CentCom's command structure had worked in the first desert war, and it had worked in the new one. And General Allan Naylor was determined that it would remain in force. Sometimes, he thought that was just about as hard a battle to fight as were the shooting wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.
One of the ways he had done this after 9/11, when the FBI and the CIA-and some other agencies-had sent him "liaison officers," was to tell them, politely and privately, that unless they considered themselves as part of the CentCom command team, and behaved themselves accordingly, he was going to send them back where they came from as "unsatisfactory" and keep sending whoever was sent to replace them back until he was either relieved himself or CentCom had liaison officers who regarded themselves as members of the team.
That had not, of course, endeared him to the directors of the FBI and the CIA, but, in the end, he had prevailed.
"I don't have them running five miles before breakfast, honey," he told Mrs. Naylor. "Not yet. But neither do they think they were sent down here to write reports on what I'm doing wrong when they're not soaking up the sun on the beach."
There was no question in Naylor's mind that both the FBI and the CIA had dropped the ball big-time in not knowing what was going to happen on 9/11. So had the Defense Intelligence Agency and the State Department intelligence people. He didn't know the details, and made no effort to get them. But he heard things without asking that told him he was right.
He also understood that the president had been in a tight spot. He couldn't fire the heads of the CIA and the FBI in the days immediately after something like 9/11 happened no matter how justified that would have been. Legitimately frightened people need reassurance and not to hear that the heads of the country's domestic and foreign intelligence had been incompetent and had been canned.
Another direct result of 9/11 was the establishment of the Department of Homeland Security and the president's naming of Governor Matt Hall as its secretary. Naylor thought that making it a cabinet-level department was a fine idea, and not only because it meant he would have an ear at cabinet meetings.
The Department of Homeland Security did not have a "liaison officer"-at least, not a senior one; there were half a dozen or more DHS employees around MacDill. One wasn't needed. The secretary of homeland security and the commanding general of CentCom talked just about daily on a secure phone line.
And, of course, Charley's up there with Matt in Sodom on the Potomac.
General Naylor looked again at Charley's e-mail message, and, in particular, at the "we just got this from Langley" opening.
Jesus Christ, Charley! We? You're just a lousy major!
But he was smiling fondly, not frowning.
"General?"
Naylor looked at the door to the conference room. Sergeant Major Suggins was standing there.
"Sir, General Potter's waiting outside your office."
It was an unspoken question-"What do I do with him?"-as much as a statement.
"Be right there," General Naylor said, closed the lid of the Infernal Black Box, disconnected the ethernet cable, and then carried it into his office, set it on his desk, and connected it to the ethernet cable there.
[FOUR]
General George Potter was pouring himself and General Naylor another cup of coffee when Mr. Lawrence P. Fremont, the CIA liaison officer to CentCom, appeared in the door to General Naylor's office.
"Ears burning, Larry?" Naylor said, waving him in and then motioning to the coffee service.
"No, thank you," Fremont said, then: "I'm the subject of discussion?"
"The agency is," Naylor said. "George tells me your guy in Luanda is one of his. And we were idly wondering why they'd send a special operator to Angola."
"And your sure to be less than flattering conjecture, George?"
"Well, he's black; he probably speaks Portuguese; and he's a special operator. Langley probably decided he'd be less dangerous there."
" 'Less dangerous,' George?"
"In the sense he wouldn't have much of an opportunity to make embarrassing waves," Potter said, unrepentant. "I also said it was probably because he's black and speaks Portuguese."
"I respectfully disagree with premise one," Fremont said, smiling, "and agree with the rest. White people have trouble not standing out in crowds in Africa. But, to judge from this, your/my/our guy seems to know what he's doing."
He handed two printouts to Naylor.
"The first was on my desk," Fremont said. "That's what you had, I suppose. The second came in just now."
"Yeah," Naylor said, glancing at the first. "That's what I had."
He handed it to Potter and then read the second message and handed that to Potter.
SECRET
(1) SOURCE AT AEROPORTO INTERNACIONAL STATES LA-9021 UNDERWENT
(2) REGISTRY OF HOTEL DEL QUATRO DE FEVEREIRO, LUANDA, INDICATES
"George, while we wait for the others can you check and see if we got this from somebody else?" Naylor ordered. "I'd like to be sure that it's up and running."
"Yes, sir," General Potter said and walked out of the office.
Naylor saw Fremont's look of curiosity.
"You don't want to know, Larry," Naylor said. "If you knew, you might feel obliged to tell someone in Langley that I think we can get things quicker than they can send them to us, and their feelings might be hurt."
Fremont raised both hands in a gesture meaning, I didn't ask and, therefore, don't know.
Naylor smiled at him. Fremont had just proven again he thought of himself as a member of the team.
Vice-Admiral Louis J. Warley, USN, Central Command's J-2 intelligence officer, came to the office door a moment later. He held two printouts in his hand. Naylor motioned him into the office.
"I've got the one I think you were referring to," Warley said. "And a second one just came in. Both from DIA."
He handed them to Naylor, who glanced at them and handed them back.
"That's what we're going to talk about," Naylor said.
General Albert McFadden, U.S. Air Force, CentCom's deputy commander, walked into Naylor's office without asking permission.
"Somebody's grabbed a 727?" he asked.
"Read all about it," Naylor said and motioned for Admiral Warley to give the printouts to General McFadden.
McFadden read the printouts and added: "A 727 and the crew, apparently. I wonder what the hell this is all about?"
No one answered him.
The last person to arrive was Mr. Brian Willis, of the FBI. He held a printout in his hand.
"The bureau just sent me this, General," he said. "Actually, while we were in the conference. Is that what you were talking about?"
Naylor glanced at it. It was Miller's first satburst.
"That's it, but there's already been a second," Naylor said.
"Here," General McFadden said, handing it to him.
Naylor waited until Willis had read it, then said, "Brian, can you get on the horn to the FBI in Philadelphia and see what they have on this Lease-Aire corporation, and the pilot? I think we should have that."
"So do I," Willis agreed, after a moment's thought, and then appeared to be wondering where he was to sit at Naylor's office conference table.