Once the ceremony was complete, the Director of the CIA and the Secretary of Defense urged him to join them and the rest of the national security staff in the briefing room. They had urgent matters to discuss and they needed his authorization. President Foss said a quick goodbye to his wife and two children and quickly followed the men to the Situation Room.
Upon entering the briefing room, the new President took his seat at the head of the table and motioned for everyone else to take their seats. Not looking at any one particular person, he immediately asked, “Could someone please give us an update on what happened in Michigan? Do we know who is responsible? Is the Eastern Alliance involved?”
Maria Nelson, the Director of the FBI, spoke up first. “Mr. President, the information we have presently is incomplete. We are still in the early stages of identifying who the shooter was, and if he was aligned with any of the Eastern Alliance powers or other political groups,” she replied.
Maria had just taken over as the new Director of the FBI three weeks ago. She was the first woman to hold the position at the agency. She had previously served as the head of the Science & Technology Directorate at the Department of Homeland Security before President Gates had appointed her to replace FBI Director Flagman, who opted to resign when it had become known that he was the subject of a Department of Justice investigation. When it had become public knowledge that he had tried to cover up the number of foreign agents that had been working within the government, the only way to recover was to step down. Besides, he had failed to investigate the plethora of elected officials who had obviously leaked sensitive and classified information to the press and to American adversaries. Flagman had become persona non grata in the public sphere.
When Gates had nominated someone new to head up the FBI, he had wanted someone who could bring a heavy technology background and fresh perspective. His goal had been to bring someone in who could bring the FBI’s way of solving crimes into the 21st century and restore public and political trust back to the agency. Not even a month on the job, and Director Nelson would now have to handle the death of a President and the continued threat of foreign intelligence and Special Forces actively carrying out attacks within the country.
While Foss felt for the situation that the new director found herself in, he wasn’t going to give her a lot of extra room. “I need more than that, Maria,” he told her bluntly. “What do you guys have so far?”
Director Nelson squirmed in her chair for a second. She looked around to the others in the room before she returned her gaze back to the President. “What we know right now is that the shooter fired multiple shots at President Gates. The first shot hit the President in his bulletproof vest, knocking him to the ground. The second shot hit the Secretary of State when the President’s security detailed jumped on top Gates to protect him. As the agents moved to secure the President in the Beast, the shooter fired a third shot. This one struck Gates’s bodyguard, went through the agent and hit the President, ultimately killing him.”
She sighed, realizing she would have to reveal her hand. “We believe we know who the shooter is, but we are waiting on a few more pieces of information to come in before we make it official. Preliminary reports indicate the shooter is named George Philips, an American citizen. So that means we are not dealing with a foreign national. Mr. Philips is currently in his final year as a PhD student at Brown University, where he was also the university president of the local antifascist or Antifa group. We have agents raiding his apartment in Providence, Rhode Island, right now.”
Several of the people near the President grumbled some obscenities. She overheard someone mutter somethings about Antifa having gone too far this time in their political disagreements with the government. President Foss silenced the comments with an icy stare.
“Do we have the shooter in custody yet?” asked Foss.
She shook her head. “No, Mr. President. Not yet. We set up a large cordon around the shooting, but we are not optimistic about capturing him inside of it. There was just too much chaos happening around the area when the shooting started. People started scattering and running every which way, making it incredibly hard to seal everyone inside our search perimeter. I am, however, confident that once we determine he is in fact the shooter, we will apprehend him within the next couple of days. Mr. Philips is not trained in how to evade capture, and he’s about to become the most wanted man in America,” she added.
Sitting back in his chair for a minute, Foss needed a few seconds to absorb the information. “What am I supposed to do next?” he thought.
“OK, here is what I want to happen,” the President said. “I want every trail, link, and associate of this Mr. Philips tracked down. We need to find out if he is a lone wolf assassin or if he had help.”
Foss then turned to his generals, adding, “I want everything that was going on with the war prior to this shooting to continue. We are not going to alter our plans unless something on the ground changes. In the meantime, I need some time to be brought up to speed on the status of the war, where we stand, and what our next steps are. I want to know everything the President had previously agreed to, what he had turned down, and any additional options that were to be brought up to him prior to the assassination. Let’s reconvene the war council in two days, once I’ve had some time to get caught up. Director Nelson, I want hourly updates from your office and Homeland on this manhunt.”
With his first orders as President issued, Foss got up and left the Situation Room to return to the Oval Office and try to figure out exactly what he was supposed to do next.
Mikhail Fedorov ducked his head slightly and moved into the small cabin of the speedboat he and his colleagues would be using for this operation. It was still relatively dark, and the others wouldn’t arrive for at least another twenty minutes, but he wanted to make sure everything was ready. He reached down and grabbed several fishing poles and brought them out to the main deck. Once there, he assembled the poles before placing them in the six trolling pole holders, three on each side of the open-air cabin.
Running his hand across the side of the cabin wall, Mikhail had to admit, he really loved this boat. He had purchased the 42-foot Boston Whaler fishing boat two years ago and had really taken to the sport. He’d go out several times a week with friends he’d made through work and genuinely enjoyed his time out on the water. In many cases, he’d head down the Arthur Kill Inlet, which was part of the waterway that surrounded Statin Island and was fed by the Hackensack, Passaic, and Rahway Rivers from New Jersey. It was more of an industrial channel than a commercial or recreational one, but he made sure to use it often, so his boat became a normal sight there.
Hearing some voices coming closer to him, Mikhail looked up. He smiled as he saw that his three compatriots had found the marina.
“Mikhail, you’re a lucky man to live here. This place is beautiful,” Artem Petrikov said. He tossed his duffel back to Mikhail, who caught it with both hands, grunting as the weight of the bag hit him. The other two Spetsnaz men near Artem climbed aboard the boat, handling their four-foot black hockey bags a lot more gingerly than Artem had.
Shaking his head, Mikhail asked, “What the heck is in here?”
Patting Mikhail on the shoulder, the ringleader Artem coyly answered, “The tools needed to complete this next mission.” Then his facial expressions became more serious. “Is Daria ready to meet us?” he asked. “It’s important that she be ready to pick everyone up and know how to get us to the safe house once this show starts.”