Deep State Stealth

by Vikki Kestell

  “I didn’t sleep much last night if that’s what you mean.”

  Kennedy took a deep breath. “Okay. I take it you’ve familiarized yourself with the White House’s public floor plans? Of course, the public plans are generalized. We keep the detailed plans secret for the President’s safety and security.”

  “The nanomites downloaded the actual plans when Jayda visited last December. I have them memorized.”

  “Memorized?”

  “Yes. Everything. Right down to the Situation Room under the West Wing, the Presidential Emergency Operations Center under the East Wing, the tunnels connecting them, where your agents and snipers are located, and all your other security measures, including the frequency of your earwigs.” (An earwig being the earpiece Secret Service agents use to communicate with each other.)

  “Son of a sea biscuit.” Kennedy’s gaze seared Zander.

  “I’m on your side, remember?”

  Kennedy continued raking Zander with his suspicious, probing gaze until Zander shrugged.

  “I’ll be about my business, then.”

  “How do we contact you while you’re here if we need you?”

  Zander had the nanomites dispatch an array of nanobugs to Kennedy. “That’s a good question, particularly since I haven’t flushed out the unauthorized listening devices yet. Since we can’t be sure of your privacy until I’ve swept the House and the West Wing, please don’t say my name aloud. If you need me . . . tap the back of your cell phone three times.”

  Kennedy’s eyes narrowed. “Tap my phone. Three times. Do you also need me to click my heels and chant, ‘There’s no place like home; There’s no place like home’?”

  “If it makes you happy.” Zander watched Kennedy’s mouth tighten. “Look, just tap the back of it. The nanomites will, er, detect it and report your location to me. I’ll come find you.”

  “How the devil can the nanomites detect me tapping my phone if they’re with you?”

  “Does it matter? I’m here to do a job. The sooner I get to it, the sooner the President can breathe easier about his security and privacy.”

  Zander had the nanomites cover him. “I’ll start in the West Wing.”

  “Mr. Cruz.”

  “Zander.”

  “Right. Zander. Well, Zander, if I find out that the President’s confidence in you is misplaced—”

  “You won’t, and it isn’t. He’s my president. I will do whatever I can to preserve him and his administration.”

  Zander withdrew from the Map Room and made his way downstairs to the Palm Room. He eased out the door and across the West Colonnade that led to the West Wing. Inside, he followed a short hallway, turned left—and came to a standstill, daunted by the West Wing’s tight quarters and level of activity. Fortunately, the nearest stairway leading to the level beneath the West Wing was straight ahead, but that was all that was fortunate about the proximity of those stairs.

  He halted at the top of the flight of steps, studying the press of staff members coming and going—their expressions intent and purposeful, their pace hurried but quiet. Zander edged away as a man from the lower level took the steps two at a time to the top of the stairs then scurried away.

  Zander stared down the narrow staircase, loath to put himself into the staircase’s tight quarters, weighing the prospect of encountering someone rushing toward him if he did.

  I wouldn’t be able to dodge them if I tried.

  After less than five minutes in the West Wing, Zander’s nerves were jangling.

  Probably should have arrived long before any of the staff did this morning. I could have swept the entire West Wing by now without all this cloak and dagger business—and without risking a heart attack.

  He also admitted to newfound admiration for his wife. Man, Jayda, I don’t know how you do this with such ease. I’m half wrecked.

  Zander jumped back as a woman rounded the corner at a fast clip and started down the stairs.

  Here goes nothing.

  He moved in behind the woman and followed her down, taking a quick left at the bottom to reach the Secret Service Operations Center. When he arrived at their door, he was sweating.

  I’m in the belly of the beast, Lord. Please help me remain undetected.

  As he tried to calm himself, the door to the Operations Center swung open, and an agent exited. In the seconds the door was open, Zander caught a glimpse inside. He spied walls of monitors providing live feeds of both the interior and exterior of the House. Six agents manned computer workstations. Their eyes flicked from their workstation screens to the bank of monitors, roving over them, questing for anything out of the ordinary.

  Zander placed his hand on the Operations Center’s wall and sent the nanomites inside the wall where they located and followed the network cabling into the Service’s network. They downloaded the President’s schedule and the day’s roster of agents.

  Zander Cruz, four agents on today’s roster were previously assigned to Vice President Harmon.

  “Okay, Nano. Let’s start with them. Show me their locations.”

  One of them is nearby, seated at a terminal inside the Secret Service Operations Center.

  “Huh. And just how do you propose I get close enough for you to attach an array to him?”

  A minute later, the agent who had exited the Operations Center returned and opened the door. Zander again glanced inside, but it was impossible for him to jump through the doorway behind the agent before he shut the door.

  The thought of being trapped inside the Operations Center made his heart pump and his skin grow cold.

  Zander Cruz, we detect an elevated heartrate. Do you wish us to administer calming endorphins?

  “Uh, no. But thanks for the offer, Nano.”

  Any time, Zander Cruz. By the way, we have solved your dilemma and have inserted the array into our target. You may proceed to the next target’s location.

  “What? How did you get them to our target?”

