For notes and disclaimer, please see part one.
Previously, on the West Wing/Alias: Sam intervenes on the CIA's behalf and gets his campaign manager to agree to stiffer restrictions on information. Marshall figures out when Jordan and his men are flying into LAX, though Conrad admits in his meeting with the President that there's a twenty percent possibility the information is wrong. Josh puts his foot down for Bartlet and tells the Secret Service to deal with the security risks of California while Crystal gives a more detailed briefing on Jordan's history. Afterwards, Crystal gets a surprise from Red Crescent and Weiss is called to LAX.
Sam cruised into his office. He'd given the new security order at the staff meeting and had another hour before the first campaign stop of the day. Jack followed him in, closing the door. "Yeah?" asked Sam as he took a seat at his desk.
"Commendable meeting."
"Thanks." Sam smiled slightly and opened his e-mail inbox.
"Do you think they'll adhere to it?"
"I think so. Unless Scott decides he can try to usurp my authority. I mean... On the one hand, it's great he's here. On the other... he's an employed campaign manager in the off-season. This is really rough, getting more paychecks."
Jack nodded, the noted Sam was frowning slightly. "Sam?"
"Hm?"
"Everything okay?"
"Just got a strange e-mail."
"From who?" asked Jack, crossing to Sam's desk quickly.
"My cousin."
Jack leaned over, to read the message: Just remember I love you and Im gonna fight ~C"
"No punctuation. She knows that bugs me."
Jack checked his watch. The first plane was scheduled to touch down in fifteen minutes. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Weiss's cell quickly.
"Agent Bristow?"
He held up his hand to silence him. The phone immediately forwarded him to voice mail. "Something's wrong in D.C. Call me immediately when you get this." He ended the call and started to dial another.
"What's wrong?"
"I don't know yet."
"Is she okay?"
"I don't know."
~~~
Vaughn and Sydney milled near Helen's desk outside Conrad's office. They were supposed to watch and listen to what was going down at LAX with the Director. Vaughn checked his watch. It was almost time.
Helen spoke up. "You two want a mint? They calm your nerves. Proven fact."
Sydney smiled. "Thanks," she said, taking a wrapped peppermint from her candy dish. "Any clue why there's a hold up?"
"I'm afraid I don't." She stood a moment later, however, when Conrad exited the office, looking terribly old. "Sir?"
"We've been breached."
"Sir?" she repeated.
"Send an e-mail to agent classes yellow and green," he said, watching as Helen sat back down to take notes. "They're not to report back until further notice. Confidentiality stands. Upon their return, we'll give them a full briefing as to what happened. All of G-Wing is to be kept sealed until further notice. If an agent needs something, it's to be documented and we'll see what we can do with our Haz-Mat unit."
Vaughn and Sydney exchanged worried glances.
"All mail delivery stops. Inform agent classes red and blue that correspondence is to be done electronically, over phone lines. As of now, we're under beta operations."
"Beta operations?" repeated Sydney.
Conrad looked at her. "Heightened alert status. Non-critical ops are quashed. Cadets go home, training stops temporarily. Any agent in an op who thinks they've been compromised, even in the slightest, pulls an emergency exit."
"How were we breached...?" she asked further.
"Red Crescent Order managed to get a letter to Crystal with a potentially deadly substance inside," he explained.
"It passed our mail screeners?" asked Helen, alarmed.
Conrad nodded.
"But, it doesn't fit the profile..." said Vaughn.
"I talked with Crystal over the phone. It's intimidation. The powder is real or it isn't; either way it shows that they can touch her where she is... It's entirely possible that it's anthrax or something else equally deadly because we do have contingency plans for things like this. Haz-Mat got to her within two minutes of her opening the letter. Our infirmary is trained to deal with cases of this as well. She's going to be fine, she's on medication and is resting, as much as she hates that."
"When will we know what was sent?" asked Helen.
"It's priority one at the lab right now, so, within the hour we'll know if it's tested positive for anthrax," said Conrad, sighing.
Vaughn spoke up. "Sir...?"
"Hm?"
"The first plane touched down two minutes ago," Vaughn said.
"Jesus," muttered Conrad. "C'mon," he said, leading them into his office. "Helen, am I live?" he called through his open door.
"Yes, sir," she answered.
Conrad clicked a few keys on his computer keyboard, the video feed was transferred to a screen behind his desk, and the audio was coming through his speakers, which he turned to face Sydney and Vaughn before joining them to watch the takedown.
There was silence for a moment before an agent spoke: "Passengers disembarking now."
Conrad leaned against one of the leather chairs in front of his desk to watch the people file by. There were couples and children with parents and business travelers. Some were laughing. Some looked jetlagged. "C'mon," muttered the Director, his eyes scanning each face.
