Operation Hail Storm

Langley, Virginia ― Central Intelligence Headquarters

The Director of the Central Intelligence Agency, Jarret Pepper, had called an impromptu meeting with his Directorate of Operations, Paul Moore and the Directorate of Analysis, Karen Wesley.

Instead of the conference room, Pepper had instructed them to meet him in his office. The meeting was basically an operational update and he didn’t think it would take long.

“So where did the plane land?” Pepper asked Paul Moore.

“It landed in Morocco.”

Pepper looked perplexed.

“Where in Morocco?” he asked.

Moore spun around a globe that was sitting on the edge of Pepper’s desk. He took a moment to orientate himself with the earth and then pointed at a long strip of tan.

“Right there,” he said. “The Dakhla Airport in the Western Sahara of Morocco.”

Pepper and Karen Wesley looked closely at the place where Moore’s finger had been.

“Why would the put down there?” Pepper asked. “It’s nothing but desert.”

“They put down for the same reason that we had to break off surveillance. They needed fuel. The AWACS that was tracking them had to refuel as well. With no tankers in that area, it had to leave the theater.”

“So where did they go after that?” Pepper asked.

“We don’t know,” Moore responded blamelessly. “We don’t have assets at all in that region of the world. The closest asset we have to Morocco is a DHC-6 Twin Otter aircraft out of Spain, but that’s eight-hundred miles away. Too little, too late.”

Pepper was frustrated.

“What about her phone?” Pepper asked Moore. “Did we get any blips off of it?”

Moore shook his head no, but said, “Yes, but we didn’t get enough of them to zero in on the location. At some point the phone stopped sending blips.”

“How could it do that?” Pepper asked.

“Thrown into the water, destroyed, inside a metal room, buried, lots of reasons,” Moore explained.

“So what you’re trying to tell me is that we have no idea where our CIA agent is?”

“The few blips we got were loosely traced the southern part of Indonesia. Maybe Jakarta.”

Pepper huffed sarcastically and said, “That’s wonderful.” He placed his own finger on the globe and drew a box. “That means we are talking about six-thousand square miles. Right?”

Moore said nothing.

“Have you communicated with her,” Karen Wesley asked Pepper. “I’m assuming you didn’t call us here just for that information.”

Pepper composed himself.

“Yes I did,” he said as if he was the only person who did any work around the place. “Kara called me on Hail’s phone. So that might indicate that they had taken her phone from her, but I think it’s something else. Kara used the word shipshape in our conversation, which is a code word that means she is on a ship. She also pretended to mute the phone and I overheard Hail’s crew talking about making a run for the South China Sea, so they are definitely on a ship.”

Moore said, “That would account for her phone not sending blips. If she is surrounded by iron, then the signal can’t get out.”

“Correct,” Pepper agreed. “Also, as predicted Hail’s people asked for the location of the Huan Yue.”

“Did you give it to them?” Wesley asked.

“Yes I did. I put them on hold and made a call to your people and they provided me the current coordinates of the trawler.”

“What other data did you share with them?” Wesley probed.

“Not much,” Pepper said. “It’s not like there is much to give. I sent them a photo of the fishing trawler and told them that I would call them if, or when, we detected the vessel might be changing course toward land.”

“Do you have Hail’s phone number?” Moore asked.

“It was trapped on my phone from when they called me,” Pepper said.

“Then maybe we can triangulate on Hail’s phone signal.”

“Why?” Pepper asked as if Moore didn’t understand the plan. “Does it really matter where they are? Kara is on board and she will do her magic and before you know it, Hail will be her very best friend. As long as Hail gets the job done and Kara gets us some good intel on Hail’s operation, then who the hell cares where they are?”

Wesley and Moore thought about it.

“Then why were you so concerned about her just a minute ago,” Moore asked.

“I was more concerned about why our high-tech gear doesn’t do what it’s supposed to do,” Pepper shot back.

Wesley said, “If Hail Storm works, then we’ll look good simply having a presence in the operation, regardless of how our equipment functions.”

“Hail Storm?” Pepper asked. “What’s with this Hail Storm?”

“That’s what I named this operation,” Wesley told Pepper.

Pepper looked unhappy.

“What? You don’t like the name?” Wesley asked.

“I just think it’s a little over-the-top,” Pepper said disdainfully.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Every name for every operation we have is over-the-top, as is the military’s. Desert Storm, Bayonet Lightning, Valiant Guardian, Urgent Fury, Eagle Claw, Spartan Scorpion, Operation Overlord, Rolling Thunder…”

“OK, OK,” Pepper cut her off.

But Wesley didn’t stop.

“All the names of our operations have to be over-the-top, testosterone packed, overblown black-ops doozies. If we ever get called to appear in front of a special congressional committee because an operation went south, then the last thing we want to explain is why operation Fluffy Puppy went horribly wrong.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Pepper said.

Everyone was silent for a moment. Then Wesley said in a more forgiving tone.

“I just don’t think you like Marshall Hail very much,” Wesley told Pepper.

“How I feel about Hail has nothing to do with the name of this operation. I just… I don’t think that…”

Pepper stopped talking and looked irritated.

Then he confessed, “You’re right. I don’t like Hail, but it’s not the man I don’t like. It’s what the man represents. He’s a vigilante. And you can dress that up anyway you want, but he is still a rich, high-tech vigilante. He could simply turn over his assets to us and we could get the job done in the same manner, but no, he wants to rub our nose in it. I think he actually enjoys making us look like boobs. And that’s why I don’t like him.”

Pepper stopped talking and tried to recall what they had been talking about before he began his speech.

“The name is fine,” he reluctantly agreed; glad to put an end to that topic.

“Of course it’s fine,” Wesley said defiantly. “Just like all the other fine names of operations I come up with.”

Now she looked irritated.

“That’s all,” Pepper announced, putting an end to the meeting as well.