True Faith and Allegiance

67

The call was arranged by Mary Pat Foley, and sent to President Jack Ryan’s private number. He knew to expect it, but not what would be discussed, so he waited nervously in his private study on the second floor of the White House living quarters.

The phone rang and he snatched it up. “Clark?”

“Yes, Mr. President, sorry to bother you.”

“Mary Pat only told me that this call wasn’t about Jack Junior.”

“Correct, sir. Jack’s fine. Sorry if this phone call has caused you undue concern.”

Ryan breathed a sigh of relief. “Not a problem.”

“Right now, the Campus aircraft is flying over Western Europe with a man named Alex Dalca on board as a prisoner. He is the employee of the Romanian computer hacking concern that acquired the files off of the Office of Personnel Management’s network. Dalca was hired to find American spies for the Chinese, but he freelanced and uncovered targets in the American government and military, then sold this information off to several countries and concerns, most notably ISIS.”

“Incredible. Where are the files now?”

“On board the aircraft. Dalca says there were no other copies, but we have no way of knowing if that is true.”

Ryan rubbed his eyes. This was all good news, but it had been an incredibly bad month, and it wouldn’t end with this man’s capture. He said, “Excellent work, John.”

“Thanks, but I’m not calling to get a pat on the back. We need your help.”

Ryan’s eyebrows furrowed, because he feared he knew where this was going. “Whatever you do, don’t say ‘a pardon.’”

Clark sighed into the phone. “Dalca will help us, but he wants a full pardon and twenty-five million dollars.”

“Oh, for crying out loud.”

“Yes, Mr. President. It’s up to you, of course, but he is guaranteeing he will reveal every other targeted person in the U.S. and abroad. He sold off the information piecemeal to several actors, apparently.”

Ryan stared at the carpet between his feet. Paying this man off and letting him go made his stomach want to retch. But the more he thought about it, the more he recognized the situation he was in.

Clark prodded him. “I’m sorry, Mr. President, but time is very much of the essence.”

“He wants to talk to me on the phone?”

“Videoconference. He’s insisting.”

“Christ. Who is this guy?”

“He’s a piece of work, for sure, Mr. President. No conscience, no code. Just a guy looking for money, trampling over whoever is in his way.”

“A sociopath,” Ryan said.

Clark said, “I think that’s a fair assumption. Anyway, Mary Pat said she could have a videoconference set up in minutes in the Situation Room with her liaison there. You just say the word.”

Ryan said, “I’ll talk to him. Thanks, John.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You know, when I stood up The Campus, I worried about that kind of power falling into the wrong hands. I still worry about it. I put the best man I could in charge in Gerry Hendley, but still… you never know. Have to tell you how pleased I am that you’re over there, too. The organization is in good hands.”

“I appreciate that. The generation under me is very good, too, sir. I think the organization will be helpful for a long time to come.”

Ryan then blurted out a question he’d been hesitant to ask. “Is Jack on that plane?”

A pause. “He is, Mr. President. He was instrumental in finding Dalca, and he was instrumental in capturing him and securing the files.”

Ryan hesitated for a moment, taking in the information and controlling his emotions. He said, “He’s better than I was at all this, isn’t he?”

“Better? No, Mr. President. Like you, he is very good at both ends of the intelligence spectrum, but you had quite a few highlights in your own career.”

The President smiled a little into the phone. “One thing I had going for me was I didn’t have to walk around worried people were going to recognize me because of who my dad was.”

“Drives your son crazy sometimes, you’re right about that. If his dad had been a cop in Baltimore, instead of his granddad, he would have the same freedom of movement you enjoyed.”

Ryan said, “I know you are up against a timeline. I’ll head down to the Situation Room.”

Alexandru Dalca’s cabin chair had been turned slightly so he was facing the monitor on the wall next to him. Chavez moved behind him, while Jack, Gavin, and Midas all stepped to the far rear of the aircraft on the sofa, out of view of the camera over the monitor. This way the President would see only Dalca and Chavez, but Dalca would not be able to see anything but the monitor three feet in front of him.

Chavez pulled the man’s blindfold off from behind. They both sat there looking at a blank screen for a second, until Gavin adjusted some controls on the remote in his hand.

Suddenly the President’s face appeared on the screen. He was sitting at the end of the conference table in the Situation Room, wearing a suit and tie; no one else was on camera.

