Abuse of Power - Michael Savage [110]
So when Jack saw the message in those encrypted e-mails he immediately got on the phone to Wickham and laid it all out for him, from beginning to end. If either phone was tapped and someone was listening, they were welcome to the information. It was too late to be overly cautious.
Wickham had never been prone to alarm, but Jack heard a slight rise in his voice. “Goddamn it, Jack, are you sure about this?”
“As sure as I can be, Senator.”
“You’re talking about the British government, for God’s sake! How far up the chain do you think this thing goes?”
“It’s hard to say. Possibly all the way to the top. The group I told you about, the one that Copeland was involved with, has been shut down, and all of their databases are fried.”
“So you’ve got no evidence.”
“Just the USB key. But if I’m interpreting those messages correctly, there’s gonna be big trouble at the Legion of Honor on Saturday night.”
“With the President smack in the middle,” Wickham muttered.
“I know it all sounds crazy, Senator, but I think we have a major crisis on our hands. The first thing you need to do is to find out who these e-mails went to. The initials are TDL, which doesn’t help much. It could be a throwaway account. But it’s someone at Allied, which leads me to believe they’ve got a shipment coming in.”
Wickham sighed heavily. “I’m bowled over, Jack. Completely bowled over. If this thing is as pervasive as you seem to think it is, I’ll have to go into stealth mode and tread very lightly.”
“But quickly,” Jack urged. “From what I’ve learned, the Hand of Allah isn’t an organization you want to underestimate. I’m pretty sure their top soldier is already in San Francisco, doing God knows what. A guy named Hassan Haddad. Somebody has to find him and stop him.”
Wickham was silent a moment, then said, “All right, Jack. I’m gonna trust you on this one. Never had any reason not to.”
“Thank you, Senator. Even if I’m wrong, it’s like my father always told me: better to look inside the watch than wait till it stops ticking.”
“Damn straight,” Wickham said. “Now, what I need you to do is get on a jet and get back to the U.S. as fast as possible. I’ll arrange to have a friend’s plane fly you out here to San Francisco.”
“San Francisco? What are you doing there?”
“The Legion of Honor dinner.”
“You, too?”
“The President’s in a nonpartisan mood and invited me to the gala on Saturday night. I decided I’d throw him a bone and make an appearance. So I’ve got personal reasons to hope you’re wrong.” He paused. “Now get on that jet and bring the woman with you. We’re gonna want to hear what she has to say, too.”
The knot of anxiety that had been plaguing Jack ever since he saw those messages was finally starting to dissipate. Wickham wouldn’t let him down.
Jack asked him if he could have some clothes brought aboard. Nothing fancy, just clean. The senator said he’d do what he could.
An hour later, Jack and Sara boarded their flight. It was a Gulfstream 550 that Jack and Sara had all to themselves, attended by a lone flight attendant. The young attendant explained that they had a choice of four separate living areas, each with its own climate control. There was a wireless broadband network and satellite communications should they require it. Abundant sunlight streamed through the fourteen oval windows, illuminating the deep leather seats, each with its own DVD player. With brawny Rolls-Royce turbofan engines, this flying carpet had a range of 6,750 nautical miles and flew at 51,000 feet.
Jack and Sara just wanted to shower and change. There were a stack of boxes from Harrods onboard. Jack slipped into slacks, a button-down shirt, and a black blazer. Sara snuggled into a pantsuit. Jack was pleased that he’d guessed right when he gave the senator her size. She looked like a runway model, only more radiant.
Two of the boxes contained formal wear: a tuxedo for Jack and a gown for Sara. Obviously, the senator intended for them to go to the dinner.
Unlike commercial aircraft, the air was one