  He knew the answer before he finished asking: The nanomites had attached two nanobug arrays to the returning agent. The agent had, unknowingly, passed one of the arrays to the target and retained the other.

  “Quick thinking, Nano—we may need the second array if we take out Harmon’s agents.”

  Relieved to quit the confines of the West Wing, Zander went in search of the other three targets who were posted throughout the House. He walked the length of the West Colonnade, through the Palm Room, and into the House proper. One by one, as he located and crept close to the agents, the nanomites sent an array of nanobugs to them. Then he found his way back to the Palm Room and exited onto the West Colonnade.

  Zander immediately felt moisture in the sweltering summer air and looked up. Thunderheads were building in the sky above him. “Nano. What’s the weather forecast?”

  Rain by noon, Zander Cruz.

  “Thanks.”

  According to the day’s schedule, the President was meeting with his cabinet.

  “This is an opportune time to sweep the Oval Office, Nano.”

  Zander made the turn where the West Colonnade skirted the east side of the West Wing. He stole down the walkway, avoiding the two agents stationed on the walkway outside the Cabinet Room doors. When he reached the Oval office, he peered through one of the windows and found it empty. Zander placed his palm on the glass and sent nanomites inside to investigate.

  Zander Cruz, we found two listening devices in the President’s office. We have permanently deactivated them.

  Zander shook his head. “Okay, so the President’s suspicions were justified. Let’s walk around the exterior of the West Wing and sweep the offices and rooms on its perimeter, Nano, starting with the Cabinet Room, since that’s where the President is now.”

  He retraced his steps to the Cabinet Room. With one eye on the agents standing post only feet away, he crept to the closest window and placed one finger on a window pane.

  Zander Cruz, we have detected no listening devices in this room.r />
  “Great. Guess we’ll go the other way, then, and check what we can from the outside.”

  Zander headed back toward the Oval Office, intending to swing around the corner of the building toward the offices on the West Wing’s south side. He had taken only a few steps when the nanomites interrupted him.

  Zander Cruz, one of our arrays within the Operations Center is reporting activity.

  Zander leaned against the outside of the Oval Office, closed his eyes, and went into the warehouse. He watched and listened as the feed from the nanobugs streamed into the warehouse. He picked up a few low voices from agents within the Operations Center, what sounded like soft commands spoken into wireless headsets. Nothing of note.

  A screen appeared, evidently from the target’s workstation.

  “What am I watching, Nano?”

  The target has opened a new window. This window has been configured not to register on the Secret Service network; however, we are watching it via the nanobugs. The target is transmitting audio collected from . . . a listening device within the Chief of Staff’s office.

  “We’ll deactivate that device in a minute. Where’s the audio going?”

  We have the IP address, Zander Cruz. Attempting to trace it now.

  “Okay. The agent has proven that he is on our adversary’s team. You know what to do. Take him out.”

  Zander kept watching the live feed from the array of nanobugs, waiting for the command from the nanomites to the array to take effect. For several minutes nothing happened—until the agent closed down the window before the audio transfer was complete.

  “Can you tell what’s going on, Nano?”

  The target’s respiration has risen slightly. Skin temperature has cooled a degree; skin is clammy. He has remained seated at his station; however—

  The live stream from the nanobugs erupted with the unmistakable sounds of retching and gagging, followed by the raised voices of other agents inside the Operations Center. Though the feed was garbled, the voices talking over each other, Zander made out several sentences.

  “Oh, man, Carter! Couldn’t you have used a wastebasket?”

  “Boyd—get housekeeping on the line. Right now. And someone open the door. The stench is killing me.”

  “Crud. There he goes again. Carter! Use the *blank* waste can, man!”

  Zander snickered under his breath. “One down. Three to go.”

  He opened his eyes. “Let’s go clean up the Chief of Staff’s office, Nano.”

  The south side of the West Wing was planted with shrubs and trees to shroud the Oval Office not so much from public view but from the view of a potential sniper. The trees also concealed a little patio with seating beneath the Chief of Staff’s windows and a decorative concrete pond beneath the offices of the President’s senior advisors. Zander threaded his way around shrubs and flower beds and stood on the pond’s edge to reach the senior advisors’ windows.

  Zander Cruz, we detect no listening devices.

  Zander moved on to the patio. The corner office belonged to the President’s Chief of Staff. He placed his hand on one of the Chief of Staff’s office windows.

  Zander Cruz, we detect a listening device in this room. The device is active.

  “Can you tell me what’s going on inside?”

  The Chief of Staff, Marcus Park, is engaged in a phone conversation. This is the audio our target was transmitting before he was interrupted.

  “Can you tell who Park is talking to?”

  He is speaking with the White House Press Secretary, Zander Cruz.

  “Okay, well I guess what matters most is that he’s being spied on—and we need to change that.”

  Minutes later, the nanomites reported, Zander Cruz, we have deactivated the listening device.

  Zander turned the corner. The next office was assigned to the Vice President. Since the office was unoccupied, Zander wasn’t surprised that it was clean. The National Security Advisor’s office, however, was not. The nanomites made quick work of that listening device, too.

