by Oliver North
“Stop!” the president barked. “I told you, I don’t want any paper on this matter.”
The lawyer took a deep breath and said carefully, “Madam President, this is attorney-client privileged information. It’s just between you and me. These are my notes. They can’t be subpoenaed by Congress or anyone else. I made them to ensure accuracy. Besides, most of this is open-source data from the MESH. Anyone can get this information if they want to dig for it.”
“Very well,” the president snapped impatiently. “Just give me the essentials about him. I have a cabinet SVT in fifteen minutes, a fund-raising luncheon at noon, and Muneer has to be in touch with the Caliph before we take off for the West Coast campaign swing.”
Walsh withdrew a single printed page from the file and began to read. “Full name, James Stuart Newman; age thirty-six, Chief Operating Officer of Centurion Solutions Group, born December 7, 1995, in Jerusalem. Only son of—”
“Jerusalem?” The president broke in. “Is he an American citizen?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Walsh replied, then continued from his notes. “When this person James was born, his parents, Peter and Rachel Newman, were apparently in Jerusalem on some sort of undercover mission for our government. There isn’t much in the readily available unclassified record, but—”
“Peter Newman . . . why do I know that name?” the president said, more to herself than her aide. “Is this Peter Newman still alive?”
Now Walsh pulled a PID from his shirt pocket, scrolled down the screen, and continued, “Peter Newman, age seventy-six, Major General, U.S. Marines Retired; wife, Rachel, age seventy-five. He’s the chairman of Centurion Solutions Group, a company that does everything from government contract security work to telecommunications support; they even have their own little airline—”
“That’s why I knew the name Newman,” she exclaimed. “His company, CSG, or whatever they call it, has a contract with WHCA for some kind of communications support.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the lawyer replied gamely.
“Okay, what else? Get on with it.”
Walsh returned to the entries on his PID: “Tax records show Mrs. Newman owns property on Pawleys Island, South Carolina, and a three-hundred-acre farm in Clarke County, Virginia. It has an airstrip and apparently the whole extended family lives there. It’s on the Shenandoah, along the west slope of Mount Weather—”
“Mount Weather!” the president interrupted again. She looked stunned. “Our Mount Weather? The Emergency Backup Site? Who gave them permission to live there?”
Walsh looked pained. The conversation was veering off in directions for which he was unprepared, but after riffling quickly through his PID, he pressed on: “I believe the property has been in Rachel Newman’s family for decades—long before the federal government started building the underground facility at Mount Weather in the 1950s. Evidently the Newmans turned the farm into some kind of family compound early in this century.”
“So James Newman—our ‘person of interest’—is the son of Peter Newman . . .” The president, leaning against the edge of the desk, was all attention. Walsh recognized the expression. He thought she looked like a cobra about to strike. “Who else lives at this ‘family compound,’ as you put it?” she asked.
Walsh scanned his notes and replied, “They call it Narnia Farm. Satellite and UAV imagery shows seven houses on the property and numerous outbuildings—barns, stables, equipment sheds, and the like. It’s the listed address for Peter and Rachel; James and his wife, Sarah, and their four children; James’s sister, Elizabeth Anne Madison, and her husband, George, and their four children; and apparently Peter Newman’s widowed sister, Nancy. They all seem to live there at least—”
“That’s only four houses,” interjected the president, who had been listening intently. “What about the other three?”
“There’s a residence for a farm manager and a guesthouse. There is also a residential-style building that is listed as the CSG corporate headquarters, though the company apparently has numerous other properties in the U.S. and leases property in several foreign countries,” Walsh replied. Then, scowling at a sheet of paper he withdrew from the file, he added, “They also have eight solar collection arrays and four windmills visible in overhead imagery.”
“Windmills, solar collectors? Sounds like an Anark hole,” the president said. “Are all their taxes paid—local, state, federal? Do they have permits for firearms at this place?”
Walsh consulted his PID and file again and responded, “The whole family files IRS returns at that address. They seem to be current. I can’t tell about their state and local returns or firearms registrations from what we have collected in this quick search.”
