Net Force - Tom Clancy [9]
Plekhanov leaned back in his chair. The Grand Plan was progressing exactly as he had intended. Like a snowball rolling down a hill, it had begun small, but by the time it was done, it would be vast and unstoppable.
He pushed the intercom buzzer on his desk. A few seconds passed, and nothing happened. He pushed the button again. Still no response. He sighed. The intercom was broken again. If he wanted tea, he would have to go and tell Sasha. He was on the way to being the most powerful man in the world and he had to work in an office wherein the simplest devices were in need of repair. He shook his head. That was going to change.
And that would be but the smallest of changes
Wednesday, September 8th, 7:17 a.m. Washington, D.C.
Alexander Michaels had felt better. As his chauffeur maneuvered the car toward 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, he shuffled through the hardcopy printouts yet again, ordering his thoughts as best he could. The town car was bracketed fore and aft by bodyguard vehicles, governmental-gray cars whose drivers and passengers carried enough hardware to sustain a small war. The protocols were pretty clear about what must be done in the event of a high-level federal assassination. The genesis of these protective measures went all the way back to Lincoln. Most people didnt realize that the murdered President had not been the sole target of Booth and his fellow plotters.
Michaels had been to the White House several times, although always as a backup to Steve Day, never on the hot seat himself. And he had every scrap of information the FBI had on the assassination on tap, all duplicated on a small disk capable of holding gigabytes of material, nestled inside a coded plastic case, ready to load into the White Houses Secure System. Should something happen to him, anybody who tried to break open the disks case would be in for a hot surprise when ten grams of Thermoflex went up with enough heat to melt the case, the disk and the fingers of anybody stupid enough to be holding both.
The White House Secure System was a set of special computers without any links to the outside world, along with state-of-the-art antivirals and sweepers installed, so once his information was installed there, it would be safe.
Still, he was tired, had drunk too much coffee, and he wanted nothing more than to find a bed far away from all this and sleep for a week.
Well, too bad. Thats not what you signed on for, now is it?
The virgil cheeped.
Yes?
Alex? You ready?
The Director. Yes, sir. I should be there in about five minutes.
Anything new I should know about?
Nothing substantial.
All right. Discom.
The procession arrived at the West Gate. Alex alighted, was checked by the metal detectors, bomb sniffers and an HOS-a hard-objects scanner-this latter a new device designed to keep ceramic or plastic guns and knives from sneaking past. He checked his taser, got a receipt and visitor badge, then ran the gamut of Marine sentries at the door who checked his ID. The Situation Room where his meeting was scheduled was one of the older ones, one level down, under the Oval Office.
Another pair of Marines inspected his badge as he exited the small elevator, and a trio of Secret Service agents in suits nodded or spoke to him as he headed toward the Situation Room. He knew two of them, one of whom had been with the Bureau back when Alex had been stationed in Idaho.
Morning, Commander Michaels, his old Idaho friend said.
Hey, Bruce. The term Commander still made him uneasy. He hadnt even wanted this job. He sure as hell hadnt wanted it at the cost of Steve Days life. The silver lining here was that being in charge gave him the best chance of catching Days killers. And he was damned sure going to do that.
A final check, the thumbprint scanner, and the door opened to admit Alex.
Inside, Director Carver was already seated at a long table shaped like the office above the room, sipping coffee from a china cup. Standing to his left was NSO Assistant Director Sheldon Reed, making a call on his virgil. A middle-aged secretary in a