All Necessary Force (30 page)

Worst case, the damage would be permanent.

Either way, all in the room knew it would be permanent for them. At the back of everyone’s mind was the election less than six months away, with the opposition furiously trying to find something to harm the president.

On the heels of Kurt’s brief was the latest intel on the attack. The chatter had continued unabated, with nothing concrete. The only new intelligence gleaned was a cryptic reference to the attackers being “homegrown,” which, coupled with the lost EFPs, scared the hell out of everyone in the room.

The council was split in half on whether to let the team follow the trail to Budapest. Like a hung jury, they had argued for the better part of ten hours, and were now simply going to toss the problem into the president’s lap. Let him make the decision. Kurt thought it was cowardly, but he didn’t get a vote.

Without fanfare, the door swung open and President Warren entered. Caught off guard, everyone jerked upright, some standing, others attempting to do so.

“Keep your seats. Sorry to make you wait. Other things going on.”

The room gave a collective nod as he took his seat at the head of the conference table. Kurt surveyed the crowd to see who had changed demeanor at the president’s arrival. None appeared to do so, probably out of exhaustion.

“Well, what have we got?”

Alexander Palmer, the president’s national security advisor, was the man chosen to brief both sides of the argument. He cleared his throat and said, “Well, sir, we have a significant ability to stop the attack, but the risks may well be worse than the aftermath.”

Warren took that in, then nodded for Palmer to continue. Palmer relayed all that had happened in Prague, ending with the lead on the terrorists attempting to get explosives in Budapest for the EFPs.

Warren didn’t need a map drawn out. After a lifetime of politics, he instantly calculated the risks of what the team had done. As well as the rewards.

When Palmer was done, he said, “Okay. What’s the vote?”

Palmer said, “Well, the vote’s split. The potential repercussions are enormous. May already be enormous. But the terrorist plot is real. No doubt. Given the EFPs, they don’t plan on a single assault. It’s going to be big.”

Warren smiled. “And you want me to make the vote.”

Everyone shifted in their chairs, looking left and right.

Warren said, “Kurt, what do you think?”

Kurt pulled his head off the wall, leaned forward, and said, “I think this is why someone’s called the president. Let ’em get out their views. But
you
have to make a decision.”

Warren narrowed his brow. Kurt refused to glance away from the most powerful man on earth, but he softened the blow. “Sir, there aren’t any easy answers. I could tell you what I think, but I’m not the president. Hear what the council thinks, then ask me.”

Kurt saw Secretary of State Brookings staring at him. For the first time without contempt.

Warren said, “Okay, give it to me.”

Palmer went first. “Well, there’s no doubt what they did was a good thing. I mean, Jesus, they saved twelve girls from a lifetime of pain. But
they probably destroyed our entire counterterrorist infrastructure. Personally, I’d like to fucking hang Pike from the nearest tree. The guy doesn’t understand what he’s doing. We can’t have him running around like this. Lord knows what he’ll do in Budapest. He’s leaving a trail that can be unraveled by anyone with an Internet connection.”

The director of central intelligence cut in. “Hang on. I don’t want to act like I’m on his side, but Pike’s been better at this shit than anyone I’ve seen. He did screw up in Prague. If you can call saving twelve innocent girls a screwup. But he managed to divert attention from it. It’s very, very shaky, but nobody knows who it was.”

Palmer came back, now agitated. “Bullshit! So he saved twelve girls. Who the fuck cares? How many girls are there in the world getting screwed over right now? His mission is to defend the United States. Not run around saving whatever he thinks is right. Jesus, your guys go through enormous training for this very thing. Don’t get involved in the source’s life. Get what you can out of them. Don’t get attached. Pike got attached in about fifteen minutes.”

Kurt cut in. “Wait a minute. It was more than that. He found out a source inside the house had information on the Arab’s next moves. That’s why he did it. If he hadn’t assaulted, we wouldn’t be debating the next step. There wouldn’t be a next step.”

Warren raised his hand. “Okay, I got it. What’s the status of the hit?”

