Rules of Engagement

by Ken Fite

  “I did, too. And if I don’t get him out by daybreak, he said there will be more bombings,” I lied.

  We stood in silence for a few moments before Chris spoke. “Jami,” he said, “I need to tell you something.” She turned to him as he continued. “When I called Bill Landry right before we left Redding’s home, he said that Lynne May had just left his office. The ATF guys finished their preliminary analysis at DDC.” Chris glanced over to me, then turned back to her. “It was your vehicle that exploded in the garage, Jami.”

  “What?” she asked and shook her head in disbelief. “How is that even possible, Chris?”

  “There’s something else you all need to know,” said Morgan as Jami turned up the volume on her phone. “The ransomware attack from earlier—I traced it back to Palos Community Hospital, south of Chicago.”

  “I know that hospital,” I said.

  “I know you do, mate. The malware was introduced into that specific hospital followed by two others in Washington later in the day. But Palos Community is where it all started. There have already been several deaths there because of the malware. Aside from the Washington hospitals, it has the most fatalities.”

  Jami stepped closer to me. “That’s the hospital where you and Keller were taken after you rescued him.”

  I nodded to myself. “But that’s not why the ransomware was introduced into Palos Community,” I said. “It’s because that’s the hospital where my father died.” I heard Morgan stop typing as the line went silent.

  “Ben,” Jami said softly as she rested a hand on my back and looked down. “How could I forget? I’m sorry.”

  “The hospital—the bombing at DDC—it’s all related. This is personal,” I said and grabbed my wrists, massaging them to help with the pain from the ropes digging into my skin, leaving them raw and tender. “It’s not gonna stop until Ivanov gets what he wants,” I said, thinking about the threat the man had made against Jami that I had decided to keep to myself. “He said he’s getting help from someone on the inside. Until we figure out what’s going on, this stays between us. No contact with anyone at the Bureau or DDC.” I paused to look at the others before adding, “I need to get his father out. Then I’ll deal with both of them.”

  “I’ll try to find the location of the black site,” said Morgan as I heard the sound of typing start back up.

  “No, find Dimitri. I’ll go see Keller. He knows about this. It’s time to learn the truth about Nikolai Ivanov.”

  THIRTY-ONE

  PRESIDENT JAMES KELLER sat in his study, one leg crossed over the other, studying the newspaper that he had been meaning to read since breakfast. Still wearing dress pants and a white dress shirt, he loosened his tie with one hand while continuing to scan the paper and slowly shaking his head to himself.

  There was something about the New York Times story that bothered Keller. How’d they get tipped off? the president asked himself, turning his gaze back to the headline. “Russian spy ship patrolling off America’s east coast,” he muttered as he set the newspaper on the table next to his roomy easy chair, removed his reading glasses, and placed the arm against his lips as he stared across the room, thinking.

  The White House leaks had become rampant over the last six months, yet the people that Keller had surrounded himself with since the beginning of his presidency eighteen months earlier had, for the most part, remained unchanged. Glancing back to the paper on his left, he began to wonder who the Times was getting their information from. Keller began replaying conversations he had had over the last few months in his mind, trying to connect the dots between the various leaks coming from the White House, but couldn’t pin any of them on a specific person within his administration. Keller tossed his glasses on the paper out of frustration just as there was a knock at the door behind him. “Come in,” he said as he turned.

  The door slowly opened, and a Secret Service agent looked inside. “Emma Ross for you, sir,” he said as the president nodded and motioned that it was okay for the man to let his chief of staff enter the room. The agent nodded, disappeared from view, and Ross stepped inside with a paper tucked under her arm. Keller saw the paper, decided it was the same one he had been reading, and forced a smile as she entered.

  “I’m sorry to bother you so late, Mr. President,” said Ross as the agent closed the door once she entered.

  “It’s no bother, Emma,” said Keller as he began twisting his wedding band, something the man had started to do out of habit whenever he thought about his late wife. “I don’t get much sleep anymore.” He looked down briefly before deciding to walk over to the window to look out into the darkness. “It’s just a cold, empty bed waiting for me at the end of every day.” He turned back to Ross and forced another smile.

  Ross furrowed her brow as she studied her boss from across the room. “Are you okay? You look worried,” she said as her eyes narrowed.

  “It’s nothing, Emma. It’s just late, and I…” Keller looked at his chief of staff for a few moments, realized that she wasn’t buying his story, and nodded to himself before stepping closer to her. The president gestured to the newspaper tucked under her arm. “I had a meeting with the joint chiefs about an hour ago, Emma.” Keller crossed his arms. “That Russian ship was doing more than just trying to intimidate us.”

  “What do you mean?”

  The president looked up at the ceiling, trying to recall the conversation so he could relay the facts back to Ross just as he had heard them. “When the Viktor Leonov left port in Cuba and started to make its way up the east coast, we began surveilling its movements with satellites, Emma. Tracked the damn thing all the way up to Boston before it veered off into the Atlantic.” Keller pointed to the paper Ross was holding. “We don’t believe it was seeding the US coastline, though we are going to check just to be absolutely sure.”

  Ross maintained eye contact with Keller and asked, “Then what’s the concern?”

