Satan's Spy (The Steve Church saga Book 2), André Gallo [ebook reader color screen .txt] 📗

“There’s something we need to discuss, but as I think about it, I would prefer to see you in person. I know we’re into the weekend, but what does your day look like tomorrow?”

“My schedule is wall-to-wall until Monday, unless we’re discussing the end of the world as we know it, or my reelection, same thing,” she laughed shrilly at her own humor, and Glick knew she had started happy hour early on this Friday afternoon. “I stayed here over the weekend to prepare for hearings on Tuesday and I’ve got work to do over the weekend. How about breakfast on Monday? Whatever it is, I can’t do much until Monday anyway.”

“Dorothea, this is urgent. I need to decide tomorrow. We have to coordinate a story.”

“Aaron, what part of ‘no’ don’t you understand? Monday!”

Hearing her tone, Glick decided not to quarrel with her. Before he could reply, she had hung up.

Maybe she had more than alcohol on the brain. Did Dorothea Langdon have sexual needs? Maybe a weekend of wild abandon? He grinned at the flight of his imagination. Dorothea repressed anything not directly connected to politics. Well, maybe it was sexual after all. The thought provoked imagery that made him laugh out loud. He wanted her to be supportive when they met. Monday would have to do.

It would be a stressful weekend. What if another paper or a goddamn blogger aired the story? He started sweating as soon as he left the office.

30. Washington: White House Situation Room

Adam Tremaine, the youthful and recently elected President of the United States, was finding it hard to believe his ears. As he listened to National Clandestine Service Director Thérèse LaFont’s briefing, he looked around the dark wood table to read the reactions of his key national security advisers to the startling NCS briefing.

The product of a prestigious law school and a Midwest legislature, national security was not his strong suit. He was careful to keep a poker face aware that the “principals” at the table as well as their spear carriers on chairs lined against the wall would be watching him carefully to take his measure and to calibrate their own participation.

All wore the access badges of their agencies and departments, representing the nerves, heart, and muscles of the National Security Establishment. The acronyms of their organizations might have baffled even some “inside-the-beltway” wonks. Men and women, civilians and military, they were all at the top of their career ladder. Some deserved to be there; others had been promoted beyond their abilities. Generally speaking, the civil servants and military were mission-oriented and totally devoted to serving their country and their president regardless of party. On the surface, so were the political appointees. However, when push came to shove, the latter were guided by a personal or political agenda that took precedence.

None had reached this conference table without extraordinary capabilities, considerable ambition, and, not least, political acuity and connections. On the way, each had also collected enemies anxious for their demise and working hard to bring it about. For most, attending a meeting chaired by the president was, if not a unique event, infrequent enough for a notch on their gun. Each looked from the CIA briefer to the president and back with different expectations and objectives. Although most were not partisan, Tremaine knew that some at the table resented his relative youth and lack of experience.

“To recap,” Thérèse said, “we have a new HUMINT source with high but indirect access who is reporting that Iran is close to initiating a powerful cyberattack on the United States. The drive behind the effort is from a group called the Iranian Cyber Army. We give the report above average credibility.”

The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, General Jose Doredo, a slight man made more imposing by the four stars on his shoulders and a chest armor-plated with medals and decorations, spoke first. Scribbling on a pad of legal-sized yellow paper with insouciance, he said, “Aren’t we getting our knickers in a knot over nothing much?”

His grin implied he had seen worse. The military service symbols mounted on the walls gave his words more weight. “What is new here? That Iran doesn’t like us? That it has some computers? A new source is also an untested source. We’ve been building up cyber defenses for some time. Their missiles can’t reach us yet. Not to worry, amigo.”

He smiled reassuringly toward the president, “And you were briefed on our new Cyber Command shortly after the elections. We’re ahead of the game, sir.”

As everyone observed closely, Tremaine didn’t flinch at being called “amigo.” He was getting used to Doredo’s unusual style, boorish for a civilian but extraordinarily disrespectful for a military man. Doredo’s manner reminded Tremaine he needed to look for a new Joint Chief.

“What we should worry about,” the general continued, letting his gaze sweep around the table, “is that their fast boats don’t trigger another Gulf of Tonkin incident. They keep testing our ships’ responses in the Gulf. For you youngsters,” he smiled again, “that little incident started the Vietnam War.”

“Actually, this potential threat falls on our plate,” said an elderly gentleman dressed like the country squire he was. “Critical infrastructure, sir, is Homeland Security’s as you know,” added Charlie Williams, who had grown up in the trenches of interagency intelligence. “We have created cyber SWAT teams and across-the-board training is ongoing.”

The Department of State’s Assistant Secretary, George Orling, a white-haired man with black-rimmed glasses, had taken a sabbatical from his teaching job at Syracuse’s “Maxwell School” and never looked back. He had, however, brought the elbow patches of his prior profession with him to Washington.

“I tend to agree that we should study the evidence before taking precipitous action,” he said looking over his reading glasses. I would like to send