Uncivil Liberties (17 page)

“It appears your judgment was correct. In any event,” Austin continued, “we’re faced with an international dilemma somewhat different than we’ve been anticipating. The impending threat, while less spectacular, is much more dangerous. If the information from his computer is correct, and much of it has already been corroborated, then Australia, Britain, and the United States can look forward to a blood bath in the streets throughout our three countries. Raising the threat level, at least in America, will only exacerbate the situation, since we don’t have any definition of target location. Lars, give us a rundown of what we know and why this situation is so different. Unfortunately, gentlemen, as is often the case, what we know is far exceeded by what we
don’t
know. Lars.”

“Thank you, Mr. Secretary. Gentlemen, we got very little information from the video-taped interrogation we’ve just seen, part of which was taken at sea on the yacht. But, as you’ve also seen, the Thomson interrogation was a bit more informative. Then, we’ve acquired additional information from the data contained on his laptop. British and American intelligence agencies have been able to ferret out specifics about arms sales Wolff made, through his subsidiaries, to individual groups in England and Australia. In total, about two hundred hunting rifles of various caliber, scopes, an equal number of pistols and dozens of silencers, along with a couple hundred pounds of Semtex. But the sales, as small as they are, are not as important as the
delivery
information we obtained. Unfortunately, all weapons had been delivered
prior
to Wolff’s capture in Timor, and although we know where and when they were delivered, we have no idea where the weapons are now or, more specifically, who has them.”

Major Hampton, the British SAS officer, spoke first. “Mr. Johansson, you said sales to England and Australia. What about America?”

Secretary Austin answered. “As the gun control groups are always telling anyone who will listen, we already have plenty of those in every household, Major, we don’t need to buy them overseas or from clandestine arms dealers. You can buy them on nearly any street corner in the larger cities, or in gun shops, for that matter, with fake ID. But you can be certain they’ve added a few pounds of Semtex to their inventory as well.”

The CIA representative leaned forward in his chair and turned toward the briefer. “Mr. Johansson, from the written statement we received prior to this conference, all we’re talking about are a couple hundred rifles and handguns. What’s the particular flap about that level of weapons sales? Why is it important enough to involve Trojan?”

Lars continued the presentation. “Mr. Blanchard, as Secretary Austin indicated, this is not the type of threat for which we’ve planned. It’s not the amount or type of weapon that concerns us. It’s the delivery system for the attack. For years, we’ve focused on the interception or prevention of airline hijackers, despite our lack of complete control over foreign airports, as the recent KLM incident has shown.” He paused for a moment as those present reflected for a moment.

“We watch for weapons of mass destruction brought onto our shores, or even bio-chemical weapons. That level of threat perpetrated in a single, spectacular event, has been our greatest concern.”

Secretary Austin interrupted. “And those concerns still exist, and we have to be prepared to deal with them.”

“Exactly, but small arms . . . ?” Blanchard queried, holding out both hands, palm up, in a
“so what?
” gesture.

“Mr. Blanchard,” Secretary Austin continued, “if the information from Wolff is correct, the terrorist groups—and it should be noted we cannot confirm this is a Middle-East Al Qaida operation, it could be another of the Islamic splinter groups from Indonesia—have determined to go ‘low-tech’ for their next phase of operations. They learned one very significant fact from 9/11. They hurt us with over 3,000 deaths, and infuriated our nation. We brought down two Middle Eastern governments as a result. And they learned even more from the KLM incident: we’ll kill 300 to save 3,000, however distasteful it is. Afghanistan and Iraq, plus the Nobel Eagle Air Force action, demonstrated that we won’t stand for that kind of attack. But they also learned that the economic damage from 9/11 was far greater in the long run. After the KLM incident two months ago, the airline industry has once again nearly shut down. Two major companies are on the brink of bankruptcy after having barely recovered from the events of 9/11. It took over three years for the stock market to right itself again. No guesses on how long it will take us if this plan succeeds. The public furor over President Cumberland’s decision to take down the airliner, and the congressional demand to be notified immediately about future incidents before they’re enacted, is ridiculous, but it’s served to further lower confidence in our government. The stock market is always a victim of such public discord.”

