"That's the informal name the SEALs gave to the LZ Alpha. Sanderson. Sand Box. They like to keep things interesting for us," Gerry said.
Shelby was pretty sure that most of the SEALs and marines on this mission would smash a beer bottle over this prick's head if they ever ran into him in a dark bar. He glanced down the table at Brigadier General Lawrence Nichols, who had caught Gerry's comment about the SEALs and looked like he was having the same malicious thoughts. Nichols made eye contact with Shelby and shook his head.
The door to the room opened suddenly, and two serious looking Secret Service agents walked in, appraising the dozen or so people occupying seats. After a few seconds, one of them spoke into a handcuff microphone, and the missing members of the room filed back in, followed by the president of the United States.
"The president of the United States," was announced by someone, and everyone stood.
"Please. Don't let me interrupt," he said in a southern accent and motioned for the national security advisor to sit closest to General Gordon.
The president rolled an empty chair from the wall and tucked himself just behind and between General Gordon and Brigadier General Nichols. He shook hands with both of them and exchanged a few pleasantries. Several seconds later, he locked eyes with Director Shelby and stood up, motioning for him to come over. Director Shelby stood up from his chair and made his way through the small crowd that had followed the president's entourage into the room.
"Mr. President. Always a pleasure. What brings you down for our little operation?" he said, gripping the president’s hand in a vigorous shake.
"Busy night, Frederick, and the pleasure is all mine. Fantastic work on this. Only God himself knows what Sanderson is capable of. Your diligence helped put a dark chapter behind us. I'll be relieved when he's off the grid," the president said.
"My sentiments exactly, Mr. President."
"I'm told we might be a few minutes ahead of schedule. I guess it's in the capable hands of our nation's finest," he said and patted General Gordon on the shoulder.
"This is the most sophisticated Special Forces strike package ever assembled, Mr. President. In seventeen minutes, Sanderson will be on his knees, zip tied in front of that monitor," General Gordon said.
"Grab a seat," said the president, motioning for one of the Secret Service agents.
Within seconds, he was sitting next to the president, with a bird's-eye view of the entire operation. This was much better, he thought, though he still couldn't shake the feeling that something big was going on without his knowledge. On his way to their conference room, he saw that every station on the Watch Floor was occupied, which struck him as unusual this late at night, even during a major operation. At least one of the smaller conference rooms had been in use, which was also unusual, and the primary conference room was clearly being reconfigured for a major operation. All an unusual amount of activity outside of daytime hours, which made him wonder what he didn't know. As the leader of the nation's domestic law enforcement and intelligence arm, he didn't like to be out of the loop.
Chapter 53
"Ms. Bauer, you have a call from the White House Situation Room. Line eight," the operations watch officer announced.
Audra walked over to one of the semi-private computer stations near the wall that separated the Fish Bowl from the rest of the operations center and picked up the phone handset, pressing the button for line eight.
"Audra Bauer."
"Audra. It's Alex. Any word on Reznikov?"
"He's still alive. They're still about twenty minutes from arriving at the safe house. The team collected some scraps of paper that look like they were torn from a notebook belonging to Reznikov. The scraps contain cities and addresses in Europe. One right in Stockholm. Reznikov is still unconscious, so we can't get an explanation. We're compiling a list of these addresses right now for the White House."
"All right, I'll pass that information along. They're reconfiguring the main conference room here to handle the situation as it expands. Hey, thanks a lot for the warning about our VIPs. I looked like a crumpled bag of shit when the president walked in. I didn't even have a sport coat."
"The president monitored the operation?"
"Along with the national security advisor and secretary of state. I almost fell out of my chair."
"Kestler didn't give you a heads up?"
"She's been popping in and out of here all night like this is some kind of side show. She dashed in here with the big three a few minutes after we got Reznikov's address. They all vanished as soon as the team hit the road in the transfer van. There's some kind of big military operation going on. I saw a bunch of Special Operations brass earlier, including Lieutenant General Frank Gordon, JSOC commander. Oddly enough, Frederick Shelby was chumming around with them."
"The director of the FBI?"
"The one and only."
"He's there?"
"Unless he left. It was about ninety minutes ago."
"You didn't assign another liaison for a second operation?"
"No. I was not aware of another operation that required CIA support. Shit, I hope I didn't miss something. I've been preoccupied with the Stockholm op."
"I didn't see a bulletin, so I don't think you missed anything."
"Let me do a little poking around. I'll call you right back," Alex said.
"You know where to find me," she said.
Alex Holstein had served as the CIA's senior White House liaison for three years and spent a large portion of his time in the White House Situation Room. The fact that he was at a loss to explain the presence of General Frank Gordon and the director of the FBI at one in the morning in the White House Situation Room left Audra with a strange feeling that she was missing something. She checked on Berg's progress compiling Petrovich's list of addresses. They were a few minutes away from having a complete list. So far, the locations presented no particular pattern, aside from the fact that they were clustered in central Europe, the United Kingdom and Scandinavia. Eighteen addresses had been identified from Reznikov's writing.
Three minutes later, the watch officer announced another call from the White House.
"Audra Bauer," she answered.
"It's Alex. I confirmed that Kestler is preoccupied with another operation, but I couldn't get any more information from the Watch Floor. I don't have the same rapport with the night shift, and their new tiered seating arrangement doesn't allow for the same easy, over-the-shoulder access to their monitors. I did manage to see which time zone locations are being actively monitored. Washington, D.C., Stockholm and Zapala. The last one stumped me. I just checked, and it's in the Nuequen Province of western Argentina."
Audra Bauer felt her chest tighten and her pulse quicken. It all suddenly made sense to her.
"Thanks, Alex. I'll get right back to you with that list," she said and hung up before he could respond.
She pulled a small paper day planner out of her suit jacket and opened it to the first page, which contained two hastily written satellite telephone numbers. She picked up the phone again and selected an encrypted line. She entered her telecommunications security code, which would allow her to place a call out of the center. The call would be flagged for the watch officer and recorded. Once the line went live, she dialed the number and waited. She let it ring for a minute and tried the second number with the same result. No answer.
"Are you talking to the team leader?" she yelled to Berg, careful not to use Petrovich's name, though she suspected it wouldn't matter soon.