“Just a second, I’d like an answer to that,” President Bradley said. “Like I told everyone yesterday, I want a broad approach to these problems. Why aren’t you using the CIA?”
“Mr. President, the CIA doesn’t have any assets in the region; we do. If we were to bring the Agency into the game at this point all they would do is get in the way,” Collins said.
“Now, wait a minute,” Director Hollis said from across the table. “My office hasn’t been contacted in any way about what is happening in Syria, but I can promise you that arming the Syrian opposition isn’t going to help anything, and for the SecDef to infer that we don’t have any assets in the area is simply not accurate.”
“So the DoD hasn’t even bothered to consult the director of the CIA on the situation in Syria? I would think that that would be the first person I would notify. I mean, isn’t that their job?” Cage said, waiting for Collins to step into his trap.
“That is exactly our job,” the director of the CIA said, shooting a hard glance at Collins.
“I thought that I was perfectly clear about how I wanted these problems handled,” the president said. “If we can’t work together as a team, then I am going to find someone who can.”
Collins bristled under the threat, his eyes narrowing in anger. Cage waited for the president’s gaze to shift back to the front of the room before giving the SecDef a wink. Just as he expected, the man’s face turned a deep shade of crimson as Cage got to his feet.
“Sir, I agree with you a hundred percent, and I believe I can speak for Director Hollis, who is mandated to handle these types of situations, when I say that we are playing with fire. The SecDef is way out of his depth, and it’s going to bite us in the ass, I can promise you that.”
“Here we go,” Collins muttered.
“Secretary Collins, I think that your appraisal of the situation in the Mideast is as dangerous as it is shortsighted. Who’s your man on the ground?”
“That is classified,” Collins bellowed.
“Classified? How am I supposed to do my job when you’re not sharing intel?” the director interrupted as Cage posted himself at the front of the room.
“Mr. President, if we assume that the violence in Syria isn’t going to spill over into Iraq simply because we are giving weapons to a group of lesser terrorists, then we haven’t learned anything from our time in Iraq,” Cage said, holding up his hand.
He took a laser pointer from the table, pointed it at the screen, and shot a red beam at the border between Iraq and Syria.
“Right now we know that the rebels in Syria are receiving aid from Hezbollah and training from Iran, and that there is a movement building along the border that threatens northern Iraq.”
“Mr. President, this is utter nonsense,” Collins interjected.
“Is it?” Cage demanded. “Look at the map. In Syria, al-Nusra, a group we know is attached to al-Qaeda, is moving toward the Iraq border, while the Taliban is pouring over the Pakistani border, taking back key terrain in Afghanistan,” he said, running the pointer across the map. “What happens if they move into northern Iraq and take Mosul or Kurdistan?”
“We can handle that when and if it happens,” Collins shouted.
“You are arming these people while they are opening a route that stretches from Syria to Afghanistan. What the fuck do you think is going to happen?”
“He’s right,” Hollis echoed from his place at the table.
“This is bullshit, and exactly what I’d expect to hear from someone like you. Someone who wants nothing more than to keep this war going for another ten years,” Collins said, getting to his feet.
“I’d love to hear what you think is going on,” Cage demanded, baiting the trap he’d been setting since he walked back into the White House.
“Well, if you would let the man finish his brief instead of interrupting, maybe you could.”
“Wait, Director Hollis, do you agree with Duke’s assessment?” the president asked.
“Absolutely, sir, someone has to fill the vacuum we left when we pulled out of Iraq. This is a huge mistake, a mistake that could have been avoided with a little teamwork.”
Collins was visibly shocked by the sudden onslaught and stood awkwardly near his chair. The rest of the National Security Council was obviously intrigued, and the president turned his gaze toward the SecDef in anticipation of his rebuttal.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” Cage said simply.
Collins made his way to the front of the room, his analyst taking a step back as his boss took the pointer, and looked up at the map.
Cage smiled inwardly. He had forced the SecDef’s hand and now the man had to either put up or shut up.
“Mr. President, I have been told by General Swift in Jalalabad that his men have made contact with the opposition in Syria and have begun setting up training camps with vetted members of the opposition. I do not have all the specifics right now, but I can promise you that everything is under control,” he began haltingly.
“I’ve heard enough,” the president said. “I want some answers by tomorrow morning; we can’t keep going on like this. Duke, if you don’t mind I need a word with you. The rest of you are dismissed.”
There was a scuffle of papers and folders being shut as the Security Council grabbed their stuff and headed out of the room. Secretary Collins stood dazed, staring at the president to see if he had to leave as well.
“You too, Collins,” Bradley said.
Once the room was clear President Bradley said, “Duke, I don’t like this cloak-and-dagger stuff.”
“Understood, sir,” he replied.
“I want you to make sure the CIA has a handle on what is going on in Syria. I can’t afford to be blindsided this early in the game.”
“Yes, sir, what do you want me to do?”
“I need you to get to the bottom of this, make sure Collins isn’t biting off more than he can chew. Find out what you can about this asset, and bring it right to me.”
“Roger that, sir,” Cage said as he turned for the door, a smile creeping across his face.
CHAPTER 9
It took about thirty minutes to navigate their way through the morning traffic and get on the freeway. The communication over the handhelds between the team vehicles was its own traffic. There were so many electric voices that it just turned to static, and for some reason, it made her think of the time her father took her camping after basic training. They had rented a van, and despite feeling carsick, she pretended she was having a good time. All the while her dad tried to get the Ole Miss game tuned in on the ancient radio.
The campsite was near Natchez, Mississippi, a place so different from California that it might as well have been on a different planet. Compared to the pristine cityscape swishing by the raid van’s window, the rustic desolation that lined the road of her memory was both depressing and uninspiring.
“So, how’s the army?” her father asked, abandoning the static-filled radio with a sigh.
“It’s fine; it’s not bad now that basic is over.” It was rare for them to be alone together, especially now, but Renee was trying to relax and enjoy the time with him even though she knew that the trip was originally planned for her brothers.
“You’ll be all right. How hard is it to put a damn antenna out here?” he said, turning on the radio again and fiddling with the dial.
“I have an AM radio in my bag,” she offered. “It’s an emergency kind that gets a signal anywhere.”
“Really?” She could tell he was interested and it made her happy. Renee jumped in the back and grabbed the small radio out of the pack her mom had bought for her. Extending the antenna, she dutifully turned the knob until the game came on.