ECHELEON was NSA’s global signals and electronic intelligence gathering network capable of intercepting nearly all telecommunications. If a certain codeword, like viper, Arianna, Moreno, SA-24, missiles, etcetera, triggered the filters, then a human analyst would check it out and determine if the subject was worth pursuing.
“Any luck?”
The woman squirmed a bit, awkwardly, obviously not appreciating being put on the spot in front of others. “I think I might have found something, but I don’t want anyone to get too excited just yet. I’ll let you know in a few, okay?”
“Got it.” Rangel winked. “Don’t worry. We’ll stay out of your way.”
As they stepped away from the woman’s workstation, Rangel told Avery and Culler, “While we’re waiting on Abby, let me bring you up to speed on everything from our end.”
What Rangel had to say instilled little confidence in Avery.
Colombian National Police and Army were presently sweeping Bogotá and the surrounding area for the Viper. The search was described publicly as a planned security exercise unrelated to Avianca Flight 224, because the Colombian government, in the interests of not alarming the public and to have an upper hand over FARC at the peace talks, had not yet publicly attributed the crash to an act of terrorism. At a press conference, even as the army cordoned off the crash site and collected debris clearly recognizable as missile fragments, a police official said there so far was no indication that the plane was deliberately brought down, but that they still had not yet ruled out an act of terrorism.
The most obvious and easiest way for the Viper to get the missiles into the US was through the drug trafficking routes, so that’s where Slayton’s agents focused their attention. All DEA offices across Central America and the Caribbean were pressing their informants and offering cash for word of any unusual cargo or deals orchestrated by a woman fitting Arianna Moreno’s description. DEA was also coordinating with SOUTHCOM. The US military’s regional command was moving assets into place for increased aerial surveillance of smuggling routes.
The CIA station chief in neighboring Peru, a country that recently replaced Colombia as the world’s leading producer of cocaine, was notified and given the intel package on the Viper. The Peruvian drug gangs flew cocaine directly to Mexico, and the Viper was known to have connections with the Shining Path. With assistance from American Special Forces, Peruvian troops increased their patrols in the remote northern part of the country and covertly monitored the terrorist camps, smugglers’ landing strips, and drug labs they came across in case there was sighting of the Viper, while Predator and Reaper drones prowled the skies.
Meanwhile, the White House authorized increased security measures domestically. Pictures of Arianna Moreno were distributed to every major airport. Along the US-Mexican border, reinforced Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents and Border Patrol forces used ATVs, helicopters, and unmanned aerial vehicles to hunt coyotajes, the smugglers bringing humans, drugs, and weapons into the United States every day.
Rangel seemed satisfied that everyone was kept busy, but Avery shook his head and muttered softly to Culler, “Come on, Matt. This is a waste of time. They’d don’t have a damn thing.”
“You have something to say, Avery?” the irritation was clear in Rangel’s voice. “Let’s hear it. You’re supposed to be the counterterrorism expert. I mean, I’ve only been heading the Agency’s war against FARC for the past six years, so I’ll defer to you.”
Avery took a deep breath and held it for a second before responding, keeping his temper in check. “I don’t need to be an expert to see that none of that will do us any good if we don’t have solid HUMINT telling us where to start looking.”
“Hey,” Rangel said defensively. “Abby’s ELINT led the Colombians to Reyes and two dozen other bad guys, not to mention all those tangos in Yemen, Somalia, and Pakistan who have gotten Hellfires launched up their asses. We just need to be patient and wait to play our hand.”
“But it was eyes and ears on the ground and interrogations that led us to UBL,” Avery pointed out. CIA’s reliance on drones and cell phone tracking was a topic he didn’t want to get into at the moment, because it always pissed him off like no other, but he was already pushed and couldn’t let Rangel’s comment go unchallenged. “How many times have civilians been hit by a drone because NSA metadata collection fucked up? Few hundred at least. Hell, CIA killed a damned hostage in Pakistan because they decided to launch missiles on an al-Qaeda leader’s cell phone without having eyes on the ground.”
Rangel scowled. As a senior CIA officer with aspirations to make division chief, hearing from an uneducated knuckle dragger that they needed old fashioned human intelligence, an area which the CIA often failed, wasn’t something he wanted to hear; especially when he knew Avery was right.
And technology aside, running a broad manhunt simply wasn’t productive.
When Boston Police, Massachusetts State Police, ATF, FBI, Homeland Security, and the National Guard conducted an unprecedented manhunt for the Boston Marathon bomber, they cordoned off and scoured a twenty-block area of Watertown, using helicopters, unmanned aerial drones, SWAT units, and armored vehicles. Public transportation was shut down, and residents were instructed to stay in their homes while police went door-to-door. And they still only found Dzhokar Tsarnaev after a resident discovered the wounded bomber hiding in his boat in his backyard, outside the search area.
The Viper wasn’t just another amateur, lone wolf terrorist. She was a professionally trained operator with nearly two decades of experience under her belt. The dumb terrorists were found and eliminated early on. The intelligent ones adapted and learned how to survive. She sure as hell was smart enough not to risk carrying a cell phone in Colombia for too long. Once she reached the US, it’d be nearly impossible to find her until after she struck at least once and, hopefully, began to leave a trail of evidence.
There were almost five thousand airports in the US, serving 24,000 commercial flights carrying nearly two million passengers on a given day, and CIA had no idea where the Viper intended to strike or how many men or cells she commanded.
Increased security measures at and around airports offered no guarantees, because the Viper did not need to be on airport premises to fire SA-24. An elevated space like a rooftop or a nearby open area like a parking lot or field would suffice, anyplace within SA-24’s four mile range that offered clear line of sight to the planes.
But HUMINT wasn’t something at which CIA’s Bogotá station excelled.
With terrorism, the Middle East, Africa, Southwest Asia, and new flashpoints in Eastern Europe demanding America’s attention, CIA had removed many operations officers from politically stable South America. In Colombia, CIA relied almost entirely on DEA and their Colombian allies for human source intelligence. The fact that in this part of the world, most HUMINT sources were drug smugglers, paramilitary gangbangers, or corrupt cops made the CIA particularly uncomfortable with old fashioned spying.
Avery couldn’t completely hold it against Rangel, though. He’d probably play it safe too, if he had a wife to support, kids to put through a college, and a mortgage to pay, while the Seventh Floor and congress micromanaged every move he made and Department of Justice lawyers issued subpoenas to his colleagues.
“Look, Avery,” Rangel said. “Plain and simple: I’m running the Colombian side of this operation. If and when I need a trigger pulled, or someone to sit in the jungle for two days, then I’ll turn to your expertise. Are we clear?”