“GENGHIS,” Iggy said, inching closer to Ashland. “Why don’t you take Monsieur Ashland for a walk?”
Ashland reached for his gun, but Iggy’s artificial hand grabbed his forearm. Ashland yelped in pain. Camille knew his hydraulics could squeeze harder than his other hand ever could.
Chapter Eighty-Six
“The CIA has the right to break any law, just not American…”
– Die Zeit [HAMBURG], December 29, 2005, interview with Michael Scheuer, former CIA intelligence analyst
To Mr. Clarridge [a 33 year CIA operations veteran], “intelligence ethics” is “an oxymoron,” he said. “It’s not an issue. It never was and never will be, not if you want a real spy service.” Spies operate under false names, lie about their jobs, and bribe or blackmail foreigners to betray their countries, he said. “If you don’t want to do that,” he added, “just have a State Department.”
– The New York Times, January 28, 2006, as reported by Scott Shane
Black Management World Headquarters, McLean, Virginia
One Day Later
Camille had considered going to CIA headquarters in Langley for the meeting, but she preferred the subtle message it sent for the CIA’s Director to come onto her turf, to the headquarters of Black Management. After a brief stopover at Black Management’s Camp Obsidian in Afghanistan, Hunter had flown her and Iggy back to the States aboard the Rubicon Gulfstream, now outfitted with new livery and a fake registration number, the handiwork of Black Management mechanics. GENGHIS had stayed behind at Camp Obsidian to look after al-Zahrani. They had arrived only an hour ago and Camille was dying to be alone with Hunter, but circumstances had yet to permit it. Time was critical if she was going to save her company from the wrath of the Agency. After what felt like over seventy-two hours of constant motion, they sat at the black glass conference table with the panther design etched into it, waiting on CIA Director Doherty. Iggy was squarely on board with the plan, but Hunter had reservations. She knew he wouldn’t cross her intentionally, but she doubted he would contribute much.
Her executive assistant showed Director Doherty in and Iggy started to introduce everyone when Doherty interrupted.
“Black, I’m shutting you down.” He pointed at her, wagging his finger. The Irishman’s face turned redder with each word. “This is the biggest setback in the War on Terror since the Pentagon botched our intel on Tora Bora. Maybe bigger.”
“A lot of us have a very different take on Tora Bora, but we won’t go there.” Camille held her hand up, nervous as hell because so much was at stake, but appearing the cool and calm operator that she was. “It seems to me that without a presidential finding authorizing GOLD DRIFT, it’s an illegal op. No way do I believe that you guys played by the book on this one and ran a presidential finding by Congressional leaders.”
“Don’t quote the Bible to me.”
“What would happen if Congressional leaders found out the Agency’s running an al Qaeda training camp? Or the media?” Camille said as she watched his face.
“You mean what would happen if they found out a subsidiary of Rubicon was running the camp. Don’t you think we’ve already war-gamed media plans? Try this headline: HALLIBURTON’S EVIL TWIN RUNS TERROR, INC.”
“We have a full confession from al-Zahrani. He seems to think the whole thing was hatched in the Vice President’s office,” Camille said, bluffing. The last time she had talked to GENGHIS, al-Zahrani was only semiconscious from a bad concussion.
“Al-Zahrani’s confession is so easy to spin, we won’t even need Fox News for that one. It would go something like, ‘al-Zahrani’s last desperate move against the US, trying to turn the American people against its government.’ We’ve got them chasing their tails and killing each other off. Al-Zahrani is the ultimate counterterrorist weapon.”
“And he’s mine now,” Camille said, pushing to the edge as she relied on instinct. She was too tired to think several steps ahead, as she usually did, and had to rely on the plan she and Iggy had come up with beforehand.
“Look, Black, this is the single most successful program we’ve ever had against al Qaeda. It’s stopped dozens of attacks. How do you think we caught those London bombers who wanted to take out the planes over the Atlantic? They were a homegrown group of British Muslims, but eventually they reached out for al Qaeda’s blessings-they all do. That’s when we give them a little money, a slap on the back and take over operational control until we can be sure we’ve got everyone, then we roll it up. Christ, we’re not fighting an organization anymore. Al Qaeda’s a social movement and this is just about the only weapon we’ve got. We’re all on the same side on this one. We’ve got to figure out how to pick up the pieces. Turn him over to us.”
“Right, then you shut me down like you threatened. No deal.”
Iggy smiled and leaned back in his chair as they had planned. “You know, Cam, I know you’d never run to the media or Congress. But what I was thinking, we hand al-Zahrani over to General Smillie at the Pentagon’s SSB-you know, home of the super-spies of Force Zulu.” Iggy chuckled. “I’m sure Smillie will know what to do with him. Like Director Doherty said, ‘we’re all on the same side.’”
Camille would never endanger a successful ongoing antiterrorist operation, but she also had to save herself and Black Management. She smiled as she sensed the shift in dynamics and felt their plan working. “The CIA’s been battling the Pentagon for its very existence and the military’s winning. My guess is that first thing he’d do is run to the President.” She paused for a moment to let the implications sink in. “Mr. Doherty, how fast do you think you can close up shop at the CIA and fold your operations and resources into the Pentagon?”
“Could never happen.” The Director fidgeted in his chair.
“Oh, yeah?” Iggy said. “What happened to the last two CIA directors that crossed the Pentagon? Seems like there’s a word for those guys-former directors. Hate to say it, but in the War on Terror, the Pentagon’s the eight-hundred-pound gorilla and at best you guys at Langley are Lancelot Link: Secret Chimp.”
Director Doherty rubbed his fingers together, swiveled his seat around and stared out the window. Camille knew she needed to keep cool, but it drove her crazy to wait on a response. The man’s face was impossible to read. The back of his bald head was even worse.
Then Hunter opened his mouth to speak and Camille cringed inside. Hunter was a warrior who liked to remain above politics and he had made it clear that he didn’t approve of playing one part of the government off against another. “Sir.” The Director kept looking out the window. “You should know that I’m a member of the SSB’s Force Zulu-”
“I know.”
“Sir, part of my orders when Zulu sent me to infiltrate Rubicon were to report back any signs of CIA involvement with them. And you should also know, sir, we have standing orders to report back any intel on any OGA black ops we come across. Zulu is definitely keeping an eye on the Agency.”
“Keeping it in its crosshairs is more like it,” Iggy said with a grin.
“I’m aware of the SSB’s unilateral operations.” Director Doherty swiveled his chair back toward the conference table. Camille was almost trembling from fatigue and nerves. The Director cleared his throat and said, “I think we would all like to see this successful program continue. It seems our current contractor, Rubicon Solutions, has had some recent security lapses. Everyone at the Agency thinks very highly of Black Management. Is there any chance you would be interested in assuming Rubicon’s training and recruitment contract?”
“It better be a sole source contract-I don’t want to write another RFP ever again in my life,” Camille said as she exchanged triumphant glances with Iggy. The outcome was looking better than they had imagined.