Arctic Fire (23 page)

Ham sandwiches and potato salad in a Georgetown basement he’d never had time to finish, and it all seemed surreal to Carlson. It seemed too informal an atmosphere for them to consider an action so grave, an action that would change the course of history. He felt like they should be wearing tuxedos and toasting each other with fine wine in a private room of an elite club as they passed judgment on David Dorn.

“Before we get to the most important issue,” Carlson began as the others ate, “I’ll give you a few updates. First, one of our Falcons just left China and is now aboard the
Arctic Fire
headed for Dutch Harbor. I’ve already gotten preliminary information from him that the Chinese have, in fact, completed development of that tactical missile the DOD and the CIA are so concerned about. The information our Falcon brought back is excellent and should prove extremely helpful to our negotiators as they begin arms talks with the Chinese next week in Rotterdam. We’ll have more details about the system when he gets to Washington tomorrow.”

Carlson paused for a moment as he thought about Captain Sage Mitchell and the
Arctic Fire
. Captain Sage was a true patriot, a damn fine man. A significant amount of the country’s recent success in terms of bringing back military and strategic secrets from and about China, Russia, and North Korea could be attributed, in part, to his ability to quietly pilot the
Fire
around the Bering Sea. They’d been smart to recruit Sage Mitchell a few years ago when he was almost broke.

It was too damn bad about Troy Jensen, and he hoped Sage wouldn’t have any misgivings about helping Red Cell Seven in the future because he felt guilty about the kid getting washed overboard in the storm. Better than almost anyone else, Captain Sage understood why they called it the most dangerous job on earth. Accidents happened, especially on the Bering Sea. They were just one of those bad things in life that happened for no apparent reason. Like cancer.

“Second,” Carlson continued, “in the past week our people executed two senior terrorist agents in the United States and three more abroad. From the chatter we’re picking up out of Yemen and Syria, the agents in the US were even more vital to their organizations than we originally thought. And, we kept all of that out of the media.”

Everyone was enjoying the food. He could tell how much because no one was asking questions. Nancy always had been a wonderful cook. Even her sandwiches tasted better than anyone else’s. He smiled sadly. At least to him they did. He hadn’t enjoyed her food as much as he should have over the years, but he was going to start now. He glanced down at his plate and the untouched sandwich lying there. Well, after this meeting, he would.

“Finally,” he continued, “we’ve gotten word from our Falcons that it’s likely another LNG tanker is being prepped in Malaysia by terrorists and will head toward another East Coast target soon. It’ll be sometime after the first of the year, probably. This ship will be carrying almost two hundred thousand cubic meters of liquefied natural gas. We believe that Savannah, Georgia, is the target, but this time we’ll board the ship farther out in the ocean, a few hundred miles, at least. We’ll have a lot more firepower on the scene too, even some underwater. But, as I said, it’s nothing we have to worry about right away. We’ve got a few weeks.”

“Thanks, Roger,” one of the other men said brusquely as he finished the last bite of his sandwich. “But what’s going on with President Dorn? Let’s get to why we’re really here.”

“Yeah, let’s,” one of the other men agreed. “Is the bastard really trying to screw with Red Cell Seven?”

“He’s not just trying to screw with it,” Carlson answered ominously. “He’s trying to destroy us. He wants lists of all RCS personnel and where they’re currently deployed. He wants all of our contacts abroad, the names of CIA and NSA in-country spies, and a list of physical assets here and abroad.”

The room went deathly still as everyone stopped chewing and took a few moments to digest the information instead of the food.

“Then Dorn has to die.”

Everyone’s gazes flickered to the man at the opposite end of the table from Carlson who’d just spoken up in his deep voice.

“It’s simply a question of when and where,” he added.

Carlson glanced around the table. “Are we unanimous? Let me see hands.”

Four hands rose immediately into the air. That fast, a death sentence had been passed. That fast, President Dorn had become a dead man walking. Because once Red Cell Seven identified a target, it didn’t miss. It never had before.

“All right,” Carlson said somberly, amazed as always by their efficiency. “We kill him.”

“What about the vice president?” the man at the other end of the table asked.

“What about him?”

“Are we sure he’ll be with us? We can’t push this button twice in the same decade, Roger. There’d be hell to pay if we did. I mean, there will be this time too, of course.” The man crossed his arms tightly over his chest as if a cold wind had just blown into the room. “But if we did it again…” His voice faded for a few seconds. “Well, that simply isn’t an option.”

“Agreed,” Carlson said, glancing around the table. “I can assure all of you that Vice President Vogel will be very supportive of Red Cell Seven.”

The room went quiet until the man at the end of the table spoke up again. “How long until David Dorn dies, Roger?”

Carlson stared down the table. Maddux was going to carry out the execution. “Two weeks,” he answered in a grave voice. “Maybe less.”