He adjusted his glasses as he looked at the monitor in front of him. “You’re Dalca?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Dalca said. He seemed unimpressed to speak with the leader of the free world. “As I told the men who kidnapped me, for my liberty and along with a reasonable fee I will give them all the passwords to my computer, and show them who has been targeted by the various parties I sold intelligence to.”

“Well… I must say, you are rather up front about it, aren’t you?”

“I will play fair with America, if America will only play fair with me. Time is of the essence. I imagine the terrorists are preparing their next attack even as we speak.”

The President said, “Did you hear about Chicago?”

“Yes. It was on the radio this morning. Thomas Russell was one of the targeting packages I created. Just goes to show you how much damage can be caused by one small identity compromise. There are dozens in the wind now, and only I can stop them from turning into dozens more Chicagos.”

Ryan nodded slowly. Finally he said, “Who is in charge on that plane?”

Of course Ryan knew Chavez would be the leader of this group, since Clark wasn’t on board the aircraft. But for the theater of the moment he had to pretend like he didn’t know anyone on the plane personally.

Right behind Dalca, Ding Chavez said, “That would be me, Mr. President.”

“Very well,” Ryan said. “As your Commander in Chief, I am giving you a direct order with respect to Mr. Dalca, which you, and your subordinates, will obey.”

“Of course, sir.”

Dalca began to smile.

“You are flying over the Atlantic Ocean right now?”

“That’s correct, sir,” said Chavez.

“Good. I want you to open a hatch and throw Dalca out of the plane. Is that clear?”

It was stone-cold silent in the cabin of the Gulfstream for several seconds. Dalca himself spoke first.

“What? No! You need me.”

Ryan said, “I wouldn’t say need. Your information would be beneficial, yes, but we can live without it. I don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

Chavez pushed a button to the cockpit. “Captain?”

Captain Helen Reid answered immediately over the cabin intercom speakers. “Can I help you?”

“We need to descend below ten thousand feet. We’ll be opening the rear cargo hatch.”

There was only a slight pause. “Roger. I’ll advise when we are depressurized.”

“No!” Dalca screamed.

Almost immediately, the aircraft began to descend.

President Ryan said, “You had no problem with death when you were facilitating the death of others. Funny that you seem white as a sheet right now.”

Dalca stammered, “I’ll… I’ll make a deal with you.”

Ryan shrugged, as if he did not care. “You already made an offer. My counteroffer is your immediate death. Negotiations are complete. Good-bye.” Ryan looked off camera, as if he was telling someone he was done with the feed.

Dalca screamed again. “Wait! I’ll give you everything, and I’ll help you catch al-Matari.”

Ryan gazed back into the camera. “How?”

“I… I don’t know. I’ll work with these men. We’ll figure something out. I am in communication with someone in ISIS. Maybe it’s al-Matari, maybe it’s someone else who feeds al-Matari the intelligence. I’ll help you. Just don’t kill me. Just let me go when this is over.”

Ryan said, “You mentioned something about twenty-five million. I don’t think the taxpayers want to pay the son of a bitch responsible for the death of so many good Americans.”

“Forget about the money! I will help you in any way I can. You just order these men to take me out of the USA and let me go when we are done.”

Ryan looked at the screen for a long time. Then he said, “Agreed.”

Chavez said, “Thank you, Mr. President.”

“If he gives you any trouble, you boys feel free to go back to my original plan. And if his attempts to help you are not successful, same thing. You have my authorization for extrajudicial termination. No one will question your motives if Dalca dies.”

“Understood, sir. If he is anything less than completely helpful in this endeavor, he’ll go for a high dive and a long swim.”

President Ryan nodded, and the transmission went dead.

In the rear of the plane, Jack Ryan, Jr., grinned from ear to ear.

Soon Chavez called to the cockpit, and the Gulfstream leveled out, and began climbing again.

Dalca was blindfolded yet again, and the Romanian recited the passwords to his computer. Once inside, Gavin entered several other passwords provided by the Romanian, to access all the targeting folders sent.

Jack spent an hour looking them over, but not until after Chavez contacted Clark and read off the names and locations of the targets. Clark would get Dan Murray to grab everyone still in jeopardy, though this would take hours, if not more than a day to happen.

When Chavez was finished with his call, Jack said he wanted to talk to everyone in the rear of the aircraft, out of Dalca’s earshot.

Jack said, “There are forty names on that list, most of them in the D.C. area, which makes me think al-Matari’s got people in D.C. and they are preparing to act.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Chavez said.

