“The Senate Intelligence Committee has been informed that we have learned everything we need to know from the Gakona operation. It’s being shut down,” she said. She was intrigued by the grin on Bob’s face. “So what aren’t you telling me?”
“Rumor has it there is another facility — new and huge. Eighteen billion in earmarked funds for projects in Alaska didn’t end up where they were supposed to be.”
“Where did the money go?” she asked, unable to suppress a mischievous grin.
“Right now, it looks like it went down the magical rabbit hole and disappeared.”
She glanced around the coffee shop. This wasn’t a smoking gun by any means, but in Washington politics, it was close enough. She dug around in her purse and handed him a card. “This is a friend at the Internal Revenue Service. Let him know you’re doing research for me. That money’s going to show up on major contractor’s tax returns and I want to know who, and what they did for the money.”
“I’ll follow the money,” he replied. “Anything else?”
“Keep digging. If there is a new large facility they’re hiding, there’s more to the story than research. Find out what it is.”
Senator Bechtel’s office had called the National Reconnaissance Office in Chantilly, Virginia the day before for an appointment. It took 24 hours to get put on the official list of visitors. Even she couldn’t get past the front door without being on the list. An armed guard escorted her to an office, opened the door and motioned for her to enter.
“Where is she?” Bechtel demanded. “I had an appointment with the Director.”
“She’s busy. I’m Brigadier General Sid Beck. To what do we owe the honor of your presence today?” Beck was six-three, broad-shouldered and physically imposing in his uniform as he stood behind his desk. She had seen him on rare occasions when he testified before the Senate Intelligence Committee.
“We are investigating the earthquake in China,” she said. “As you are probably aware, all of our people have been expelled from China. I want to see everything we have.”
The General pushed a button on the intercom. “Send Rod in.” He motioned for her to sit in a chair and said nothing else until Rod Schneider arrived.
Rod spread the satellite photos out on the desk in front of her. “Here is where the fault erupted, along this line. As you can see, the damage was extensive not only to the buildings, but to the infrastructure as well. Here you can see the Chinese Army is still clearing roads. This area has not been reached yet, nor has any relief been provided to the area over here.”
She studied the satellite photos for a few minutes before she spoke. “Do we have any satellite coverage of the actual earthquake?”
“No,” Rod replied. “We didn’t have any assets in position when the quake took place. Sorry.”
You lying little piece of shit, she thought. Of course you had assets in place. She tried her best to suppress the smile that was trying to form on her face. “And who gets to see these photos?”
“The usual agencies — Central Intelligence, National Security, Defense Intelligence, the President,” Rod replied.
“The Senate Intelligence Committee?” she asked, the smile finally breaking forth.
“Sure,” Rod replied. “Just put in a request. I’ll bring them to you personally.”
“Anything new or unusual taking place in China?”
“Like what?” Rod asked.
“Any new movement or activity by their military?”
“There’s a lot of activity because of the earthquake. Is there something in particular you’re concerned about?”
“Anything not associated with the earthquake?” she asked.
Rod glanced at General Beck and then returned his attention to her. “Nothing we’ve noticed. Any specific area you would like us to examine?”
“Any change in commercial freighters leaving Chinese ports?”
Rod glanced again at General Beck. She saw the general nod slightly. Now we’re getting somewhere.
“No freighters have left a Chinese port in the last 48 hours.”
Her stomach tightened noticeably at this news. “Are any freighters being loaded with shipping containers?”
“No. Anything else you need to know?”
She looked at the General and then back at Rod. She smiled and replied, “No. I think we’ve covered everything. Thank you so much for your time.” She was escorted back to the front door by the armed guard. Well that was quite the performance, she thought. Very rehearsed and calculated. The questions were a nice touch. Not every day I get interrogated by an intelligence agency. And if ships aren’t leaving Chinese ports, in 10 days our ports are going to be empty, followed by hundreds of thousands of stores, and then millions of upset customers.
“Alexa, get Ann Miller over here. I need her services,” she said as she entered her office. Twenty minutes later Ann Miller, a partner in a large private investigative company, sat across from Bechtel.
“Who are we gathering dirt on today?” Ann asked.
“Rod Schneider of the National Reconnaissance Office. The little prick lied to me, and for that he’s going to pay.”
Ann’s eyebrows rose. “He’s the liaison between the NRO and the Pentagon. It’s not like I can have him followed.”
“I need to find out who he’s talking to. Use your assets — talk to girlfriends, mistresses, boyfriends, secret lovers. I need pillow talk, rumors, gossip — anything you think might be even marginally reliable. Talk to clerks, receptionists, anyone who might see where this guy goes and who he talks to.”
“How soon?”
Bechtel paused as she glanced up at the ceiling. “One week? Will that give you enough time?”
“Let’s see what shakes out at that time. Then we can decide if we need to go deeper.”
CHAPTER 16
Lieutenant Tiffany Grimes had heard the stories about “the room”, but this was her first time inside. The room was actually a steel compartment housed inside a much larger building. In many ways it duplicated a compartment common to many different ships in the Navy, with steel bulkheads, overhead and floor, referred to as a deck. One watertight door led through a small four-foot long passageway with another watertight door on the outside. What made the room different from every other compartment on a Navy ship were the pumps, pipes and salt water tanks surrounding the room and the nature of the pipes, tubes, bulkheads and door inside the room. Every single item inside the room was designed to leak. The entire room was also mounted on hydraulic cylinders so it could move and tip, duplicating battle conditions on an actual ship.
“I am the Damage Control Officer on the Massachusetts,” Lieutenant Roger Kent said. He was five-eleven, muscular with a rugged face, and ears close to his head. Partially due to his name, and his job, the crew referred to him as Superman. Kent stood with his feet a foot apart and his fists on his hips. “I am here to guide you through this training. Lieutenant Grimes is your commanding officer. You answer to her, she answers to me. Are we clear?”
“Yes, Sir” came from the crew of ten sailors in the room. Petty Officer First Class Caleb Johnson was the senior enlisted member of the Torpedo Techs, and the only one to have gone through the Damage Control training before. The rest of the crew consisted of a Petty Officer Second Class, four Petty Officers Third Class, and four Seamen.