“M
R
. P
RESIDENT
, I should have looked at that list you gave Daniel Beckham this afternoon before you sent him to meet Roger Carlson.”

Rex Stein was a short, wiry man with a full head of gray hair and intense hazel eyes set close together on his face. And he always wore bow ties. It was his trademark.

Stein was a consummate Washington insider who knew his way around the federal government as well as anyone. He knew how to get what he wanted without compromising in a town where few people got anything without giving away the farm.

Stein tapped a corner of the paper with his index finger so it popped loudly. “I just got this, and, well, with all due respect, Mr. President, giving Carlson this was a mistake.” The party had chosen Stein for this position to keep Dorn out of trouble. He had
permission from the nonelected leaders to be extremely direct with the commander in chief. “A
huge
mistake.”

Dorn smiled stiffly at Stein from behind his desk in the Oval Office. “Thank you for your input, Rex, but you were busy this afternoon. You were working on the Europe trip we’re taking next month, and I wanted to get this Red Cell Seven thing started right away.” He chuckled. “Don’t worry. Beckham isn’t going to be reporting straight to me on this. He’ll go through you just like everyone else does. Don’t get your panties in a bunch.”

Stein counted to five silently as he shifted in his chair. He knew Dorn didn’t appreciate the directness. He could see the resentment for it building with each new day, and it was a function of Dorn becoming more and more comfortable in his position. But it was getting harder and harder for Stein to control his temper when Dorn decided to sling those sarcastic arrows across the desk.

“I’m not worried about that, Mr. President.”

“Then what are you worried about?”

“Frankly, I’m worried that there could be repercussions for shutting down Red Cell Seven. We need to have more respect for how much support there is out there for RCS at the highest levels of—”

“I’m not shutting it down,” the president interrupted. “I’m just getting control of it. That’s all.”

Stein glanced down at the piece of paper in his lap. “I have to tell you that a man like Roger Carlson will interpret this list as you shutting him down. I have a few more years of experience than you in terms of dealing with things like this and—”

“Rex,” the president cut in sharply, “did you know that Carlson allows several of his direct reports to kill people? In fact, he condones it. He even sets it up in some cases.”

Stein slowly raised an eyebrow. At his core he was a liberal, but he still had a healthy respect for Red Cell Seven and what the
individuals in it did. Getting older had enabled him to start seeing both sides of the defense and intelligence coin. As had 9/11. He’d lost a brother when the North Tower had come crashing down.

“That’s what they do, sir,” he said deliberately. “That’s their job. They kill the bad guys, and they do it in the shadows so you and I never need to know about it. So we have plausible deniability.”

“I’m talking about civilians. He has them kill American civilians.”

“Can you be more specific on that one for me, sir?” Stein asked calmly, aware that Dorn wasn’t above telling a few white lies to make his point. He was like any other politician.

The president eased back into his big leather chair and made a contrite face to let Stein know that he hadn’t told his chief of staff the whole story. “They carry out vigilante justice. They kill people who’ve dodged a bullet and gotten off serious crimes on a technicality.”

Stein nodded. “Well, I can’t really—”

“Don’t tell me you agree with that.”

“Justice can’t be as blind as we’d like it to be. You know that.”

“Whose side are you on?”

“The country’s side, Mr. President.”

Stein still wasn’t convinced that Dorn had accurate information. And, even if the president did, Stein wasn’t sure he cared. He’d had his doubts over the years, but now he was starting to think that what cells like RCS did in the shadows was necessary.

“How did you find out about this, Mr. President?”

“I’ve been president for ten months, Rex. I don’t need you for everything anymore.” Dorn had been looking at the painting of George Washington on the wall, but now he refocused on Stein. “A minute ago you mentioned repercussions for shutting RCS down. What did you mean?”

You don’t want to know, Mr. President,
was what Stein was thinking. But even as direct as he usually was with Dorn, he
couldn’t say that. He didn’t want to mention the “assassination” word. “Are you really serious about
not
shutting down Red Cell Seven?”

“Absolutely. I respect what they do. They just need to be roped in some. Well, a lot,” Dorn added.

Stein took a deep breath. He was going to try his best to do damage control on this, but it was going to be difficult. He knew that list on the paper in his lap had sent a very different message to Roger Carlson than what the president had just laid out. Unfortunately, there might be no stopping the intel reaction at this point.

Lisa Martinez carefully put the baby down in his crib, covered his tiny body with his hospital blanket, and headed for the living room. A few moments ago there’d been a loud knock on the apartment door. She was hoping it wasn’t the super looking for last month’s rent because she still didn’t have it. The five hundred dollars Jack gave her had gone for formula, Pampers, and keeping the lights on.

When she pulled back the door, her eyes opened wide. Standing in front of her was a tall, older man with silver hair, wearing an expensive-looking suit.