A knowing smile crept over Dwyer’s face. He waved toward Olivia and Congo. “We’ve all seen it firsthand.”
“So then Mike hauls the bodies away. I didn’t see where. And then he comes back and tells me to pack up everything because we’re getting out of Dodge.”
“Did the shooters look like they were Slavic? Russian? Or would you say that they maybe looked Middle Eastern, Persian?” Olivia asked.
“I really didn’t get a good look. I can’t say if they were Russian. But if I had to guess I’d say they weren’t Middle Eastern.”
“What else do you remember?”
“That’s about it. We barreled down the highway to Sugar Land. Mike said we couldn’t go to the cops or we’d end up dead—I got the impression the bad guys might be in league with the authorities or something. Then, I’m on a jet here.”
Perry, Dwyer, and Knox nodded.
“Luci, you need to excuse us. Dan and I need to discuss something,” Olivia said.
“I understand.”
“Are you hungry?” Dwyer asked.
Luci gave a shrug signaling something between indifference and interest.
“Congo, can you take Luci to the kitchen? You’ll find almost anything you might want in there, Luci.”
Dwyer watched Knox lead Luci out of the room and then turned to Olivia.
“Well, what do you think?”
“Disturbing, no doubt. From Michael’s standpoint, I can see why he’d be concerned that this may be a reprise of the Omega assassinations. But there’s nothing that suggests Bor’s involvement. More precisely, there’s nothing that justifies me going to James Brandt and suggesting Bor’s operating on American soil again. And even if I did go to him, he’d never go to the president with a story this inconclusive.”
Dwyer fixed Olivia with a hard look. “Last night three Georgia State Patrol officers and two civilians were found shot along a highway northeast of Atlanta. I know—unfortunately, that’s not necessarily an extraordinary story these days. Sounds like just a local crime story. Each of the victims was shot multiple times. But each had one gunshot wound in exactly the same place: in the forehead, at the ridgeline above the bridge of the nose.”
Olivia exhaled. “Michael’s signature shot. The one Bor replicated to frame Michael for the Omega assassinations.”
“Exactly.”
“But that shot’s not unique to Michael. Or, for that matter, Bor,” Olivia said. “Besides, the Omega assassinations, the EMP operation, were barely a month ago. The Russians were seriously sanctioned for their involvement. I can’t imagine a scenario where they would even think about engaging in the slightest mischief or provocation against the US.”
“It’s not as if Mike and I haven’t gone through the same thought process, Olivia. The Russians should be, and have been, on their knees groveling since the EMP operation. But both Mike and I instantly thought of Bor when we heard about Georgia. How could we not? Alarm bells went off, big-time.”
Just like the buzzing returned when I saw the satellite images of Arkhangelsk, thought Olivia. And got louder when you called.
“I get it, Dan. Bor’s an alarming person. Remember, I was face-to-face with him.”
“Mike thinks Brandt should be made aware. So do I.”
Olivia pursed her lips. “Don’t misunderstand, Dan. This has got my attention. But these are disparate bits of information. They don’t rise to the level of James Brandt’s involvement,” she said, virtually repeating what James Brandt had said to her a short time ago about the satellite images. “This is something for law enforcement to monitor. If something else happens—depending on its nature—maybe then it will rise to national security advisor level.”
“I couldn’t disagree more, Olivia. When it comes to Bor, time is always of the essence. And we’ve got to suspect the worst. There are no coincidences in this business.”
“Dan, if I went to James Brandt every time there was a coincidence, I’d have to set up camp outside his office. We’d be in constant crisis mode, playing perpetual Chicken Little. I’m afraid the office of the national security advisor would lose all credibility.”
“Don’t you mean you’re afraid you’d lose all credibility?”
“Dan, this isn’t about—”
“Congratulations, Olivia,” Dwyer interrupted. “You really are a whiz kid. You’ve been in Washington less than six months and yet you’ve already perfected the fine art of covering your ass.” Dwyer’s tone became increasingly strident. “You’re not some bureaucrat at the EPA or IRS, whose job description is making life miserable for your fellow citizens. You’re an aide to the damn national security advisor. National security, Olivia. Not wetlands management or paperwork reduction. Your job goes to the essence of what the government’s supposed to do and increasingly refuses to do. Six months, Olivia. Is that all it took for you to become an inside-the-Beltway hack? A political-class drone?”
The words stung. Especially coming from the good-natured Dwyer, who had become almost like a big brother in the short time they’d known each other. And because Olivia felt the words rang true. Earlier she’d felt somewhat chastened when Brandt facilely dismissed her concern about the satellite images. She felt she’d overreacted, embarrassing herself before her boss and mentor. “This isn’t something that rises to that level,” he’d said. She was reluctant to approach him again with something so attenuated.
“Dan—”
“No effin’ bull crap, Olivia. You give me bull crap and I’ll make sure you’ll have to answer to Mike himself.”
Olivia grinned in spite of herself. The two toughest men she knew rarely cursed. And one of them had just threatened to report her to the other.
“Okay. I’ll go to Jim with this. In fact, in addition to Georgia—” She halted abruptly. She was about to relate her observations from the satellite images, but even the very existence of the KH-13 was highly classified and compartmentalized. She knew from the EMP operation that Dwyer was party to a classified information nondisclosure agreement but was uncertain if it covered the satellite images.
“What?” Dwyer asked.
The hell with it, Olivia thought. Half the politicians in this town leaked classified information as if it were tabloid gossip. Dwyer was more responsible and reliable than all of them together. “In addition to Georgia and Dallas,” she continued, “there may be something going on at those Russian industrial sites again.”
“When in doubt… ,” Dwyer began.
“…suspect the worst from the Russians.”
“Remember, Olivia, it was you, not the Oracle, who connected the pivotal dots unraveling the EMP operation. Your opinion matters.”
“Actually, the credit belongs to Michael.”
The pair rose from their chairs.
“Bor was assisted by Quds Force operatives during the last operation, Olivia. My guess is they were imposed on him for political reasons. He’ll have the best working for him this time.”
“Michael seemed to make short work of their best.”
“Those weren’t their best, Olivia. I bet Bor, if that was him in Georgia, didn’t even have operational authority over them. But having gotten their clocks cleaned by Mike twice already, you can be sure that the serious Russians are in charge now.”
“I’ll convey your assessment to Jim,” Olivia assured him. “Can I get a ride back to the District?”
“Matt will take you.” Dwyer grasped Olivia’s arm. “Remember, last time Bor worked on a very tight schedule. We have to assume time’s of the essence.”
“Always.”