The president grimaced and said, “Well, find out. Contact the IRS the usual way and have all the Newmans and their company—this Centurion Solutions Group—audited. See if they are up on the MESH and the power grid and if their kids are in certified schools. See what kind of political campaigns they support. What are their charitable deductions? If they are closet Anarks they won’t be hooked up to the electric grid and they will be doing that homeschooling crap most states have banned. Run an ATF check to see if they have properly registered any firearms. Now, tell me more of what you know about James—our person of interest.”
Walsh went back to his PID and spoke while scrolling down the illuminated screen: “James Newman graduated from the Naval Academy in the Class of 2018 with a computer science degree and was commissioned in the Marines. He has two Purple Hearts, one for wounds in action during the Sinai Operation in 2020 and another from Operation Iranian Freedom in 2025. He was the subject of a classified congressional investigation for an incident during the Shindand campaign on the Afghan-Iranian border for which he subsequently received a Navy Cross. In 2022 he married the former Sarah Cooper and they have four—”
“Enough about his love life and colorful military history, Larry. I know who James Newman is even if you don’t. I know him from the congressional investigation in 2026. He humiliated my late husband. What I want to know now is what he’s doing poking around in Canada stirring up questions about what happened in Houston three days ago.”
There was a brief pause while Walsh scrolled down on his PID before he resumed. “After the congressional hearings in 2026 he got out of the Marine Corps and joined Centurion Solutions Group. As I mentioned, Newman’s father is listed as chairman and CEO and other family members serve on the CSG board. We think the younger Newman is pretty much running the company but since it is privately held, we don’t know much else except what shows up on IRS filings, in court records, and congressional testimony.”
“What kind of court records?” asked the president.
Now Walsh proceeded without notes: “CSG has been sued twice in U.S. courts by the ACLU. The first lawsuit was brought against Centurion Aviation—when it was a commuter air service—because they profiled passengers so they could call themselves ‘a terror-free airline.’ The suit was dropped when they stopped flying scheduled routes and reorganized as an air charter service. CSG was also sued for ‘computer intrusion’ over their work for U.S. intelligence agencies. The company was also sued in The Hague at the World Court over the same kind of charge. They have very good lawyers at Williams & Connolly, so none of the cases ever went to trial—”
“What’s Newman’s connection to Marty Cohen, the scientist missing in Houston?” interrupted the president.
“The only relationship with Cohen we know of is that Dr. Cohen and Peter Newman—the father—were roommates at the Naval Academy. We don’t know of any connection to the son,” Walsh answered.
“Why is James Newman in Canada?”
“Was in Canada, Madam President. On Saturday he flew on a United Airlines flight from Dulles to Chicago and arrived in Calgary that evening on an Air Canada flight from O’Hare.”
“Why didn’t he just fly up there in one of his company’s planes?”
“Because Centurion Aviatio
n is banned in Canada for profiling passengers. It’s contrary to Canadian human rights laws.”
“So what is Newman up to?”
“Our Canadian friends tell me Newman spent Saturday night and all day Sunday with Dr. Steven Templeton—one of the scientists working with Cohen on this natural gas/hydrogen fuel cell. According to the Canadians, yesterday morning Newman was in the office of Dr. Davis Long, the other fuel cell researcher whose death is being investigated as a possible mur—”
“Stop!” the president interrupted. “In other words you don’t know why he went to Canada. Where is James Newman right now?”
Walsh bit his lip and said, “As of five minutes before I walked in here, we don’t know exactly where he is. According to his PERT data, he was in Calgary yesterday morning at 11:51:23, when he bought groceries using cash, and four minutes later he made a PERT purchase of 2.57 gallons of motor fuel. He apparently gave the Canadian authorities the slip because they were looking for him in Saskatchewan. At about 12:30 yesterday afternoon he dropped off the MESH . . . just disappeared. At 23:33:25 last night a DHS scanner at the airport in Kalispell, Montana, reported a very brief transmission from what may have been his PERT, but they think it was an anomaly. He hasn’t been detected since.”
