“You don't have any evidence for this!” shouted Michelson, to everyone's surprise. He paused to collect himself. “As you are all likely aware, Agent Jordan is an excellent field man, but one that I and many of his superiors feel is too often overzealous in his pursuit of action in his nation's interests. We should all step back and realize that at present, there are no ties whatsoever with Gunn International or any illegality. There is no reason to believe there would be any motive for there to be one.”
Mira cut in. “Exactly. What's the motive here? Why on earth would one of our biggest military contractors be transporting illegal explosives and training terrorists to attack Muslims?”
Savas stepped back to the board. “It turns out that there might be a motive.” The image of the striking woman grew large on the screen. Savas swallowed. He felt vertigo descend on him again. Images of falling towers and the face of his son threatened to paralyze his thought processes. Focus, damn it!
“On 9/11, an accountant with J. P. Morgan traveled to the former World Trade Center,” he stammered, finding it difficult to get the words out in a professional manner. “She was in a meeting in 1 WTC on the 102nd floor when the plane hit. She made a series of calls to a cell phone number listed to an owner in New York City, and then to the police and fire departments. Due to volume, her calls were not answered at police or fire, and the private number she called did not pick up. At approximately 10:28 a.m., the time of the North Tower collapse, all calls from that number ceased. Her name was Judith Rosenberg. She was the wife of William Gunn.”
There was a long silence.
Kanter shook his head, his expression sympathetic. “John, there are a lot of people in this city, and I'd wager at many international corporations, who lost someone they loved that day.” He looked uncomfortable saying this to Savas, but he continued. “Do they all have motive? Do you? We can't go all wild conspiracy theory here and tie rogue shipping companies to terrorist training camps for a vengeful CEO.”
Savas felt crestfallen. Kanter wasn't buying it.
“Well, I say we can,” boomed Jordan.
“Agent Jordan,” began Michelson, “we have already—”
“I say we can and should,” interrupted Jordan. “Something smells wrong here. Whoever is bankrolling this thing has the pockets of a bin Laden, and his fanaticism, too. I think GI has something important to do with this, and I think William Gunn needs to be examined more closely than he has been.”
“Nonsense!” shouted Michelson. “We are professional organizations — both the FBI and the CIA. We don't try to muscle powerful companies or individuals — companies and individuals, I should remind you, who have served their nation well and helped to protect us from these threats from abroad for years! Certainly not because of some half-baked hunch!”
Mira tugged at her diamond pendant and glanced up. “John, I don't want to be difficult, but, assuming you are right about this, where would we even start? And how? Gunn is a Howard Hughes — secretive, paranoid, and retaliatory. His ruthlessness is legendary. And GI is a giant octopus. It's like saying this case has something to do with China. How do you find a needle in that haystack, the proof you need? This haystack is a powerful force that isn't going to let itself be searched, especially if there is a chance for legal action and embarrassment.”
Hernandez, quiet until now, fired back. “We have shipping records linking GI to an international arms dealership! That's a place to start.”
“Not realistically,” said Kanter. “You have to see the legal angle, Manuel. So what if these gunrunners used an Operon ship? How much did Operon know? Was it a local smuggling problem or something broader? Nothing connects this in a way we can pursue right now, to GI or to anything else. Hell, I'm not convinced GI had anything to do with it. Do you know how many boats they run at any given time? It must be huge. If we move now, we'll just make fools of ourselves.”
Savas felt the moment slipping away. “We can at least follow up on the shipping leads! We know where these boats docked; we can try to trace the shipments from there.”
Kanter nodded. “We can certainly do that, John. Our good friends at the CIA can help us here, as this goes outside the country and our jurisdiction,” he gestured with his eyes toward Michelson and Jordan. “From that we can get names and locations, hopefully trace these things back to the buyers. This will get us closer, and, I think, provide us with harder evidence should we need to move on GI in a more serious manner. Whatever the circumstantial story you've put together,” he said, gesturing to the flat screen, “there is nothing, no reason to think GI was involved beyond being duped, and it would be impossible to take that company on without a powerful case to give us powerful warrants.”
Mira finished. “Besides, it is not as if there are many options with respect to Mr. Gunn at our disposal, as it is.”
Jordan smiled. “Sure there are. Walk up to the man and lay the cards on the table. Call him out. In that moment, you'll know from the eyes.”
Michelson sneered and laughed. “A lot of good that will do. Your antics in Dubai wrecked a decade of CIA operations and left a trail of bodies that we are still trying to smooth over with the UAE government.”
“He got the records, didn't he?” Savas found himself speaking, to his own surprise. Jordan eyed Savas, more intrigued than grateful.
Richard Michelson flashed an angry glare toward him. “Indeed he did, Agent Savas. So might have ten other plans he ignored in his anxious pursuit of the mission. The CIA is not in the habit of inducing international incidents for small gains. Nor will anyone authorize any such rash actions on American soil, I would wager.”
Savas smiled. “But the CIA doesn't have authorization on US soil, if I remember correctly.”
“No, it doesn't,” said Kanter firmly, his tone imperial. “But I do. And I say this line of discussion has gone too far.”
38
Savas paced silently in his office. They were moving through September without an incident, and the stress of wondering if another attack would hit had him exhausted. There were long hours poring over the shipping records, information on Operon and GI, William Gunn and several other executives, other CIA and FBI information. Correlating, looking for patterns. Finding curious hints but nothing solid.
Kanter had decided to take the conservative approach and continue to follow up on the shipping information. This was the rational move and would certainly lead them eventually to the buyers and the source of the explosive orders, one way or the other. It was the “eventually” that had Savas worried. How much time and how many more attacks could the international community take before something cracked? Wars were often started for the stupidest of reasons, when international tensions were high and mistakes in judgment were made. As Cohen had made very clear, oil was the lifeblood of the modern world, and if its flow was impaired, nations would respond as they felt necessary to preserve it. If things did not resolve soon, John Savas knew, there would be war.
Just thinking about Cohen, even in this context, was comforting. She had left earlier, keeping to their plan of schedule separation at work. Savas was pleased that, despite the fact that they were together nearly every night, it seemed no one had an inkling of the situation. And while it rankled him to have to hide their affection, the time wasn't right, and it was the last thing they or the group needed.
There was a knock, and he half expected to see Cohen's silhouette in the doorway. Instead, it was Larry Kanter. He looked exhausted. “Mind if I come in?” he asked.