Brookings spoke up. “Well, we were lucky in the regional security officer. He’s a career guy who actually cares more about America than his job. Pike left the girls in a van outside the embassy, then called the RSO anonymously to let him know what he had, to include the house Pike had hit. Basically, he hand-fed the Prague police a political coup. They got to take down some bad guys that were already subdued by Pike’s crew, then crow about breaking up a white-slavery ring. It’s a win-win as far as anybody knows. The RSO also followed Pike’s instructions about keeping it close-hold, even from the ambassador. My report from the Prague mission was exactly the cover story Pike devised. The Czech police raided the house, arrests in abundance, prosecutions forthcoming, yada yada yada. The ambassador has no idea what occurred, and neither do the Czech police. And they won’t look too hard,
given the penetration the Albanians had in their department. They’ll pat themselves on the back and let it go.”

“So we’re at square one with this? No harm, no foul?”

Palmer spoke up. “Yes, in theory, but we still have Pike at the helm. This worked out. But it might not have. We need to look at the repercussions holistically. Pike saved twelve teenage girls, and that’s great, but in so doing, he put this entire effort in jeopardy. I’m against letting him go to Budapest. We’re on the verge of compromising the entire effort. It’ll be too easy to connect the dots if we give him authority for Budapest.”

Palmer quit talking but looked like he had something else to say. Warren waited a beat, then said, “Get it out. This isn’t a time to go back home wishing you’d said something.”

Kurt watched Palmer look his way, and knew it would be bad.

“Well, if we decide to do this, we need to face the repercussions. If it blows up, we’ll be crucified—and I’m not talking about our careers. That’s a given. We might stop this attack, but we won’t stop the next one. Or the one after. In fact, if this operation gets out, we might very well be
driving
the next attack. Taskforce operations will fuel conspiracy theories for decades. We have enough trouble trying to fight bullshit propaganda on the Arab street with normal operations. It isn’t pleasant, but morality is on a scale. Nobody would say saving those girls was wrong, but Pike’s operation might have cost us many more deaths, because we need to protect the Taskforce. We might need to let this attack occur so that we can prevent the next one.”

Nobody said anything, the truth of the statement speaking for itself. Kurt wondered how it had come to this. How everything he had done to prevent just this problem had proven insufficient.

“Either that,” Palmer continued, “or prepare a story ahead of time if things go bad. Mitigate the damage to the greatest extent possible.”

Whoa. What’s that mean?
Kurt knew that any story would have to be backed up with sacrificial lambs. He’d seen it firsthand last year when they’d thrown some bad folks to the wolves to protect the Taskforce.

Warren addressed the secretary of defense. “What do you think?”

“Sir, I think we let them go. We know two things: There’s an attack
coming, and the method of the attack involves explosives gleaned in Budapest. Without the explosives, the EFPs fail. We don’t know where the attack is going to occur, but we can affect the acquisition of explosives. Pike’s methods have proven risky and unpredictable, but in the end, he’s all we have. I say let them continue.” He paused for a minute, then said, “And I mean for the record, as the secretary of defense, I say let them continue.”

Brookings and Palmer began to talk over each other at his statement, causing the secretary of defense to raise his hand. When the room was quiet, he said, “Please. Let me continue. We can’t predict the future. We might all be in jail in six months, and our entire counterterrorist infrastructure could be gutted. But we don’t know that. What we do know is that the attack’s coming. We don’t know the form or the time, but we know it’s imminent. We have the ability to stop it. Right now.”

He went face-to-face around the room. “I say stop the attack. If it goes bad, it goes bad, but there’s no way I can sit here and say let it go so we can prevent the next one.”

The silence extended from the SECDEFs statement, nobody willing to offer another opinion. Kurt watched Warren consider all that was said, glad that he wasn’t in the president’s shoes. Warren tapped his fingers on the table for a couple of seconds, then looked up.

“Okay. Everyone understand that this is my decision. For the record, you all disagreed vehemently. And I mean that.” He looked at Kurt. “No more Taskforce activity without council oversight. Interdict the explosives and nothing more. That’s the mission. I don’t give a shit what they find out, that’s all they do.”