An agent was making an approximate count of how many people were coming off of the plane. "Two thirds to go," he said quietly. Several more faces passed. "Half."
"Get ready," stated another agent.
"One third..."
"Where is he?" asked Vaughn.
Conrad sighed. "He's not on the plane," he said, shaking his head and turning his back to the footage.
"That's it," said the agent who'd been counting the passengers. "No go. Repeat, no go. Abort."
Conrad rubbed his forehead. "Helen..." She appeared at the door, which he sensed, rather than looked up to confirm that fact. "I need a meeting with Ron Butterfield. And the President is going to have to be briefed." He looked up at Sydney and Vaughn. "I suggest one of you calls the detail with Sam and tell them that we've been breached and I have no fucking clue where Jordan is."
~~~
Sam made his stump speech in front of the Elks Club. He was torn, however, worried sick about his cousin and Jack Bristow's lack of knowledge about what was going on. He put up a tremendous front, with the practiced toothpaste campaign smile and parade wave. It had been well over an hour since her cryptic e-mail and he was starting to fear the worst.
Speeding through the conclusion, he thanked the crowd and walked off stage, to where Jack stood, in a hushed huddle with Weiss, whom Sam hadn't seen all day.
"There was nothing?" asked Jack.
"Nothing," repeated Weiss. "Marshall's looking over the data again, but there's no telling what's really going on. Sydney said Conrad was defeatist. I mean... if you think about it, bad intel this morning, her letter..."
"Guys?" asked Sam.
Weiss stopped immediately.
"Sam..." Jack began.
"What's going on?"
"Let's get you back to the headquarters. Now," said Jack.
Sam glanced from Jack to Weiss, whose gaze was focused on the ground at his toes. "You better tell me what the hell's going on once we get to the headquarters," Sam said, leading the charge out to the campaign cars. Once outside, he started to get into Scott's car when he stopped, and walked back, getting in with Jack and Weiss. "Better yet, tell me now," he said, sliding into the back seat.
Weiss and Jack exchanged glances over the hood of the car, and then climbed in as well, with Weiss behind the wheel. Jack sat sideways, so he could see Sam. "This morning, the main office was breached."
"Breached?" asked Sam, his face draining of all color.
"She's fine. There was a potential biological weapons scare, but she's fine."
"Bio... biological weapons? How?"
"She received a letter this morning from what appeared to be a legal firm; it was from Jordan."
"Oh, my God," murmured Sam.
"She was treated for potential anthrax exposure but she's fine; it was baking powder. She sent the e-mail while waiting for Haz-Mat to arrive, hence the hurried typing and lack of punctuation. She's fine, Sam," Jack said, noting that Sam's coloring had yet to return. "Operations at Langley have returned to normal."
He nodded slowly. "What about... what was the other thing you were talking about, Agent Weiss? Where there was nothing?"
Weiss glanced at him in the rearview mirror while Jack answered. "It was nothing."
"Agent Bristow, please. I have to know."
"Actually, Mr. Seaborn, you don't."
"Jack..."
"It's nothing," repeated Jack. "As soon as there's information pertinent for your edification, we'll inform you. For right now, there's nothing. Your cousin is fine. Agent Weiss spent all morning at the office in L.A. to make sure everything was going down smoothly."
He nodded slightly.
"It's fine."
~~~
"This is bizarre, Syd. I mean... Everybody's walking around jumpy. These are highly trained professionals in security and intelligence matters and I'm the guy with the bank statements going... do I need to find a bunker? And what are you still doing in D.C.? I thought you were coming home this afternoon, so that means you would've been on a plane about an hour ago."
Sydney sat at a desk in Langley, in a spacious office she and Vaughn were given to use. "It's a long story, Will," she said, talking to her long-time friend and CIA analyst Will Tippin.
"Are you working on this thing, too?"
"Yeah."
"Everybody is..."
"It's a big thing."
"I mean... I understand you have a scary job. I do. I understand it's dangerous. I understand that there's a whole book load of agents who didn't come back. Just... is there always this much of a fuss when somebody gets targeted?"
"It involves a potential political assassination and it's a guy who's going after her because she's a CIA agent and he knows it. The fact that this thing happened here this morning... we're all in danger. This guy's seriously bad news."
"Enough to scare everybody at CIA?"
"Yeah," she said quietly.
"Is he better or worse than Sloane?"
"I'm not the best person to ask that question, Will."
"I want your opinion."
"I don't think anybody can be worse than Sloane. But, from everything I learn about this guy... He's probably a close second."
"So he's a seriously bad guy..."
