“The incoming satellite?” Michael said. “What happened?“
“The clear-code you transmitted reinstated standard operating protocol. It self-corrected its course as of 0300 China Standard Time.”
“So you’re saying it worked. After all that time the transmitter actually worked?”
“We’ll know more once the Horten is examined, but yes. For all intents and purposes the transmitter seems to have functioned perfectly, which is fortunate because we got word late last night that the Jiuquan Launch Facility was sabotaged, most likely by one of their own senior people. They couldn’t have reestablished communication with that thing even if they did figure out how to do it. It’s a national embarrassment. I think unofficially the Chinese were happy for the help.” Grolling took a sip of coffee. “In addition, you’ll be happy to hear, Li Tung and his merry gang of thieves are pleased as punch with what we’ve done for them.”
“Which was?” Ted asked.
Grolling looked to Ted. Everybody here, especially a long standing agent like Ted, knew that information was doled out on a need to know basis, and this item was not, strictly speaking, need to know. However, Grolling thought, the mission had gone well, and in all fairness, he had brought it up.
“Which was help Mr. Tung with a particularly worrisome problem his only son was facing stateside. In return for the help he extended us within China’s borders, we agreed to extend our help within ours.”
Ted smiled. “So let me guess, we sprung his little boy from an as yet unnamed facility.”
“In so many words. Yes.”
“What about the other reason we’re here?”
Ted was not one to mince words, but still the directness of the question hit Michael like a knife to the heart. He wanted to ask if there was any more information regarding his father. He had wanted to ask since he awoke. The only reason he had even considered working for the CIA back when Ted had approached him a few weeks after his father’s funeral was to get closer to the mystery of his dad’s disappearance. But now that there might actually be some solid information, Michael didn’t want to hear it at all. He didn’t want to listen because he didn’t want to be disappointed.
Grolling wavered. “The secondary mission protocol was less conclusive.”
Michael finally opened his mouth. “How much less?”
“A lot less.”
“Hold on,” Michael said. “I risked my ass delivering you Kate Shaw. I want to know what you’ve found out.”
“Not so fast, Agent Chase. We’re questioning Ms. Shaw as we speak. We’re following up on the information she provides.”
“But?”
“I didn’t say ‘but.’ We’re following up.” Grolling turned away from the table. “As far as your mission is concerned, the Director and I have agreed, we would like you to keep operating here in the field. Your backpacker cover is intact. There’s no telling where we may use you.”
Michael nodded. He knew he was tangling with the bureaucracy of the world’s most powerful spy agency. He knew that they would let him know what they had learned when they were good and ready to do so. And he knew that the best way to hold his cards was quietly and close to the chest. But he also knew that he didn’t give a damn. This man, Grolling, had made his case to him over six months ago when his dad had been missing only four weeks. He had told Michael that the country needed his help. Grolling had personally fast tracked Michael’s path through the Farm. He had guaranteed that if Michael would help with the very sensitive mission of investigating his father’s disappearance, Michael would be given priority clearance. And most importantly, Grolling had said unequivocally that in return for his help, Michael would never, ever, be left out of the loop. And now it looked like that loop was closed. Protocol be damned. It was time for the CIA to pay up.
“I went along with recruitment to find my father. I trained at your facility to find my father.” Michael looked the Station Chief directly in the eye. “Then I risked my life finding your Nazi airplane and stopped a Chinese satellite from blowing up half the West Coast. I’ve paid for my ticket. Now, you’re going to tell me what you know or I’m done here.”
“Think about what you’re saying.”
“I already have.”
“Michael,” Ted said, but Michael rose from the table regardless.
Grolling said, “We thought you might feel that way.” He reached into the pocket of his jacket and retrieved a letter sized envelope, handing it to Michael.
“What is this?”
“You know your father’s video message was a digital composite. We faked it to acquire the target’s interest. But it was based on a real intercept from eight days ago. The waypoint that led you to the factory, that was real.” Grolling turned his gaze to the garden where the rich pink peach blossoms were blooming. The others around the table were silent, waiting for him to go on. “We don’t know where your father is. We don’t know if he was captured and managed to escape or if he’s still in their custody. We’re not even certain precisely who they are, not yet anyway, but thanks to your work bringing in Kate Shaw, we’re closer than we were.”
“So again,” Michael said, holding up the envelope. “What’s this?”
“Open it.”
Michael tore open the envelope. Inside was a slip of paper no bigger than a grocery receipt. It consisted of a string of numbers which Michael immediately recognized as a GPS waypoint. He committed the waypoint to memory. From the look of it, it was a location in Turkey, Istanbul most likely.
“An NSA analyst picked it up last night. It was identified on the same frequency where we found the first message.”
“So you think it’s him again?”
“It’s no more than a series of digits so it’s impossible to be sure. But it’s his assigned frequency. And the coordinates were encrypted in his preferred algorithm. So yes. We think it’s him.”
Michael sighed. The news was not definitive. But it offered hope. Real hope that his father was still alive. And Michael would go to the ends of the Earth for that.
“You’re willing to have me investigate his whereabouts in my current capacity?”
“Yes we are.”
Michael sat there, considering what Grolling had just said. “Same rules apply? Special liaison to the CIA. Current cover. No long-term contract?”
“No long-term contract,” Grolling said.
“And full disclosure regarding any new messages or intelligence as to where he might be.”
“Yes.”
Michael didn’t need to think about it. He could feel it. Before that fateful day, just over half a year ago, he had been floundering. Even before his father had gone missing he was unsure of his course in life, bouncing from option to option, waiting for something that felt right. That his purpose had been revealed to him in the horror of his father’s disappearance was unfortunate, but it didn’t have to be tragic. Even the events that had marked him so many years ago didn’t need to be seen through that lens. His experiences had changed him. But they had also made him stronger. He knew that now.
He also knew in his gut that his father was still alive and that working for the CIA offered the single best shot he’d have at finding him. Plain and simple. But he didn’t have to make it easy for them. Not if he got even a hint that they were holding back. Still, almost in spite of himself, Michael felt a smile growing on his lips. At some point over the course of the last few days he had become something. He had become an intelligence operative. And for this small moment, in the confines of this room, he didn’t care who knew it. Ted must have known the feeling because he lifted his cup.