Zorn bristled. Was she being ironic? Slattery herself was certainly no hard-liner. From their first meeting, she had questioned his respect for the rights of detainees. And while she may have resigned herself by now to his winning the DRA contract, he couldn’t imagine her being happy about it. He hoped to change her mind.
“Well, since the Beltway media has already pegged me as a human rights violator, I suppose there’s little downside to letting people think what they want,” Zorn observed. “Sooner or later, any fair-minded person will find her prejudices proven wrong.”
His choice of pronoun was deliberate.
At that moment, Choe, whose eye had been wandering, spotted someone he knew across the room and excused himself. Slattery chose that moment to step closer and take a long draught of champagne. Judging from her unsteady hand, Zorn imagined it was far from her second glass.
“So are you comfortable with what DHS and Tetra intend to do with your Triage system?” she went on with a look of studied curiosity.
“Believe me, Margaret,” Zorn replied, looking into her eyes and marveling at their greenness. “I believe in the rule of law as much as anybody. I’ll be happy to follow any procedures that DHS and the White House lay down to keep us on the straight and narrow.”
“And if you came across abuses, you’d report them?”
“Of course I would,” he replied, setting aside for the moment DHS’s manipulation of Triage categories. “Why would I cover up problems that could get me in trouble later? Winning new business is all well and good, but a scandal this side of the Atlantic could jeopardize our global business. I would never allow that.”
“It’s a relief to hear you say so, Roger. May I hold you to it?” she asked, a smile spreading across her face as she drank more champagne. Zorn noted that this was the first time she had used his given name.
“I hope you will.”
“Then you have my support. By the way, have you received clearance yet to receive the classified portions of the DRA project?”
“Not yet. I just signed the nondisclosure papers yesterday. How about you?”
“They’re sending me the paperwork Monday. But, to be frank, I’m a bit nervous about what I might find.”
“If you’d like to compare notes, call me any time,” he offered, reaching for an opening to see her again.
“Yes, let’s do,” she replied with what Zorn thought to be her warmest smile yet. For a fleeting moment, she even placed a hand on his arm. But then her gaze drifted away before adding, “Looks like the crowd is thinning out. Time for me to slip away.”
“Not a bad idea. I’d offer to drive you home, Margaret, except I didn’t bring a car. I came with Brandon, my designated driver. We’ve been celebrating our win with a spot or two to drink and he volunteered to take the risk of being pulled over.”
“You can walk me to the elevator instead, if you want,” she replied, momentarily wobbling on her high heels.
Zorn left his glass on a roving server’s tray and held out his arm to Slattery. She took it and they headed off to the elevator bank. But when they arrived, she waved off the express elevator and opted for the local, pressing the button for the sixth floor while Zorn chose the lobby. A moment later, the doors opened and Slattery stepped out, only to pause and give him a lingering look.
“Good night,” Zorn said as the doors closed.
The image of her face remained in his mind’s eye all the way down. Suddenly it dawned on him that she might have expected him to follow her out. He cursed himself for not realizing it sooner. But then he thought of his wife and felt relief at having eluded a temptation that he might later regret.
On reaching the lobby, he texted Choe to meet him outside.
“Were you hitting on that woman?” Choe texted back instantly.
Zorn didn’t respond. And when Choe arrived, he made him delete the text.
A month after Zorn USA won the DRA contract, Roger Zorn returned from lunch late on a Thursday afternoon to a desk strewn with legal documents and financial printouts. A low table nearby was piled with newspapers and magazines covering the intifada and the recent wave of terrorist violence that the expanded DRA program was meant to address.
The intifada had spread by now to twice as many American cities while Islamist-inspired terrorist attacks had grown increasingly sophisticated. The jihadi explosive devices had morphed from car bombs into bicycle and motorcycle bombs, truck bombs, and even explosive-laden boats and drones.
Shootings had similarly progressed from random sniping to sophisticated assassinations against law enforcement officers and National Guard troops. In a few cities, high-profile bankers and business owners had been kidnapped and held for ransom in no-go zones where police dared not enter.
A few seconds after Zorn sat down to work, the intercom rang. It was Choe.
“You had two more calls from France while you were out, boss.”
Zorn’s jaw tightened. Every day for the past week he’d been getting calls from major European clients asking his advice on whether to consider suspending or downsizing their U.S.-based operations on security grounds.
“Who called this time?”
“AXA Insurance and Total Petrochemicals. They both want to know when the damned intifada will be over.”
“And they think I have a crystal ball?”
“They pay us the big bucks for security advice and they see we’ve just landed a big contract with DHS. So they figure we must know something useful. Don’t we?”
Choe was smart and skilled at his job, but sometimes his millennial sense of humor rubbed Zorn the wrong way.
“Do I need to return their calls?” Zorn asked the younger man without answering his question.
“Nah, I don’t think so, boss. Just give me something to say that will keep them pacified till the next big blowup.”
“Then tell them the administration has got this fully under control and that the intifada will be over by Labor Day. Watch for it to start winding down soon.”
“Wow!” Choe replied with a low whistle. “Are you sure you want to climb that far out on the limb, chief?”
