People Raged: and the Sky Was on Fire-Compendium (Rick Banik Thrillers Book 1)

by Craig Martelle

  “Two days ago, the NSA intercepted a new message from the faceless man to his handlers in Syria. We expected this message, based on the first, and were able to dial in the algorithms. This new one suggests that as of Wednesday, two days past, they had produced an unknown quantity of TATP.” The group at the table reacted in a number of different ways. Some upset, some shaking their heads, some posturing. Rick stood as the President nodded for him to continue.

  “Please, everyone. The information is about as close to 100% correct as we can get. TATP’s optimal potency is less than a week after it’s been produced. It'll work all the way up to three weeks, but loses its kick over time. I want to make two last points. First, the metadata from the faceless man’s phone suggests he made the call from Herndon. Second, one week from when the TATP was ready is the busiest travel day of the year. Nine days after is the busiest shopping day of the year.”

  Rick sat down as the room erupted with most of the country’s senior leaders making recommendations to the President at the same time. Rick looked from face to face, confused, reminded of the very first meeting on the first message over two weeks ago. Men argued over the analysis of the analysis, heading rapidly in multiple directions.

  There were calls to inform the Governors of each state. Senator Webber’s representative demanded a full briefing, including budget impact for the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence. The Secretary of DHS, Thaddeus Throckmorton, glared around the table, insisting he should be leading this effort and not the CIA. He finished by scowling at Rick.

  Where in the hell were you when we were in YOUR Fusion Center trying to figure this out in the first place? Rick thought, hoping the Secretary could read his mind. You are such a dickhead.

  Rick’s jaw tightened until his teeth hurt, and he blinked rapidly as the image of an intelligence meeting in Mosul ended after a bunch of guys talked, didn’t resolve anything, and then left for the day. The next day, they weren’t the ones putting a tourniquet on what was left of a blown off leg. Rick hadn’t realized he was clenching his fists until he attempted to lift his hand to rub his eyes and ended up pounding his fist against the underside of the table instead.

  He closed his eyes as he tried to relax and work out some of the visions from his past.

  “Rick? Rick?” He heard from a long way off. The DDO looked at him, concerned. The President held his hands up, demanding silence.

  “What do you recommend we do, Rick?” he asked in a fatherly tone, although they were roughly the same age.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I was back in Mosul, where some senior leaders told me to stay quiet when there were indicators that there was going to be an attack on the central compound. The next day, I was in the mess tent when it was blown up. Twenty-two good people died that day. I apologize for getting distracted. I appreciate the opportunity to raise this issue here, and although my opinions are probably the most naïve here, I think we need to focus our attention on Dulles on Wednesday, dogs and more dogs as we have to minimize the bottlenecks before the crowds gather.”

  The President nodded as he focused on his clasped hands. Some of the people at the table started to speak again, but he stopped them with a gesture.

  “Thad, without your Fusion Center and your people’s participation, we would have never made it this far. Thank you for being a team player and now, going forward, you have the lead. Coordinate with the Attorney General and the FBI to get local LEOs spun up and engaged. I’ll make some room on my schedule this afternoon if you can ask Senator Webber to stop by,” the President tipped his chin at the Senator’s advisor, “bringing key members of the SSCI as needed. I’ll brief them personally. Tom,” looking at the Director of National Intelligence, “make sure you support anything Thad needs. You have every asset at your command to devote to this effort, as you determine necessary. And Rick, thank you for your service to our country.”

  As the President stood, so did everyone else. He shook a few hands on his way out the door. It was exactly 9 am.

  Rick looked at the door and started to make his escape when a hand grabbed his arm and pulled him back. The DDO held him firmly in place. Rick turned around, and the shorter man let him go. Rick looked at hostile faces glaring back at him.

  He was the messenger, and this was a DC shooting gallery. Rick realized how ill-equipped he was to interact with Washington’s power brokers. He didn’t know what would soothe hurt egos having no idea what hurt those egos in the first place.

