He added, ‘The Pentagon and many intelligence agencies around the world wouldn’t agree with your description — a “nobody” analyst.’ Broker was modest.
The General grunted and leafed through the documents. After a while he looked up. ‘These are genuine?’
Broker spread his arms and gave him a what-else-did-you-expect look, but Klouse was staring off into the distance and didn’t notice his gesture. Broker ordered them another round of coffees and waited for the General to finish his thinking. This meeting had been requested by the General, and Broker was curious to know why one of the most powerful people in the country wanted to meet him. Broker had given him the North Korean intel to prove his credentials even though he knew it wasn’t required.
‘I believe you’ve heard of Isakson.’ General Klouse turned to him after taking a sip of his coffee.
Broker shrugged noncommittally. ‘We have met.’
‘That wasn’t the way he put it to me.’ There was a ghost of a smile on the General’s face.
Broker had run into Isakson, a Special Agent in Charge in the FBI, when rescuing Lauren Balthazar, the wife of a prominent journalist, and her son, Rory, from a group of rogue mercenaries.
Broker and his ex-Special Ops friend, Zeb Carter, had been pursuing Carsten Holt, the ringleader of the rogue mercenaries, who had fled to the US after committing horrific atrocities in the Congo.
Zeb and Broker hadn’t known that Holt was cozy with the FBI.
Isakson had asked them to back off when he’d found out about their pursuit, but the situation became a clusterfuck when Holt grabbed the hostages.
Zeb and Broker, ignoring Isakson’s by-the-book approach, had mounted a rescue and had secured their release.
Isakson was not on Broker’s Christmas card list.
‘Isakson is tipped to be Deputy Director of the FBI,’ the General continued, but was interrupted by Broker.
‘Director Murphy signed his appointment today, in the early hours of the morning, an official announcement yet to be made. But then I’m sure you know that.’
That ghost of a smile appeared fleetingly again. ‘Yes, I can see why you are so well spoken of. Isakson got appointed because of one quality of his that outweighed the better credentials of the others in the fray. Isakson is incorruptible. Totally.
‘You need to talk to him again. I think he could do with some help.’ The General sipped his coffee.
‘I think we know Clare in common.’ General Klouse nodded at him, and Broker nodded back, now knowing who had referred him to the General.
‘Clare speaks highly of you… and a few other associates of yours.’
Clare was the Director of the Agency, an agency that did not exist in any form. It had no paperwork, no legal entities, no personnel, nothing. The Agency ran the most clandestine black ops in the most volatile or strategically important hot spots in the world and worked with a rarefied set of contractors. Broker and his associates were that rarefied set. Clare had the nebulous title of Director of Strategy and reported directly to the President.
‘I need someone from the outside to work with Isakson and help him on a matter. Someone who has access to intelligence, who is not hampered by bureaucracy, can cut through the crap, and pull the trigger. Someone who the FBI has not used before.’
‘General, if Isakson wanted to talk to me, he could have gotten in touch himself. Or Director Murphy could have. Or Clare. This is not a matter I expected the National Security Advisor to get involved in.’
General Klouse looked at him, and for the briefest moment the professional mask dropped from his eyes and impatient steel shined from within. They hooded over quickly as the General considered his words.
‘Would you have taken Isakson’s call? Or called him if Clare asked you to?’
Broker remained silent.
‘I thought not,’ continued the General. ‘This matter is important, so important that I requested this meeting. Isakson needs your help. Talk to him, please.’
Broker still said nothing, but nodded almost imperceptibly.
General Klouse sat back and finished his coffee. ‘Have you heard anything different up for sale in your network? Anything so unusual that it pinged your radar?’
‘Such as? Help me here, General.’
‘Such as drones. Nuclear-powered drones. Highly sophisticated drones capable of flying themselves for all practical purposes, reducing or eliminating the need for the operator sitting thousands of miles away.’
Broker was aware of research into such drones, but the research hadn’t resulted in military-use drones in the field. The government had shelved development plans because of public opinion over the use of such drones. If such a drone crashed, it effectively became a dirty bomb. However, if such a drone could be made so reliable that it flew itself and could protect itself… Broker’s brain raced.
He shook his head. ‘Nope. Nothing even remotely resembling that. Believe me, General, that kind of intel would have had me hotfooting across to my old friends.’ He indicated in the direction of the Pentagon.
‘May not be a drone in its full form. Could be their designs, their power cells, guidance systems, and weapons systems… anything related to them.’
‘No, sir. I always keep my eyes out for such sensitive information. There has been the usual stuff about enriched uranium, nuclear warheads, Hellfire missiles… the usual assortment, but not the slightest whisper of drones or drone related. Is there—’ He stopped to rephrase his words. ‘Have any designs or components gone missing?’
General Klouse shook his head. ‘Thank Christ, no. However, they are high on the shopping list of the Chinese, the Russians, the Iranians, the Indians, the North Koreans. Heck, all the armies in the world want a nuclear-powered drone or two, or want the design blueprints. The National Security Agency has heard the odd rumor or two that quite a few countries are going all-out to lay their hands on a prototype or the designs. Now such rumors always go around, but the source of these whispers made the NSA flag this and bring it to my attention.’
‘Sir, do such prototypes exist?’ Broker asked carefully, looking the General in the eye.
The General looked weary, looked his age. ‘Son, you’ve been in this game long enough. You know our government’s stance on such drones. I can’t say anything more on this.’
Broker finally punctured the long ensuing silence.
‘Sir, don’t the Chinese have a drone program already? Wouldn’t they develop their own nuclear-powered drones? Why would they want to steal ours?’
‘They do. All countries having a drone program probably have some research going into such drones. However, we’ve always been decades ahead of any country in military research and arms development, and stealing research or prototypes from us would bridge those decades for them.’
Broker leaned back in his chair to take it all in, making the National Security Advisor lean forward.
‘I want you to be on the alert for any intel on this. Anything. A mouse squeaks “drone” in Siberia, I want to hear it. You hear Arabic whispers about blueprints, you come running to me. You come only to me. No one else wants to be seen working with private intelligence contractors except Clare, and she does things her way anyway. Me, I don’t care for appearances or political niceties. I took an oath to defend this country, and the more ears I have on the ground, the easier I can sleep.’
Broker grinned humorlessly. ‘Sir, I’m not sure if Clare has said this, my business is selling intel to whoever is buying, but I have some rules. I do not sell any intel that goes against the country and neither do I trade in intel on women or children. I would have gone to the Pentagon anyway if I had gotten any intel on drones of any kind.’