He could see the color rising in the president’s cheeks. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper, but full of venom: “Anomaly! You’re telling me the man who runs CSG, the person described in the news as ‘the world’s foremost mercenary and MESH expert,’ the person who humiliated my husband in 2026, has just disappeared? That he might be in Montana in some Anark hole—or maybe somewhere else between here and Canada?”
When she paused to take a breath, Walsh started to interject, “We’ve issued a BOLO at all airports, border cross—”
She cut him off. “Don’t just look for him, find him! I want to know what he’s up to; who he’s communicating with; what if any connections he has in the Caliphate; and why he’s poking around the Marty Cohen disappearance. And when you locate Newman, see if you can keep track of him. We have forty-eight days until the election! Once you find him—then we’ll figure out what to do with him. Do you understand me?”
His throat suddenly dry, Walsh answered, “Yes, Madam President,” and headed for the Oval Office door that would allow him to exit into the Roosevelt Corridor.
As the lawyer reached the portal, the president commanded: “Larry, make sure the only people who know we’re looking for Newman are you, Murad, Smith, and me. Don’t share this with anyone else. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the lawyer answered, reaching again for the doorknob.
But before he could escape she added another warning: “And Larry, if you know what’s good for you, Mr. Newman will never know we’re looking for him or watching him.”
CHAPTER THREE
IN THE SHADOW
CENTURION SOLUTIONS GROUP OPERATIONS CENTER
22570 RANDOLPH ROAD
DULLES, VA
TUESDAY, 14 SEPTEMBER 2032
1045 HOURS, LOCAL
The trouble is, I don’t know that we’re any closer to finding Martin Cohen today than we were when I left here three days ago,” said James to his father. “Professor Templeton thinks Dr. Cohen may have been kidnapped—or killed—for the research he’s been doing on fuel cells and speculates it could be the Caliph, but nobody really knows. He acknowledged it could be the Russians, the Chinese, even some criminal enterprise, though he says that doesn’t seem likely.”
“You did all you could,” said Peter. “Your mother and I have talked at length with Marty’s wife, Julia. She told us he never mentioned any threats. Steven Templeton told you essentially the same thing. Perhaps the data you retrieved from Dr. Long’s office will lead us somewhere after we process everything we download from your PID.”
They were seated in the small, windowless conference room of the CSG Ops Center, and James Newman looked tired and very much in need of a shower and a shave. Across the oval table, U.S. senator Mack Caperton, ranking member and vice chairman of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence, leaned back in his chair.
“James,” said the senator, “tell me how you managed to get across the border and back here without being detained.”
The son looked at his father, who simply nodded. James shrugged and responded, “It was fairly simple. As you know, Senator, very few of the routes through the Canadian and U.S. sides of what they call Waterton Lakes National Park and we call Glacier National Park are patrolled. I simply ‘masked’ my PERT, muffled the Harley’s GPS transponder, turned off my PID, and followed the park road south, across the border.”
“How did you get from the border to Kalispell?” asked the senator, who had hiked most of the trails in Glacier Park.
James smiled for the first time since he arrived an hour earlier and replied, “I followed that dirt track you took us on years ago, west of Mount Cleveland, south to Going-to-the-Sun Road, and took it west, over the Continental Divide, down to Lake McDonald.”
“Whew! That’s rough country!” exclaimed Caperton.
“Yeah,” said James. “I had to dismount from the Harley a few times where the track was washed out or to get around deadfalls, but the ‘night eyes’ helped. And after I got to the Sun Road, I just turned on my headlight, rode all the way down to Apgar, and then took U.S. Route 2 to Columbia Falls and on to Kalispell.”
“Where did you leave the motorcycle?” the senator asked.
“I put it in a storage container beside our CSG hangar at the Kalispell airport FBO, jumped on a Centurion Aviation Gulfstream, and landed at Dulles a few minutes before I walked in here to find you and my father conspiring,” replied James with a grin.
