secure from harm in rather expensive surroundings.
The short tunnel to the church had been covertly put in by the Circle over a century ago to connect one of their main seats of early power back to the White House. However, when Management was in the White House it was barricaded from the St. John’s side and left to look as if it had been undisturbed for decades. None of the zwanzig knew anything about it except for the uppermost holder of all the cell information, known as the Keeper. Besides that one person there were only a handful of additional Circle officials who were aware of the extra passageway.
President Haynes had already used it more than once late at night to consult with the Bishop of Virginia, Lionel Crane who had been his friend in the Circle since they were young men at Episcopal High School just across the river. The President knew he could rely on Crane to not only tell him the truth but also help him to keep his integrity intact as much as possible.
Over time, the church had come to be known by the populace as the Church of Presidents but for a very few the congregation was more of a clue about who was moving within the top levels of the Circle.
The Hay-Adams had become the place where newly elected Presidents from both sides stayed with their families during the transition between election and inauguration. The stately hotel’s underground tunnel gave easy access to the team coming into the White House without raising uncomfortable questions from a prying public.
During large receptions the Secret Service set up cots inside the Hay-Adams tunnel so they could take turns catching quick naps. Rats were an unending problem inside the tunnels and large ones were known to prowl inside the passageways, waking the sleeping agents with a jolt from the sudden weight on their chests as the oversized rodents leaped from place to place. They rarely bit anyone.
Andrew Johnson used the tunnel that connected to the Treasury all of the time after Lincoln was first assassinated. He couldn’t be sure if Management would try to strike again and had set up a temporary office on the third floor of the Treasury. The windows overlooked the black bunting that had been draped across the buttress of the White House.
Fred and Maureen had stayed at the Hay-Adams together a few times, always requesting a room overlooking the White House where he could see the Secret Service on the roof quietly keeping track of who was watching them. It was one of the few times when he let himself give into the luxury of his surroundings and the high, antique bed with Egyptian linens, the ornate plaster ceilings, the rich wood accents of the walls and the elegant furniture.
Very powerful and fascinating people over the years who had come to town to take in a play at the nearby Kennedy Center or had business along K Street made a point to stay at the Hay-Adams. Their true intentions were never suspected.
For these few unique visitors there was always an unwritten appointment in their schedule when they slipped away to take the short walk two stories under the ground to the White House at the behest of the President.
Fred slipped down the old stairs to the windowless basement past the offices taken up by GS-12 and GS-13 government employees who worked under the constant glare of fluorescent lights all day and emerged after five o’clock to a dark sky. It would be well into April before the horizon would still have a tint of orange at that time of night that would gradually disappear by the time they’d made it to the Metro.
As he passed by the last of the cubicles he saw the impressions that were still visible in the basement floor where the old printing presses used to stand alongside large tables where employees had signed, separated and trimmed the sheets of demand notes by hand. They were some of the first government employees to have background checks even though they were regularly searched before leaving the premises.
Now, there were just neat rows of short cubicles with treasury employees hunched over their desks typing away at computers.
Everyone who worked down here was a junior executive but still had to have the TS-Delta clearance in order to ensure they would ignore the comings and goings through the wide doors on the far western wall. The first rule about working in that department was to never gossip about the door. One short conversation was a guarantee to not only get fired but endure a long interrogation.
Two Secret Service agents stood guard by the door at all times, one on either side, checking paperwork. Only someone who had a clearance of TS-DeltaTau was allowed to pass while the tunnel to the church was visible.
Fred walked through the last of the short maze of desks toward the door that was the entrance to the Treasury tunnel without making eye contact with anyone. No one was paying any attention to him. They all knew not to note anything about the visitors who passed briefly through their midst from time to time.
He walked toward the entrance as the agent swiftly unlocked the door and held it open. He never had to break his stride. He emerged in a narrow, short hallway of the West Wing and was greeted by another agent who said nothing as he went up the small back stairs to the private quarters. Someone had already informed the President he was en route.
“Mr. Bowers, so good to see you again,” said the President. He had moved to his favorite chair near the window and was waiting for Fred to enter.
“At your service, sir,” said Fred, as he waited for further instructions.
