Chapter 13
Oval Office
The White House
Washington, D.C.
Jack Ryan yawned, page three of the four-page document in front of him going bleary.
He was trying to maintain his concentration, but it was nearly midnight.
He’d been on the way to his second-floor bedroom, ten minutes earlier, when Mary Pat had buttonholed him and dragged him back to the Resolute desk.
That was something she would never do without good reason.
A new SITREP had arrived from Bodrum that required his attention.
Mary Pat now occupied one of the sitting chairs, her personal favorite, a comfortable Chesterfield repurposed from the West Wing. She had her own copy of the printout and a two-page head start.
“This is not looking good,” she said when he finally looked up.
Though he wasn’t quite finished, Ryan figured he had the big picture. He set the report on a desk that had carried the weight of the Great Depression, the Cuban Missile Crisis, and two world wars.
“A GPS spoofing attack,” he said. “We’ve been worried about that for a long time. But if this is true, it would be the first time any real damage has been done.”
“It’s going to take time to nail down proof, but I’m convinced. The question then becomes, who’s responsible?”
“If this was an intentional act, it has to be tied to Fulcrum.”
“I can’t see it any other way.”
“That points to Russia.”
“It does, at least in terms of motive. Fulcrum aside, the Russians have been stepping up their sabotage game in recent years. The GRU view it as so successful, they’ve even split off a new section to take over.”
“The SSD,” Ryan said.
“Russia’s fulfillment center for state-sponsored terrorism. Their operations have been getting bigger and bolder. But this…going after a diplomatic flight and taking out a cabinet secretary. It seems incredibly reckless, even by Yermilov’s standards.”
“What if it wasn’t Yermilov?” Ryan said in a speculative tone.
“Explain.”
The President’s inner analyst came out. “The whole idea behind SSD was to create an additional cutout—no, more like a firewall. As we understand it, the SSD’s funding and personnel are among the regime’s most closely guarded secrets.
It’s a shadow army whose mission is to screw with Western interests by creating maximum chaos.
Arson, bombings, assassinations, cyberattacks.
The one inviolable rule is that strikes have to be deniable, no chance of attribution coming back to the Kremlin. ”
“We know the SSD uses foreign nationals wherever possible to do their dirty work,” said Mary Pat. “They shift money constantly to hide its source. When attacks go down, everyone knows perfectly well who’s responsible—the problem is proving it.”
Ryan put his elbows on the desk and steepled his hands in thought.
He was struck by one word in Mary Pat’s analysis…
money. “Let’s circle back to this crash.
Gunther Klaus is a crooked banker, and for years he’s been one of the GRU’s main financial facilitators.
It’s not much of a leap to imagine that he’s also had dealings with the SSD.
Now, out of the blue, he presents himself to the CIA and asks to defect.
Next thing you know, his flight to freedom ends in a fireball. ”
“The coincidence does seem extreme.” She glanced down at her copy of the printout. “The passenger manifest and number of recovered remains don’t add up.”
“You think Klaus is the one missing?” Ryan asked.
“Half the victims have been identified, but the names aren’t included here.
He was supposed to be on the flight, but I’m sure CIA would have listed him under a false name.
According to this message, it could take a couple of days to get positive IDs on all the remains.
I’ll reach out to Ben Stephens and find out what name the agency listed Klaus under.
Either way, the Navy needs to go full-court press on this. ”
“The Navy? What have they got to do with it?”
“Did you not get to the last page, Jack?”
He glanced down guiltily. “Not quite.”
“There were some administrative notes at the end from the lead Air Force investigator, a Colonel Carter. He’s delegating parts of the inquiry.”
“Isn’t that what lead investigators do?”
His DNI put on her patient face. “On the matter of possible sabotage, this whole electronic attack theory, he’s assigned a pair of on-scene Navy officers to get to the bottom of it.”
“Good.”
“Jack, they’re ONI.”
She kept staring at him. Ryan looked suspiciously at the printout. “And…?”
