Takedown

“A communication was intercepted earlier today. In it was a reference to ‘Allah’s bombmaker,’ who had been brought ‘against his will and in violation of international law’to New York City.”

“That’s impossible,” said Harvath. “No one could have put something like this together that fast. We grabbed Sayed Jamal this morning. How would anyone know we have him, much less where we have him?”

“That’s what you need to find out,” responded Lawlor, “I want you to question Jamal yourself. If this turns out to be an al-Qaeda operation, there’s a good chance he had a hand in planning or training the people involved. Either way, he may know the end game.”

“He’s in JTTF custody now. Why don’t we let their interrogators handle it?”

“Because somebody had to have leaked the fact that we grabbed him and have him in New York, that’s why. Until we can identify and plug that leak, I can’t trust anyone else but you on this. Is that clear?”

“Have you tried reaching the president?” replied Harvath, who could tell by the tone of his voice that Gary Lawlor was just as angry as he was.

“Of course I’ve tried, but DC’s just as chaotic as New York right now. Apparently, he was someplace in Wisconsin, but now they’re rushing him to Air Force One. Listen, we both know that he’s going to be locked down so tight only his closest people will have access to him for the next several hours. We’re on our own and I’m giving you a direct order. Lean on Jamal as hard as you have to. I don’t want any more people to die. We’ll worry about the consequences of the interrogation later.”

That was all Harvath needed to hear. But convincing the JTTF to allow him to conduct the kind of interrogation on their prisoner that he wanted to conduct, even after today’s events, was something that Harvath thought was going to be a lot easier said than done.

Eighteen

AIR FORCE ONE

A president needed to be able to separate his personal life from his professional, but right now Jack Rutledge couldn’t do it.

He had never made any excuses about being a father first and a president second. Since he had lost his wife to breast cancer several years ago, his daughter, Amanda, was all he had left, and right now he didn’t even know if he had that.

“Anything?” asked the president the minute Carolyn Leonard entered his private suite at the front of the custom Boeing 747.

“Still nothing yet, sir. I’m sorry,” she replied.

“How’s that possible? They were in two cars, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you haven’t been able to reach either of them?”

“No, sir, but Amanda and her friends were riding with Marcy Delacorte and Tim Fiore. I picked them myself as the lead agents for your daughter’s detail. They’re the best. I’m sure we’ll hear something soon.”

The president wanted to ask her how soon, but it would have been inappropriate to burden her with his fears. He needed to remain strong. Besides, he knew Carolyn was already doing everything she could. In the end, though, there was only so much that could be done. For the time being, they were both helpless. “Anything from the local authorities?”

“They’ve got the route into Manhattan that the detail was traveling, as well as the last GPS coordinates for their vehicles. We’ll find her, Mr. President. I promise you.”

“Thank you, Carolyn,” replied Rutledge. “Let me know the minute you hear anything.”

“I will, sir,” replied Agent Leonard as she backed out of the suite so she could buckle up for takeoff.

Because this was supposed to be a vacation, the president had left his staff back in DC so they could be with their families over the holiday weekend. That meant that as he tried to focus his attention on New York City, he was going to have to tackle everything via secure video links from his airborne office.

He’d learned early on that the first hurdle in a situation of this magnitude was separating fact from fiction. Much like the hours following the September 11th attacks, rumors were running rampant across the country and emergency action plans were being put into effect left and right. All anyone knew for sure was that America was under attack, again.

After being briefed over the video link by his chief of staff, Charles Anderson, during the plane’s taxi and takeoff, the president replied, “That’s it? That’s all we know?”

“We’re still trying to gather information, sir.”

“How the hell is that possible, Chuck?”

“The flow is pretty slow coming out of New York.”

“I thought after September eleventh we put procedures in place to change all that.”

“We did,” replied Anderson, “but with any occurrence like this there is a certain amount of event resonance.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning no matter how good our procedures are for transmitting data, human beings have to snap out of their shock, assess the situation, and pass it up the chain of command. It just takes time.”