Friday, December 20
Agency Bullpen
Amanda exited the closet elevator with her purse in one hand and her holiday goodie bag in the other. This was a square-bottom bag of dark green fabric with candy canes scattered across the fabric. The bag was bulging and emitted a lovely fragrance.
"Can I help you with that, Mrs. King?" Leatherneck's easy drawl came from behind her as he joined her in the short walk down the hall to the bullpen.
"I can manage the package, but if you help me unpack it, you'll be first in line for the treats. I know a lot of folks won't be at work next week, so I decided to bring extra today. The apple pie is still warm from the oven." Amanda enjoyed supplying baked treats for the agents who risked their lives daily to protect families like hers from a multitude of threats. It was a small gesture of appreciation, but deeply felt.
The warm apple pie was the foil wrapped bundle on top. Next was a tin of festively decorated sugar cookies, followed by a spicy pumpkin pie and a can of whipped topping. On the very bottom was a plastic container of marshmallow fudge with pecans. Many hands made light work of unloading, unwrapping and placing the delicacies along the coffee table. Paper plates, forks, and plastic knives for cutting the pies were arranged and Amanda finally escaped the fray to take off her coat and settle at her desk.
Leatherneck followed her with his plate of apple pie and perched on a corner of her desk, one leg swinging. "MM-mm-mm, delicious as always. I saw the photos that Ace took the other night. They were really clear. Sure wish all of our cameras performed as well. Technology can be funny like that. One design outperforms another even though they both use the same general principles."
"Oh, yeah, I guess. Lee had really good lighting with the desk lamp. That was a big help." Her response cut off abruptly as her eyes turned to the door and her smile got even brighter. Without looking where she looked, Leatherneck sighed in resignation, eased off Amanda's desk and took a careful step farther away from her. Mrs. King was just so friendly that he couldn't stay away, but he had suffered Lee's ire often enough that he didn't want to provoke the agent again. As expected, Lee cut through the coffee crowd like a hot knife through butter and loomed over Amanda's desk as if protecting his territory.
"Have you finished the official report on the Detwiler case?" Lee flicked his eyes towards Leatherneck as he asked the question, reminding Amanda to be discreet about the contents of that report. As agreed with Fritz, Lee had omitted the cat burglar's involvement in the night's events during the debriefing. Since Billy had been informed about the Mob rumors yesterday, it was important to have a complete record of the evening's events including Fritz's role, even if it was only filed for future reference.
"Good morning, Lee. I'm fine, thanks. Yes, I'm nearly finished typing the final version." Amanda's eyes shone as she teased the handsome agent about his lack of manners and then answered his question. Her sweater was green with a snowflake pattern, and there were crystals sown into the snowflakes that sparkled in the light as she moved.
"Good. I've just met with T.P. and I think there are some details that are falling into place. Bring the report up to my office when you're finished, and we'll compare it with T.P.'s findings. We might have some questions for the Borsellino brothers."
"Sure. Maybe, half an hour?"
"Fine. Did you need something, Leatherneck?" Lee was all business this morning. Apparently, T.P.'s information was really hot.
"I was just going to discuss with Mrs. King the possibility of trying out some new surveillance equipment the next time she goes out. We have some tracking devices that are supposedly capable of two-way communication, and I need someone to field test them."
"Oh, yeah? I'll keep that in mind. I might have an opportunity to do that in the next few days." Lee positioned his body squarely facing Leatherneck and spread his coat wide by putting both hands on his hips. His charcoal gray suit was paired with a white shirt with black stripes and a red power tie. The challenge implied in his stance was unmistakable and Leatherneck adjusted his stance to defuse the stand-off.
Having the units field tested was standard procedure, and anyone could serve in the test. Leatherneck's hopes that he could work with Amanda, just the two of them, were dashed by Lee's untimely arrival. He could still hope that Lee would be sent on one of those six month undercover assignments which might give someone else a chance to catch Amanda's eye.
"That'd be great. You know where I'll be. And if you don't have a reason to use these gadgets, I'll just find someone else." Leatherneck tossed his paper plate in a nearby trashcan and vacated the field, leaving Lee looking like king of the hill.
"I'll see you upstairs in a few minutes." Amanda's voice brought the smile back to Lee's face and he relaxed as he perched a hip on the corner of her desk.
"You promised that you wouldn't bring anything else into my office, but I can take the rest of that apple pie in there, can't I?" As he spoke, he braced one hand on the back of her chair and lowered his voice conspiratorily. The posture provided as much privacy as possible in the open office area.
She leaned closer to him and grinned that sassy grin that wrapped him around her little finger and said, "No, but it was still warm when I brought it in, so there might not be much left. And I can't say what might happen if you do take what's left, if anyone sees you doing it."