The senator nodded, paused a moment, then said, “You may want to have the cycle put somewhere else. There are a lot of people on both sides of the border looking for you and that Harley right now.”
“Why?” asked James.
“I explained this to your father before you arrived,” Caperton said. “As you know, the SSCI gets a copy of the PDB every morning. This CSG Ops Center is one of several contractors that submit information each night to the DNI for inclusion in the PDB.”
“Uh huh,” James grunted.
Caperton continued, “Well, since the Houston attack on 9-11 there have been several ‘supplemental reports,’ all of which posit that the events there were the work of Anarks, Mexican drug cartels, or even Jewish radicals. The president said as much when she addressed the much abbreviated energy conference in Houston on Sunday—”
“But what does that have to do with me?”
“I’m getting to that,” said Senator Caperton. He then added warmly, “My, you’re impatient. You’re just like your dad.”
“Not really,” replied James, without a smile.
Caperton let it pass and continued. “Yesterday, after the death of Dr. Davis Long, DNI—supposedly with the help of Interpol, the Canadian authorities, and our FBI—produced a report that said her suicide was somehow connected to the disappearance of Marty Cohen, and suggested she was despondent because his loss would delay commercially viable fuel cells for years—”
“Well,” James interrupted again, “for starters, she didn’t commit suicide. And I still don’t get what this has to do with me.”
“Patience, young fella,” Caperton said, leaning forward in his chair. “The report I just referred to was recalled last night. In its place, under the heading ‘New Intelligence,’ the DNI now claims the Canadians have DNA evidence linking an American mercenary to Dr. Long’s death—and speculates it may have been a contract killing.”
“Mercenary? Who?”
“You.”
“Me?”
“Yes,” Caperton said. “One of the assessments even suggests a motive by claiming CSG has a fiduciary interest in preventing the new fuel cell technology from being developed.”
“What would that be?” asked James, looking stunned.
&n
bsp; The senator reached into his pocket, pulled out a single sheet of paper, and slid it across the table to James, saying, “I copied the two paragraphs from this morning’s PDB because they were so unusual. Your dad has already seen this.”
[TOP SECRET/NOFORN]
[U] The Department of Energy estimates that mass-produced, commercially viable, fuel-cell technology [FCT] for internal combustion engines, electrical generation, and residential/commercial heating/cooling will reduce global demand for petroleum-based hydrocarbon fuel and atmospheric carbon emissions by up to 90 percent within five years of introduction.
[C] Centurion Solutions Group, Inc. [CSG] currently has contracts with four U.S. energy companies to provide security for personnel and equipment in eleven countries. CSG also operates a fleet of twenty-one vessels, thirty-seven remotely piloted aircraft, eight fixed-wing, and fourteen rotary-winged aircraft to protect pipelines, move energy company personnel and equipment, and conduct counterpiracy operations for petroleum tankers operating in international waters. Successful introduction of FCT on a global scale will likely have severe adverse financial consequences for hydrocarbon energy companies and result in termination of nearly all of CSG’s energy-protection services.
James shook his head, handed the sheet of paper back to Caperton, and said, “This is nuts. And if it makes any difference, it’s also wrong. We have sixteen piloted aircraft and twenty-three seagoing vessels. And our ‘energy-protection services’—as they put it—are less than twenty percent of our business. Who prepared this part of the PDB?”
“I don’t know who—but it’s from the DNI,” said Caperton. “In all my years on the SSCI I’ve never seen a U.S. company referred to by name in the PDB. And it’s pretty clear to me the reason why Centurion is mentioned by name is to justify what the Attorney General did this morning.”
“What’s that?”
“An Interpol BOLO has been issued for your apprehension as a person of interest in the death of Dr. Davis Long and the terror attack in Houston on the eleventh. That’s why I asked your father to meet me here. I didn’t want any of this said on a phone or sent over the MESH.”