  Although he really wanted to leave, the DDO would dictate what they did next. Leaning close, Rick whispered loudly into Dave Allister’s ear, “They look like they want to kill me.”

  The DDO leaned back to him and Rick tipped his ear down. “Who’d you work with from DHS?”

  “Andrew Bridges,” Rick whispered back.

  “Mr. Secretary, your Deputy, Andrew Bridges has been on top of this thing from the word go. He can step in and lead right now without missing a beat.” Dave said in a loud voice, but not yelling.

  The Secretary’s demeanor changed instantly. He looked around to make sure the others had heard, which they did.

  “I’ll have my people let you know what they need. Thanks Rick for doing some of the legwork. And that’s good news about our FBI Agent, huh?” He said with a broad smile in full politician mode.

  With the Alpha male confirmed, the politicking quickly reduced in volume with most people focusing their attention on the DHS Secretary.

  With a subtle nod and a casual excuse, the DDO pushed Rick toward the exit. He signaled for silence as they retraced their steps to the back door, where not surprisingly, the DDO’s car and driver were waiting.

  “It’s like magic,” Rick said, both surprised and pleased by the efficiency. At least one small part of his world wasn’t muddied with politics and egos. He thanked the driver and got in after the Deputy Director.

  Handing Over the Reins

  “So, how do you think it went?” Dave Allister asked once the car moved into traffic.

  “I was going to ask you that same thing. I’d like to think I made my point, but it was lost as other concerns came into play, shall we say?” Rick tried to be diplomatic, but he couldn’t tell if he was making his point or not.

  “You mean when the big dogs were checking to see who could pee highest on the fencepost?” He asked undiplomatically, without waiting for an answer. “At the end of the day, are they going to do what we need them to do? I think that answer is yes. I am afraid that if the attack isn’t Dulles, we, what I really mean is you, are going to lose some credibility. Over the next few days, we, and I mean you, need to plant that second seed about malls and shopping on Black Friday. Maybe this group is kinder and gentler and will only hit some monuments on Thanksgiving Day when no one is around.”

  A legitimate question, Rick thought, but off base.

  “I don’t think so. The leader in Syria seemed too happy for simple destruction of monuments. They made a big show of destroying some ancient temples in Palmyra, but that was to sell the antiquities on the black market, improving their value. They don’t need to do that here. Killing people and toppling the power structure have to be at the top of their list. I don’t see any value if they blow off one of Abe Lincoln’s legs.”

  “I agree, Rick,” the DDO said. “What’s going to be the hardest part going forward?” He narrowed his eyes as he leaned back to get a better look at the younger, taller man.

  “Keeping it quiet while we rally the LEOs. We want to catch these guys, not scare them off,” Rick said while focused on a spot on the floor.

  “No,” the DDO said quietly, “not for you. The hardest part will be letting go. Rick, you have to give them everything and walk away.”

  Rick looked at the DDO in surprise. “I don’t understand.”

  “Weren’t you just in the same meeting with me?” He asked pointedly, then shook his head. Of course, Rick didn’t get the politics of it. “DHS has taken full responsibility for this show. You have to send ever
ything to Andrew Bridges and wait to see if they want you on the team.”

  Rick exhaled sharply, then closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the soft headrest of the stretch Cadillac. “What have I done?”

  “What you’ve done is made the senior leadership of this country aware of an imminent threat, and most importantly, you got them to believe it. I’m not sure you could have done more,” the DDO said trying to build Rick’s spirits.

  “I want to say that I’ve lost control but was never in control, was I?” He opened his eyes and looked at Dave Allister, a stocky man who looked like he should be on a wrestling mat and not deep within political wrangling.

  Dave raised one eyebrow at Rick.

  “So what do we do now, boss?” Rick asked with a half-smile. Welcome to the halls of power, he thought to himself.

  “We run a parallel effort, of course, without getting caught doing it. Do you really think I trust anyone in that room? And I mean anyone…” The Deputy Director emphasized the last sentence.

