“What would do that?” Seiden asked quietly.
“I don’t know… not yet.”
“So all this is just a hunch?” Seiden’s irritation was seeping back in his voice.
“No, sir, this is the result of my analysis. I still think the Russians are preparing for some kind of a nuclear attack. I just don’t think it will be anything like a traditional war. I’m not seeing them pick an American city or a military target and just strike. It would be too clean, too easy and painless by his standards. I strongly believe they’re trying to keep us busy while they’re prepping some terrorist-type incursion in our space, with a nuclear threat on the agenda.”
Seiden loosened his tie a little more, while his deep frown reappeared.
“Find out what that is, Henri, find out now. Get all your people on it, and get more people if you need them.” Seiden stood and looked outside at the sun-lit cityscape. “This incredible scenario of yours makes sense; it fits. We need to brief the president.”
…39
After shaking Mason’s hand warmly, Sam Russell sat quietly for a few seconds, and Mason didn’t disrupt the silence either.
Sam absorbed the visual details in Mason’s office. The office had stayed the same, unchanged, over the entire time he’d been consulting for Mason. It had barren walls, no artwork, no plants, and no décor whatsoever. It was a practical, cold, impersonal, almost monastic space, furnished with efficiency in mind.
He looked at Mason and had to repress a smile. They must look really funny, the two of them. Both had shaved heads, wrinkled foreheads, and had preserved their athletic builds. Both were wounded warriors of a bygone era. Sam’s CIA days were just fond memories now, and so were Mason’s Secret Service days. Oh well… time does fly. Yet both of them still had a lot of fight in them, still had a lot to offer.
They went back a long way, the two of them. Sam always chuckled when he remembered how the two of them had met. Sam had been invited to the White House Correspondents’ Dinner in reward for forging one of the most enduring alliances between the CIA and MOSSAD. The alliance between the two agencies, initially based on the friendship between two intelligence field agents, had evolved beyond Sam’s wildest dreams when his old MOSSAD friend took the reins of the Israeli government as prime minister. That course of events had brought him the invitation to attend the correspondents’ dinner.
Sam had never been a guest at the White House before and was a little uneasy about the whole thing, not really knowing anyone there, not sure where he could and couldn’t go. No wonder he took the wrong turn at some point and entered the wrong men’s room, one that was not open for guest access. Oblivious to his error, he had proceeded to the nearest urinal, pressed by an urgent need to relieve the pressure on his bladder.
In that very personal moment, he had felt a firm hand on his shoulder. A Secret Service agent escorted him out, barely giving him the time to zip his pants, and pointed him in the direction of the guest men’s room. That agent was Mason Armstrong, and, over the years, their unusual encounter led to a strong friendship. After Sam had retired from the CIA, Mason had extended him a consulting contract with Walcott, engaging him whenever the business needs required it.
Sam decided to open the conversation.
“This can’t be easy, Mason; how are you holding up?” Sam asked.
“I’m fine, it’s not me I’m worried about. It’s everything else. Our CEO and SecNav want this entire issue contained and the case closed ASAP.”
Mason stretched his left leg to the side of his desk.
“That’s tight,” Sam said. “In all the years we’ve been working together I haven’t seen such an ugly one. What does SecNav say?”
“He’s livid, and that was to be expected. He calls me three times a day, and I’m sure he’s calling the directors of the FBI and NCIS just as often. It’s our best weapons technology, so new we haven’t even deployed it on our fleet yet, and it could have been compromised already. He’s pressing us for a sitrep within forty-eight hours, and twenty-four are already gone.”
“What does the FBI say, or NCIS?” Sam asked quietly.
Mason rubbed his forehead for a few seconds before answering.
“You’re not gonna believe this, Sam. The federal agents deployed on this case were involved in a traffic collision with a tractor-trailer, and now they’re both in the hospital, fighting for their lives. They’re deploying someone else now.”
“Coincidence? Or not?” Sam probed.
“I think it’s too early to be anything else but a coincidence. But we’ve lost a day, nevertheless. And a day can make or break a case like this, you know that.”
Sam nodded, regretting he couldn’t light up in that office. Smoking cleared his mind, and somehow increased his perceptive skills. He’d just have to wait.
“Let’s go through the facts, Mason. Let’s see what we’ve got.”
Mason picked up a document enclosed in a transparent envelope, and pushed it toward Sam.
“Our fleet guy found this when he detailed the corporate van.”
Sam whistled in amazement. “Unauthorized copy, huh?”
Mason nodded, while his eyebrows came together in a frown.
“You know,” Sam said, “there’s no logical reason to assume that this document was the entire breach. You know that, right?”
Mason nodded again.
“Most likely they copied the entire file, and only lost the first page, the cover page,” Sam continued.
“The entire file, or more files,” Mason added grimly.
“Yes, there could be more.”
Sam examined the document through the transparent envelope in detail.
“How or where the hell did they make the copy?”
“IT is looking into the usage logs for all the copiers in the building, and cross-referencing those logs with all authorized copies that were made in the past two weeks. We have an internal team on that. But it will take a while. We have seventy-eight copiers and forty-three fax machines, all digital and requiring access codes.”
“OK. Let’s change direction, then. Who used the van, do we know? Any video?”
“No, no video, but we do know who used the van between the previous detailing and the moment the document was found.”
“OK, let’s work that list,” Sam said, scribbling on a piece of paper. “Go,” he invited Mason.
“There was one senior executive returning from a business trip, it was an airport pickup,” Mason said, looking at his notes.
“I think we could safely eliminate any inbound pickups, don’t you agree? Anyone stealing secrets from Walcott wouldn’t bring them inside the company once they were out, right?”
“Right… yes,” Mason confirmed. “It makes sense. Then that eliminates the delegation from South Korea, also an airport pickup.”
“Yes, scratch them off the list too. Who else?”
“I’m sure we can eliminate the CEO’s wife going on a shopping trip to France, don’t you agree?” Mason asked.
“Well, maybe not entirely.”
“The van picked her up at her house, not here. And she doesn’t have any access, obviously.”
“It was just a courtesy pickup and drop off? Then yes, she’s off the list too. I’m guessing you’re happy about that one, aren’t you?” Sam smiled.
Mason looked in Sam’s eyes and relaxed a little. “You have no idea,” he confirmed, a faint smile showing on his list for a split second.