One Rough Man - Brad Taylor [89]
“Which Team?”
“Well, that’s what’s strange. I think it’s from Pike. It’s not from anyone active here.”
“Pike? Pike Logan?” Before Mike could respond, Kurt realized he was asking questions that Mike couldn’t possibly answer. He reversed himself and said, “Okay. Let me see the cable. And holler down the hall at George.”
“You got it. Here’s the message.”
Kurt read the cable, a short, simple paragraph. Skipping through the usual disclaimers about walk-ins, no established reporting record, and the ominous “Contact may have been attempting to influence as well as inform” trailer, he read:
Contact stated he had information regarding a potential WMD terrorist attack. Contact had no concrete information about the attack, but stated that he had intercepted Internet traffic implying an Al Qaeda involvement in procurement of WMD for the application against United States, Israeli, or Iranian interests. Contact stated that he believed the WMD was not radiological. Contact stated that two unknown subjects of Arabian descent were in the process of procuring the WMD. Contact became evasive when questioned on his knowledge of the aforementioned WMD, refusing to state how he knew this information. Contact firmly believes that the procurement is time sensitive, and that the AQ members are actively pursuing this aim.
It was impossible that anyone on earth would know the Prometheus alert crypt unless Pike had told them, and in Kurt’s mind, it was equally impossible that Pike would have told anyone such a secret. On the other hand, the Pike he knew might no longer exist. Maybe he’s slipped down completely, and is selling plasma on the street for his next bottle of Mad Dog 20/20, babbling secrets to anyone who will listen. Kurt rejected that, as it didn’t explain how a stranger was able to contact the CIA in an overseas embassy, then send the message. Everything pointed to its being Pike, however bizarre it appeared. Even so, they would need to confirm the identity before proceeding. Kurt turned at the knock on the door, seeing his friend and deputy commander.
“How long’s it been since you made a trip to Central America?”
George looked puzzled by the question. “Well, not since we were supporting the Contras back in the good ol’ days. Are they now the next terrorist threat? We going down to take them out?”
Kurt chuckled, filling him in on what he knew, then saying, “Call the station down there and let them know we’re coming. Tell them to contact whoever’s calling himself Pike. If it’s him, we’ll figure out what’s going on. If it’s not, we’ll figure out where the breach occurred. Either way, this is too big of a problem to ignore. We should be able to get down and back in one day, two at the most.”
“Easy enough. I assume we’re leaving tomorrow morning?”
“Yeah, I’ve got a date tonight that I can’t miss.”
54
A few miles away, Harold Standish sat at his desk in the Old Executive Office Building, silently reading the Prometheus cable. He saw an opportunity. A way to get America back on war footing, and get control of the Taskforce at the same time. A way to strengthen the defense of the United States. If the whiners on the Oversight Council are too timid to preempt an attack, maybe they need to see one up close.
The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. America had lost its focus on terrorism precisely because it hadn’t been attacked in close to a decade. The stupid electorate had the memory of a bovine, conveniently forgetting the threat, instead lambasting the very government that provided their protection. A WMD going off would wake them the fuck up, that’s for sure. There would be a feeding frenzy just like 9/11. All the politicians would be screaming for action. The Oversight Council would have to bend with the pressure. The Taskforce would be turned loose. With any luck, the council will be too busy doing