  “The concern,” replied Keller, “is what one of our satellites picked up last night as the vessel passed by just east of Delaware.” Ross slowly shook her head as Keller checked his watch. “Just about twenty-four hours ago, our people detected a bright light one mile behind the ship, right along the same path it had taken.”

  “Lightning?” said Ross, and Keller shook his head.

  “It lasted for several seconds.” He paused before adding, “It was a distress flare, Emma. A call for help.”

  Ross was becoming anxious. “Why? Who was out there?”

  Keller placed his hands in his pockets, looked down, and shook his head. “We don’t know yet. But they applied a layer and picked up what we believe to have been a small watercraft that immediately went to that location. Several minutes later, the boat made its way back to a pier located in Ocean City, Maryland.”

  “We need to find out who was out there and what they were doing.”

  “We’re trying,” replied Keller. “We have good people working on it right now. They think they found the vehicle leaving the Ocean City pier as it headed to Washington, but lost it once it got onto the interstate. They’re going back over the imagery now in an attempt to try to locate it again.” Keller looked down at the paper that Ross was now holding with two hands, and gestured toward it. “So I appreciate you coming to see me—” he pointed to his own copy resting next to his chair “—but I’m already aware of the situation.”

  Emma remained silent as Keller turned, went back to the window to look outside, and crossed his arms. Several seconds passed in silence. Sensing that something was amiss, he turned back to his chief of staff.

  “Mr. President,” she said, concern in her voice, “thank you for the update, but that’s not why I’m here.”

  Keller stared at the woman over his shoulder from his position at the window. “There’s something else?”

  Ross nodded.

  “What is it, Emma?” he asked, but she didn’t answer, so the president stepped toward her.

  “Sir, I suggest you have a seat.
”

  Keller lifted a hand to caution the woman. “Stop tiptoeing around this, and tell me what the problem is.”

  She maintained her gaze and finally said, “It’s about Blake Jordan.”

  “Blake? What about him?” asked Keller. “I just spoke with him. He’s on his way here now to meet with me and sounded concerned.” He paused. “Does that have anything to do with what you’re about to tell me?”

  Ross slowly shook her head. “I doubt it, sir,” she replied and handed Keller the newspaper.

  The president took it and kept his eyes on the woman as he unfolded it and slowly lowered his gaze.

  “It’s an early copy of tomorrow’s paper. I have a friend at the Times that called me about an hour ago, saying that there was a lot of excitement at the New York office. She heard a few people talking about a story that would finally be the smoking gun needed to bring down the president. It’s another leak, sir.”

  Keller stepped over to the table next to his easy chair and grabbed his reading glasses. Putting them on, he stared at the headline with disbelief before he began scanning the accompanying story that followed. “Good God,” he whispered to himself as he finished scanning the story that was just a few hours away from being distributed to six hundred thousand households and digitally to two and a half million email inboxes—a story sure to be picked up by every news and media outlet on the other side of the aisle.

  “We have to get in front of this,” said Ross.

  The president folded the paper, dropped it on the table, and removed his glasses. “How can we stop this?”

  THIRTY-TWO

  LYNNE MAY STOOD next to her analyst and leaned in closer to the speakerphone. “Morgan, you there?” she asked and pressed a button to turn up the volume as Simon Harris’s counterpart in Chicago replied.

  “I can hear you just fine,” said Lennox, sounding disinterested in speaking with the Washington SAIC.

  “The three of us need to get on the same page,” said May as Simon Harris turned in his chair and looked up at his boss. “Morgan, as you know, Agent Davis left DDC with Blake Jordan a few hours ago. After the motorcycle chase, they spent a considerable amount of time at a parking garage. Landry got word from Agents Reed and Reynolds that something went down over there, so he’s sending people over there now.” May looked up and watched Bill Landry appear from down the hallway. He stopped briefly to answer a question from one of his Bureau analysts before he disappeared again. May lowered her head to continue. “Simon and I have been monitoring their movements, and we tracked them to an address in Rosslyn registered to a retired ATF man. We know that Davis met up with Reed and Reynolds at the home. A short time later, we tracked them as they left for another location, and now their phones are turned off again.” May looked at Harris and paused a beat before she continued. “Morgan, what the hell’s going on here?”

  Morgan remained silent as the special agent in charge crossed her arms and looked at Simon, confused.

  After several seconds, Simon grew tired of the awkward silence. “The last time I had contact was during the pursuit of the man on the motorcycle,” he said. “The call dropped, and I couldn’t reach them again.”

  “You led them into a trap,” snapped Morgan as May raised her eyebrows in surprise at the accusation.

  Simon shook his head vigorously. “I did not lead them into a trap. Morgan, why would you think that?”

  “Because of the approach you brought them in on. You were a block off target, Jami had to make the correction, and by the time she did, the guy on the motorcycle was too far out for her to catch up to.”

  Simon shook his head at May in shock, then returned to his laptop, determined to prove his innocence.

  “And then the ransomware,” continued Lennox as May reached over and lowered the volume after seeing a few Bureau analysts poke their heads over their cubicles to see what the commotion was with the visiting DDC team. “Simon, you were responsible for analyzing the malware. I took that task over from you, and within minutes, I found the kill switch embedded in the middle of the code. It was in plain sight, mate.”

