Transfer of Power

HER ELBOWS RESTED heavily on the table. The hum of computers, faxes, scanners, and monitors droned in the background. The control room at Langley was in the midst of a lull.

Kennedy’s hands cupped her chin, and her eyes were closed.

Opening her eyes, she looked at the red digital clock on the wall. It was almost half past noon. She let out a yawn and stretched her arms above her head. Things were about to happen.

She had felt it herself and seen it in the look Thomas Stansfield had given her.

The light on her phone blinked once and then began to ring. She grabbed the handset and answered, “Dr. Kennedy.”

“Irene, it’s Jane. I’ve been busy trying to get an answer to your question, but things have proved a little more difficult than I thought.”

“How so?”

“Well, the subject is not entirely with us.”

Kennedy frowned.

“Will he be coming back?”

“No.” There was a substantial pause and then, “At least, I don’t think so.” Then in a slightly defensive tone Dr. Hornig added, “You must remember, this is all new, very cutting edge stuff.”

“Did you get anything out of him?”

“From what little I could gather, Harut had no idea what this Yassin fellow’s talents were. But please keep in mind, he’s not all there.”

Irene didn’t want to hear excuses; she wanted answers.

“Did you get anything out of him?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Okay. If you find anything out, please let me know.”

Kennedy disconnected the call and dialed an international number. While the secure satellite technology at Langley started the process, Kennedy turned around and checked to see what her boss was doing.

Thomas Stansfield sat comfortably in his chair while Jonathan Brown, the deputy director of central intelligence, relayed a slew of congressional complaints and inquiries. From what little Kennedy heard, she gathered that the congressmen and senators on the Hill were demanding to know what in the hell happened last night.

The familiar voice of Colonel Fine answered on the other end, and Kennedy turned around.

“Ben, it’s Irene. Have you found anything out onyassin?”

“Nothing firm. Some rumblings and rumors here and there, but we haven’t been able to nail him down.”

“Which one are we talking about? The Iraqi or the Palestinian?”

“I have heard nothing back about the Iraqi, but I have several sources who are claiming they have seen the eighteen year-old Palestinian within the last four days.”

“Hnun,” pondered Kennedy.

“Let me caution you, though. We have not been able to track him down.”

“I know, but we are definitely leaning closer to one than the other.”

“My contacts in Iraq are not as deep, Irene. The man could be there, but I need more time to track him down.”

Kennedy looked back at Stansfield and let him know that she needed to talk to him. Into the phone, she said, “Ben, I have to run. Thank you for the info, and please let me know the second you find out anything else.”

“Before you go,” said Fine loudly, “I have something I wish to discuss.”

Fine paused and then continued.

“There are people in my government who are threatening to tear apart the entire peace accord if your country persists with this position of negotiation. We have a very good idea what aziz’s last demand will be, and we are prepared to occupy the territories with troops if it comes to that.”

Kennedy stopped everything she was doing. She dissected the colonel’s words carefully. Israel was prepared to go to war.

“Has your ambassador been informed of this?”

“I do not know.”

“Has your prime minister informed our vice president?”

“I do not know.”

Kennedy paused momentarily.

“Ben, Director Stansfield has the interests of Israel very high on his list, but he is only one man. Now is not a time to play games through back channels.

I would suggest that certain people in your government start banging the drum and bang it loudly. They know who to talk to.” Kennedy stopped for a moment and added, “Don’t worry about your support from Langley. We have never wavered on this issue, and are not about to.”

There was a moment of silence and then

“Good I will pass that along.”

“And I appreciate the information, Ben. Please let me know the second you find anything more.”

Kennedy hung up the phone and swiveled her chair around. Brown was still talking to Stansfield. Kennedy was not sure about the new deputy director. It wasn’t due to a lack of confidence in his skills. He was intelligent and professional.

Her issue with Brown lay more in where his bread was buttered.

Brown was not an insider at Langley. He had been with the Agency for less than a year. In his early fifties, he was a former federal prosecutor and judge who, after leaving the bench, went to work for one of Washington’s poshest law firms, making close to a million dollars a year. After pressing the flesh with all of the bigwigs in Congress for a half dozen years, he had obtained a nomination for the deputy director slot and was confirmed.

It was a safe bet that his allegiance was more with the senators who had confirmed him than with the man he was now talking to. It was that simple fact that kept Kennedy from speaking in front of the man. She waited for several minutes until Brown left, then rose and approached the elevated desk behind her.

Stansfield leaned forward and asked, “What is it?”

General Flood also leaned forward, sensing that Kennedy might have obtained a valuable piece of information.

“I just spoke to Colonel Fine. He’s gotten nowhere in terms of the yassin from Iraq, and with the young Palestinian, they have several contacts who have claimed to have seen him in the last four days.” Flood shook his head and said, “That’s it Thomas. We have to tell him.”

Stansfield’s face remained passive, and Flood persisted.

“It’s our duty. Iron Man hasn’t come up with anything definitive, but it sure does look like something is going on down in that basement, he.doesn’t have enough men to tie up one of them down there.”

“What about the ventilation duct?” asked Kennedy.

“Maybe he’s afraid we’ll try and use it again.”

“Bullshit,” grumbled Hood.

“All he has to do is booby-trap the only stairwell that leads up from the basement, and he has us boxed in.”

Kennedy agreed.

Flood leaned toward Stansfield and said, “We have to tell him Thomas. We should have told him this morning.” Stansfield looked at the large general. He knew Flood was right but also knew how Vice President Baxter would react. He would wiggle. He would question the validity of their conclusion.

He would put off making any decision until he absolutely had to. Despite all of that. Flood was right. They had to tell him.