"In all the years SD-6 was around... it was breached twice, both times really seriously, one that brought the whole organization to a standstill, got the director's finger cut off, lots of people injured... and the second time, it was dismantled completely. The CIA's been around a lot longer... and this was the first time in anybody's recollection that they evacuated non-essentials and shut down an entire wing of the building, so... think about that for a minute."
"Yeah..."
"How goes the bank statement search?"
"He's smart. There are all sorts of offshore accounts and investments and... I mean, it's layer upon layer of crazy banking stuff. His money is everywhere. I think a highly trained accountant would have trouble with this and I'm shocked they left it up to me to figure out where Daddy Terroristbucks sent the last transfer to Jordan. Hey, Syd..."
"Hm?"
"Did Credit Dauphine teach you anything about, y'know, banking?"
She smiled. "Absolutely nothing."
"Damn."
"I'm sure you'll figure it out."
"Any clue when you're coming back?"
"Either after this guy is caught... or when Director Conrad doesn't need us anymore. There are other cases, y'know? Sloane's still out there. Sark is out there."
"Yeah."
"It's... it's weird here, Will."
"How so?"
"The first thing I heard about Crystal Seaborn was that she was 'sort of a legend.' To hear the stories from some other agents here... She is. She's really good. She's strong, capable, quick-witted, quick on her feet... She saved the Director in the field once. I went down to the commissary today and they're... comparing me to her with the SD-6 takedown, because they'd been working on it for so long and in a year and a half of me working on the case, it's gone."
"Having seen you in kick-butt Bond Babe mode..."
"Will..."
"Yeah?"
"I don't want to be a legend. I want to do my job... and get out."
"I don't know what to tell you, Syd."
She sighed slightly. "I should get back to work."
"I'm going to apply to UCLA to get a degree in accounting."
"Good luck."
"I'm going to need it. See you later..."
"Yeah," she said before hanging up. There was a knock at the door, which caused her to sigh. Standing, she crossed to the door and opened it, surprised to see Crystal there. "Hi."
"Do you have a minute?"
"Yeah, sure. C'min."
Crystal had changed clothes as precaution after opening the letter. She was dressed in casual clothes--the only things she had still at the Farm--which included a pair of soft athletic pants and a CIA tee shirt hidden under her zip-up Princeton sweatshirt, the same one she wore in the picture on her desk. "Thanks... We were talking yesterday morning... with Director Conrad, about... You suggested drawing him out and forcing the target shift so we could control the situation."
She nodded.
"How serious were you about that?"
"I'm not sure I follow you."
"I mean... do you really think we have a chance of pulling off a major coup by faking my death and shifting the target to California?"
"I think... it might be worth it. I think there's a real potential to mess with Jordan's head this way. We 'kill' you off; you show up in California with Sam..." Sydney flashed on what she'd said to Vaughn the night before: Legends are usually dead.
Crystal nodded, her eyes downcast. "I want this guy. I want him on our terms." She looked up. "I want you to help me."
"What can I do?"
"We have to draw this up." Crystal sat down across from her desk and set her notebook on the desktop, removing a pen from the spiral. "This has to be done where it's not going to come back and bite Sam in the ass... which, I think, is going to be one of the most delicate parts. He can't mourn visibly and then all the sudden there's a news report a week later that says: 'In attendance at swearing-in, Seaborn's thought-dead cousin.'"
"But, it can't be done without total fanfare."
"Right."
"Do we have any clue if Jordan or one of his henchmen sent the letter?"
She shook her head.
"How much are you willing to gamble on this?"
Crystal looked up at her. "What do you have in mind?"
"A pretty substantial gamble."
"Tell me more," Crystal said, watching as Sydney sat down across from her.
~~~
Donna appeared in Josh's office door while he sat in his chair, his feet propped up on the desk. He was engrossed in a briefing book. She leaned against the doorjamb, wondering how high he'd jump when she spoke. "Josh?"
To her surprise, he didn't jump or even look up. "Hm?"
"Leo wants to see you."
He nodded, closing the briefing book and easing his legs off his desk. "Rebekah hasn't called, has she?"
Donna shook her head.
He sighed. "'Kay."
"Do you want to call Douglas's office?" she asked.
"No."
"Is this going to be like the Amy thing?"
"What?"
"Where you went around she wouldn't even talk to you."
"Donna..."
"Or the Joey thing."
He shook his head, walking towards the door.
"Heaven forbid the Mandy thing..."
"It's not a relationship thing," he said, stopping in front of her.
"Then why do you care if she calls?"
"Because she's having a hard time."
"With termites?"
"And other things."
"Like what?"
"Like things I don't think I should tell you. Leo wants to see me; I should go see what he wants."
"Take your coat."
"Why?"
"Margaret said you might talk to the President, too."
He sighed and returned to his desk to retrieve his suit coat that was slung over the back of his chair. "If she calls, have her page me."
