The Vatican Knights

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The FBI’s conference room was much larger and less constrictive than the White House’s Situation Room. The room had twenty-foot ceilings and was nearly 1600 square feet. The walls were covered in dark walnut paneling, and serving as the room’s focal point, an oil painting of J. Edgar Hoover watched over everyone with his patented scowl. In the center of the room was a large table that held up to three dozen people comfortably, with pitchers of ice water spaced every three feet along the table’s length.

The FBI’s Deputy Director, George Pappandopolous, sat at one end of the table. Normally a man of good cheer, he seemed somewhat detached and disenchanted, his smiles false, his greetings insincere. It seemed to Shari as if he had already resigned himself to losing the battle over the pope’s abduction. She hoped this wasn’t the case.

Taking her assigned seat opposite the deputy director, Shari knew that she was about to become the lightning rod of attention.

To her right sat Billy Paxton, who appeared displeased. He had always played the back-up role, never taking the lead — always the electric violin to her Stradivarius. She had become an insurmountable obstacle in his life, preventing him from elevating to the next level. He was always being compared to her but never measuring up. So when she said “Hello,” he simply ignored her.

As chatter circulated around the room, Deputy Director George Pappandopolous leaned forward and clasped his hands. Securing the attention of the room, he went directly to the core of the matter.

“As you all know, the president’s detail was dispatched by a radical terrorist cell who call themselves the Soldiers of Islam. The incident falls under FBI jurisdiction, but we will nevertheless be working with all international intelligence sources that are ready to aid in the search and rescue of the pope and the governor. So let’s get one thing straight: I don’t want anybody on my team sitting on vital data. There are fifteen intelligence agencies in this country and dozens more worldwide, and we’re to work closely with all of them. Is that clear?”

There was a unified murmur of agreement.

“Here’s what I’ve got so far, just to update you as to what’s going on,” he continued. “We haven’t received any demands from the Soldiers of Islam as of yet. The only call received was the one to CNN at approximately zero-seven-hundred hours. We do know, however, the identities of all terrorists involved. You’ll find their cover sheets and bios in front of you.”

The assembled agents opened the manila folders before them and began examining the documents inside.

“We also know they had ties to al-Qaeda and are presumed to have gone rogue, so we’ll need to develop a strategy to communicate and make the necessary concessions without any foreknowledge of their methods. By the direct authority of the attorney general, Ms. Cohen, who is sitting opposite me, is to take command in this situation with Mr. Paxton acting as speaker.”

Paxton winced as if a gas bubble had lodged painfully in his chest. Is that what he had been reduced to? A mouthpiece? It just seemed disrespectful. Especially for someone who received Congressional approval to act on behalf of the American government in distant lands.

“For those of you who may not know, Ms. Cohen is an expert in counterterrorism and psychoanalytical strategy. Therefore, the attorney general feels that Ms. Cohen is best qualified to command this post. In other words, first there’s God and then there’s Ms. Cohen who will be in direct contact with Chief Presidential Advisor Alan Thornton. There is no other chain of command. She… is… it.” Pappandopolous eased back into his chair. “Good luck,” he added, “because we’re going to need it on this one.” He offered Shari the stage by directing a hand toward her. “Ms. Cohen.”

Shari tilted her head in the direction of the deputy director and thanked him. She opened her manila folder and began to peel a page at a time from the stack of papers.

“All right,” she said. “The first rule of thumb is to never assume anything, because everything changes and changes quickly. Therefore, you have to make adjustments and decisions according to the moment. We know the insurgents are Islamic and have an unyielding conviction to die for a cause. So… what else do we need to know?” She raised her hand and ticked off a finger with each question.

“One: How have they or their associates operated in the past? Two: Will they release the hostages when their demands are met or not? Three: Have their dealings with past HRT units been consistent or not? And four: Can we possibly predict a safe outcome based on their past dealings? In other words, know your enemy.”

She lowered her hand; her voice had gained strength and momentum with every passing sentence.

“We’ll need to get on this as soon as possible. I want as much information on the remaining operatives as I can get my hands on. Contact the CIA abroad, Mossad, the CTC, whomever it is you need to contact to create the most complete dossier on each individual involved with the Soldiers of Islam. Then we’ll need to create several strategies to deal with them. And I’m going to need all of this at my fingertips when the time comes to negotiate. We’re dealing with the human element here, which is always difficult, but at least we’ll be in a position to act when the terrorists make their next move.”

Shari’s speech was well-versed and never missed a beat, which was more of a natural skill than a learned one.

Paxton, on the other hand, seethed with contempt and rolled his eyes.

“Past history is usually a great indicator of future behavior,” she continued. “If the group is rogue, we don’t have a lot of past accounts, so we’ll have to come up with a format based on their individual dossiers. Psychology, in this case, will become paramount. And that’s where I’ll come in.”

Shari peeled off another page, but never referred to it.

“We’ll play this based on our data and according to the situation. If the situation seems to be heading in the wrong direction, then we’ll have to shift course. That’s why we’ll need to develop a series of schematics to deal with whatever scenario may arise.”

Shari gave each face a quick examination. “Questions?”

There were none, the team apparently resolved and ready for duty.

“Then let’s get to it,” she said. Her briefing was quick and to the point.

During the next hour Shari moved the staff to a workroom filled with personal computers, terminals, and phones, then divided the assembled experts into groups of three and designated each group a specific task according to their skills and strengths.

In essence, Shari Cohen was flexing her muscles.