"You probably made the wrong choice. He pretty much ran it anyway. I need to talk to you about something," Sharpe said.
"Don't go and try to blame this on yourself in any way. This was a coordinated attack by True America, with a little help from General Sanderson. There was nothing you could do to stop it."
"Sanderson had nothing to do with the attack. I can assure you of that."
"I watched that Stewart traitor rush over and finish the job. Mendoza had stopped the attack. She set off the bomb. One of the survivors confirmed this," Shelby said.
"That's not what happened. I clearly remember Stewart yelling something about a dead man's switch. She held onto that detonator for a few seconds, while Mendoza lowered his gun—"
"She was just buying time. I saw the tape. She yelled something at him, which made him lower his gun. Probably threatened to blow the place up. As soon as he lowered the pistol, she blew the place sky high."
"No. Another agent shot her. She lost control of the detonator," Sharpe said.
"She set it off, Ryan. Sanderson's people got to one of the security guards earlier in the day. He let the bomber through the checkpoint. He described how a highly professional and brutal group snatched him off the street and kidnapped his family. They threatened to kill his wife and children. Sound familiar? This has Sanderson written all over it. I've already arrested his people in Brooklyn. We're looking for the rest."
"There is absolutely no way that Stewart or Sanderson had anything to do with that bomb. I've been working behind the scenes with them for two days, trying to catch up with True America. Nearly all of the information we've obtained has been hand delivered to us by his operatives."
Shelby thought Sharpe's sentence hadn't made a lot of sense. It had sounded like he just claimed to be working with Sanderson. "I'm sorry. I didn't fully understand what you just said."
Sharpe spent the next ten minutes explaining everything that had happened since the Brooklyn raid, up through the successful rescue of Benjamin Young. Shelby stood up and paced the room for a few minutes, while neither of them spoke a word. He couldn't believe what he had just heard, but oddly enough, it all made sense. If any other agent had told him that story, he would have arrested them on the spot, but Sharpe was different. He had spent the last two years searching for Sanderson and had every reason to distrust him. He couldn't dismiss Sharpe's assessment.
"Where did you leave things with Sanderson?"
"He'd sent one of his teams north to investigate a possible lead," Sharpe said.
"He didn't happen to send them to Scranton, did he?"
"How did you know that?"
"Because Jessica and Daniel Petrovich boarded a plane to Wilkes Barre/Scranton International Airport yesterday afternoon. I've already redeployed the mobile task force to Scranton. Guess who was on that same flight?"
Sharpe shook his head.
"Jeffrey Munoz. If Sanderson sent these three to Scranton, we're talking about more than just a reconnaissance mission," Shelby said.
"What are you going to do?"
"About what?"
"About Scranton."
"Wait and see. It sounds like this might be under control," Shelby said.
"And me?"
"There's an upcoming retirement at the executive level in the National Security Branch. Associate executive assistant director. If things don't completely go to shit in the next few days, I'd like to offer you that position."
Sharpe squinted and lightly shook his head.
"I have a reputation for doing things by the book, Ryan, but if you closely examine my career, you'll see a subtle pattern emerge. My greatest successes have always been surrounded by unproven accusations of irregular procedure. Sometimes you have to bend the rules to get things done around here. I keep an eye out for agents that have the salt to walk that line. Let's hope Sanderson comes through for you. If this blows up in my face, I can't bring you along for that ride."
"I understand. Thank you for the kind words regarding Frank."
Shelby nodded and took in a deep breath. "Have you heard from Sanderson since last night?"
"No. I tried the number he provided, but it didn't go through," Sharpe said.
"Let me know if you hear from him. I don't want the task force to interfere with his efforts," Shelby said.
"I'll let you know if I get through."
Shelby turned and walked out of the room. He was infuriated with Sharpe, but had long ago learned to channel his anger in a constructive direction. Offering him a promotion seemed like the only logical decision. The nation's security depended on his ability to find and promote agents like this Sharpe. Most agents were afraid of their own shadows and spent more time analyzing the political ramifications of their decisions than actually making them. He hated being kept in the dark, but couldn't blame Sharpe for withholding this secret. He had every reason to believe Shelby would relieve him on the spot and have him arrested for treason.
Instead of heading home for a few hours, he decided to head back to the situation room. He needed to be in place when Sanderson's people started putting their skills to work in Pennsylvania. He also couldn't wait to break the bad news to the president. From what Sharpe and his team had determined, the terrorist plot had been sponsored and planned by a splinter cell within True America, without any connection to the mainstream political action group. He wouldn't play any part in the president's plan to dismantle True America, unless they could establish an evidence-based connection. From what he could tell, a connection didn't exist. He loved stirring up controversy.
Chapter 55
Daniel Petrovich leaned across the Jeep Grand Cherokee's center console and presented his FBI credentials to the gray-haired, uniformed guard at the passenger vehicle gate. The weathered man's light blue eyes widened at the sight of his badge. He leaned closer to the driver's window and peered into the back seat. Melendez and Jessica held up their own credentials, which seemed to satisfy the guard. Daniel smiled from the front passenger seat. Before either of them could speak, five massive Crystal Source semi-trailers trucks passed through the commercial gate on the other side of the glass-enclosed guardhouse, headed for Route Six. He wondered if the trucks carried any of the virus-laced water. He waited for the last truck to pass before speaking.
"I'm Special Agent Harris with the Philadelphia field office. I need to speak with the distribution center manager, Bob Wilkins, immediately. Al Qaeda extremists have made a specific threat against this facility. Is his office nearby?"
"Holy cow! He's right in that building there. See that door on the far left? His secretary sits in there. She's not in today, but pretty much everyone else is. Do I need to close the gate once you're through?"
"No. You're fine for now. We have agents watching the roads, but I really need to talk to Mr. Wilkins about specific personnel employed at the facility. Keep this to yourself for now. Mr. Wilkins will notify the security manager about the new procedures to be implemented. Personally, I'd like to see a few more guards at this gate."