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“Daffy and Goofy, the Disneyland bombers? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Agent Lawlor, my people do not appreciate the lack of respect you have shown these men by assigning these ridiculous nicknames-”
“Listen, buddy, we didn’t assign these guys anything but prison numbers. They earned those nicknames. They bomb Disneyland, and then one leaves his wallet while fleeing the scene and the other is actually dumb enough to join a class-action suit against Disneyland for the damages he suffered from the bombs he himself was a party to planting.”
“Agent Lawlor, I will not repeat myself. The men are to be released and placed on a plane to Tripoli in Libya. Secondly, the Egyptian government has frozen assets of the Abu Nidal Organization in cash and property worth over four million dollars U.S. These are to be released immediately. Once you have met these conditions, we will speak again.”
“This could take some time. I don’t have that kind of authority. Besides, how do I know that the president is alive?”
“You don’t. Good-bye.”
There was the sound of the kidnapper breaking the co
Scot looked at the two men sitting across from him. “So that’s it, then. Abu Nidal’s people have the president, and they are going to use him to blackmail us into helping them rebuild their organization?”
“Not according to the vice president,” said the director. “He’s ru
“Marshfield didn’t waste any time, did he? Has he set up shop at the White House yet?” asked Scot.
“That was one of his first executive actions,” said the director.
“I bet Shaw’s having a hell of a time dealing with him.”
Though he was widely perceived by outsiders as a savvy political reformer, those who knew the real Adam Marshfield knew he was nothing more than a self-aggrandizing narcissist who had achieved his political success solely through manipulation of the media and public opinion. The only reason he had made it onto Jack Rutledge’s ticket was that he was well liked by the majority of the uninformed general public and his presence was considered to give the party its best shot at securing Rutledge’s bid for the White House.
“As of right now, Agent Harvath, as much as many don’t like him, Vice President Adam Marshfield is our acting president and commander in chief of the armed forces.”
Harvath thought he noticed General Venrick wince.
“And of course once word got to the FBI about the package you had received, Lawlor hightailed it back from Park City,” said Scot.
“Exactly.”
“Director Jameson, how do you suppose the kidnappers obtained the routing codes to get a package right to your desk and also the direct-dial number straight into Lawlor’s office?” Scot asked.
“How do you think they did it?” the director parried back.
“Unfortunately I think we’ve got a leak and a big one at that. I think this same leak might have given them the frequencies we were using so they could jam our communications while they snatched the president.”
“I’d be inclined to agree,” said the director.
“So would I,” said General Venrick. “Agent Harvath, like I said, I’ve reviewed your service record, and it’s pretty damn impressive. I know what an asset you were at the SEAL think tank, and I can imagine how you must feel having lost so many men on your watch.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Scot. “I appreciate that.”
“What does your gut tell you on this one?”
“Well, General, at first, when they found that Middle Eastern guy face down in the snow, my gut said there’s no way a Middle Eastern group could be behind this. There’s no way they could get the amount of perso
“Why do you say that?” asked the general.
“Sir, I saw three African-Americans the entire time I was there, and they were all fellow Secret Service agents. Utah’s about as white-bread a place as you can get. The people there notice outsiders. Sure, there’s a couple of growing minority communities in Salt Lake City, but Middle Easterners would stick out like a sore thumb.”
“Apparently, there was at least one. We’ve got his body to prove it,” said the director.
“Yeah, but now he bothers me even more. Here we find this guy dead with a Skorpion next to him. He’s a PLO long gun, and he’s found with a weapon that pretty much screams Liberate Palestine right from the get-go. It doesn’t fit. I mean, if he’s going to do that, why not have him in ‘I love Yasser’ undies? Besides, I can think of a hundred better offensive firearms he could have been using, none of which would have co
“But, Agent Harvath, if you take one look at the man and can see he’s Middle Eastern, what difference does the Skorpion make?” asked the general.
“Maybe it makes no difference at all. Why would the people on his team leave him behind? They must have known we would be able to ID him quickly and be on their trail,” said Harvath.
“But,” interjected the director, “it did take us a while to dig his body out from the avalanche.”
“It’s all true and it all makes sense, but you asked me what my gut says and it says there’s no way a Middle Eastern group pulled off something this complicated.”
“Agent Harvath, isn’t that a little prejudiced?” asked the general.
“PC or not, Middle Eastern groups, including Abu Nidal’s, are not tacticians. They walk into nightclubs strapped with explosives, plant car bombs, spray crowded markets with machine-gun fire, and fly hijacked planes full of fuel into buildings. Plain and simple, they’re cowards. They won’t confront anyone on a one-to-one basis. They don’t have the savvy or the courage to do in-your-face operations.”
“Suppose, just for a moment,” offered the general, “that the reason Abu Nidal and the FRC have disappeared for so long is because they have been training for this exact scenario. One of the biggest coups in the history of terrorism-something right up there with September eleventh.”
“I don’t buy it. Not for a second. This kind of training would have involved years of working in cold climates practicing skiing, mountaineering, and winter warfare tactics. To train and outfit a crew from the ground up on something like this would have been exorbitantly expensive.”
“The FRC has a lot of money,” countered the director.
“Supposedly. All I’ve heard is that one of their people got caught in January trying to pull out seven point five million dollars and that the Egyptians have got another four that belongs to them. So, that’s eleven point five they couldn’t lay their hands on.
“That Korean jamming system, the ability to get inside information, the wherewithal to pull it off…I think we’re dealing with something and someone completely outside the realm of Middle Eastern terrorism.”
“But why would the kidnappers send a note like this,” said the director, waving his photocopy, “making demands for the release of two convicted Islamic bombers with suspected FRC ties and the unfreezing of Abu Nidal’s assets?”
“It doesn’t make any sense,” acknowledged Harvath. “But if it was the FRC, how could they have recruited a known PLO sniper, even if he has been freelancing, when the FRC has killed some of the PLO’s most important members? Maybe the sniper was turned-I don’t know-but it creates more questions than it answers, and that makes me nervous.”
“Me too,” said the general. “How about you, Stan?”
After shoving the photocopy of the kidnappers’ note back into his folder, Director Jameson began massaging his temples. “Yeah, I’m nervous. The neatness of some of it is what scares me. I’m begi