“Please have a seat and tell me what has you in Washington the day before a funeral. I assume this couldn’t wait.”
“No sir. We’ve taken possession of new and unexpected information.”
“Let’s have a look at it,” said the President, waving at Fred to sit down. Fred opened the report on the coffee table and pointed to the first row of numbers.
“These are Management bank accounts in Somalia, South Africa, China, Panama and Anguilla. They represent only a few of the accounts that were set up in recent months to move large amounts of money unseen by anyone else,” said Fred.
“How large are we talking?”
“Billions of dollars have been moved around. Much of it appears to be payments to
China. Those were harder to trace but we were able to track the funds until they disappear into Beijing. There are smaller payments in the millions sent to different parts of the Middle East and Africa, which are most likely payoffs.”
“For their natural resources,” said the President.
“No sir, they’ve been making agreements for gold, copper, diamonds and oil along more traditional lines where they knew we’d detect them. Not exactly visible but we knew what they were doing. That may have been more of a distraction for our benefit.”
“Then what is it?”
“Sir, we’ve been able to tie the funds to a network of terrorist organizations. They’re all relatively small and loosely connected around a radical view of Islam but they don’t seem to have any real connection to each other. The money has been used for arms and to boost certain local officials.”
“Can we tell what part of Management is controlling this money? How high does it go?”
“That is even more interesting, sir. Authority for the operation is coming from a self-contained cell buried near the top. We have someone in place in the structure but they were unaware of the plan. A new power structure appears to be coming to prominence and they have a more violent take on things,” said Fred.
“So the question becomes how do we deal with them,” said the President, as he sat back in his chair. “Is it possible to tell how long this has been going on or how many places they’ve managed to get their hooks in just yet?”
“No sir, not completely. Our best estimate is this has been going on for at least twenty years. We have integrated the intel reports on terrorist groups from 1970 to the present and we were able to detect similarities in a hundred different groups, some within the U.S. or North America.”
“Best estimate,” said the President, shaking his head. “Are we too late?”
“Too late for what, sir?”
“Too late to stop them without starting a widespread war.”
Fred pulled out an iPad and brought up a slowly revolving map of the world that had different areas all across the globe highlighted in blue or red with dotted lines and a progression of arrows connecting them.
“This is what we’ve been able to put together so far, sir. As you can see, a pattern emerges. War is actually their endgame. Not one large war but many, smaller wars that keep pulling different stabilized and independent governments into them. The governments use their resources of money and manpower to put out the fires and are too distracted to notice what’s going on in their own countries.”
“They have figured out how to get us to step out of the way voluntarily,” said the President.
“Yes sir, on the world stage and in our own infrastructures. We were able to detain one of their operatives who has since been reported as dead and question him on the operation.”
“Is he dead?” asked the President.
“Yes sir, he did not survive the interrogation.”
“This was necessary?”
“It was an unintended consequence. He was able to tell us, however, that the real intention was to foster a sense of frustration within these more stabilized governments by raising the general level of fear through a long series of small, unpredictable terrorist acts. Then, they introduce a roster of candidates for elections in Parliaments or Congress that have more radical ideas about how things ought to be run.”
“And they get actual air time because the powers that be look so ineffectual.”
“Yes sir, and because the voters they’re really courting have more comfortable lives than where the wars are being fought and have more to lose.”
“Is there any kind of response being put forth?” asked the President.
“Yes sir, we are working on that but its long term.”
“What does that mean?”
“They are too entrenched to stop head on and their plan is working. Millions of people believe the world is a more dangerous place. They have been very thoughtful about how to build their plan. There may be even more than we know about, just yet. But we can expose certain elements of the plan and draw connections to key figures we’d like to see step back without exposing that we are aware of the bigger picture.”
“And what is the longer range part of the plan that’s being developed?”
“The Schmetterling Operation, sir. They are still our best hope to splinter apart the Management,” said Fred.
“Ah, the Butterfly Project. How many years till that takes root?”
“Our first children from the orphanages have already graduated and are placed in various industries, including politics. They remain undetected and are seen as neutral by Management.”
“We are playing a very dangerous game, Mr. Bowers.”
