The End Game

Sherlock took them to the fifth floor, to a large conference room that had been turned into a sophisticated command center, similar to the command and control room in the New York Field Office. Four large flat-screen televisions showed four different aerial shots of the Yorktown refinery and surrounding area. There were light-green labels on the waterways—Back Creek, York River.

There were a dozen or so FBI agents sitting around the large center table, drinking coffee, speaking in low voices to one another, always one eye sca

Sherlock introduced Mike and Nicholas. There were so many new names, Mike knew it would be impossible to remember everybody, except Director Comey, of course, who rose and shook their hands. He looked closely at Nicholas. “Ah, our very own Brit. Didn’t I just graduate you from the Academy thirty minutes ago? And already you’ve managed to save the president’s life?”

Everyone laughed.

“Talk about hitting the ground ru

He looked toward the map of Yorktown, slowly shook his head. “So many people in this world filled with hate, so many people who see violence as the only solution, who see murdering other people with dissimilar views as the right thing to do, as the only thing to do. Ah, well, that’s why we all have jobs.

“Enough of that. Agent Sherlock, explain to Caine and Drummond exactly what they’re seeing on the screens.”

“Yes, sir. We have drones and a satellite sitting over Yorktown, waiting. The bomb teams and K9s will continue searching until three-thirty p.m., in exactly three minutes, then everyone’s out. No matter what happens, no one will be in or near the facility at four. Though I have to tell you, the bomb squad doesn’t think there’s anything to worry about. They’ve seen nothing out of place, no violence toward any of the workers, no sign of any of Spenser’s undetectable bombs, and if you know the K9s, you know they’re thorough. We’re all hoping the attack on Air Force One was Spenser’s real target and the threat of Yorktown blowing up was simply a misdirection.”

Nicholas didn’t think so, but he only nodded.

He didn’t think any of the agents in the room, including the director, believed that, either.

Sherlock pointed to the middle screen. “The Yorktown Seaport runs out into the Atlantic Ocean. It’s the main reason they’re turning it into a depot, and storing gas and petroleum and metal there. Those huge freighter ships have easy access. They’ve already begun the transition.” She pointed to the far side of the screen. “See, you can make out the Chesapeake Bay in the background, there. Amazing the detail we can get with these shots. We’ll have a bird’s-eye view if the place blows. And look at this angle.”

She pressed a remote, and the view shifted, almost like they were on a ship out to sea, coming in to land. It was now clear enough they could see the stripes of the red-and-white-painted smokestack, looking almost like a quaint lighthouse, reaching a hundred feet into the sky.

Mike imagined the smokestack would be a welcome sight after a long journey, and the cheerful candy-cane stripe in the sky could be seen far out to sea. They would have the best seats in the house.

As everyone settled in again to watch Yorktown on the screens, Mike leaned over to Nicholas. “We have to check in with Zachery, see if Ben Houston and Gray Wharton have dug anything up.”

74

BISHOP TO B4 CHECK

Mike called Milo Zachery first, put him on speakerphone so Nicholas could hear, and filled him in on what had happened, her voice matter-of-fact, emotionless. He didn’t interrupt. When she finished, Zachery said, “Thank the good Lord you were able to stop the attack, Drummond. I hear you created a wild new hack to get into the flight control on Air Force One.”

“Yes, sir,” Mike said, “he did. He was amazing.”

“But you, Mike, I hear you were on the phone to the vice president making it all possible.”

“Well, okay, I’ll take credit for that one.”

“Nicholas, what did you do exactly? That’s Gray who wants to know.”

“Tell Gray I need to review it once we have the time. But tell him now that I’m not entirely sure what the code read, other than ‘Please God don’t let the plane crash’ in ones and zeroes.”

Zachery laughed. “Gray will like that and you can count on teaching our cyber-team how to do it. You two get back up here tomorrow. I’ll even go so far to say a round of drinks on your boss might happen.”

There was still Damari unaccounted for, and finding out if he’d gotten Spenser’s bombs to Iran, but he said, “We’ll try, sir.”

“Mike? The investigative board will meet in the morning to discuss the Spenser shooting, but don’t lose any sleep over it. You’ll have your gun back by noon tomorrow.”

After they’d rung off, Nicholas said, “Now we need to catch up with Gray and Ben,” and he dialed them. He said without preamble, “Ben, tell me what you’ve got.”

“You guys are going to like this. Our knock this morning was a treat. Like all our surprise early-morning visits to unsuspecting criminals, Porter Wallace heard us pounding on his front door, yelling ‘FBI, open up,’ stumbled out of bed and tried to run, the idiot. He didn’t even have slippers on. His wife was yelling at him through it all, demanding what was going on.”

Gray said, “In the end, though, Wallace proved to be quite cooperative. We barely needed to nudge him, he started singing like a canary when we showed him the statements Adam Pearce dug up for us. Let’s hear it for the kid, he’s good, Nicholas.”

Nicholas said, “He’s got great criminal instincts for someone so young. So Matthew Spenser and his Celebrants of Earth had their very own stockbroker. Who would have believed it?”

“Porter Wallace confirmed he and Matthew Spenser knew each other in school. Spenser showed up on his doorstep a year ago with a massive amount of cash and a need to invest it quietly. According to Wallace, he was forced into the scheme, which, I must say, is absolutely ingenious. When you get back, I’ll give you all the details and numbers in our secure documents. From what Wallace said, he’s been parlaying information from the backroom chat sessions he was having with his fellow brokers. They all get on a chat once a week and talk about what they’re going to be buying in the upcoming session. After the chat, Wallace makes all of his buys for his legit clients, and a few buys for his not so legit clients.”

“Two sets of books.”

“Exactly. High-stakes, too. The last numbers I saw give COE a bank account in the ten million range. This number grows and shrinks based on the market, but Wallace is a shrewd investor, and has done well for them.”

“Where did they get the money to invest in the first place? We’ve known they were well-financed from the begi

“They were initially self-funded—Matthew Spenser’s quite large trust fund was more than enough to get them started. Then, three months ago, COE shows up with a massive influx of cash.”

Mike said, “That was when Zahir Damari showed up, with the money from Iran.”

“Exactly,” Gray said. “I started back tracing all the IP addresses they’ve used for the past month. Their computer expert is—was—first rate.”