"What's going on?"
"Big ugly termites," he said, slipping his coat on and slipping past her to walk to the Oval.
En route, he fell instep with Toby, the Communications Director. "Going to Leo's?" the older man asked.
"Yeah."
"Any clue what it's about?"
"Got a good guess."
"What is it?"
"Can't say."
"Josh...?"
"We'll find out... Hey, Margaret."
"Go on in," said Leo's assistant.
Josh entered first, with Toby on his heels. "Leo?"
"There've been some developments," the Chief of Staff said gravely.
"What kind of developments?" asked Toby.
"It's possible information could leak out that there was a partial shutdown of operations at Langley," Leo said, watching the staffers' faces.
"What do you mean?" asked Josh.
"First... Toby, we're going to bring you in on what's gone down the past two days," said Leo. "Then we're going to join the President and CIA Director Rob Conrad and Ron Butterfield. Part of this is going to be round two for California, Josh. Part of this... is going to include a dangerous crapshoot and the President wants both of you to tell him what you think. This has serious ramifications for Sam's life and he wants all the informed opinions he can get."
"What's going on with Sam?" asked Toby, his brow creasing in concern.
"Sit down and I'll tell you; Josh, why don't you go on into the other meeting? You'll figure out what happened this morning by listening."
His Deputy nodded, and then eased into the Oval Office through the door that connected to Leo's. The President sat in a wingback chair, a file folder in his lap along with his glasses. He watched Conrad with rapt attention, taking in every detail about what he was saying.
"There is no halfway with this plan," Conrad said. "If we put this into action, and he did it, he's going to know we're bluffing and that's it. Checkmate. Game over. If he didn't... and he thinks somebody screwed up... We've got an edge and it's going to be razor sharp. There's going to be in fighting and he's going to get agitated. His plan failed; he's got to go to a contingency. It'll push the schedule to California."
"And straight to Sam," said Bartlet.
Conrad nodded.
"And when are you suggesting to put this into effect?"
"Symptoms of anthrax poisoning occur within seven days of exposure," said Conrad.
"So, we're talking... right when I'm going to California to support his candidacy."
The CIA Director nodded. "I think it'll be the best time, sir, in all honesty. His security is going to go up. He'll have our L.A. team and your Secret Service. Plus, our trump."
"She's going to be alive," said Bartlet.
Conrad nodded.
"This is a rash assumption, though, don't you think?"
"Sir, we've lost him. Completely. We thought he was going to L.A. and that's come up empty. We've kept a strike team at the airport and no one matching any of their descriptions has come through. We have the audio last night of them saying they were going to draw her out. Him personally making and sending the letter... it seems doubtful. If we could slip it to the media, in a few days, that an agent has fallen dead from anthrax in a letter... and withhold the name because the family has yet to be contacted. We can plant one of our agents as a reporter in the briefing and bring up the symbol. It gets buried somewhere around page twenty-eight because he's gonna know our press secretary's going to be sandbagging whatever other questions come his way."
"What about when it gets to C.J.? When they want to know why the CIA is blocking access?" asked Bartlet.
"Then she says it's an interior matter for the CIA to handle and she knows nothing about it," said Josh, speaking up for the first time.
"I didn't realize you were there," said Bartlet.
"My apologies, Mr. President; Leo said it was all right."
Bartlet nodded, waving him into the office further. "Sit."
Josh took a seat next to Butterfield to listen to more of Conrad's argument.
"What if he did it personally?"
"He may not look for the information in the paper; he may not listen to the news. That would be if we were truly, spectacularly lucky."
"Which we aren't," said Bartlet.
Conrad nodded. "Or, he could see it and blow it off as a copycat. Or he could see it and figure out we're trying to pull something over on him. It's going to fail. It may prompt a quicker attack since we were bold enough to try to trick him. Sir, we've never been on defense like this. The Alliance in SD-6 had the decency to aim most of their hostility towards other elaborate terrorist groups like K-Directorate. We're not even one hundred percent sure why he'd be so bold as to send a letter of all things. It's not his style."
"Is it possible there's someone else from Red Crescent Order who's doing this?"
Conrad shook his head. "I don't think so. There is, but... the letter came in an envelope for a local law firm. We've already picked up an envelope from the firm and matched it to the one our letter came in. Somehow they got their hands on an envelope locally. It's a D.C. cancellation. Somebody's here. Somebody's after her and somebody's going to pay for this."
"But, is it going to be in the President's life?" asked Butterfield.
"If we take the gamble and lose, no. If we take the gamble and win... I hope not."
Stay tuned...
Lines from the next installment:
"C.J. Cregg just said an agent died from anthrax..."
"Yes."
