“I asked Sharpe to look into Ajax,” said Berg. “Hopefully he’ll have something by the time we get resettled in our new location.”
“I was going to suggest trusting Sharpe,” said Sanderson. “You might want to consider a few press sources. Blowing this wide open could put Brown River out of business at least. Also might come in handy as an insurance policy.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” said Berg. “I’ll make sure Graves puts together a tidy, failsafe package.”
“We’ll get this sorted, Karl. Might be a little messy, but that’s the nature of this business. It certainly wouldn’t hurt if we got our hands on Reznikov. He’s our ultimate bargaining chip with the Russians. I can’t move my team to Libreville without better intelligence or local cooperation.”
“I’m not sure how we can pull that off right now.”
“What about Manning? Is there any way Audra can convince her boss to help with Libreville? Activate some ground assets to start asking questions? Liaison with my people on the ground? There’s no way he’s in on this conspiracy.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” said Berg. “She doesn’t want to get him killed.”
“Give her some time to simmer down from last night,” said Sanderson. “I need to get moving. I want to be long gone when they arrive.”
After the call ended, Berg lay alone in the great room, replaying the conversation. Something nagged him, a stray thought washed away by relentless waves of exhaustion. It was probably nothing. He had bigger things to worry about right now, like their immediate departure. They’d have to figure out what to do with Wellins. Probably dump him in a shallow grave in the woods.
Same with Foley. He hated to do it to her, but they couldn’t risk properly dealing with her body. It wasn’t like they could leave her at the front door of a funeral parlor with a note. They’d deal with her later. Bauer walked in from the kitchen, interrupting his thoughts.
“We’re almost packed up,” she said.
“Good. Sanderson has a safe place we can use. It’s about three hours from here.”
“The further the better for now.”
He suddenly remembered what was bothering him. “Audra… Thomas Manning,” he started.
“I’m not getting him involved,” she said forcefully.
“Have you spoken with Thomas this morning?”
“I called to let him know I wouldn’t be in today. He’s at the office. I bypassed him with the Sokolov request and went straight to Zane Abid, my replacement at NCS. There’s no reason for Ajax to go after him.”
“But he knows about Reznikov. Everything about Reznikov,” said Berg. “Yet he wasn’t targeted.”
“He wasn’t in the loop.”
“The latest loop. Something about Reznikov’s recent escape made someone nervous,” said Berg. “Sanderson just had me ninety-nine percent convinced it’s the Russians cleaning house, but Manning should be missing if that was the case.”
“Three missing CIA officers at one time would raise some serious eyebrows,” said Bauer. “Maybe they were showing a little restraint.”
“Maybe,” said Berg, not really convinced.
He needed a lot of rest and some time to think this through. The three-hour car ride ahead of them would be a start.
Chapter 47
James Quinn stormed across the White House lobby, annoyed that he’d been pulled from the weekly Homeland Security meeting. It was hard enough to get everyone in one place with his or her undivided attention. By the time he got back, Jacob Remy would have command of the room, cheered on by that monkey on his shoulder, Gerald Simmons. How Crane had retained the two of them seriously perplexed Quinn.
Now he had Shelby on the line, insisting the call was critical. Normally he would have called Shelby back later, but the former director of the FBI had somehow curried serious favor with Beverly Stark, Crane’s chief of staff. Shelby wouldn’t hesitate to jump the chain of command and call her. Quinn had a good idea why Shelby had called, and didn’t want to hear about it from Stark. He could envision her interrupting the meeting he’d just left with the news, which would make him look like an idiot.
The internal politics in this place made his head spin. Part of him wished the new administration had given him the boot, along with everyone else that seemed to have a clue. He entered his office in the northwest corner of the West Wing and thanked the unfortunate staffer tasked to drag him out of the meeting. After shutting the door firmly, Quinn took a seat at his desk and picked up the encrypted phone, pressing a button to connect the call.
“Sorry about the delay, Frederick,” he said. “The staffer spent longer than usual fretting outside the Roosevelt Room.”
“Nobody wants to drag the national security advisor out of an important meeting, especially the Homeland Security meeting. I apologize for insisting, but I have some time-sensitive information that I think you’ll agree beats entertaining the likes of Jacob Remy and Gerald Simmons.”
“You really don’t like them, do you?” asked Quinn.
“No. And neither do you,” said Shelby, bluntly getting to the point. “I just received some promising intelligence from the FBI regarding the possible location of Reznikov. Admittedly, the intelligence is a little light on substance, but it’s worth investigating.”
Quinn listened to the details, feeling less than enthused by what Shelby recounted.
“I’m not saying this doesn’t have potential, but I don’t think I can take this to the president, Frederick,” said Quinn. “Seriously. Two Russians arrive in Libreville in the middle of the night to buy guns and an SUV on the black market? I’m not even sure who we’d send. I can’t imagine General Gordon biting off on this unless he was forced.”
“My next call was going to be Zane Abid. NCS should be able to lend a hand,” said Shelby.
“I wouldn’t get your hopes up too high,” said Quinn. “The U.S. hasn’t focused much attention on Gabon recently, or ever. Their embassy presence will be minimal.”
“Somebody has to follow up on this intelligence,” said Shelby. “I’d get on a plane myself and do it if I didn’t look more fit to be on a luxury safari than a covert field operation. The CIA will have to figure something out. I’ll call Abid and apply some pressure. You do the same on your end. Please. Sorry if it sounded like I tacked the please on as a formality. I didn’t ask for things in my former job.”
Shelby’s last statement was the closest the man had come to not sounding like an asshole since he’d met him. Quinn had wondered if Shelby realized that going from the job of director of the FBI to principal deputy director of National Intelligence was a significant step down in authority. Even the director of National Intelligence was more of an administrative and advisory role than anything, exercising no authority to command any of the sixteen agencies comprising the United States intelligence community. It wasn’t a bad place at all to land if one had higher ambitions in government, and Quinn was fairly certain Shelby had his eye on a bigger prize.
“Let me see what I can do,” said Quinn, recalling a recent conversation with Raymond Burke, senior counsel to the president.
Burke had asked Quinn where things stood with Sanderson’s people, specifically if they could be trusted to work on behalf of the new administration. President Crane had so far been reluctant to use any unconventional programs, waiting for the political dust to settle. Burke indicated that the president might soon be open to exploring these options, especially if they could solve problems without the public deployment of troops.
“There is another option. Something off the books we’ve used before. In fact, you have some experience with this option. Both good and bad.”