  May looked up and saw Landry appear again from the dark corridor. He turned and headed her way.

  “Morgan, is Roger Shapiro up to speed?” she asked, referring to Morgan’s boss at the Chicago field office.

  “Yes. He’s letting you run this if you’re sure you can still effectively handle it from the Hoover Building.”

  “Good. Then I need you to find another way to track Davis and Jordan.”

  Simon stopped typing and pointed to his screen. “I just did.”

  May leaned in to take a look.

  “She took one of the field office’s loaner vehicles, right? I confirmed that there weren’t any others checked out. And DDC uses a fleet-tracking system for our vehicles at both the Chicago and Washington field offices.”

  May pointed to a blip on the screen that was slowly moving toward the center of the city. “Is that them?”

  Simon nodded.

  May stood up straight. “Good work. Let me know when they stop so we can intercept.”

  “Lynne,” said Bill Landry as he approached Simon’s cubicle, “can you come see me when you’re done?”

  “Yes, give me a few minutes and I’ll stop by your office.”

  Landry nodded and turned as May watched him walk back through the maze of cubicles and disappear into the dark corridor again. “Morgan, are you still there?” she asked and dropped her eyes to the landline.

  “I’m here.”

  “The Bureau’s Cyber Division is currently working on a patch for impacted healthcare and government systems. Since you seem to be more proficient with the code, I want you available in case they need help.”

  “Fine,” grunted Lennox from the speakerphone as May looked up to the corridor toward Landry’s office.

  “I’m going to go chat with Bill and see what he wants. I’ll be back shortly.” She looked down at Simon. “And I’ll bring him up to speed on Reed and Reynolds and see if we can find out what’s going on out there. I might need someone from his Bureau team to intercept Davis and Jordan, and it can’t be those two.”

  May disconnected the call, eyed Simon’s screen briefly, and walked back to her cubicle. After taking a seat, she drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out, her cheeks puffing out as she did, and unlocked her screen. Pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, she closed her eyes and tried to will the headache she felt coming on to go away. Opening her eyes, May glanced at her watch to check the time.

  She minimized her email program after confirming that no new urgent communications had come through over the last several minutes that she had spent at Simon Harris’s desk. Once she did, all that remained on her screen was the instant messaging program that the Department of Domestic Counterterrorism used to communicate within and between the two teams in Chicago and Washington.

  Scrolling through the online contacts, May found Morgan Lennox. She double-clicked on his name.

  The cursor blinked inside a new chat window, waiting for her to type a message to the analyst that she had only met once, back when the Washington field office had been formed three months earlier. She didn’t know Lennox very well. But from her initial meeting, she had learned two things about Morgan. One, he was intelligent and underutilized by his boss, Roger Shapiro, and definitely one of the better analysts that she had come across in her long career. And two, the Australian seemed to be an excellent judge of character and wasn’t afraid to speak his mind when needed. May thought long and hard about those two points.

  And it was Morgan’s outburst with Simon moments earlier that bothered May and prompted her to open that chat window. May let go of the mouse, placed her hands on the keyboard, and thought about how she should phrase her question to him. Following a few seconds of hesitation, May typed her message: ‘Morgan, is there something going on with Simon that I need to know about?’

  Her finger lingered above
the enter key for several seconds. Then she hit it and stared at her screen.

  May’s eyes focused on the instant message chat window and waited thirty seconds before the program indicated that Morgan was typing a reply. May folded her arms across the desk, waiting for the response.

  ‘Please call me,’ replied Morgan.

  May typed her response: ‘Ping me your personal cell number. Will call you after touching base with Bill.’ She hit enter and then typed another message. ‘Also need your help on a private matter, Morgan. Okay?’

  Lennox replied with his number, which May entered into her cell, then stood to go meet with Landry.

  THIRTY-THREE

  I DROVE JAMI’S SUV over to the White House and parked it along the Ellipse, the street that runs along the circumference of the fifty-two-acre park where many of the president’s staffers park each day. Jami didn’t say much on the short drive over, except for asking me twice if I was feeling okay. I figured that I was looking pretty rough and she was maybe feeling a little guilty about our heated exchange earlier. I wasn’t sure what it was, but there was something different about her now.

  After pulling into an empty spot close to E Street, I climbed out and reached for my messenger bag. I took off my shirt with the blood splattered on the front of it, wiped my face with the clean part, and threw it in the backseat. I reached into my bag and found one of the shirts I had packed when I was planning on spending a few days at Charlie’s, and pulled it over my head. Jami handed my Glock back to me. I stuffed it inside my bag and left it in the vehicle as I closed the door and walked toward the White House with Jami.

  Chris and Mark were circling Washington, on standby with Morgan back in Chicago as he tried to figure out where Dimitri Ivanov had gone. That was plan A. The conversation I was about to have with President Keller was plan B and—unless Morgan could find Dimitri’s location quickly—would be the only other option that I could see to get Nikolai and Dimitri Ivanov out in the open so I could keep Jami safe.