“Yes sir, and there is one more piece of related news. We believe that that dead Circle operative in Georgia had found out about Management’s grand plan and downloaded the information onto a thumb drive. The same thumb drive that’s now in the hands of the Jones woman,” said Fred.
“The same thumb drive that also contains the list of nearly every child in every children’s home that we’ve placed around the world,” said the President.
“There may be further useful information on there as well. But we have been unable to see what’s on the thumb drive.”
“The Jones woman has refused?”
“We have not approached her to ask, sir. We need to be more certain of her answer.”
“You mean to determine which side she’s been on all along. All of those children,” said the President, letting out a deep sigh.
His chest felt a little tight as he tried to take back in a deep breath.
“Mr. President, are you alright?” asked Fred, concern in his voice.
“Can you get me a glass of water? How did it happen that so many years of effort is now resting in one person’s pocket? It is amazing that Wallis Jones and her entire family isn’t dead.”
“Not really, sir. We think they’re still alive because the top ranks of Management don’t know about the operation. The flow of money never reaches the top. If someone were to murder Wallis there would be a lot of inquiries within and not only would it put their plan into jeopardy it would interrupt their stream of income.”
“So how do they hope to get the information back without exposing their plan,” said the President, sipping the water.
“That is a good question, sir. We believe there may be a mole within our ranks who is close to the family and has gone to Richmond to take the drive and all that is on it.”
“Inadvertently exposing our network of children as well.” The President mopped his face with a handkerchief. “Do we have any idea who it is?”
“We have an unconfirmed report, sir. A zwanzig has been turned.”
The President turned ashen and loosened his tie. “Where did we get this information? Can it possibly be reliable?”
“Yes sir, the captured operative told us, shortly before he expired.”
Chapter Sixteen
An entire week had passed with Wallis having to wonder what might happen next. Yvette had died as a result. Wallis was tired of doing anymore waiting.
She sat beside Tom’ bed in her guest room waiting for him to finally open his eyes. He was propped up on pillows in the center of the antique sleigh bed. It was still early and no one else was up in the house. She heard the paper hit the driveway and looked up just as Tom’ eyelids fluttered open and he realized someone was sitting by his side.
“What?”
“It’s me, Wallis,” she whispered.
“What’s going on? Is everyone alright?” He tried to prop himself up on his elbows.
“Yes, lay back, it’s okay. I wanted to get you alone so we could talk.”
Tom looked at his sister in law. “You look pretty determined. What exactly are we going to chat about?”
“Norman said you were going to be a pleasant surprise and considering that so far three people I know have been murdered that’s got to be si
gnificant. So, I have to know, why are you here?”
Tom took in a deep breath and laid his head back on the pillow.
“You’re buying time, why is that?” asked Wallis.
“You know, I’ve always appreciated your directness. I’m hesitating so that I can give you as much of the truth as possible. How do I explain this?”
“Just try honesty and see how far that gets us. Did it ever occur to any of you that a large part of what may have gotten you into this mess is an inability to rely on the truth and then let it do its own work. I know, I know,” said Wallis, holding up her hand in protest. “Honesty appears to have had horrible consequences in the past but I’ve watched enough clients build entire lives on half-truths and it isn’t long before none of them are sure what to do anymore. They always end up miserable.” Wallis looked down at her lap. “I’m not sure I can live like that.”
Tom reached out and took her hand. “That’s why I admire you so much. Okay, let’s try pushing the envelope and go for a little more truth telling than normal. It’s a concept.” He hesitated and searched for the words. “I was called back, ordered here because what at first appeared to be a set of remarkable and tragic circumstances started to come together in a pattern. The only explanation for everything that’s gone on is that there’s someone from the Circle who’s been leaking some of their own truth to Management.”
“What does that have to do with you?”
“I am the current zwanzig that the highest cell in the Circle could trust, or so they hope. Let me explain. You see, all of the different mechanics of how we operate in the Circle and all of our plans for the future were broken into pieces and given to different cells that don’t communicate with each other. They aren’t even aware of who might be in the other cells or the numbers of cells like them that exist. It was the only way we could prevent a widespread failure like the one that happened to my grandfather and all of those people.”