“Detentions are on track to double every month. We’re already pulling troublemakers off the streets faster than their leaders can replace them. So unless the jihadis find a totally new source of recruits, it won’t be long before the intifada collapses of its own weight.”
Listening to himself, Zorn couldn’t help recalling the assurances of the CIA’s Tehran station chief in 1979 that “the Shah has everything under control,” or General Westmoreland’s famous “light at the end of the tunnel” quote at a Saigon press conference, a phrase first used by French general Henri Navarre to deny the deteriorating military situation in French Indochina. But Zorn was a team player and knew he had to toe the party line or risk losing the U.S. government’s confidence.
“Okay, then, that’s what I’ll tell ‘em,” Choe answered. “I just hope you’re right, boss, because I’d hate to lose good customers over this.”
He hung up without waiting for an answer.
Zorn put down the receiver and continued his review of progress reports on the deployment of Triage operators in a dozen new hubs across America, including Newark, Chicago, Atlanta, Miami and Houston. The national rollout was far from complete, but massive amounts of equipment had already been delivered to the new Triage facilities pending arrival of freshly trained operators and interviewers. Experienced supervisors had been flown in from Europe to help manage the setup. And Zorn Security had invested millions of its own money to make it happen.
Fortunately, during the previous week, Zorn USA had also been selected as one of three new air logistics contractors to support Tetra Corporation in moving specialized equipment and supplies to newly constructed detainee transfer sites in the Caribbean, North Africa and the Middle East. Though the air logistics contract did not look to be as profitable as the Triage contract, it would generate some quick cash. It also meant that Zorn USA was now
an official contractor under the broader ESM program as well as the subsidiary DRA program. As a result, Roger Zorn would gain access to a wider array of compartmented information about the emergency measures. He took immediate advantage of this to review the DHS’s classified statistics on ESM deportations.
What he discovered startled him. During his meeting with the DRA contracts committee, he had estimated the nationwide expansion of the Triage program would enable DHS to deport somewhere between one thousand and three thousand high-risk Islamists per month for each hundred new operators. But in Triage’s first full month of operation, with scarcely a hundred new operators on the job, DHS had deported over eight thousand, or nearly three times Zorn’s maximum estimate. How could this be?
Zorn also examined the DHS’s classified statistics for flights to the ESM program’s overseas facilities. What he saw confused him. For while there had been a huge surge in deportation flights from U.S. cities to the Caribbean transit centers, very few flights had taken off from the Caribbean to repatriation bases in North Africa and the Middle East. How many more repatriation flights might be required to avoid severe overcrowding at the Caribbean centers once the new Triage sites came on line in the States? Zorn looked up at the ceiling and smiled. The added revenue from Zorn Air Logistics was bound to make Walter Lang and the board very happy.
But before Zorn could bask long in that thought, the receptionist called to report that she had Larry Lawless of Tetra Corporation on the line.
“Good afternoon, Roger,” Lawless began in a sunny voice laden with practiced bonhomie. “I just left a meeting with some of our ESM managers. They had very positive things to say about your Triage operation. Highly efficient, they said. Makes removals far easier than before.”
“Pleased to hear it,” Zorn replied, matching the Tetra executive’s positive tone. “Earlier today I reviewed the ESM flight numbers. Deportations are off to a rapid start. I hope the Triage sites can keep pace.”
“Listen, Roger,” Lawless went on, “I know that the U.S. isn’t your home market, and that you’ve struggled in the past to win contracts over here. Have you ever considered licensing Triage to us and settling back to collect royalties?”
The question came out of the blue and Zorn had to make an effort to remain civil. Why on earth would he license his company’s crown jewel to Tetra when Triage had already won the DRA contract fair and square? Lawless’s offer sounded like a trial balloon aimed at acquiring Zorn USA’s parent company. Zorn let the question hang in the air.
“Well, I imagine Triage will be making a tidy contribution to your earnings,” Lawless added after a moment’s pause. “Depending on how long the DRA program lasts, of course. These contracts tend to come and go, you know. And the government always reserves the right to cancel on short notice.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Zorn replied in a bland tone. “Who knows, perhaps someone will make us an offer for Triage that we can’t refuse. Or a bid for the whole company.”
“Timing is everything in such matters, of course,” Lawless went on. “One day the intifada will end, and today’s growth spurt will peter out. Much also depends on just how air logistics traffic is parceled out under ESM. You may not realize it, but our contract with DHS gives Tetra right of first refusal on all removal and repatriation flights. So, depending on how many flights we choose to operate ourselves, there may not be quite as many left for Zorn Air. It’s something you might want to consider.”
“I’ll do that, Larry,” Zorn deadpanned, while seething inwardly at the implied threat.
“I really do look forward to working more closely with you and your team, Roger. Please give my best to Walter, will you?”
“Certainly,” Zorn replied before the line went dead.
The last comment surprised him. He hadn’t known that Lawless and Lang were acquainted. Could there be a back channel between them to which he wasn’t privy? Lang was a cagey old goat. Zorn wouldn’t put it past him. He resolved to pose the question the next time he spoke with Lang.
