He smiled, but Harker wasn't fooled. She remembered Hood's warning that someone's head would roll. Lodge would be one of the executioners manning the guillotine if it came to that.
"It's good to see you, too, Wendell."
"We were just talking about your theory a coup in the PRC is tied to what's happening in California. We haven't picked up any indications of a takeover scenario at Langley."
By using the word theory Lodge was letting her know he was not convinced a coup was in progress or relevant to the current situation. It didn't matter that he had to know of Deng's warning about General Yang.
It was CYA time, and Lodge was a master of the game. Elizabeth wasn't surprised. No one wanted responsibility for being caught unawares by a terrorist attack of this magnitude.
"I suspect that will come up today," Harker said. "Whether or not a coup is actually being planned, I believe the Chinese are behind whatever is happening in California."
"I hope you can back that up, Elizabeth. That is a serious allegation."
Harker decided to feed him a little information.
"You are familiar with General Yang Siyu?"
"The head of Chinese MI?" Lodge gave her a look of interested attention.
As if he doesn't know exactly who I mean, she thought.
"The same. In cooperation with the FBI, we have established that General Yang has been plotting with the Chinese Triads on the West Coast. We tracked payments amounting to four hundred million dollars from Yang to the Triads. The money was stolen from an American investor."
"Are you talking about William Connor?"
"Yes. We identified and detained two of Yang's agents, one of whom was embedded in the FBI. He was caught red handed talking with Yang's principle aide. He passed along the information that we suspected a coup and expressed concern for his personal safety because of unspecified events planned to take place today."
Lodge raised an eyebrow. "Why wasn't Langley informed, Director?"
"I believe that was the responsibility of the FBI. They handled the discovery and detention of Yang's people. Perhaps they were embarrassed to find out one of their own is a traitor."
Harker knew that her political survival, even the survival of the Project, might depend on how this man read the situation. If he decided to oppose her, she was in trouble. There was no harm in letting the FBI take some of the heat. Besides, what she said was mostly true.
As if on cue, FBI Director Gordon Westbrooke entered the room, followed by the Director of Homeland Security, Joseph Wiseman. Harker watched Lodge's eyes narrow as he observed Westbrooke. Behind Lodge's back General Hood gave her a look of approval.
"I look forward to hearing more about this, Elizabeth. Let's get together soon. Perhaps lunch next week? I like to talk with you about something, but this isn't the place. If you'll excuse me, I think I'll go have a little chat with Gordon." He nodded at Hood and moved with purpose toward Westbrooke.
"You're on your toes today, Director," said Hood. "That was neatly done."
Harker glanced at her watch. It was almost 11:00 P.M. Kevin Hogan, President Rice's Chief of Staff came in.
"The President will be here momentarily," he said. "Please find your seats."
Chapter Forty-Eight
President Rice entered the room.
"Good evening, everyone. Please be seated." Rice took his place at the head of the table and the others sat.
President James Rice was in the third year of his first term and deep in the quicksand of presidential politics. Descended from early American colonists, he was named after an ancestor who'd fought in the American Revolution. He'd served with distinction as a young Marine officer in Vietnam. At sixty-seven he looked ten years younger. His face was strong and comforting, with hazel eyes that seemed to speak directly to you alone. He was popular, charismatic when he chose and possessed of a streak of integrity that defied the conventions of the political world. Harker liked him.
"Let's get started. Joseph, what is our current situation?"
The Director of Homeland Security cleared his throat.
"Mister President, power is out throughout Northern and Central California, Oregon, Southern Washington and Western Nevada. The effect is spreading as other stations in the grid try to take up the load. The electrical utilities have gone to rolling brownout in an effort to head off more failures.
"The Governor of California has called out the Guard. All civilian emergency forces have been activated. Emergency power is up and running at all medical facilities. We are currently at Elevated Alert."
"Are we certain these explosions were not accidental?"
"Yes, Mister President. They occurred at exactly the same time and appear to have been selected to create maximum disruption in the grid."
"Any communication from terrorist groups?"
"We have received a statement claiming responsibility from a group calling itself the Beijing Great Nation Brigade."
"Is this a known group?"
"No, Mister President."
At that moment an aide entered and handed President Rice a note. Everyone watched as he read it. Rice looked up at them. He was grim.
"There have been explosions in San Francisco with heavy civilian casualties. Turn on the monitors."
Heads swiveled toward the end of the room. The monitors came alive. There was no sound, but the visuals were enough. All the major networks were showing scenes in the Bay Area.
A live helicopter shot zoomed in on bodies lying in the Ferry Building Plaza. A bomb had detonated under the restaurant at the end of the Ferry Building Pier. The restaurant was gone. The pier was mostly gone. Under the restaurant a reinforced concrete shaft had fed air into the BART tunnel running below the bay. It was gone. Where it had been, the waters of the Bay churned in a seething whirlpool, pouring into a black hole.
The networks were pooling shots. Injured and frightened people wandered aimlessly about. CBS switched to an interview with a panicked mother sitting outside what was left of the Ferry Building, clutching her child and sobbing.
CNN was running a banner saying the country was under terrorist attack. Fox had a right wing talking head sounding off. Behind him was a background shot of the Twin Towers burning.
Chapter Forty-Nine
"My God." It was Hansen, the National Security Advisor.
"Mister President." General Holden spoke from the end of the table. "I recommend we go to DEFCON 3. We don't know who's behind this. This may be a set up for a larger attack."
"Mister President, may I interrupt?" It was Lodge. "Before we take further action I believe we should hear from Director Harker."
Here it comes, Harker thought. Lodge was anticipating political fallout and diverting thoughts of an intelligence blunder away from CIA and over to her.
"Director?"
Everyone looked at her. She forced herself to keep her hands resting quietly on the table before her. A memory surfaced of her father, sitting in his big wingback chair in the den.
"Never let them see what you're really thinking."
Her father reached for a glass of bourbon on the side table by his big, green chair.
"When it's important, when the chips are down, you've got to conceal your thoughts and control your feelings. It's like poker; you can't let the other fellow know what you're up to"
Her father often seemed to confuse her with the son he'd never had.
"Yes, Daddy"
"Stand up for what you believe in. Don't lie, but you don't always have to say everything that's on your mind. You're smart and you're going to go far. It's certain there will be times in your life when you have to know when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em."