He winked, "I'll take my chances with that rabble any day." He left her desk and again clove a path through the milling agents getting a refill on coffee or snacks. His long arm shot out to the right as he snatched the pie tin from Fred Fielder's expectant gaze. Fred's howl of protest was drowned out by Lee's shout of triumph as he tilted the tin, showing Amanda the one piece left, and exited the bullpen with his prize.
Q Bureau
The Film Library door was open when Amanda arrived, and she swung it back and forth to make the bells jingle when she walked in. Lee looked up from his notes and grinned at her playfulness. "The pie's delicious. Thank you." He couldn't help but notice how nicely her green pants hugged her figure.
"Fred was still sulking when I last saw him. You might have ruined his day." She tossed the Detwiler report on his desk for his signature. She sniffed in pleasure at the aroma of the wreath behind Lee's desk.
"I needed a treat more than he does. After talking with T.P., I really needed something good to happen."
"That sounds serious. Tell me about it." She busied herself tidying files and papers while he talked.
"T.P. was able to confirm that this 'Candle Snuffer' is a Mob operation, but it's only a splinter group. The aftermath of the Achille Lauro incident, when our fighter jets forced the hijacker's get-away flight to land in Italy, ruffled a lot of feathers all around the Mediterranean. The Sicilians were especially insulted by the stand-off between our Special Forces and the Italian forces on their island. So someone has convinced the splinter group to participate in a humiliating revenge. That's where the Borsellinos come in. Remember, Fritz said they were new to town. T.P. said they are part of the Sicilian Family that's running this particular operation. I wanted to check the report to see exactly what Fritz said so that I can have some leverage when I face them in interrogation."
"Oh, that's easy. He didn't say much about them. He thinks they were recently promoted from Toledo. Giovanni is the brains and Salvatore is the muscle." Amanda was able to give him the information without consulting the report.
"Hunh, that isn't much, is it?" Lee rotated his chair to face the window as he considered his options. He could track down Fritz to see if he knew more, or he could ad lib with the Borsellinos. Maybe the dumb one would be easily fooled into giving up the information. If Lee implied that Giovanni has already spilled the beans, then Salvatore might start talking. Yeah, that would be quicker than trying to find Fritz. It was Friday already, and he didn't want to tie up his weekend with work. "Have we found any weaknesses or suspicious deposits among the power company reviews?"
"Not yet. You have an appointment at 2:00 at Potomac Electric, and another at 4:00 with Dominion."
Lee grimaced. He had forgotten about the security reviews at the facilities. The morning was half gone already and he really needed to follow-up on T.P.'s information. Plus there was a meeting with Billy and the Middle East agent "noon-ish." His fist hit the armrest of his chair in frustration.
"Okay, this is the plan for the morning. I'm gonna spend some time in Interrogation with Salvatore and maybe with Giovanni, if I can get anything useful out of Salvatore. But first, let's go visit Leatherneck and check out these new gadgets he has. Those might be useful and we need to confirm their range. While I'm in Interrogation, you can be on the streets testing the receivers, and then pick-up lunch on the way back in. I can brief you over lunch and we can figure out what to do for the afternoon."
"That's fine. But I won't be able to go with you to the power companies. I have to leave early today to take the boys caroling at 5:00 and then chaperon the Christmas party afterwards."
"Then let's get moving." Lee smiled at her in satisfaction and guided her from the Q Bureau with his hand on the small of her back.
Driving around D.C.
Leatherneck's new gadget was fashioned like a pin with two square sections linked by a thin chain. They had reverse-image silver and gold crosshatching on them, so they appeared to be fashionably chunky jewelry. The one with silver crosshatching held the microphone and tracking device, and the one with gold crosshatching disguised the speaker. It was odd hearing Leatherneck's voice from her lapel, and they agreed they would have to work out signals to keep Leatherneck from speaking at an inopportune moment. For now, they would just use the dictum "speak only when you are spoken to" to provide Leatherneck clues about when it was safe to speak. The monitoring device had a button to push when he wanted to speak as a precaution to minimize background noise for the wearer of the pin. While Amanda was driving the streets of Washington to test the range, she was alone in the car and the two chatted comfortably to test the limits of the device.
"Leatherneck, I'm turning from Wisconsin on to P Street and I'll drive all the way to 29th on this round, correct?"
The quartermaster made some notes on the grid map following her progress. "Right you are, little lady. The expanding grid pattern will test all directions and distances until we have a good guess about how reliable these units are. The tracking device is still registering clearly, too."