  “These devices couldn’t elude the Secret Service’s daily sweeps unless the agents performing the sweeps know about them.”

  That is our deduction also, Zander Cruz.

  “How do we find the names of the agents performing the daily sweeps?”

  The nanomites did not immediately reply. When they did, they said, Zander Cruz, our target in the Secret Service Operations Center has been sent home.

  “Excellent news.”

  The remaining array within the Operations Center, sent to one of the trustworthy agents, has provided us with the list of agents conducting daily sweeps over the past three weeks.

  “And?”

  And a pattern has emerged. Every sweep over that three-week period included one of the four agents formerly assigned to Vice President Harmon’s detail.

  “That validates the President and Agent Kennedy’s concerns.”

  We agree, Zander Cruz.

  Zander grinned. “Then take ’em out, Nano.”

  The order is given, Zander Cruz.

  “You’ve been watching too much Trek, Nano.”

  Zander Cruz, we believe you have said, and we quote: ‘Is there such a thing as too much Trek?’ This antiquated projection of future space travel is quite entertaining.

  Zander laughed under his breath. “Point taken. Let’s go wait for the President so we can update him.”

  Zander retraced his steps, entered the Oval Office from its exterior doors, and waited for the cabinet meeting to adjourn. He wasn’t quite as anxious as he’d been two hours ago, but it was still surreal to be walking around in the President’s office, examining the tokens of history within its walls.

  When he heard low voices approaching the office, he placed himself out of the way, adjacent to the far side of the President’s desk. Kennedy entered first. He scanned the room for threats before he ushered President Jackson inside and closed the door.

  Jackson’s first words were, “I’d like to know how our friend is making out.”

  “I’ll signal him.” Kennedy drew his cell phone from his jacket pocket and carefully tapped the back of the case three times.

  Zander cleared his throat. “Here I am, Mr. President.”

  “Good heavens. You gave me a start, Mr.—”

  “Better not to use names just yet, begging your pardon, sir—although I can assure you that your office is clean. Now.”

  Kennedy stared from his phone to Zander. “How did you . . .”

  “I’m tempted to let you believe that I instantly teleported here, summoned by your ‘magic’ phone, but I’m not going to yank your chain, Agent Kennedy. I was actually already here, hoping for an opportunity to report my progress.”

  Kennedy scowled, but the President was eager to hear from Zander. “So, you’ve already made progress?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Take a seat, Mr., um . . . Never mind. Please sit down.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Zander sat on a couch and the President seated himself on a nearby chair with Kennedy hovering behind him.

  “Tell us what you’ve found.”

  “Your suspicions were justified, sir. Our, ah, tiny friends found two devices here in your office and one each in your Chief of Staff and National Security Advisor’s offices. Our friends have deactivated them.”

  The news brought the President no relief. He sat back and glanced up at Kennedy. “We were right. The conspiracy is still in play—they may try again to kill me.”

  “Not until they have a replacement for Harmon, sir—a vice presidential candidate of their choosing.”

  “And that’s a whole other can of worms.” Jackson returned his gaze to Zander. “What else do you have?”

  “The four agents formerly on Vice President Harmon’s detail. We caught one of them transmitting the audio of a phone call between the Chief of Staff and your press secretary. Then our . . . friends studied the list of Secret Service personnel who swept
the West Wing daily over the past three weeks and uncovered an interesting fact. At least one of the four men was on that roster each time.”

  Kennedy swore under his breath. “Inserting bugs under the guise of sweeping for them. Making certain their taps weren’t discovered. Traitors!”

  “Yes, they are. I believe we’ve found and deactivated the more crucial bugs, but I intend to come in early tomorrow and sweep the entire house before any staff members arrive.”

  “Good idea. But now that we’re certain of the four agents’ treachery, we’re back to the problem of ridding ourselves of these moles. How do you propose we do that?”

  Zander couldn’t prevent the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I think you’re going to hear of a particularly nasty strain of stomach flu making the rounds through the White House Secret Service ranks today. Four agents have already been sent home—or will be shortly. They will be quite, uh, indisposed.”

  The President leaned forward and whispered, “You made them sick to their stomachs?”

  “Those men will worship at the porcelain throne so often and so vigorously, they’ll wish for a quick death,” Zander deadpanned. “And in a few days, when they recover and consider themselves fit enough to return to work? All four of them will suffer a regrettable relapse.”

  “Doesn’t rid us of them permanently.”

  “No, but it gives us some time and relief, a week or thereabouts. It also doesn’t tell their bosses that we’re on to them. Not exactly, anyway. I didn’t want to make it obvious to our enemies that only the four plants were targeted, so . . . unfortunately for a fifth and supposedly innocent agent, he will be unable to report to work tomorrow.”

  Kennedy’s suspicion flared. “How did you do such a thing? What did you give them?”

  “If you don’t mind, I need to keep the details to myself.”

  “What if I do mind?”

  “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to trust me.”

  “You haven’t touched the President’s detail, have you?”

  “No. Only the four suspected White House agents—and the innocent one as a deflection. I’ll add a nonessential White House staffer to the sick list tomorrow, to further the ruse that stomach flu is going around.”