"It takes time to make room for that, find a way to fit it in."
She took off her helmet, ran her fingers through her hair, her eyes reflecting some new thought, some undefined reality.
"You've been doing this for years."
"Yes."
"Does it get easier?"
"No. You have more familiarity with it, but it's never easy. It's just something that has to be done. You do it and think about it afterward."
His words would never replace what Selena had left back there with that dead soldier by the wall, the moment she pulled the trigger.
His earpiece sounded.
"Nick, you there?"
"Yes, Director."
"No sign of life at the complex. I think you got them all. You're minutes from Indian airspace and the Chinese won't follow you there. They scrambled fighters out of Chengdu, but they won't get to you in time."
"That's good news."
"You'll be landing in a restricted area on an Indian airbase. We have an understanding with the Indian government about using their facility. We don't want them to know what you were doing. A C-130 will be waiting. How's Ronnie?"
"He's good. A thigh wound and some cracked ribs. The medic gave him morphine and he's a happy guy right now."
"Selena?"
"She's fine, Director."
"What did you find?"
"What we went for and more. We've got our evidence, but I'll wait for the debriefing. Director, we made a mess down there. The Chinese aren't going to be happy about it."
"I'll worry about the Chinese. I'll see you tomorrow in Washington. I'm signing off for now."
He leaned back against the armored plate and closed his eyes. It had been a long, long day.
Chapter Forty-Seven
It was 10:02 in the evening on July Fourth in Washington. Elizabeth sat in the coolness of the VIP waiting room at Andrews Air Force base, waiting for the team to touch down. A driver and vehicle stood by outside. She was thinking about the possible fallout over the battle with the Chinese. Her phone signaled a call on the scrambled circuit.
"Harker."
"Director, this is General Hood. What is your current location?"
"At Andrews, waiting for the team."
"There's been a major incident in California. Someone blew up three electrical sub-stations. Oakland, San Francisco, the peninsula, Sacramento and the Central Valley are without power. A large portion of Northern and Central California is down. The cascade is threatening to take out the West Coast."
"How did they get through security?"
"We don't know. The attack was well coordinated. All stations went down at the same time. I'm on my way to the White House right now. The President has called a meeting at 2300 and you need to be there."
"On my way."
"You'll be escorted to the Situation Room when you arrive."
"Who will be in attendance?"
"The President, his Chief of Staff, the Director of Homeland Security, the Director of National Intelligence, the National Security Advisor, CIA, Westbrooke from the FBI and General Holden from the Joint Chiefs. That's as of this moment. There may be others."
"What is the alert status?"
"The President has ordered the military to DEFCON 4. There is as yet no indication of hostile intention from any national entity. Homeland Security is holding at Elevated Threat alert until we have more information."
"I understand. I'm leaving now." Harker stood and started for the door.
"Elizabeth."
Harker paused mid-stride. General Hood rarely used her first name.
"Does Rice know about your operation?"
Elizabeth had briefed Hood earlier. He was an ally. If word got out about Tibet, she'd need allies. She had decided it was best to protect the President, in case something went wrong.
"No. I felt it better to wait."
"Watch your step in there. Heads will roll over this."
"I appreciate the advice, General."
"See you there." The call ended.
She dialed Stephanie.
"Steph, there's a situation on the West Coast. I've been called to a meeting at the White House. I want you to pick up the team. Get them out of sight and back into civilian clothes."
"Yes, Director."
"I'll call in when I know more. I won't be available for awhile. Hold down the fort until I get back."
"Got it."
Harker ended the call. The Project was handled. A few minutes later her driver was breaking speed limits and weaving through late night D.C. traffic toward the White House.
Harker did a quick mental review of everything she knew about Yang and the operation. She might need to explain why she'd ordered a covert operation on Chinese sovereign territory. Some of the people who would be in that meeting had no idea the Project conducted black ops traditionally under the mandate of CIA or SOCOM. Her cherished low profile was about to evaporate into thin air.
She looked out the window. They turned onto Pennsylvania Avenue and neared the traffic barriers marking the outer security zone for the White House.
Her vehicle was passed through the security checkpoints. They stopped at a side entrance of the White House, away from the cameras watching the front for signs of newsworthy people or activities. She was met by two secret service agents wearing dark suits and earpieces. They had Glocks clipped to their waist in fast draw holsters.
"Director Harker?"
"Yes."
One of the agents handed her a badge to clip onto her lapel.
"Follow us, please."
This part of the White House was unfamiliar to her. She followed the agents down a long hall lined with period paintings of the nineteenth century. The walls were light beige. The lighting was subdued. The carpet was soft under her feet.
The Situation Room was located in the basement of the West Wing. A few turns and a short flight of steps down and she found herself at the entrance. A secret service agent stood by a lead lined cabinet at the door.
"May I have your phone, please, Director?"
Harker turned off her phone and handed it over. The agent placed it in the cabinet with several others. She wasn't the first to arrive.
"Do you have any other personal electronic devices with you?"
"No, that's it."
"If you need to make a call, please use one of the booths."
A row of wooden phone booths stood along the wall, modern echoes of the 1950s.
"Thank you."
Inside, a long conference table took up the center of the room. It was flanked by wide brown leather chairs. Blank television monitors covered the wall at the far end. Two tiers of computer terminals were set off to the side, manned by Air Force technicians.
The National Security Advisor was in animated conversation with General Holden, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, and the Director of National Intelligence. Half way down the table General Hood was talking with the Acting Director of the CIA, Wendell Lodge. Harker knew Lodge well from previous encounters.
Lodge was old school. Yale, Skull and Bones, five foot ten and elegant in a gray Brooks Brothers suit and college tie. Career CIA, he was 60 years old. His hair was tailored white, with the look that came only with regular four hundred dollar haircuts. His face was rosy and flushed, lending him a kindly, avuncular air that had deceived many a politician or underling.
Harker knew Lodge was nobody's uncle, kindly or otherwise. He demanded absolute obedience from his subordinates and never forgot or forgave a personal slight or a professional mistake. His boss was in Bethesda Hospital on life support. Lodge was about to step into the DCI slot unless the political process blindsided him with someone from outside the Agency.
General Hood beckoned her over.
"You know Director Harker, Wendell."
"Elizabeth," Lodge said, "nice to see you again. I hear you've been up to something with our Chinese friends. Was your operation successful?"