Austin paused, scratched his chin, and looked around the table. “While these large-scale operations like the Twin Towers are disastrous, they can only be accomplished infrequently and they depend on a lapse in security. But these terrorist groups are not stupid, gentlemen. We do ourselves a disfavor to make that assumption. Terrorists have learned even more from watching our evening news. Let me ask the group a question. About ten years ago, what single event caused the most internal disruption to our citizens, albeit on a local scale, around Washington D.C.? A disruption, I remind you, that could be repeated quite easily in any environment with little risk attached? And a disruption, gentlemen, against which we have very little, if any, defense?”

The small group of men was silent for several long seconds.

“Urban snipers,” Captain Rossiter said.

“Excuse me?” the CIA’s Blanchard said, leaning further forward.

“Urban snipers, Mr. Blanchard, as General Connor projected in his written report,” the young Australian said more confidently. “One man and a rifle. Two men, referred to as the Beltway Sniper, stopped most retail business, disrupted social outings and personal shopping, and even cancelled school sports events in Virginia and the surrounding area for nearly two months over ten years ago.”

Again the room was quiet for several seconds. Secretary Austin broke the silence. “Captain Rossiter is right on the money. We’re not talking about hijacking, or dirty bombs, or chemical or even biological weapons in our water, for that matter. From Wolff’s laptop, we’ve learned the basics of the operational plan, or at least, we’ve pieced it together from several sources of information, since Wolff only knew the types of weapons sold. We’re talking about dozens—perhaps hundreds—of two-man hit squads who will scare our citizens to death, forcing them into seclusion . . . and do the same to our friends in England and Australia, if the analysis is correct. And that, gentlemen, is a threat which will render the strongest army in the world completely impotent. The only defense is aggressive local law enforcement, and, of course, civilian militia groups acting as vigilantes who will cause us yet another type of problem all by themselves. Carry on with your briefing, Lars. Let’s distribute the specifics of what we know. Then I suggest we go home, get with our respective intelligence agencies, wring our hands a bit more, and then decide how we can counteract this new dimension of grass roots terrorism we face.”

“Mr. Secretary,” Pug interjected, “as important as it was to us to obtain this information, doesn’t it strike you as peculiar that an operator like Wolff was scraping the barrel, being used as procurement officer for small arms? Something doesn’t ring true about this whole scenario.”

“Are you saying this is beneath him?” Austin asked.

“Sir, what I’m saying is that I think there’s more. That we don’t know the whole story yet.”

Forty-five minutes later when the meeting broke up, Carlos Castro slipped alongside Cameron Rossiter as they walked down the hallway. “I was surprised to see you here this morning. Going straight to another meeting?”

“No, we’re going to reconvene at the British Embassy at two.”

“How about some lunch?”

“Great. Your boss owes me dinner for a yacht charter, right?” Cameron smiled. “I’ll happily let you pay.”

Carlos laughed. “It was a short cruise, part of it in a rubber dingy. You’ll have to settle for a hot dog and a Coke in the park.”

“What, field rations? And here I always thought the American military had the finest kit available.”

“We do. That’s why I’m offering you a hot dog from a corner vendor. Or would you rather have an MRE?”

Seated on a bench near the Vietnam Memorial Wall, Carlos and Cameron watched quietly as dozens of people strolled past the glistening, reflective edifice, stopping occasionally to read the names or to place a small token at the base of a particular panel.

“You’d think the visitors would taper off. It’s been forty years since that war ended, and people still come. Some of them never even met or knew the relative or friend they come to honor,” Carlos said.

“A tribute to man, if not to war,” Cameron replied.

