Chavez returned from the rear of the aircraft and leaned into Alex Dalca’s ear. “All right, Alex. We’re ready to hear your terms.”
And with that, Jack stood up and walked to the galley. He needed a stiff drink.
67
The call was arranged by Mary Pat Foley, and sent to President Jack Ryan’s private number. He knew to expect it, but not what would be discussed, so he waited nervously in his private study on the second floor of the White House living quarters.
The phone rang and he snatched it up. “Clark?”
“Yes, Mr. President, sorry to bother you.”
“Mary Pat only told me that this call wasn’t about Jack Junior.”
“Correct, sir. Jack’s fine. Sorry if this phone call has caused you undue concern.”
Ryan breathed a sigh of relief. “Not a problem.”
“Right now, the Campus aircraft is flying over Western Europe with a man named Alex Dalca on board as a prisoner. He is the employee of the Romanian computer hacking concern that acquired the files off of the Office of Personnel Management’s network. Dalca was hired to find American spies for the Chinese, but he freelanced and uncovered targets in the American government and military, then sold this information off to several countries and concerns, most notably ISIS.”
“Incredible. Where are the files now?”
“On board the aircraft. Dalca says there were no other copies, but we have no way of knowing if that is true.”
Ryan rubbed his eyes. This was all good news, but it had been an incredibly bad month, and it wouldn’t end with this man’s capture. He said, “Excellent work, John.”
“Thanks, but I’m not calling to get a pat on the back. We need your help.”
Ryan’s eyebrows furrowed, because he feared he knew where this was going. “Whatever you do, don’t say ‘a pardon.’”
Clark sighed into the phone. “Dalca will help us, but he wants a full pardon and twenty-five million dollars.”
“Oh, for crying out loud.”
“Yes, Mr. President. It’s up to you, of course, but he is guaranteeing he will reveal every other targeted person in the U.S. and abroad. He sold off the information piecemeal to several actors, apparently.”
Ryan stared at the carpet between his feet. Paying this man off and letting him go made his stomach want to retch. But the more he thought about it, the more he recognized the situation he was in.
Clark prodded him. “I’m sorry, Mr. President, but time is very much of the essence.”
“He wants to talk to me on the phone?”
“Videoconference. He’s insisting.”
“Christ. Who is this guy?”
“He’s a piece of work, for sure, Mr. President. No conscience, no code. Just a guy looking for money, trampling over whoever is in his way.”
“A sociopath,” Ryan said.
Clark said, “I think that’s a fair assumption. Anyway, Mary Pat said she could have a videoconference set up in minutes in the Situation Room with her liaison there. You just say the word.”
Ryan said, “I’ll talk to him. Thanks, John.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You know, when I stood up The Campus, I worried about that kind of power falling into the wrong hands. I still worry about it. I put the best man I could in charge in Gerry Hendley, but still… you never know. Have to tell you how pleased I am that you’re over there, too. The organization is in good hands.”
“I appreciate that. The generation under me is very good, too, sir. I think the organization will be helpful for a long time to come.”
Ryan then blurted out a question he’d been hesitant to ask. “Is Jack on that plane?”
A pause. “He is, Mr. President. He was instrumental in finding Dalca, and he was instrumental in capturing him and securing the files.”
Ryan hesitated for a moment, taking in the information and controlling his emotions. He said, “He’s better than I was at all this, isn’t he?”
“Better? No, Mr. President. Like you, he is very good at both ends of the intelligence spectrum, but you had quite a few highlights in your own career.”
The President smiled a little into the phone. “One thing I had going for me was I didn’t have to walk around worried people were going to recognize me because of who my dad was.”
“Drives your son crazy sometimes, you’re right about that. If his dad had been a cop in Baltimore, instead of his granddad, he would have the same freedom of movement you enjoyed.”
Ryan said, “I know you are up against a timeline. I’ll head down to the Situation Room.”
Alexandru Dalca’s cabin chair had been turned slightly so he was facing the monitor on the wall next to him. Chavez moved behind him, while Jack, Gavin, and Midas all stepped to the far rear of the aircraft on the sofa, out of view of the camera over the monitor. This way the President would see only Dalca and Chavez, but Dalca would not be able to see anything but the monitor three feet in front of him.
Chavez pulled the man’s blindfold off from behind. They both sat there looking at a blank screen for a second, until Gavin adjusted some controls on the remote in his hand.
Suddenly the President’s face appeared on the screen. He was sitting at the end of the conference table in the Situation Room, wearing a suit and tie; no one else was on camera.
He adjusted his glasses as he looked at the monitor in front of him. “You’re Dalca?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Dalca said. He seemed unimpressed to speak with the leader of the free world. “As I told the men who kidnapped me, for my liberty and along with a reasonable fee I will give them all the passwords to my computer, and show them who has been targeted by the various parties I sold intelligence to.”
“Well… I must say, you are rather up front about it, aren’t you?”
“I will play fair with America, if America will only play fair with me. Time is of the essence. I imagine the terrorists are preparing their next attack even as we speak.”
The President said, “Did you hear about Chicago?”
“Yes. It was on the radio this morning. Thomas Russell was one of the targeting packages I created. Just goes to show you how much damage can be caused by one small identity compromise. There are dozens in the wind now, and only I can stop them from turning into dozens more Chicagos.”
Ryan nodded slowly. Finally he said, “Who is in charge on that plane?”
Of course Ryan knew Chavez would be the leader of this group, since Clark wasn’t on board the aircraft. But for the theater of the moment he had to pretend like he didn’t know anyone on the plane personally.
Right behind Dalca, Ding Chavez said, “That would be me, Mr. President.”
“Very well,” Ryan said. “As your Commander in Chief, I am giving you a direct order with respect to Mr. Dalca, which you, and your subordinates, will obey.”
“Of course, sir.”
Dalca began to smile.
“You are flying over the Atlantic Ocean right now?”
“That’s correct, sir,” said Chavez.
“Good. I want you to open a hatch and throw Dalca out of the plane. Is that clear?”
It was stone-cold silent in the cabin of the Gulfstream for several seconds. Dalca himself spoke first.
“What? No! You need me.”
Ryan said, “I wouldn’t say need. Your information would be beneficial, yes, but we can live without it. I don’t negotiate with terrorists.”
Chavez pushed a button to the cockpit. “Captain?”
Captain Helen Reid answered immediately over the cabin intercom speakers. “Can I help you?”
“We need to descend below ten thousand feet. We’ll be opening the rear cargo hatch.”