"I've always wanted to ask you something. Your mother didn't name you 'Leatherneck,' did she?" The smile in Amanda's voice was evident and Leatherneck reveled in the opportunity to spend time with her, even if it was remote rather than in person. He was tracking her from the Q Bureau since his office was too far underground to use for testing. He stretched out comfortably on the couch and let his southern drawl expand like it did when he talked to folks back home.
"No, I didn't pick that up until after I left the Marine Corps. My momma named me William after my dad and Ray after her dad. She has always called me Billy Ray. My grampa always called me 'Young-un.' My dad called me Billy when I was a little guy, but switched to Bill when I started going to school. In the Marines, everyone goes by their last name, so I was called Nelson then. At my first job after the Marines, my co-workers called me Leatherneck, which I thought was an honorable accolade for my military service. When I got to the Agency, Billy Melrose had just been promoted to Section Chief, and I thought two Billys would be one too many. So I decided to stick with Leatherneck, as a tribute to the Marine Corps." It was so homey talking to Amanda. He knew he couldn't compete with the charm Stetson oozed naturally, but he hoped that he would be in position to try his limited charms on Amanda if Ace's attentions ever diminished.
"It suits you. Turning off P now, and onto 29th." Several turns later, they reached the limit for the communication devices, but the tracking device was still returning a strong signal. Amanda turned back to the Agency, and stopped near the office to pick up sandwiches and soup from a deli Lee favored. As she ordered lunch, Lee burst into the Q Bureau and startled Leatherneck into sitting upright on the couch.
"Is Amanda back with lunch? I thought I heard her voice."
"No, we're on mute, but we can pick up her voice while she is placing her order at the deli."
"I suppose it would be awkward for her if I suddenly spoke up and requested extra mustard or something, wouldn't it?"
"Right you are, Ace. Awkward for sure." They chuckled over the imagined reaction in the deli. When the lady in question wasn't around, the two men got along comfortably as friends. Lee only bristled when Leatherneck was too close to Amanda. Leatherneck mentally sighed in relief that the agent had not been around during most of their field testing conversation. The conversation wasn't out-of-line, but Lee had a way of being unreasonably possessive about the lovely housewife.
As she exited the deli, they could hear the ambient noise level change as the low murmur of indoor conversations gave way to the hiss and rumble of traffic. Suddenly, another voice came over the device.
"Stop and admire the Christmas decorations. I'll be brief. I told Lee that my contact kept saying 'what the Baa-seeg wants the Baa-seeg gets'? That's not a person, it's a committee based in Iran. The Mob is concerned about how the Baa-seeg will react when they find out that the Borsellino brothers may be missing and that they may compromise Candle Snuffer ."
The next distinct noise they heard was the metallic thunk of Amanda's car door closing. "Did you hear that?" Amanda asked.
Lee seized the tracking unit from Leatherneck and depressed the "talk" button. "Yeah, was that Fritz?"
"Oh, Lee, I'm so glad you're there. He came up behind me and turned me toward a window so that I could see him in the reflection. I was so startled! When he finished talking, he mingled with a crowd of folks boarding a bus and left."
"Are you okay?" Lee was frustrated that he couldn't see her or get to her. He and Leatherneck shared a look of concern – chivalrous men wanting to go to the rescue.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I'll be right there with lunch."
MEANWHILE, ACROSS TOWN
in an elegant mansion in Cleveland Park
Ahmad Jalali was good, very good. As a weapons expert in the Iranian army, he had become proficient with a staggering array of armaments developed by the so-called "first-world" nations. As one of the oldest civilizations on the planet, the very concept of other, younger nations considering themselves to be "first" was an insult. However, the progress in warfare of these brash juvenile nations was useful and could be made to serve their great cause.
It had taken months of careful behavior to blend into his Washington neighborhood. His long, curly hair wasn't unusual, nor his thick mustache. He wore jeans and sweatshirts, sport teams and college logos, flannel shirts and cut-off shorts - just like his neighbors. He even helped folks get jobs at the delivery company where he worked. He fit in. Westerners with their limited definition of "family" were unlikely to uncover the extensive family connections that held such pride for his mother. She was not much more than a cast-off child from her own mother's imprudent marriage, but family connections mattered in Iran. They mattered a lot.
Despite years of financial comfort, he was not seduced by Western decadence. He was honored by the trust of Abdul Tariq and yearned to satisfy this great man of vision and dedication. "The embassy is vulnerable and I can bring it down at your word, Honored One." Months of planning and stealth had finally resulted in having a fully assembled rocket launcher in his control on United States soil. He had just finalized arrangements to obtain the missiles from an Egyptian arms dealer.