"You said she was fine!"
Previously, on the West Wing/Alias: Sam intervenes on the CIA's behalf and gets his campaign manager to agree to stiffer restrictions on information. Marshall figures out when Jordan and his men are flying into LAX, though Conrad admits in his meeting with the President that there's a twenty percent possibility the information is wrong. Josh puts his foot down for Bartlet and tells the Secret Service to deal with the security risks of California while Crystal gives a more detailed briefing on Jordan's history. Afterwards, Crystal gets a surprise from Red Crescent and Weiss is called to LAX.
Sam cruised into his office. He'd given the new security order at the staff meeting and had another hour before the first campaign stop of the day. Jack followed him in, closing the door. "Yeah?" asked Sam as he took a seat at his desk.
"Commendable meeting."
"Thanks." Sam smiled slightly and opened his e-mail inbox.
"Do you think they'll adhere to it?"
"I think so. Unless Scott decides he can try to usurp my authority. I mean... On the one hand, it's great he's here. On the other... he's an employed campaign manager in the off-season. This is really rough, getting more paychecks."
Jack nodded, the noted Sam was frowning slightly. "Sam?"
"Hm?"
"Everything okay?"
"Just got a strange e-mail."
"From who?" asked Jack, crossing to Sam's desk quickly.
"My cousin."
Jack leaned over, to read the message: Just remember I love you and Im gonna fight ~C"
"No punctuation. She knows that bugs me."
Jack checked his watch. The first plane was scheduled to touch down in fifteen minutes. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Weiss's cell quickly.
"Agent Bristow?"
He held up his hand to silence him. The phone immediately forwarded him to voice mail. "Something's wrong in D.C. Call me immediately when you get this." He ended the call and started to dial another.
"What's wrong?"
"I don't know yet."
"Is she okay?"
"I don't know."
~~~
Vaughn and Sydney milled near Helen's desk outside Conrad's office. They were supposed to watch and listen to what was going down at LAX with the Director. Vaughn checked his watch. It was almost time.
Helen spoke up. "You two want a mint? They calm your nerves. Proven fact."
Sydney smiled. "Thanks," she said, taking a wrapped peppermint from her candy dish. "Any clue why there's a hold up?"
"I'm afraid I don't." She stood a moment later, however, when Conrad exited the office, looking terribly old. "Sir?"
"We've been breached."
"Sir?" she repeated.
"Send an e-mail to agent classes yellow and green," he said, watching as Helen sat back down to take notes. "They're not to report back until further notice. Confidentiality stands. Upon their return, we'll give them a full briefing as to what happened. All of G-Wing is to be kept sealed until further notice. If an agent needs something, it's to be documented and we'll see what we can do with our Haz-Mat unit."
Vaughn and Sydney exchanged worried glances.
"All mail delivery stops. Inform agent classes red and blue that correspondence is to be done electronically, over phone lines. As of now, we're under beta operations."
"Beta operations?" repeated Sydney.
Conrad looked at her. "Heightened alert status. Non-critical ops are quashed. Cadets go home, training stops temporarily. Any agent in an op who thinks they've been compromised, even in the slightest, pulls an emergency exit."
"How were we breached...?" she asked further.
"Red Crescent Order managed to get a letter to Crystal with a potentially deadly substance inside," he explained.
"It passed our mail screeners?" asked Helen, alarmed.
Conrad nodded.
"But, it doesn't fit the profile..." said Vaughn.
"I talked with Crystal over the phone. It's intimidation. The powder is real or it isn't; either way it shows that they can touch her where she is... It's entirely possible that it's anthrax or something else equally deadly because we do have contingency plans for things like this. Haz-Mat got to her within two minutes of her opening the letter. Our infirmary is trained to deal with cases of this as well. She's going to be fine, she's on medication and is resting, as much as she hates that."
"When will we know what was sent?" asked Helen.
"It's priority one at the lab right now, so, within the hour we'll know if it's tested positive for anthrax," said Conrad, sighing.
Vaughn spoke up. "Sir...?"
"Hm?"
"The first plane touched down two minutes ago," Vaughn said.
"Jesus," muttered Conrad. "C'mon," he said, leading them into his office. "Helen, am I live?" he called through his open door.
"Yes, sir," she answered.
Conrad clicked a few keys on his computer keyboard, the video feed was transferred to a screen behind his desk, and the audio was coming through his speakers, which he turned to face Sydney and Vaughn before joining them to watch the takedown.
There was silence for a moment before an agent spoke: "Passengers disembarking now."
Conrad leaned against one of the leather chairs in front of his desk to watch the people file by. There were couples and children with parents and business travelers. Some were laughing. Some looked jetlagged. "C'mon," muttered the Director, his eyes scanning each face.
