The Enemy Within

“Possibly.” Leiter shrugged. Privately, he doubted the people they were up against would have made so elementary an error. He fully expected to learn that the C4 plastique had been purchased by a dummy corporation with a forged certfficate. But it seemed impolitic at the moment to explain his low expectations on that score. He pushed ahead. “We’ve also definitely identified key components of the various explosive devices electrical cabling, shards of electronics junction boxes, and pieces of a rigged VCR and video camera.”

The President looked closely at him. “And that’s significant?”

Leiter nodded. “Yes, sir. For example, Flynn informs me that his experts have concluded the bombs were manually armed.”

“So the son of a bitch was there? Right in the room?”

The FBI Director nodded again. “Yes, sir. The various devices were concealed among all the other television and radio equipment in the room.”

“Were your investigators able to pick any prints off the debris?” the CIA Director, William Berns, asked softly.

“Two,” Leiter confirmed. “One thumbprint. And one partial from an index finger. Both off what was left of the video camera case.” He saw the surprise on the other faces in the Cabinet Room and explained.

“Fingerprints often survive even the intense temperatures and pressures in an explosion. If the bomber has ever had a run-in with the law or served in the military, for example, we should be able to identify him given enough time at least.”

For the first time in the meeting so far, the President’s features relaxed slightly. “Anything else so far, David?”

Leiter nodded. “Yes, sir. Some of the lettering on the camera case also came through the blast intact. The letters ECNS. We think that stands for ‘European Cable News Service.’ ”

“And?”

Berns, the CIA Director, answered that. “We checked, Mr. President. No such organisation exists. It’s a complete fabrication.”

“Shit,” the President muttered.

Leiter took up the tale. “But that does confirm that the bomber gained access to the press club by posing as either a technician or a correspondent. Flynn’s people are busy interviewing all the survivors again, looking for anybody who might have seen this person. If we can work up a good physical description from what they tell us, we can plaster it over every square inch of this country.”

The President nodded his understanding. “Keep Flynn and his team hard at it then, David.” His mouth tightened. “I want results I can take to the nation. And soon.”

“Excuse me, Mistah President.” Jefferson T. Corbell’s soft Georgia drawl cut through the murmurs of agreement from everybody else around the table. He stabbed a slender finger at the television. It was still showing pictures of looters roaming Chicago’s smoke-filled streets.

“Catching these people is all well and good, but what the country wants to know right now is what you’re going to do about that.”

“True enough, Jeff,” the President said reluctantly. It was no secret that he preferred prolonged and theoretical discussions to hard decision-making. He looked around the room. “Both the mayor of Chicago and the governor of Illinois have officially requested federal troops to help restore order in the martial-law zone. I need your views on that.” He glanced at the white-haired Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. “Admiral Dillon?”

Dillon sat up straighter. “I’ve conferred with the Army’s Chief of Staff, General Carleton. He informs me that we could have a full mechanised infantry battalion from the 1st Infantry Division at Fort Riley on the ground in the city within twenty-four hours, with the rest of a brigade in place in two days.”

“What about the 82nd Airborne or the 101st?” the President asked, clearly somewhat surprised by their omission. “Aren’t they part of the contingency force?”

“Yes, sir,” the admiral answered patiently. “And that is why General Carleton would prefer to use the 1st Infantry. Both the 82nd and the 101st are our immediate reserve against a crisis somewhere overseas. Committing either one to a domestic peacekeeping role would measurably strain our readiness.”

“I see.” The President sounded unconvinced. His limited experience of military operations had taught him that the American people were reassured by the sight of the two elite divisions swinging into action. Their use was also a clear signal of serious intent and firm resolve.

Shaking her head vigorously, the Attorney General leaned forward. “Mr. President, I strongly advise against sending federal troops to Chicago. It would be provocative and an unnecessary infringement of civil liberties.” She frowned at the television. “Frankly, I believe both the mayor and the governor have already overreacted badly turning a peaceful demonstration into a full-fledged riot. Committing Regular Army units to the fray would only compound that error.”