"Shit," the president muttered, "so now he has one of our helicopters to show the Argentinians and the rest of the world. Can they destroy the helicopter and render it unrecognizable?"
"They can turn it into a smoldering hulk, but he has video of the entire operation. It won't be hard for anyone to put two and two together here."
Sanderson's voice boomed over the speakers.
"Mr. President, my observer reports that one of your helicopters is inoperable. I'd be glad to take care of this mess for you, in exchange for a deal. Otherwise, you'll see footage of that helicopter on the Today Show," Sanderson said.
The president consulted with the woman who had entered with his chief of staff. She referenced a thick document taken from her briefcase and nodded. He turned back toward the conference table.
"Turn the microphone back on."
"Mr. President, please tell me you're not going to give this criminal immunity. This is blackmail. Any immunity deal signed today could be challenged in court as produced under duress."
"I'm well aware of the circumstances, and if my immunity deal is indeed challenged by any of the courts, I'll know where to come looking first. General Gordon."
The commander of the Joint Special Operations Command flipped a switch next to his computer, and the LED under the microphone turned green. He nodded at the president.
"General Sanderson, I accept the terms we've discussed and offer you the immunity you seek. It'll take some time to produce the documents and have them reviewed by counsel. In the interim, may I have your assurances that the helicopters will not be hindered during their withdrawal to BOXER?"
"If you provide me with a readily accessible email address or fax number, I'll be happy to send you a copy of the document I have prepared, along with contact information for my lawyers, who are standing by as we speak. Pardon me for highlighting the fact that I am somewhat of a Cold War relic, but I follow the mantra 'trust but verify.' I'll give you twenty minutes to get a signed agreement into my lawyers' hands. It's not a lengthy document."
"It sounds like you were prepared for this moment," the president stated.
"I'm prepared for every contingency, Mr. President."
"Apparently. General Gordon has the information needed to send your document to the Situation Room. We'll have it to your lawyers within twenty minutes, as long as it doesn't contain any surprises."
"No surprises, Mr. President. I just want to assure and protect the liberty of the selfless men and women that have served in my program. I did add a small presidential pardon to the document. One of my operatives was picked up by Customs last February, while en route to pay last respects to his recently deceased grandfather. He may or may not have been convicted of a federal customs crime. Either way, he's disappeared and I want to make sure he reappears a free man."
"I don't have a problem with that. General Gordon, let's get this done. General Sanderson?" the president said.
"Yes, sir?" Sanderson responded.
"I'm sorry for the loss of your men."
"Thank you, sir."
"Based on the circumstances, we won't be able to retrieve them properly."
"I understand, sir. Nature of the business."
"Unfortunately. We'll be in touch," the president said and stood up.
Director Shelby had to use every ounce of restraint he possessed not to launch into a tirade. This had been a set up from the start. From Victor Almadez's arrest to this very moment. All orchestrated to provide Sanderson with the leverage he needed to get a presidential immunity agreement. Despite the fact that he'd been warned directly by the president, he wouldn't rest until this conspiracy was unraveled. Someone in this room had helped facilitate this entire fiasco and he'd get to the bottom of it.
His money was on one of the generals or admirals, though he couldn't quite shake the notion that Gerald Simmons was involved. For all he knew, they were all in on this. Sanderson was one of theirs, a member of this tightly knit group of Special Operators, or whatever they liked to call themselves. The only one he really trusted was Major General Bob Kearney. He hadn't spent a single day of his entire career as one of these "shadow warriors." Hopefully, Kearney would help him uncover the traitor in this group. At the same time, he'd do some poking around the CIA. He'd love to know how Sanderson got hooked into the CIA. If he couldn't prosecute any of Sanderson's crew, maybe he could do something about the criminals running illegal operations out of Langley.
Director Shelby stood up when the president's departure was announced. Unlike General Gordon and the rest, he was done here for the evening. He planned to drive home and get a few hours of sleep before facing tomorrow's uncertainty. He dreaded calling Special Agent Sharpe. Like Shelby, the man had made it his personal mission to bring Sanderson down. He would be crushed to know that he had unwittingly participated in a plot to restore Sanderson's legitimacy. He waited a minute for the Secret Service agents to clear the hallway outside and walked out of the conference room without saying a word to anyone.
Chapter 56
Daniel opened the back door to the modest one-story home and stepped out into the backyard. He needed some fresh air after spending a tense hour hovering between Reznikov and Leo, both of whom required close medical supervision. According to the physician provided by the CIA, Reznikov had almost slipped away twice before they could finally stabilize him. The doctor didn't think he would last through the next night, unless he was taken to a major hospital, which wasn't an option until they were certain that Reznikov had told them everything. Given the Russian's delicate condition, he wasn't very optimistic about Reznikov surviving the kind of interrogation required to guarantee full disclosure. The physician anticipated that Reznikov would be ready for a light interrogation by the early evening. Daniel didn't bother to ask when he'd be ready for a hard interrogation.
Barring any unforeseen complications, Leo would survive, though without immediate reconstructive surgery, it appeared unlikely that he would fully recover the use of his right shoulder. His collarbone had been shattered, and the doctor couldn't repair it. He had managed to stop any major internal hemorrhaging and close both the entry and exit wound. Daniel had already spoken with Berg about moving him out of the country to a discreet hospital facility.
He took in a deep breath of crisp spring air and closed his eyes for a few seconds. He had a number of loose ends to tie up, the first of which was to contact Sanderson. Audra Bauer's abrupt phone conversation had weighed heavily on his mind as they raced toward the safe house. He understood the implications of her cryptic message and had tried no fewer than ten times to get through to Sanderson and Parker. If U.S. Special Forces units had raided the compound, Jessica could be on her way to Guantanamo Bay, or even worse, some unknown military prison in Central America or Africa. His chances of seeing her again, if she survived the attack, would be nearly nonexistent.
Sanderson's capture meant that they would have to leave the safe house immediately. He didn't believe for a second that Berg or this Audra Bauer could guarantee their safety. Once the White House figured out who the CIA had used to capture Reznikov, Berg and Bauer would be lucky to emerge from the scandal without serving a jail sentence. All of this had the potential to be an awful waste. He just hoped the information provided by Reznikov's journal entries would be enough to continue the investigation.
He was tempted to grab either Farrington or Hubner to investigate the Stockholm address found on one of the pieces of crumpled paper, but figured they were better off waiting for Reznikov to come around. He had a feeling that Reznikov already knew what they would find in Stockholm, if they chose to pursue the address. The scientist had nearly drank himself to death and put a gun to his head when they kicked down the door.