An agent was making an approximate count of how many people were coming off of the plane. "Two thirds to go," he said quietly. Several more faces passed. "Half."
"Get ready," stated another agent.
"One third..."
"Where is he?" asked Vaughn.
Conrad sighed. "He's not on the plane," he said, shaking his head and turning his back to the footage.
"That's it," said the agent who'd been counting the passengers. "No go. Repeat, no go. Abort."
Conrad rubbed his forehead. "Helen..." She appeared at the door, which he sensed, rather than looked up to confirm that fact. "I need a meeting with Ron Butterfield. And the President is going to have to be briefed." He looked up at Sydney and Vaughn. "I suggest one of you calls the detail with Sam and tell them that we've been breached and I have no fucking clue where Jordan is."
~~~
Sam made his stump speech in front of the Elks Club. He was torn, however, worried sick about his cousin and Jack Bristow's lack of knowledge about what was going on. He put up a tremendous front, with the practiced toothpaste campaign smile and parade wave. It had been well over an hour since her cryptic e-mail and he was starting to fear the worst.
Speeding through the conclusion, he thanked the crowd and walked off stage, to where Jack stood, in a hushed huddle with Weiss, whom Sam hadn't seen all day.
"There was nothing?" asked Jack.
"Nothing," repeated Weiss. "Marshall's looking over the data again, but there's no telling what's really going on. Sydney said Conrad was defeatist. I mean... if you think about it, bad intel this morning, her letter..."
"Guys?" asked Sam.
Weiss stopped immediately.
"Sam..." Jack began.
"What's going on?"
"Let's get you back to the headquarters. Now," said Jack.
Sam glanced from Jack to Weiss, whose gaze was focused on the ground at his toes. "You better tell me what the hell's going on once we get to the headquarters," Sam said, leading the charge out to the campaign cars. Once outside, he started to get into Scott's car when he stopped, and walked back, getting in with Jack and Weiss. "Better yet, tell me now," he said, sliding into the back seat.
Weiss and Jack exchanged glances over the hood of the car, and then climbed in as well, with Weiss behind the wheel. Jack sat sideways, so he could see Sam. "This morning, the main office was breached."
"Breached?" asked Sam, his face draining of all color.
"She's fine. There was a potential biological weapons scare, but she's fine."
"Bio... biological weapons? How?"
"She received a letter this morning from what appeared to be a legal firm; it was from Jordan."
"Oh, my God," murmured Sam.
"She was treated for potential anthrax exposure but she's fine; it was baking powder. She sent the e-mail while waiting for Haz-Mat to arrive, hence the hurried typing and lack of punctuation. She's fine, Sam," Jack said, noting that Sam's coloring had yet to return. "Operations at Langley have returned to normal."
He nodded slowly. "What about... what was the other thing you were talking about, Agent Weiss? Where there was nothing?"
Weiss glanced at him in the rearview mirror while Jack answered. "It was nothing."
"Agent Bristow, please. I have to know."
"Actually, Mr. Seaborn, you don't."
"Jack..."
"It's nothing," repeated Jack. "As soon as there's information pertinent for your edification, we'll inform you. For right now, there's nothing. Your cousin is fine. Agent Weiss spent all morning at the office in L.A. to make sure everything was going down smoothly."
He nodded slightly.
"It's fine."
~~~
"This is bizarre, Syd. I mean... Everybody's walking around jumpy. These are highly trained professionals in security and intelligence matters and I'm the guy with the bank statements going... do I need to find a bunker? And what are you still doing in D.C.? I thought you were coming home this afternoon, so that means you would've been on a plane about an hour ago."
Sydney sat at a desk in Langley, in a spacious office she and Vaughn were given to use. "It's a long story, Will," she said, talking to her long-time friend and CIA analyst Will Tippin.
"Are you working on this thing, too?"
"Yeah."
"Everybody is..."
"It's a big thing."
"I mean... I understand you have a scary job. I do. I understand it's dangerous. I understand that there's a whole book load of agents who didn't come back. Just... is there always this much of a fuss when somebody gets targeted?"
"It involves a potential political assassination and it's a guy who's going after her because she's a CIA agent and he knows it. The fact that this thing happened here this morning... we're all in danger. This guy's seriously bad news."
"Enough to scare everybody at CIA?"
"Yeah," she said quietly.
"Is he better or worse than Sloane?"
"I'm not the best person to ask that question, Will."
"I want your opinion."
"I don't think anybody can be worse than Sloane. But, from everything I learn about this guy... He's probably a close second."
"So he's a seriously bad guy..."