The old man put his hand on the bowed head of his newest protege. "All in good time. It is but one piece of the triumph." He had been careful to segment the strategies. The Italian was oblivious to the many layers of destruction planned for the United States. The Egyptian might have guessed, but he would never be so bold as to speak of his guesses. Even the loyal Basiji did not know of the plans for the Little Satan. Attacking Israel in the bosom of its American ally was a stroke of genius. The victory would be so sweet.
Agency Conference Room
After a hurried lunch, Lee and Amanda met with Billy, Francine, and Mike Maddux from the Middle East unit. The stylish agent had manicured nails which matched the silk suit and the knotted scarf on her shoulder. Mike was dressed comfortably in a navy turtleneck and gray corduroy jacket. Mike's days as a field agent had ended some years ago, but he was top notch for finding and following a paper trail. His years in the Middle East had established him as a primary authority on the region and he often consulted with other agencies, sharing his expertise. His dark hair and eyes had allowed him to blend in that region with minimal effort at disguise.
Francine was scheduled to work this weekend keeping a watchful eye on in-coming communications and other developments. While most agents could take weekends off, the need to defend national security never ceased. She would spend today getting updates on current cases so she knew what to watch for in the communications traffic and who to call with relevant data.
Amanda's head was spinning with unusual names and the leaps of intellect common among the agents, and she was grateful for Lee's concise summary at the end of the meeting. She was only slightly distracted by watching his graceful hands as he gestured.
"It appears that Iran is funding this operation, and your primary suspect for managing the op is Abdul Tariq." He nodded at Mike and turned back to the white board which held their notes. "We believe the Sicilian Mob is providing manpower to raid government facilities – State, the Pentagon and other unnamed targets. Unidentified sources – possibly the Mob again – plan to take down the power grid to by-pass the security systems. Primary targets for the electrical grid would be the generating station, the high voltage transmission lines that leave those stations, or a regional substation that serves a large area." Lee's hands tapped the key points in the tangent of electrical information which trailed down the side of the white board. "Taking down any one of those pieces could cause a cascading power failure in just a few minutes that affects a large area, possibly even several states. Some of the targeted sites for the raid may have generator backup, and those sources of power may also be sabotaged as part of the attack. That suggests a rather heavy use of explosives. Thus, it might be helpful to sniff around for anyone stockpiling plastique."
"They say, 'politics makes strange bedfellows' and that's sure true about this. Who would have expected the Italian Mob to serve in a subordinate position to Iran?" Francine had simultaneously taken notes on the discussion and kept a separate list of key words, names, and files to pull which might hold related information. Her mental agility to process information and track details was the primary qualification which had recommended her as Billy's assistant over other agents with higher seniority. Billy had been under fire for it, but he never regretted that decision.
"Iran funds all sorts of terrorist operations around the world. As a funding source, they stay in the background, but I assure you they are pulling the strings. They resent American interference in a region which they jealously guard as 'theirs' and intend this operation to end our meddling." Mike spoke with the easy voice of unchallenged authority. He steepled his hands, fingertip to fingertip, and stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. "Italy wasn't the only nation outraged by the aftermath of the Achille Lauro hijacking. Egypt was furious. I'll do some checking with my Egyptian contacts, too. Tunisia. Lebanon. Hell, they're all 'in bed' with each other, politically speaking. The possibilities are endless."
"I have appointments this afternoon to review security plans and alert the local power companies about this situation. I'll contact my sources to get more leads about the threat to the power grid and anyone trying to buy plastique and other explosives." Lee was scanning the notes on the white board, wondering whether there were more details to add, or more conclusions to make.
"I'll shake down my contacts and put a watch on Tariq's residence. He's in the Embassy Row area – plush accommodations and decadent Western comforts," Mike sneered. "We'll get Research looking for a money trail out of Iran to see if we can identify the extent of this particular conspiracy. Someone must be spending big money on ammunition and explosives for an operation of this size."
"Amanda, expand your research beyond the power company executives and their board members. Look at the organizational charts of both power companies to identify anyone who has detailed knowledge of the generating operations and lines. Taking down the power grid would require a fairly precise attack – not just a random explosion." Billy rubbed his face wearily as he considered the heavy price if they failed.
"Yes, sir."
"Let's hit this hard people. I want these varmints to regret they ever thought of this scheme." His voice exuded confidence. This was no business for a pessimist.
LATE FRIDAY EVENING, ACROSS TOWN
in an elegant mansion in Cleveland Park
Crocetta had been left standing in the foyer for several minutes. He was annoyed but unsurprised by the delay. He had arrived without warning and without summons. Being forced to wait was the power play that one could expect for such untimely behavior. Unfortunately, the big man had news that could not wait. He did, however, have one scrap of information that he had saved to sweeten a moment like this. He hoped it would be enough to assuage the fury that might erupt.