  The President was in that room, among others almost as distinguished.

  “Do you think they feel the same way?” Rick asked, not expecting an answer.

  The DDO assumed a blank expression on his face. He’d let Rick figure that one out for himself.

  “So the team isn’t disbanded, but what about the representatives from DOJ, DoD, and FBI?

  “You mean Becky, Travis, and Xandrie? You can keep them, but come up with some joint task force name to interface with the FBI on the intelligence gathered from the Bagdad Market. Easy enough. Race will sign off on it.” The DDO continued looking at Rick. He seemed to be studying the younger man.

  “Really, how did I do in there?”

  “You killed them, Rick. I could not have anticipated a better delivery. Anytime you bring up something like this, one or more of the groups will feel as if they’ve been accused of not doing their jobs. Although it’s probably true, they don’t want to hear it and especially not in there. You got the President on your side. That was the most important thing, and next, you gave props to the agencies without making it look like any one of them failed. They still felt that way. It really should have been DHS, who had the lead on this from the start, but hey, it’s all about saving America, right?”

  “That is what we tell people,” Rick said, watching the DDO lean back and close his eyes. The conversation was over. Rick received as much political instruction as he was going to get that day.

  And he could study the interactions from a fifteen-minute meeting for the rest of his life and still not understand it all. He knew that he’d replay the briefing over and over in his head. It would get worse with each retelling until the only thing left was him trying to put it all out of his mind.

  He expected it wouldn’t be long before he was back in a cubicle.

  It was nice while it lasted, but it sounded like his term at the CIA wasn’t yet over. His pay raise was still intact. At least he had that.

  When they arrived at the parking garage, the DDO shook Rick’s hand and told him to keep his head up. As he walked away, he turned back and added that he’d be keeping his eye on Rick.

  Rick stopped and watched as the man disappeared into an elevator. What exactly did that mean? He asked himself.

  With no time to ponder the inexplicable, Rick headed upstairs. It was still Friday, and he had lots of information to send to the Department of Homeland Security. If Rick was concerned about getting the credit, there was no doubt this baby was his. If it didn’t pan out, then his career was over.

  He put that thought out of his mind. The one thing that never wavered was Rick’s confidence in himself. He knew the messages were real, and he guessed at the most likely targets. If the terrorists didn’t hit Dulles, he was afraid of what they would attack. He always took his family shopping on Black Friday. By going, at least he could influence the process, and be there to protect his family from the insanity of Black Friday shoppers.

  When he returned to his office, Travis and Becky were waiting. They called Bobbie Mac, and he appeared in no time. They wanted to know how it went. What was the President like?

  Rick walked them through his morning, including the servant entrance tour of the White House. He replayed the meeting, including his five-minute recap for the President with the call to action to protect Dulles Airport.

  He stared at a point on the wall, seeing the faces from the meeting look at him, some as if he were gum on their shoes.

  Travis and Becky were exceptional listeners, as they were both patient and listened with their eyes. Travis put a hand on Bob’s arm to keep him from interrupting. Bob was not a patient man. Rick was more talking to himself than them as he relived that brief period of time.

  “And it was all done in fifteen minutes?” Travis finally asked to break Rick from his reverie. “Just making an observation that you took thirty minutes to recap it.”

  “Sorry, Travis. It’s the same but different. I get internal politics and personal agendas, but I will never understand it at the level they were playing in there.” Rick shook his head. He played chess one or two moves ahead, but the elder statesmen in the Situation Room played all the way to the end, each determining the victory conditions based on their own desires.

  And that’s where he got lost. He liked the military version of winning and losing: destroy the enemy’s ability to fight. It was so much more cut and dry.

  “Where do we go from here? I think I heard it, but want you to confirm,” Bob said.

  “I’ll consolidate everything we have and send a note to Andrew Bridges. He’ll take it from there. As a matter of fact, I better do that right now. Time is not on our side. Hang with me for five because we have one direction from the President and then we have our marching orders from the DDO.”