"In all the years SD-6 was around... it was breached twice, both times really seriously, one that brought the whole organization to a standstill, got the director's finger cut off, lots of people injured... and the second time, it was dismantled completely. The CIA's been around a lot longer... and this was the first time in anybody's recollection that they evacuated non-essentials and shut down an entire wing of the building, so... think about that for a minute."
"Yeah..."
"How goes the bank statement search?"
"He's smart. There are all sorts of offshore accounts and investments and... I mean, it's layer upon layer of crazy banking stuff. His money is everywhere. I think a highly trained accountant would have trouble with this and I'm shocked they left it up to me to figure out where Daddy Terroristbucks sent the last transfer to Jordan. Hey, Syd..."
"Hm?"
"Did Credit Dauphine teach you anything about, y'know, banking?"
She smiled. "Absolutely nothing."
"Damn."
"I'm sure you'll figure it out."
"Any clue when you're coming back?"
"Either after this guy is caught... or when Director Conrad doesn't need us anymore. There are other cases, y'know? Sloane's still out there. Sark is out there."
"Yeah."
"It's... it's weird here, Will."
"How so?"
"The first thing I heard about Crystal Seaborn was that she was 'sort of a legend.' To hear the stories from some other agents here... She is. She's really good. She's strong, capable, quick-witted, quick on her feet... She saved the Director in the field once. I went down to the commissary today and they're... comparing me to her with the SD-6 takedown, because they'd been working on it for so long and in a year and a half of me working on the case, it's gone."
"Having seen you in kick-butt Bond Babe mode..."
"Will..."
"Yeah?"
"I don't want to be a legend. I want to do my job... and get out."
"I don't know what to tell you, Syd."
She sighed slightly. "I should get back to work."
"I'm going to apply to UCLA to get a degree in accounting."
"Good luck."
"I'm going to need it. See you later..."
"Yeah," she said before hanging up. There was a knock at the door, which caused her to sigh. Standing, she crossed to the door and opened it, surprised to see Crystal there. "Hi."
"Do you have a minute?"
"Yeah, sure. C'min."
Crystal had changed clothes as precaution after opening the letter. She was dressed in casual clothes--the only things she had still at the Farm--which included a pair of soft athletic pants and a CIA tee shirt hidden under her zip-up Princeton sweatshirt, the same one she wore in the picture on her desk. "Thanks... We were talking yesterday morning... with Director Conrad, about... You suggested drawing him out and forcing the target shift so we could control the situation."
She nodded.
"How serious were you about that?"
"I'm not sure I follow you."
"I mean... do you really think we have a chance of pulling off a major coup by faking my death and shifting the target to California?"
"I think... it might be worth it. I think there's a real potential to mess with Jordan's head this way. We 'kill' you off; you show up in California with Sam..." Sydney flashed on what she'd said to Vaughn the night before: Legends are usually dead.
Crystal nodded, her eyes downcast. "I want this guy. I want him on our terms." She looked up. "I want you to help me."
"What can I do?"
"We have to draw this up." Crystal sat down across from her desk and set her notebook on the desktop, removing a pen from the spiral. "This has to be done where it's not going to come back and bite Sam in the ass... which, I think, is going to be one of the most delicate parts. He can't mourn visibly and then all the sudden there's a news report a week later that says: 'In attendance at swearing-in, Seaborn's thought-dead cousin.'"
"But, it can't be done without total fanfare."
"Right."
"Do we have any clue if Jordan or one of his henchmen sent the letter?"
She shook her head.
"How much are you willing to gamble on this?"
Crystal looked up at her. "What do you have in mind?"
"A pretty substantial gamble."
"Tell me more," Crystal said, watching as Sydney sat down across from her.
~~~
Donna appeared in Josh's office door while he sat in his chair, his feet propped up on the desk. He was engrossed in a briefing book. She leaned against the doorjamb, wondering how high he'd jump when she spoke. "Josh?"
To her surprise, he didn't jump or even look up. "Hm?"
"Leo wants to see you."
He nodded, closing the briefing book and easing his legs off his desk. "Rebekah hasn't called, has she?"
Donna shook her head.
He sighed. "'Kay."
"Do you want to call Douglas's office?" she asked.
"No."
"Is this going to be like the Amy thing?"
"What?"
"Where you went around she wouldn't even talk to you."
"Donna..."
"Or the Joey thing."
He shook his head, walking towards the door.
"Heaven forbid the Mandy thing..."
"It's not a relationship thing," he said, stopping in front of her.
"Then why do you care if she calls?"
"Because she's having a hard time."
"With termites?"
"And other things."
"Like what?"
"Like things I don't think I should tell you. Leo wants to see me; I should go see what he wants."
"Take your coat."
"Why?"
"Margaret said you might talk to the President, too."
He sighed and returned to his desk to retrieve his suit coat that was slung over the back of his chair. "If she calls, have her page me."