“So how’d you get this assignment?” Carlos queried. “I thought you were just out for a summer cruise.”

“Natural fit. I’m commander of the OAT section of our SAS counter-terrorism group. Off-shore assault team. Because I’d been in on the snatch, our CO agreed that I could carry on.”

“Well, you were smack on the money about the sniper routine.”

“That was General Connor’s call. But it’s how to deal with it that’s going to be the problem,” Cameron added.

“We’re going to be hard-pressed to find a way to interdict that kind of operation,” Carlos said. “The D.C. snipers showed us that, and they were only two guys without much planning. These hit squads, if indeed that’s what this is all about, will be much more organized, probably even mobile throughout the countryside. What do your boys think? Did they concur with what the interrogation turned up? Will Australia get hit?”

“We’re taking precautions. Australia’s on the Al Qaida hit list, that’s for sure. The attacks at Bali and Fremantle confirmed that.”

“Well,” Carlos said, “the Aussies deserve a lot of credit, especially in your part of the world. They’ve fronted up every time this terrorist activity has risen, and they’ve been firm in supporting both the UK and the U.S. General Connor figures they’ll be targeted for sure.”

“We’ve just elected a new government,” Cameron added. “Much more conservative. That should keep us in the fight, maybe even allow us to fight back.”

Carlos glanced at his watch. “Hey, I’d better run. General Connor will be looking for some answers. You in town long?”

“No. We meet this afternoon with Brigadier McIntyre at the British Embassy, and then take the night flight to LA, and on to Sydney. And congratulations on your retirement and appointment as deputy director of, what do you call it, Trojan? At least, I
think
I should congratulate you.”

Carlos stood, followed by Cameron. “Take care, Cameron. I think we’ll be seeing more of each other.” He offered his hand. “Good to be working with you again.”

“I hope it will be good, Carlos. These fanatics can make everyday life miserable if we can’t find a way to stop them. And I’ve been in the Indonesian jungle before. If we have to find some of them, it’s not a nice environment.”

“If this threat assessment is correct, we’ll spend more time on the streets of Sydney and Washington than the jungle. Keep in touch,” Carlos said and took off across the park.

Since leaving the CIA and accepting his appointment to Homeland Security, General Austin had been directed by President Snow to locate his primary office within the west wing of the White House, where both he and the National Security Advisor were immediately available as required.

Across the street, in the Eisenhower Executive Office Building which housed Trojan, Pug Connor returned from a luncheon with two of the Joint Chiefs to find a voice mail requesting his appearance in Secretary Austin’s office at 3 P.M. He glanced at his watch, which read 2:40. He grabbed his notes and briefing papers from the morning meeting and walked briskly down the stairs and across the street, entering the White House grounds. As he cleared security and entered the corridor, he met General Austin just coming out of his office. Austin inclined his head, signaling Pug to follow.

“Good timing. We’re headed down the hall,” Austin said.

“Are we going where I
think
we’re going?”

“We are. Dixie called and said the president has squeezed twenty minutes into his schedule and asked us to join him. We’ll just play it by ear. I think Admiral Barrington will be there too, along with Patrick Collins, the president’s choice for Secretary of Defense.”

Admiral Barrington was outside the president’s office when they arrived, and Defense Secretary Designate Patrick Collins and newly confirmed Vice President Hank Tiarks were already in the Oval Office. Dixie, the president’s secretary, stood and motioned them through the doorway. Inside, President Snow rose to greet them.

“Good morning, gentlemen. Let me introduce Vice President Hank Tiarks and Patrick Collins, soon to be the Secretary of Defense,” the president said. As the men shook hands, the president motioned the group to a small cluster of chairs and a large, deep burgundy leather couch. The president gave a nod to Pug, then took his seat. “I’ve read the brief on the interrogation transcripts and the overview of the attack plan. We’re short on time this afternoon, so let’s hear your analysis, Secretary Austin,” he said. “What unwelcome visitors can we expect?”