Mary Pat summarized the last page. “There was a Navy officer on board SAM 719, a JAG. Someone up the chain decided it would be a good idea for the service to have a presence on scene. They diverted two ONI officers who were on temporary duty in Sigonella.”
Ryan stiffened in his chair, no longer sleepy. He snatched up the printout, flipped to page four, and skimmed to the bottom. “Seriously? Katie and Conza are in Bodrum?”
“They are.”
He set the papers aside. “I knew they’d gone to Sig for a couple of weeks. She was fired up about Italy, made it sound like a vacation.”
“Well, it’s not sun and beaches anymore. You know the drill…the needs of the Navy take precedence.”
Ryan knew the drill like few men on earth. “Okay, well…I’m sure they’ll do a good job.”
“Of course they will. But don’t forget who we’re dealing with.” Her tone turned tentative. “As it turns out, their involvement has already brought one complication.”
The President looked at his DNI uncomfortably. Complications were never good, particularly in Mary Pat’s lexicon.
She explained, “I asked the CIA for further details on their scheme to get Klaus out of Morocco. He had tremendous potential as a source, so they pulled out all the stops. They set up a safe house in Virginia and expected to keep him there for at least a month—they believe his knowledge of GRU and SSD finances could be extensive. The sticky part was always going to be the extraction. He’s been effectively living in Tangier, and we have it on good authority that the Russians have been watching him closely.
When the agency realized Secretary Moore was passing through, it seemed like the ideal opportunity to snatch Klaus from under their noses.
The plan was to fly Klaus to Bodrum, then connect immediately to an agency jet that would deliver him straight to D.C.
The agency pre-positioned a Learjet in Bodrum.
It was waiting on the ramp when Moore’s plane went down. ”
“Okay, that all makes sense. What’s the complication?”
“This Learjet was prepped and ready to go. But when the crash occurred, the airport shut down. The Lear couldn’t move for a day and a half.”
“Still not seeing the hitch.”
“The first airplane to land at Bodrum when it reopened was the C-17 carrying our investigation team. At that point, the Lear was still in place, and a certain Navy lieutenant commander spotted it and somehow recognized it as an agency asset. Yesterday the CIA received an informal inquiry from ONI—they were looking for information on this Lear.”
Ryan pinched the bridge of his nose, and said, “That girl has a nose like a bloodhound.”
“Yeah. Wonder where she got that?”
The President ignored the remark. “And what was Katie told?”
“One of her coworkers at ONI actually made the request to the CIA. The agency didn’t deny the jet was theirs, but they didn’t provide anything more.
This whole exchange, however, did get kicked upstairs at Langley.
Given that this aircraft was in Bodrum to collect a high-level defector…
it ruffled some feathers on the seventh floor.
Director Stephens mentioned it when I talked to him earlier tonight. ”
“Where is the Lear now?”
“It’s on its way home. Leaving it in Turkey would only have brought trouble.”
Ryan began to see where Mary Pat was going. “So Katie knows this jet she spotted is a CIA air asset. She also knows that a VIP aircraft crashed and that sabotage is a possibility.”
“Correct. She’s also probably just learned, as we have, that one passenger appears to be missing. Regardless of whether it turns out to be Klaus, Katie is going to realize that there was more to this VIP flight than a routine economic conference.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “That’s how I’d read it if I was in her shoes.”
“The question is, do we need to do anything to manage this?”
Ryan found the answer surprisingly simple. “Katie’s walking close to the sun, but she probably doesn’t realize it. The fact that she’s my daughter is immaterial. We do exactly what we’d do if any other officer in the United States Navy stumbled onto this.”
Mary Pat considered what that would be. “Maybe fess up in a generic way. Get word to her through command channels that the CIA was trying to extract a valuable asset from Morocco.”
“I think that should do it. It’s the truth, and it’ll remove any suspicion that the agency is being evasive. It would also give her and Conza one more reason to get to the bottom of this sabotage question.”
“Okay, I’ll take care of it.”
“Good. Now…can I go to bed?”