Scarcely an hour had gone by when the receptionist buzzed again, announcing Undersecretary Craven’s arrival. Zorn surveyed the papers covering his desk and drew a deep breath. Though he had agreed to the last-minute appointment, he still had a number of tasks on his to-do list, and the day was almost over.
As soon as Craven was ushered in, the two men retreated to a pair of opposing easy chairs. The undersecretary spoke first, reaching out to grasp the armrests as he sank into the chair with a tranquil smile.
“I wanted to talk to you privately, Roger, now that your approval came through for the air logistics business,” Craven began. “On a personal level, I’m pleased. It means we won’t be so heavily dependent on Tetra Corp for our removal flights. Certain people don’t like seeing so big a slice of a critical program like this go to a sole supplier.”
“We’re happy to take on as much or as little of the air logistics business as you’ll give us,” Zorn replied, using a turn of phrase he often employed to avoid appearing overeager for a client’s business.
“I think you’ll be happy with the number of flights you’re assigned,” Craven responded. “But that’s not the main reason I came to visit. Now that the ESM program is shifting into high gear, I’d like to see you take on a larger role. You, personally, I mean.”
“In for a penny, in for a pound. Having signed another one of your draconian nondisclosure agreements last week, I suppose I should be grateful that the Men In Black can’t give me a fatal heart attack more than once.”
Craven didn’t react to Zorn’s attempt at gallows humor.
“Well enough, then,” the DHS man went on after uncrossing and re-crossing his legs. “Because I’ve arranged an invitation for you to attend a rather exclusive strategy session. It will address long-term planning for ESM, going even beyond the intifada. Charlie Scudder will serve as chair, but I’ll be there, too, along with some people from the DRA bid committee. Are you free—tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” Zorn repeated, swallowing hard. “Well, I will be now. Thanks for including me.”
“You may find some of the agenda material surprising, so at the risk of incurring the wrath of those Men In Black you mentioned, I’ve brought a copy of the pre-meet discussion paper. I’d like you to read it, if you don’t mind.”
Craven withdrew a folded document of a half-dozen pages from his inside suit pocket and handed it to Zorn.
“You mean, right now?”
“Yes. It’s not something I can leave behind. In fact, I probably shouldn’t have removed it from the building. When you read it, you’ll know why.”
Zorn unfolded the memo and scanned its contents.
It came from Charles Scudder’s office at the National Security Council and described a series of security measures already under way and others not yet implemented, along with pros and cons for each one. Until now, Zorn had assumed that the ESM program was intended to be temporary and limited in scope, with a clearly defined exit strategy. But the memo suggested no such limits. And, far from being aimed solely at violent jihadists, it proposed rounding up any non-Muslim activists who aided or abetted the intifada.
As he read the document, Zorn felt a throbbing at his temples. What would be next? A crackdown against all critics of government policy? Zorn flipped the page and his eyes widened.
Other measures listed in the memo had become permissible for the first time under the latest version of the National Defense Authorization Act. These included expedited revocation of U.S. citizenship for fomenting armed sedition or pledging loyalty to a jihadist group. Another allowed revocation of naturalized citizenship or permanent resident status on the slimmest evidence of fraud. And the memo urged shutting down any mosque, publication or social media outlet that broadcast Islamist ideology. The aim of these measures, according to the memo, was to eradicate all remaining vestiges of political Islam from America.
Zorn looked up at Craven. The undersecretary had a bemused loo
k on his face, as if he relished shocking his former boss. That Craven would buy into such measures came as no surprise to Zorn. He knew Craven all too well and marveled at how Uncle Sam could have promoted someone of such flawed character to so responsible a position. But then, following orders without question had always been a sound career strategy in Washington. And, far from putting up an argument, Craven appeared to be living up to his name.
Zorn wondered next whether Margaret Slattery or Audrey Lamb might have seen a copy of the document and whether they would be attending tomorrow’s meeting. Surely neither woman would condone the wholesale violations of civil liberties laid out in the document. Nor did he. But how could he stand against Scudder’s plans without putting his newly signed contracts at risk? Zorn Security had invested millions to join the ESM program and wouldn’t begin to turn a profit for two or three quarters. What on earth had he gotten himself into?
Zorn handed the document back to Craven without comment. Perhaps he and a few others, like Slattery or Lamb, could persuade Scudder to moderate his scheme or at least delay it until such time as Zorn could withdraw from ESM without serious consequences to his business. But raising such concerns with Craven would likely be pointless, as Pat lacked the authority to block the plan even if he’d wanted to. Better to hold his tongue until he’d gathered the ammunition and the allies he would need to take a stand.
At last Zorn looked up to meet Craven’s gaze.
“All right,” he said with his best poker face. “When and where do we meet?”
“Eight-thirty sharp at the Goodstone Inn, in Middleburg,” Craven replied with a Cheshire cat grin, uncrossing his legs and straightening up in his seat. “It’s horse country out there, Roger. You’ll love it. But remember, the conference is totally off the record. No mention to anyone, including your man Choe.”
“Got it. I look forward to getting to know my co-conspirators.” Zorn was not joking.
Root and Branch Page 13