"What's going on?"
"Big ugly termites," he said, slipping his coat on and slipping past her to walk to the Oval.
En route, he fell instep with Toby, the Communications Director. "Going to Leo's?" the older man asked.
"Yeah."
"Any clue what it's about?"
"Got a good guess."
"What is it?"
"Can't say."
"Josh...?"
"We'll find out... Hey, Margaret."
"Go on in," said Leo's assistant.
Josh entered first, with Toby on his heels. "Leo?"
"There've been some developments," the Chief of Staff said gravely.
"What kind of developments?" asked Toby.
"It's possible information could leak out that there was a partial shutdown of operations at Langley," Leo said, watching the staffers' faces.
"What do you mean?" asked Josh.
"First... Toby, we're going to bring you in on what's gone down the past two days," said Leo. "Then we're going to join the President and CIA Director Rob Conrad and Ron Butterfield. Part of this is going to be round two for California, Josh. Part of this... is going to include a dangerous crapshoot and the President wants both of you to tell him what you think. This has serious ramifications for Sam's life and he wants all the informed opinions he can get."
"What's going on with Sam?" asked Toby, his brow creasing in concern.
"Sit down and I'll tell you; Josh, why don't you go on into the other meeting? You'll figure out what happened this morning by listening."
His Deputy nodded, and then eased into the Oval Office through the door that connected to Leo's. The President sat in a wingback chair, a file folder in his lap along with his glasses. He watched Conrad with rapt attention, taking in every detail about what he was saying.
"There is no halfway with this plan," Conrad said. "If we put this into action, and he did it, he's going to know we're bluffing and that's it. Checkmate. Game over. If he didn't... and he thinks somebody screwed up... We've got an edge and it's going to be razor sharp. There's going to be in fighting and he's going to get agitated. His plan failed; he's got to go to a contingency. It'll push the schedule to California."
"And straight to Sam," said Bartlet.
Conrad nodded.
"And when are you suggesting to put this into effect?"
"Symptoms of anthrax poisoning occur within seven days of exposure," said Conrad.
"So, we're talking... right when I'm going to California to support his candidacy."
The CIA Director nodded. "I think it'll be the best time, sir, in all honesty. His security is going to go up. He'll have our L.A. team and your Secret Service. Plus, our trump."
"She's going to be alive," said Bartlet.
Conrad nodded.
"This is a rash assumption, though, don't you think?"
"Sir, we've lost him. Completely. We thought he was going to L.A. and that's come up empty. We've kept a strike team at the airport and no one matching any of their descriptions has come through. We have the audio last night of them saying they were going to draw her out. Him personally making and sending the letter... it seems doubtful. If we could slip it to the media, in a few days, that an agent has fallen dead from anthrax in a letter... and withhold the name because the family has yet to be contacted. We can plant one of our agents as a reporter in the briefing and bring up the symbol. It gets buried somewhere around page twenty-eight because he's gonna know our press secretary's going to be sandbagging whatever other questions come his way."
"What about when it gets to C.J.? When they want to know why the CIA is blocking access?" asked Bartlet.
"Then she says it's an interior matter for the CIA to handle and she knows nothing about it," said Josh, speaking up for the first time.
"I didn't realize you were there," said Bartlet.
"My apologies, Mr. President; Leo said it was all right."
Bartlet nodded, waving him into the office further. "Sit."
Josh took a seat next to Butterfield to listen to more of Conrad's argument.
"What if he did it personally?"
"He may not look for the information in the paper; he may not listen to the news. That would be if we were truly, spectacularly lucky."
"Which we aren't," said Bartlet.
Conrad nodded. "Or, he could see it and blow it off as a copycat. Or he could see it and figure out we're trying to pull something over on him. It's going to fail. It may prompt a quicker attack since we were bold enough to try to trick him. Sir, we've never been on defense like this. The Alliance in SD-6 had the decency to aim most of their hostility towards other elaborate terrorist groups like K-Directorate. We're not even one hundred percent sure why he'd be so bold as to send a letter of all things. It's not his style."
"Is it possible there's someone else from Red Crescent Order who's doing this?"
Conrad shook his head. "I don't think so. There is, but... the letter came in an envelope for a local law firm. We've already picked up an envelope from the firm and matched it to the one our letter came in. Somehow they got their hands on an envelope locally. It's a D.C. cancellation. Somebody's here. Somebody's after her and somebody's going to pay for this."
"But, is it going to be in the President's life?" asked Butterfield.
"If we take the gamble and lose, no. If we take the gamble and win... I hope not."
Stay tuned...
Lines from the next installment:
"C.J. Cregg just said an agent died from anthrax..."
"Yes."
"You said she was fine!"