Stone-faced, Kurt said, “Yes, sir.”

Warren’s expression softened. “Kurt, I know this sounds like I’m looking for a reason to hang them out to dry, but that won’t happen. I trust you. I trust them. Get them back in the fight.”

Warren looked at the pad of paper on the desk, clenching his fists around the pencil in his hands. The pencil snapped under his grasp, surprising the room at the loss of control.

He looked back at Kurt. “Stop this attack. Do what you were designed to do. No fingerprints. Kill those motherfuckers.”

50

S

itting on a small ridgeline overlooking the Budapest farmhouse, I had begun to wonder if we weren’t wasting our time. We’d had a mobile observation post outside the place for damn near two days after the original meet time given to us by the girl in Prague, and so far nothing. I hadn’t worried at first, because every action has a reaction, and our assault in Prague to get the information was bound to have repercussions that would cause a shift as the Albanians dealt with the problem. Naively, I hadn’t thought that the threat extended across the ocean.

Kurt had called me to give the Oversight Council go-ahead for Budapest, then cryptically asked if I was alone. When I told him I was, he had said, “Watch yourself. Don’t leave any fingerprints.”

“Of course. I never do.”

Kurt had laughed, then said, “Bullshit. You left a ton of fingerprints in Prague.” He paused, then said, “But that’s not what I mean. People are antsy here. It’s gotten political because of the election. Even in our world. The hit’s coming, and we have about a fifty percent chance of stopping it. We don’t do it and I’m no longer sure you guys will be shielded. Watch yourself.”

“Whoa. Is the team in the crosshairs? What are you saying?”

I could almost hear Kurt go back into commander role, knowing he’d said too much. “No… no, of course you’re not in the crosshairs. Just don’t leave any fingerprints. You read me?”

My mind running through the implications, I said, “Yeah… yeah, I get you.”

“Pike, it’s good. The president himself backed you up, but everyone’s on edge. You got the ball. Just don’t screw it up.”

I didn’t really care about myself, since I was quasi out of government service and a little bit untouchable, but the team was still in the military and could be hung out to dry if things went bad. Which they might.

“I won’t fuck up. You know that. But I need to know how far to push this. You want it stopped even if it means compromise, or you want me to back off? What’s the cut line?”

“Stop it. Fucking stop it. If it goes bad, I’ve got your back.”

“Will that be enough?”

To his credit, he didn’t lie. “I don’t know.”

And now I sat on a ridgeline eating cold pizza and drinking bottled water, hoping and not hoping that something would happen.

We’d had eyes on the place forty-eight hours after our assault on the slave house, so we’d had plenty of time to assess it. And the results were pretty grim. While it looked like every other ancient farmhouse out here, this one had a pretty sophisticated security apparatus. Offset from the main road and tucked into a little valley with a creek at the rear, it had cameras on both corners out front and over the main door, roving security patrols, guard posts on the road leading in, and no doubt a full-on alarm system on all entrances. It was a mini compound. Besides the main two-story house, there was a one-story carriage house located directly behind it, and a barn kitty-corner to the carriage house. The only good thing was that there weren’t any neighbors nearby. The closest house was located behind our ridgeline observation post, about a half mile away.

After the meet time had come and gone, we’d simply rotated people through the OP, with the remaining members of the team catching some rack in the other van down a dirt road in the tree line. After two days of waiting, having had time to let Kurt’s conversation percolate, I was toying with the idea of going home.
Maybe this thread’s pulled out.
Maybe our hit alone had stopped the transfer of explosives and stopped the attack itself.
Not to mention, we’re all getting a little ripe
.

I perked up when a car wound down the drive to the house, one of many that came and went each day. I trained the Blackjack on the car,
zooming in until I could make out anyone who exited. The image wasn’t perfect, but it worked pretty well in daylight with the thermal turned off, even given the twilight of the setting sun. Enough to let me look at the place from over a quarter of a mile away and see anything suspicious. And, hooked to our computer system in the van, it had one benefit that our sorry-ass human eyes didn’t: the ability to do a screen capture and run the image through a facial recognition program.