  Rick rolled through the screens on his system and copying and pasting, then added the DHS Deputy to the access. He copied that link into an email and noted as per the Secretary of the DHS, supported by the President, the Amber Rose effort would be led by the DHS, and specifically, Andrew Bridges. Rick added his standard closing saying that it was an honor to work with the Deputy and if he had any questions at all, please don’t hesitate to ask.

  While Rick worked on his email, Bob McClendon had moved closer to the door. His body language said that he was ready to go. When Rick looked up, he took it in in an instant.

  “The DDO said that we are to run a concurrent effort, in support, looking at what the FBI found at Bagdad Market. The CIA’s charter isn’t for domestic issues, but we can get access to anything with an international aspect such as the overseas connections. And since we’ve started checking, let’s continue looking for the precursor chemicals. Do we have any bites?” Rick asked.

  “I’ve looked into that. I focused on the hardest one to get, Sulfuric Acid. I looked on the internet to see where you could get it in quantities needed. I’m assuming something like 50 to 100 pounds of TATP. I only checked after the date of the previous message. If the faceless man or one of his lackeys bought it before then, I’m not sure we’ll find it.”

  “Sounds like a valid approach. And?” Rick asked, motioning for Travis to continue. Bobbie Mac was halfway out the door at this point.

  “There are a few chemical companies that sell to other chemical companies, research places, laboratories, and schools, you know, high school chemistry and Universities where it’s cool to see acid burn through stuff. I called them all, but they don’t sell to individuals. The only place I could find that sold bulk to anyone was Grainger supply. They sold to companies, but their standard on that was almost non-existent. Anyone can register an account with them.

  “I can head up there right now, but I’m just DoD, no horsepower. Maybe Becky can tag along? Then we can see what they have. I’m afraid this is me on the internet and phone. If they stole it, then, well... That’s the beauty of TATP. The chemicals are common, easily found, easily gotten.”

  “Sure. Wait. Becky, is there a n
ational database for stolen goods?” Rick asked, finally looking at the lawyer while making a point not to look at Bobbie Mac.

  Becky wore a smug expression. “Already checked. No thefts reported of sulfuric acid in any of them. I checked the entire year, and it seems that thieves are smarter than trying to run away with something that will scar them for life.”

  Rick nodded and gave her the thumbs up. “Bobbie Mac, for Pete’s sake. If you want to go, just say so.” Rick couldn’t stand it anymore.

  “Rick, honestly, I’d love to stay, but I have all of my other work to do. When they added me to Amber Rose, they didn’t relieve me of anything else I had. It’s Friday before Thanksgiving, and actually, I had vacation approved for next week.”

  “I feel you, Bobbie Mac. I’m not a tyrant. With today’s events, and now that we’ve sent everything we have to DHS, I think we could all take the week off, and no one would care,” Rick said cynically. “Go on, finish what you need to and enjoy your vacation. I have no idea what the week after Thanksgiving brings. If we don’t catch any terrorists in the next week, I think we’ll all return to our previously mundane existences, except for me. And I’ll be fired,” Rick said with a laugh.

  Rick knew he was right, while deep down, he wanted to be wrong. He wanted no one to get hurt. Rick felt his stomach clench as he tried to reconcile his personal ego and professional pride with the desired outcome that nothing happen.

  He leaned back in his chair and turned toward Travis. “We have to stop the faceless man. You two take off and see what Grainger can do for you. I’ll work the phones and try to maintain my access to Amber Rose so I can follow what DHS is doing.” Rick looked at his phone, then hesitated. “Neither of you are planning to fly on Wednesday, are you?”

  “Not anymore,” Becky answered with a smile, showing that she believed the analysis.

  Welcome to our cynical, paranoid world, Rick thought as he watched the young lawyer throw her purse over her shoulder and stroll out, bold and unafraid, Travis following. Travis expected that she wanted to drive, and that worked for him. He could call Xandrie and check in.