At last the doorman returned to usher him into a smaller and less impressive room than their usual meeting room. It lacked the opulence of their usual room, and barely contained the most basic furnishings for comfortable negotiations. He was told to "make himself comfortable" in a hard backed chair and offered a tray of fruit drinks and dried fruits. Deeming it polite to accept the refreshments, he sipped without interest at a sweet drink, unable to determine what fruits had been blended to achieve the cloying flavor. He had been inside long enough that his coat was too hot, and he unbuttoned it, and loosened his scarf. He smoothed his tie repeatedly, as if a neat appearance would avert disaster.
After many more minutes, the bold step of Abdul Tariq was heard in the hall. "You must have urgent news to have interrupted me, this evening." The abrupt challenge unnerved Crocetta further.
"Yes, sir. We felt it best to not wait until our next meeting to inform you about a small, possible complication." Tariq had moved closer, but was still standing so that Crocetta felt himself at a disadvantage. That, of course, was deliberate. Crocetta was several inches taller than Tariq and only uneven positioning would allow Tariq to physically intimidate the man. "One of the teams, two brothers, were working on an unrelated assignment and... uh, their... their mission was compromised. They seem to have been taken into custody of some kind."
Tariq was momentarily dumbfounded. Did the imbecile have no more information than this? "What do you mean 'seem to have been taken into custody of some kind'? Are they in custody or not? What kind of custody – police, federal government, city dog catcher?" Biting sarcasm was dripping from his words.
"We have loyal contacts in various police forces throughout the D.C. area and none of them have any record of such an arrest. However, we know where they were on Wednesday, and there was significant government action at that house on that night. We haven't seen them since. That's why I couldn't tell you sooner than tonight that we do believe they are missing." Indeed, he himself had argued that waiting for 48 hours was too long for such alarming news, but brothers new to the area might have gone AWOL for any number of reasons and the Family didn't want to be premature with bad news.
"What government action?" Could any man in international negotiations really be this stupid?
"It wasn't the FBI or the CIA. It might have been the Drug Enforcement Agency, since there was cocaine on the premises."
"Is that your best guess? Can't you confirm it?" Tariq was looming over him now, and Crocetta's head was cocked back at an uncomfortable angle to maintain eye contact.
"That's a bit tricky. We have recently lost our best contacts at D.E.A. and haven't been able to verify whether anyone was taken into custody or not. The other option is that it might have been... The Agency."
The silence was more menacing than the bluster. Crocetta took several swallows of the nasty fruit drink to bolster his confidence and rest his neck.
"Are you telling me that one of your committed teams might be in danger of informing on this operation?" The old man's face turned an alarming shade of red and his voice rose in both volume and pitch.
"No, no. Certainly not. They know that the Family's displeasure would be swift and final. It's only that they might accidentally share some minor detail that might give the Americans some small clue. If it's the D.E.A., they will have no interest in an operation that doesn't involve drugs. If it's The Agency, it will probably be lost in the influx of data and false rumors that keep the agents chasing their tails." He twirled his finger in the air to mimic agents going in circles to demonstrate his point. He nodded several times to underscore his confidence in this assessment.
"You had better hope that the failure of this mission cannot be traced back to you. The Family's displeasure is nothing compared to the displeasure of the Basij." The whispered threat made the Italian's skin crawl.
"I do, however, have one piece of good news that will surely please you." Crocetta wiped nervously at his mustache, no longer sure that his scrap of good news would balance the bad, but he had to try. "We have enhanced the original plan to include tying up local law enforcement resources. We have spread the word about an opportunity caused by the planned power outage to our most trusted associates. Their burglary in homes and private businesses will increase the sense of alarm and embarrassment, and decrease the ability for the Americans to investigate the security breaches in the government sector."
"Are you telling me that every jewel thief in D.C. is aware of this operation?" The shouting was accompanied by drops of saliva this time. The frenzy was terrifying.
"No, no, no, noooooo. That would be foolish in the extreme. Only our most trusted associates have been carefully informed. These men would not share the information with their own competitors." He dabbed at his face with a napkin, unobstrusively wiping away the spit.
The Italian tried to scoff convincingly, but was abysmally aware that what he thought was a clever enhancement to the plan was infuriating to the Iranian.
"I'll say it again: the Family's displeasure is nothing compared to the displeasure of the Basij." This last threat was spoken in a furious whisper only an inch from Crocetta's face. With that, the old man turned and walked out of the room, marveling that he had allowed his guest to live.