“So… I have an idea that will give the government time to get these people out of harm’s way, and give us a good shot at taking out al-Matari. It’s going to be hard, but I think the risk is worth the reward.”

“Let’s hear it,” Gavin said.

“We use the conduit Dalca uses to feed intel to ISIS. We prepare a fake targeting package, giving al-Matari a target that is so perfect for his needs that there is no way he won’t jump right on it. We give him a short timeline, like he’s got to get his cell members in the area there, now, today, to take advantage of the opportunity. That way he can’t prepare any more than the minimum, and he’ll have to pull hitters off of these other targets.”

Chavez cocked his head. “Great idea. But you will need to feed him a target that you know, without a doubt, he will drop everything to go kill… Who are you going to use as bait?”

Jack smiled. “The son of the President of the United States. The targeting folder will show all the evidence al-Matari needs to see that Jack Ryan, Jr., doesn’t have Secret Service protection, and he’s all alone at his parents’ unguarded log cabin up in the Blue Ridge Mountains. I’ll show everything Dalca shows in his other folders, proving that I’m staying up there for a day or two, tops. They’ll have to drop what they’re doing and come after me.”

Gavin just looked at Jack. “Are you crazy?”

Jack added, “We suspect he was in Chicago last night, so it might not be him who comes, but if we can take any of his people alive, we’ll have a shot at al-Matari himself.”

Midas chimed in, “What happens when al-Matari shows up at your cabin with fifty guys?”

“We know he doesn’t have fifty guys. Plus the cabin is in a secluded, backwoods area, hard to get a busload of Arab terrorists into without drawing attention, and al-Matari will know this.”

“I don’t know, Jack,” Chavez said. “Using yourself as a lure is a little dicey.”

“Or crazy,” Gavin said.

“It’s our best play.” Ryan was confident in his plan.

Jack gave Chavez the precise location of the cabin, then Chavez took the coordinates up to the cockpit to talk to Helen and Country.

He returned a few minutes later, passing a blindfolded Dalca on the way. “Sorry, Jack. Won’t work. The place you are talking about going, there is nowhere for us to land anywhere within fifty miles. Considering flight time back to D.C., it will take us most of a day to get there. If we want to make sure al-Matari rushes men there ASAP, we need another location, or another target.”

Jack had been worried about that. “The location and the target are perfect. There is a way to get us there quickly. We have parachutes on board.”

Chavez shook his head. “Free-fall parachutes, and you aren’t qualified.”

“I can make it work.”

Midas said, “I’m free-fall qualified. I’ll go.”

Jack shook his head. “Sorry, Midas. Al-Matari will send his people after the President’s son. I need to be there so they can get positive ID, or they might not move in and reveal themselves. I can’t send someone else to do this. I’ve got to do it myself.”

Ding said, “These chutes take time to learn, Jack. You don’t just strap it on and leap out of a damn jet.”

“What choice do we have? Look at the pace of the attacks. Someone is going to die, today! Maybe many people. Maybe another Chicago! We have to redirect their operation. I’ll survive the jump. I might not land gracefully, I might spin a little or get stuck in a tree, but that’s better than landing hours away, because we don’t have hours to spare.”

Chavez thought it over for a couple minutes, then went to the front of the cabin and called Clark, and they talked quietly for several minutes more. When he returned, he said, “Green light.”

“Yes!” Jack exclaimed.

Chavez added, “Clark is going to get some equipment together and get on the road. He’ll be there too, out of sight and standing off with a long rifle. He’ll spot targets for us if al-Matari’s operatives hit.”

“Us?” Jack said.

“I’m jumping with you, to keep you alive on the way down. Dom and Adara are still in Chicago. She’s recovering in the hospital, and he’s with her, as well as helping what’s left of the JTTF pick up the pieces, so Dom and Adara are out of this fight. You and I will be alone in the house.”

Midas smiled a little and shook his head. “I knew it. The FNG has to babysit the asshole with the blindfold.”

“Sorry, Midas. Guard duty is beneath you, but we can’t fly him back to D.C. with only Gavin on board.”

Gavin made a face, but said nothing. It was clear he didn’t particularly want to fly alone in the cabin with the crazy Romanian.

Jack said, “Okay, I’ll work with Dalca to make the targeting package so we draw al-Matari to the cabin, and we’ll send it ASAP. We don’t have much time at all to make this happen. But if we don’t make this happen, somebody in D.C. is going to get killed today.”

Chavez looked at his watch. “We’ve got six hours’ flying time remaining. Someone could get killed even if we do everything right.”