When the Cessna Citation X landed just a few miles southeast of Washington, DC, at Andrews Air Force Base, it was met by a contingent of agents from the FBI’s Critical Incident Response Group.
Established in 1994, the CIRG represented the FBI’s highest-end tactical and investigative resources. CIRG teams could be deployed anywhere in the country to handle critical incidents requiring an immediate law enforcement response such as hostage takings, child abductions, prison riots, and terrorist attacks. One of the CIRG’s best-known units was the FBI’s famed Hostage Rescue Team, which had a helicopter standing by to transport Harvath and the rest of the team to FBI Headquarters at 935 Pennsylvania Avenue.
As the Bell 412 helicopter raced across the dark Metro DC sky, agents of the Behavioral Analysis Unit pumped Harvath and Alexandra for anything they knew about Helmut Draegar that might give them the edge in stopping him before he could carry out his assignment.
The questions continued as they rode the elevator down from the improvised landing pad on the roof and made their way into the FBI’s Strategic Information and Operations Center, or SIOC.
The main operations area was pulsing with activity as harried operatives simultaneously worked the phones and computer terminals. Large, flat-panel monitors surrounded the room and tracked everything from street traffic to air traffic. Utility and public works departments were being monitored, as was the main 911 Emergency Call Center. Representatives from the Capitol Police Containment amp; Emergency Response Team were present, as well as representatives from the US Park Police SWAT team, the Federal Marshal Service’s Special Operations Group, the Washington, DC, Metropolitan Police Department Emergency Response Team, the Secret Service’s Counter Assault, Uniform Division Emergency Response, and Counter Sniper Teams, the Department of Energy’s Nuclear Emergency Support Team, the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the National Security Council, and a host of other agencies.
Security was always extremely tight leading up to a State of the Union address, but with a confirmed nuclear terrorist threat in the works, the CIRG had been operating at an exhausting, almost overloaded capacity for the last week.
Harvath and Alexandra were shown to a conference room above the frenetic main floor, while Morrell and the rest of his team were taken to another part of the Center to be debriefed by both CIA and Defense Department officials.
As the door to the crowded conference room opened the first voice Harvath heard belonged to Homeland Security Director Driehaus. “Ifit’s found in time.”
“If it’s not, then the president is reluctantly prepared to evacuate the Congress and give his address from the White House,” replied the chief of staff, Charles Anderson.
“Taped, of course.” said CIA Director Vaile. “Your people can record it now and then feed it out tonight while he’s safe and sound aboard Air Force One.”
“The president’s not very happy about that option,” answered Anderson. “It’s not his style. He doesn’t like the idea of hiding out while millions of American lives are at risk.”
“But like it or not, it’s his duty to remain alive,” interjected Driehaus. “If this thing does come down, the American people will want to turn to him for his guidance and leadership in the aftermath.”
“You’ve got no argument with me,” said Anderson. “Anyway, unless we’re one hundred percent certain that the threat has been neutralized, he’s giving the Russians what they want and going with the alternate speech. The international and economic pieces will just have to fall where they may.”
“Hold on a second,” said Driehaus, as he suddenly noticed Alexandra standing next to Harvath in the doorway. “Who the hell cleared them to be in here?”
“I did,” replied FBI Director Sorce, who instructed the two newcomers to take a seat.
“She’s a Russian SVR agent, for Christ’s sake!”
“Who has given us one of our biggest breaks in this case.”
Driehaus was incensed. “What if she’s a plant? What if everything she’s given us is disinformation? I want to go on record that I object to her being here and believe that her presence at this meeting puts our national security in serious jeopardy.”
“Duly noted,” replied Sorce.
“What for?” rebutted Driehaus. “She’s already decoded and provided us with the list of sleepers and their locations before she and Agent Harvath even landed in DC.”
“True,” replied Sorce, “but we still do not have themeans by which to contact them and therefore we believe she may still be useful. There’s no telling how much of a head start Draegar already has on us in activating them.”
“What about the sleepers here in DC?” asked Harvath, anxious to avoid a protracted pissing match between Sorce and Driehaus. “What have you been able to find out about them?”
The FBI director took a deep breath before responding. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to agree with Secretary Driehaus at this point. We’re going to need to talk about those two privately.” Looking at Alexandra he said, “We have a team here in the main operations area coordinating the pickups of the sleeper agents across the country. As we pop them, our field agents will be feeding back live video of their interrogations and the searches of their cars, residences, and so on. On each field team is an agent who can speak Russian, just in case Draegar tries to make contact. That being said, you’ve been a very big help to us so far, and if we can impress upon you to assist us further we could really use your help down on the floor.”
Alexandra agreed, and Sorce had one of his assistants show her to the area the sleeper pickup teams were being managed from. Once she was out of the conference room and the door had closed behind her, The FBI director looked at Harvath and said, “Out of the names you gave us, one is dead and one is missing.”
“Who are they?” asked Harvath.
“The dead guy owned a very successful antique store on Wisconsin Avenue in upper Georgetown. His client list reads like a who’s who of Washington insiders. No priors, never bothered his neighbors, regular churchgoer, no outstanding debts, you know the profile.”
“Was he Russian by birth or did someone turn them here?”
“That’s something we’re still working on.”
As Sorce handed him the file, Harvath looked it over and said, “Draegar’s cleaning house. Why?”
“The Russians are tying up their loose ends,” offered Driehaus.
“My guess is that the antiques guy changed his mind,” said Sorce. “That’s always the risk you run with a long-term sleeper. When it came to the point that he was actually called into action, he didn’t want to do it. His ideology had changed. He liked what he had going on here and didn’t want to give it up, so Draegar broke into his apartment and killed him.”
“Where did he live?” asked Harvath as he continued to scan the file.
“In some apartment building near Dupont Circle.”
“What about the other guy?”
“That’s the one that really stings,” said the FBI director as he handed over the other file. “His name is David Patrick. He’s an aide to the National Security Council’s deputy executive secretary. Apparently, he went to Moscow on a goddamn Fulbright Scholarship.”
“Our American tax dollars at work,” replied Harvath.
“His job at the NSC put him in a perfect position to slip that ransom note into the president’s briefing papers.”
Harvath closed the file and slid it back over to the FBI director, “So where’s our man now?”
“At this point, it’s anybody’s guess. We’ve cast a very intense net for him. If he’s out there, we’ll get him.”
“I assume you’ve got a team at Patrick’s apartment,” said Harvath, “just in case he comes back.”
“We do. I reassigned the guys I had on Gary’s place. Why? Are you thinking about going over there?”
“I’d like Agent Ivanova to see it, and the antique dealer’s home and office as well. She’s got good instincts and might pick up on something we missed.”
“Now that she’s in the building,” interrupted the homeland security secretary, “I don’t know if I like the idea of her leaving it.”
Sorce had no choice but to agree, it was too dangerous.
Harvath, though, disagreed. “I know the idea of an SVR agent running around loose while we’re dealing with a major threat from the Russians is a little unorthodox, but I’m telling you she has a very good eye. It’s precisely because she’s Russian that she can be of help to us. She can approach this from a completely different angle.”
“And if she tries to rabbit?” asked Sorce, playing Devil’s advocate.
“She won’t.”
“But if she does?” prodded Driehaus.
“Then I’ll put a bullet in her,” replied Harvath. “As sure as I’m sitting here, if Agent Alexandra Ivanova tries to run, I give you my word that I’ll kill her myself.”