Early Monday morning, after four hours of sleep and seeing Mike off, Drake called Liz Strobel. When she answered, her gravelly voice said she’d been sleeping soundly.
“’If this is your idea of a sick joke, guys, I’ll make you pay,” Strobel said.
“Good morning, Sunshine. Adam Drake. I need to talk to you.”
“Yeah, but I don’t have to listen. It’s early. Why are you doing this to me, Drake?” she whined.
“Whining doesn’t become you, Sunshine. Meet me downstairs in an hour for coffee. I may even buy you breakfast. I have some news you need to hear,” he said and hung up.
Strobel slammed down the phone and pulled the covers over her head. Her job required her to be as tough as the men she ordered around, but keeping up with them when they started drinking was still a skill she hadn’t mastered.
An hour later, Drake watched Strobel walk into the coffee shop of the Marriott, dressed like she was headed to the White House to brief the President. Navy blue jacket, tan skirt, a soft cream-colored silk blouse, and heels. He was impressed.
Strobel stopped behind her chair, where she locked a brief, this better be good, stare on him before she sat down. Then she waited for Drake to talk.
“I’m sorry I woke you up. I thought you might like to know your boss may be in danger,” Drake said.
“If this is an attempt to get me to interfere in the investigation of the guys you killed, you can save your breath. It’s out of my hands, as you no doubt saw the other day.”
“This isn’t about that, although there may be a connection. What if I were to tell you that at a location close to the chemical weapons depot, there are men living in an underground bunker. They have uniforms that will identify them as security guards at the depot. Your boss speaks there day after tomorrow.”
“My first question would be, why you think these men pose a danger to Secretary Rallings? The second would be, how did you learn about some underground bunker?” she said, sitting back in her chair while the waitress put her coffee on the table.
“First, just to be clear, I said your boss might be in danger. The reason is simple, but then I’m a fairly simple guy. The men in the underground bunker are black American Muslims, and they’re hiding underground,” Drake said.
“But you don’t know why they’re in this bunker, and they’re a threat because they’re Muslim and black?” Strobel asked, with her eyebrows raised. “You’d be popular in Washington with that kind of logic, Mr. PC.”
Drake shrugged, “If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, out here we call it a duck. Most of our homegrown terrorists in the Northwest have been black Americans who converted to Islam. When they’re living in a secret underground bunker, with uniforms that provide access to a chemical weapons depot, I think the threat possibility should at least be explored.”
“You haven’t told me how you know about this bunker.”
Drake studied her face. He hadn’t decided if he could trust her with the truth. “I can’t tell you that, and you don’t want to know. Look, my father-in-law will be with your boss Wednesday at the dedication ceremony. I have no reason to make this up.”
“So what am I supposed to do with your suspicions? I can’t get a FISA warrant with what you’ve told me. And I won’t get the FBI involved, not when they’re trying to hang me out to dry because I helped you.”
“What good is Homeland Security when you won’t investigate a threat like this? You have something suspicious going on near a chemical weapons depot with enough chemical munitions to wipe out the west coast,” Drake threw down.
“You know damn well why we can’t help,” she said, standing up. “If you or your source doesn’t have the guts to tell us about this bunker, don’t expect me to send in the cavalry.”
Drake knew she was right, just as he knew that getting her involved would have slowed him down anyway. He had to warn her, but hadn’t expected her to do much. If America wouldn’t do everything possible to protect itself at home, he would. He wasn’t afraid to do it again, Strobel’s accusation notwithstanding.
He finished his coffee and walked back through the hotel lobby on his way to his office. If the Senator would go along with the plan forming in his mind, he would conduct his own investigation.