3
WASHINGTON, D.C.
Christine O’Connor sat in the backseat of a black Lincoln Navigator, with two Protective Agents in the front, as it merged onto the Theodore Roosevelt Bridge, joining the morning traffic fighting its way into the nation’s capital. The radio was tuned to a local station, whose hosts were discussing the previous day’s horrific assassination of the American ambassador to the United Nations. Christine tuned out the commentary, as she had heard it all and more.
As director of the Central Intelligence Agency, Christine had access to the agency’s vast information network, along with data gathered by the myriad other U.S. intelligence agencies. Late into the previous night, she had studied the evidence. Technically, since the attack was on U.S. soil, the FBI had the lead hunting down the man responsible. However, Christine was convinced the trail of responsibility would lead overseas, which was her agency’s forte.
The president had apparently reached the same conclusion, requesting her presence at today’s 8 a.m. meeting in the West Wing. Although this was Christine’s first meeting with the president as CIA director, she was no stranger to the White House. Prior to becoming the second female director in the history of the CIA, she had spent three years on the president’s staff as his national security advisor, occupying a West Wing corner office. Three months ago, the president had nominated her for CIA director.
It was a short trip from CIA headquarters in Langley, and it wasn’t long before the Navigator rolled to a stop in front of black steel bars blocking the entrance to the White House. After the gate guards checked Christine’s identification and completed a security sweep of her vehicle, the gate slid aside and the Navigator pulled forward, coasting to a halt beneath the West Wing’s north portico. Standing at the entrance between two Marines in dress blues was Kevin Hardison, the president’s chief of staff — and Christine’s White House nemesis.
While Christine served as the president’s national security advisor, Hardison had been a thorn in her side. He was the typical Type A, overbearing personality, and she and Hardison frequently found themselves supporting opposite positions on critical issues. She had won more than her fair share of those debates, swaying the president to her side, much to Hardison’s chagrin.
As Christine stepped from the SUV, Hardison was the first to speak. “Good morning, Christine. We’re meeting in the Situation Room.”
Hardison’s greeting was surprisingly cordial, considering the animosity that had built up between them over the years.
Christine followed Hardison down the steps into the West Wing basement and into the Situation Room, where there were three empty seats around the rectangular table. She and Hardison took two, leaving one at the head of the table for the president. Of note in attendance were Secretary of Homeland Security Nova Conover, FBI Director John Dehner, Director of National Intelligence John Rodgaard, and Thom Parham, who was Christine’s replacement as the president’s national security advisor.
After Hardison and Christine took their seats, Hardison buzzed the president’s secretary, informing her they were ready for the president, who arrived a moment later. All stood as he entered, returning to their seats after the president settled into his chair.
“What’s the status?” he asked.
Hardison replied, “Director Dehner has the lead on the investigation and will brief you on what we know.”
After the president nodded his concurrence, Dehner began. “Good morning, Mr. President. I’ll start with a recap of what happened yesterday — a summary of the casualties and video of the entire event.”
Although most of the country had seen footage of the aftermath, not everyone in the Situation Room had seen the entire event unfold.
“In addition to Ambassador Hill, six Diplomatic Security Service agents were killed. There were no civilian deaths, although eight persons were injured. None of those injuries are life-threatening. Regarding the sequence of events, we’ve pieced together video from several surveillance cameras in NYPD’s Domain Awareness System,” referring to the New York Police Department’s surveillance network of more than eighteen thousand cameras.
Dehner activated the video clip on his laptop, and the display at the front of the Situation Room energized, showing the traffic intersection at Second Avenue and East 37th Street. Christine watched as the middle Lincoln Navigator in a three-SUV convoy moving through the intersection erupted in a fiery explosion. A few seconds later, after the lead and trailing SUVs screeched to a halt, the lead vehicle was also destroyed.
Christine watched the next two minutes unfold, with the video shifting to other cameras as two DSS agents pursued the perpetrator. Finally, the video ended with the most disturbing image of all and one too graphic for public broadcast — the scorched and bloody remains of the female agent who had been chasing the assassin.
The display went dark as Dehner said, “We lost track of the suspect shortly after he killed the last DSS agent. He either knew where the cameras were located and avoided them, or got lucky. Either way, we don’t know what vehicle or transit system he used to depart the area.
“We do know, however, who he is. We got a clear image from one of the surveillance cameras, and facial recognition algorithms matched him to several photos in the FBI database.”
Christine recalled one of the briefings she received during her turnover with the previous CIA director. The FBI had a massive library of more than 600 million photos, derived from driver’s licenses, passports, and criminal justice records, to name a few.
“He’s an American citizen,” Dehner said, “a former Navy SEAL who was court-martialed for killing several terrorist prisoners. He was sentenced to fifteen years at Leavenworth, although he was released after eight — a model prisoner, apparently. However, he doesn’t seem to have been adequately rehabilitated. Mixell is his name. Leonard Mixell.”
“Lonnie Mixell?” Christine asked.
Dehner searched the file and read off the pertinent information. “Alias — goes by Lonnie.” He looked at Christine. “You know him?”
Christine nodded, then chose her words carefully. “We went to the same high school. I lost touch with him after we graduated.”
There was silence around the table as Dehner scribbled a comment in his file, while Christine made a mental note to discuss the matter back at Langley. She hadn’t been aware of this critical information.
Dehner continued, “We now know who the perpetrator is, but don’t have any leads yet. Mixell dropped off the grid shortly after he was released from prison. There are no database hits on Leonard or Lonnie Mixell in the last three years. He’s clearly using an alias, or perhaps multiple ones.”
Hardison asked, “Do we think he was working alone or as a mercenary?”
“We don’t know yet, but based on the target, he’s almost certainly hired help. We’re going with that assumption for now, trying to identify and follow the money trail.”
As Christine listened to the exchange between Hardison and Dehner, she noted that the president hadn’t yet engaged, aside from his opening question. She found his detached manner odd, especially considering the circumstances: Hill was a close friend of the president. She examined the president more closely and noticed the intensity in his eyes. He wasn’t detached. He was fuming.
Finally, the president spoke. “What happened yesterday is unacceptable. Everyone here bears responsibility, to some extent, for failing to discover and prevent the attack. It’s only going to get tougher as we lead the effort to combat global terrorism — the United States will have a bigger bull’s-eye on its back than before. We need to make an example of whoever was behind yesterday’s attack.”