“Except he was called into a meeting in the White House twenty minutes ago. He’s not there, either.”
“General Peter Steinmetz? Is anybody following him?” Stafford asked.
“No,” Honi said. “Nobody thought he would be involved.”
“Membership on the Joint Chiefs of Staff is also a political appointment,” Jake said. “Again, confirmed by the Senate.”
“The Joint Chiefs advise the President, the CIA, Homeland Security and a few others,” Stafford said. “They have no direct command authority.”
“Which puts the President right smack in the middle of it,” Ken said. “He appoints all of these people. The senate just confirms them.”
“Then why would he have us working directly for him if he’s involved?” Honi asked.
“He wouldn’t,” Jake said. “The President isn’t involved in the Organization. His Chief of Staff would have vetted all of the people who were appointed. The President makes the appointment, but his Chief of Staff would put the list together and make all of the recommendations.”
“So where does that leave us?” Ken asked.
“We follow the people and see where they go,” Honi said.
Jake paced back and forth in the aisle. “Something is wrong.” He looked up at the ceiling, thinking. “This is the most critical moment in our country’s history. Why would the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff not be at the White House? Nor in the Pentagon? With the events of the last 48 hours, he had to know something was going on. Why wouldn’t he be there?”
He looked at Honi. The expression on her face told him she was thinking the same thing he was.
“Oh crap,” she said.
Jake pulled his cell phone and called Briggs. “I need an FBI team at General Peter Steinmetz’ house, now!”
He turned to Major Stafford. “If Steinmetz sent the authorization code, and he’s running, we’re going to need a Black Hawk helicopter to catch up.”
Stafford grabbed his phone and relayed the order for the helicopter. “Black Hawk on its way. It’ll land in the parking lot.”
General Peter Steinmetz’ secure phone rang.
“Steinmetz,” he answered.
“General, the President is waiting for you in the Situation Room. Where are you?”
“I’ve been unavoidably detained, but I’m on my way. Please extend my apologies to the President and have him start without me.”
“Yes, sir.”
He smiled in satisfaction. Being the country’s top general carried a lot of weight, and when necessary, bought you the time you needed for more important work. Today everything changes. I no longer serve you, Mr. President. If you’re lucky, really lucky, you will get to serve me. Otherwise…
CHAPTER 22
At precisely 10:00 a.m., the burner phone plot in B6, area 4 at NSA lit up like the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center.
“Calls going out,” Tracy said. “Format is encrypted text. It could take us days to break the encryption.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Jake said. He turned to Honi. “Your people have been going through the content of the phone calls, haven’t they?”
“Yes, they have, for the last two weeks.”
“Have they found any encryption software being downloaded?”
“I’ll check.” She wandered off to a quiet section and made her call. She returned a minute later. “No encryption software downloaded in the last month.”
“Then the encryption should be on the phones we got from Teague, Sylvia Cuthbert and Senator Thornton. If we send the message to one of those phones, shouldn’t it automatically decode it for us?”
Brett walked back into area 4. “You were right. The Director of the NSA was the mole. Unbelievable.”
“Tracy, can you check to see if one of the confiscated phones will decrypt these text messages?”
“I could handle that for you,” Brett said.
“No,” Honi said. “I need you going through traffic cams and satellite images. We have to find General Steinmetz, fast!”
“Any idea how many different messages we have, based on content?” Ken asked.
“Running a comparison,” Tracy said. “They’re all the same message.” One of the burner phones buzzed. “Message decrypted. ’Leave now’ is all it says.”
“Time to put the frosting on the cake,” Ken said. “Send out the press releases about the solar storm. When people panic, they are less aware. We want them walking right into the trap without thinking.”
“Yes, we do,” Jake said. “But after that last solar storm, we don’t want the general public to panic, so how about if we say it’s a weaker storm — that no damage is expected.”
“Sounds perfect,” Honi replied.
“I love it,” Ken said. “The Phoenix Organization members will simply believe we are lying about the severity of the storm.”
“And we are,” Jake replied. “Just not in the way they think we are.”
“Our Black Hawk is sixty seconds out. We need to go,” Stafford said.
“Brett, call me as soon as you get a location on Steinmetz,” Honi said.
“Will do.”
Jake, Honi, Stafford and Ken exited the front door of the NSA building as the Black Hawk was landing in the far corner of the parking lot. They ran between the parked cars, ducked under the whirling blades of the helicopter, and climbed on board.
“Vests,” Stafford shouted as he pointed.
The pilot of the Black Hawk watched as they fastened the bullet-resistant vests around themselves and strapped into the seats.
“Where to?” the pilot asked as soon as everyone had their helmets on.
“North, toward Washington,” Jake said. “That’s his starting point. From there, we’ll just have to see.”
The Black Hawk lifted off and banked north. Honi texted Brett. “Location?”
“Not yet,” Brett texted back.
The Black Hawk swooped over the Potomac River as the pilot called in for permission to pass through the restricted airspace of Washington. Major Stafford opened a weapons container and handed out rifles and ammo clips.
“Same kind you used in Bolivia.” After a short pause, the voice of General Davies came on the radio and through the headsets.
“Who are you after?”
“General Peter Steinmetz,” Jake replied. “He’s running.”
A few moments of silence followed. Jake’s phone buzzed. “Steinmetz home cleaned out. People, clothes, gone. Briggs.”
“Are you sure?” General Davies asked.
“Affirmative,” Jake replied.
“You are cleared through Washington airspace,” General Davies said. There was a short pause. “The Steinmetz family is wealthy. I think he has a private jet.”
“What airport?”
“No idea.”
“Thanks, Hunter out.”
Honi typed a text to Brett and waited for the reply.
“Steinmetz Foundation. Learjet 75. No location. No FP.”
“Okay,” Honi said. “We’re looking for an airport that will handle a Learjet 75. No Flight Plan filed yet.”
“Look for civil airports, general aviation. Nothing too big, and not military or commercial,” Jake added.
“I get a minimum runway length for a Learjet 75 of 4,440 feet,” Stafford reported.
“That narrows it down to six possibilities,” Ken said. “Cumberland, Easton, Frederick, Hagerstown, Salisbury or Westminster.”
“Cumberland and Hagerstown are too far,” Jake said.
“I think Salisbury and Westminster are too far, as well,” Honi added.
“That leaves Easton or Frederick,” Stafford said. “But those two are in opposite directions from each other. We have to pick one and go with it.”
Jake texted Briggs back, “Steinmetz house location?”