“Talk to me, people! I didn‘t bring you in here to clam up.”
Attorney General Dean Hamilton initiated a response. “Mr. President, if I may.”
“Please.”
“After what happened at the Governor’s Mansion, we immediately processed the identities of the two Arabs found in the house and got hits on both of them.” He looked at his intel sheet. “One was al-Hashrie Rantissi, a Jordanian national with ties to al-Qaeda.”
“So al-Qaeda is behind this?”
“We’re not totally sure,” he said. “The other Arab, al-Bashrah Aziz, is a Saudi national who also has ties to al-Qaeda.”
The president appeared puzzled. “So how are we not sure that this is the doing of al-Qaeda if both men have ties to the organization?”
CIA Director Doug Craner leaned forward, placed his glasses on the tabletop, and spoke pointedly. “Because, Mr. President, our intel tells us that there was absolutely no discussion in the chat rooms prior to this incident. The only activity occurred after the incident was broadcast by the news media.”
“Which means what?”
“It means, Mr. President, that there seems to be confusion among the terrorist organizations as to who is responsible. The activity on the web indicates curiosity rather than culpability. We think this action was conducted by the Soldiers of Islam as a rogue group working independently from al-Qaeda.”
“New blood, then?”
“Yes, sir. And we don’t know how they’ll conduct themselves since we have no knowledge or insight about their activities. All we can say, Mr. President, is that when we got the strikes on al-Hashrie and al-Bashrah, we were able to bring up their profiles.”
Craner gave stapled copies of his report to an aide, who handed them out to everybody at the table. On the front page was a photograph of al-Hashrie Rantissi, taken two years ago when he entered the United States.
“Al-Hashrie,” he continued, gleaning from memory, “is a Jordanian national who came to this country two years ago, after serving a six-month stint in an al-Qaeda training camp located along the Afghan border. The other body identified, al-Bashrah, helped al-Hashrie form a sleeper cell in Utah, along with six others. For the past two years, they have remained dormant.”
“Until now?”
“Until now — yes, sir.”
“And the other six?” asked the president.
“Through our intel sources we were able to confirm and identify each member of the cell. We obtained warrants and raided their residences. Unfortunately for us, the areas were sanitized. The computers left behind were useless; the hard drives were completely fried.”
The president remained disconcertingly quiet. After a moment’s hesitation he said, “So at least we know who the other six are — the Soldiers of Islam.”
“Yes, sir. They’re all on the FBI’s watch list.”
The president glanced at his watch, knowing that the world was waiting for a televised response regarding the kidnapping. At the moment he had nothing to offer, the Soldiers of Islam having yet to make any demands. “When they call,” he said almost too quietly, “are we to bend in our policy of non-negotiation?”
“We’re not talking about an expendable here,” said Thornton, his advisor of three years, whose numerous accolades for political achievements covered the walls of his office. “We’re talking about the pope. And if we allow these terrorists to harm him due to our unwillingness to bend, we would most likely come under extreme criticism from our allies. The voices of over a billion Catholics have the power to be heard.”
“I agree,” said the president.
Thornton turned to President Burroughs with an expression of defeat. “So I believe the answer is yes, Mr. President. We’ll need to make concessions. Perhaps many.”
The president seemed to focus on an imaginary point on the tabletop. “That’ll be your department, Dean,” he said. “You’re the attorney general. The FBI is your gig.”
The president turned to Hamilton with a no-nonsense look. His tone indicated that he would not tolerate mistakes. “This is not to be turned into another Waco or Ruby Ridge. Is that understood?”
“Clearly, Mr. President.”
“Options, then.”
Hamilton wasn’t through. “I say we bring in Shari Cohen,” he said. “Anybody who knows her can tell you there is no one more suited to handle this situation than her. She’s at the top of her game and perhaps the best this country has to offer.”
The president appeared to ponder this, tapping a finger against his chin.
Shari Cohen was the Bureau’s top negotiator for the Hostage Rescue Team based in the Washington Metropolitan Field Office. She also held the title of Assistant Director of the FBI’s CIRG, or Critical Incident Response Group. And when time permitted, she worked in collaboration with Homeland Security, educating their agents who worked in counterterrorism.
Then, “I agree with your assessment. Bring her in.”
Vice President Bohlmer vociferously stated his objection. “Mr. President,” he said, “Have you forgotten the demographic we’re dealing with here? We’re talking about a male-dominated regime that recognizes women as property. To put in a female negotiator and someone of Jewish faith on top of it — no offense to Ms. Cohen or to her religious heritage or abilities — to negotiate with Islamic terrorists is an assured insult to their principles. And in recompense for our actions, you can be certain that they will kill Pope Pius.”
President Burroughs appeared at a crossroads. “Second option, then.”
“I would suggest Billy Paxton.”
“Never heard of him.”
“Fully qualified. Very good.”
“But he’s not Cohen.”
“No, sir. But Paxton is not too far behind. In fact, he committed his talents to a hosting country and Congressional approval on two separate occasions to free up American hostages.”
President Burroughs remained silent and nibbled softly on his lower lip. “Then we’ll use Paxton as the figurehead with Cohen working in Paxton’s shadow. But I want Cohen to maintain control of the unit.”
“Mr. President,” Bohlmer immediately protested, “I really have to object to this. If the Soldiers of Islam find out that Cohen is involved—”
“Your objection, Jonas, is duly noted. Thank you.” Then to the room in general, “Further advice as to direction?”
Thornton leaned forward with the points of his brows dipping sharply over the bridge of his nose, as if he had given the matter considerable thought. “I suggest, Mr. President, that we at least try to appear committed to the policy of not negotiating with terrorists. We don’t want to open the door to every degenerate group in the country who has demands to make. We’ll need to set up an international coalition and make it clear that any concessions or compromises are made by the international community. That way, if something should go wrong, the blame cannot rest solely on the shoulders of the United States.”
“In other words, you’re saying that we should set up a situation so that all nations are involved — just in case.”
“Yes, sir. That would take care of international ostracism if the pope’s safety cannot be secured.”
“You don’t sound very optimistic.”
“I’m just covering all the bases, sir.”
President Burroughs began to drum his fingers against the tabletop, his mind working. “Then get every international liaison involved,” he finally said. “I want their opinions, their suggestions, and I want it understood that we’ll share common responsibility in this matter whether the outcome is good, bad or indifferent.”
“Understood.”
“I also want direct lines to my office from every liaison involved. And I want to know everything that’s going on, twenty-four-seven.”