White Jade

Chapter Forty-Seven

It was 10:02 in the evening on July Fourth in Washington. Elizabeth sat in the coolness of the VIP waiting room at Andrews Air Force base, waiting for the team to touch down. A driver and vehicle stood by outside. She was thinking about the possible fallout over the battle with the Chinese. Her phone signaled a call on the scrambled circuit.

"Harker."

"Director, this is General Hood. What is your current location?"

"At Andrews, waiting for the team."

"There's been a major incident in California. Someone blew up three electrical sub-stations. Oakland, San Francisco, the peninsula, Sacramento and the Central Valley are without power. A large portion of Northern and Central California is down. The cascade is threatening to take out the West Coast."

"How did they get through security?"

"We don't know. The attack was well coordinated. All stations went down at the same time. I'm on my way to the White House right now. The President has called a meeting at 2300 and you need to be there."

"On my way."

"You'll be escorted to the Situation Room when you arrive."

"Who will be in attendance?"

"The President, his Chief of Staff, the Director of Homeland Security, the Director of National Intelligence, the National Security Advisor, CIA, Westbrooke from the FBI and General Holden from the Joint Chiefs. That's as of this moment. There may be others."

"What is the alert status?"

"The President has ordered the military to DEFCON 4. There is as yet no indication of hostile intention from any national entity. Homeland Security is holding at Elevated Threat alert until we have more information."

"I understand. I'm leaving now." Harker stood and started for the door.

"Elizabeth."

Harker paused mid-stride. General Hood rarely used her first name.

"Does Rice know about your operation?"

Elizabeth had briefed Hood earlier. He was an ally. If word got out about Tibet, she'd need allies. She had decided it was best to protect the President, in case something went wrong.

"No. I felt it better to wait."

"Watch your step in there. Heads will roll over this."

"I appreciate the advice, General."

"See you there." The call ended.

She dialed Stephanie.

"Steph, there's a situation on the West Coast. I've been called to a meeting at the White House. I want you to pick up the team. Get them out of sight and back into civilian clothes."

"Yes, Director."

"I'll call in when I know more. I won't be available for awhile. Hold down the fort until I get back."

"Got it."

Harker ended the call. The Project was handled. A few minutes later her driver was breaking speed limits and weaving through late night D.C. traffic toward the White House.

Harker did a quick mental review of everything she knew about Yang and the operation. She might need to explain why she'd ordered a covert operation on Chinese sovereign territory. Some of the people who would be in that meeting had no idea the Project conducted black ops traditionally under the mandate of CIA or SOCOM. Her cherished low profile was about to evaporate into thin air.

She looked out the window. They turned onto Pennsylvania Avenue and neared the traffic barriers marking the outer security zone for the White House.

Her vehicle was passed through the security checkpoints. They stopped at a side entrance of the White House, away from the cameras watching the front for signs of newsworthy people or activities. She was met by two secret service agents wearing dark suits and earpieces. They had Glocks clipped to their waist in fast draw holsters.

"Director Harker?"

"Yes."

One of the agents handed her a badge to clip onto her lapel.

"Follow us, please."

This part of the White House was unfamiliar to her. She followed the agents down a long hall lined with period paintings of the nineteenth century. The walls were light beige. The lighting was subdued. The carpet was soft under her feet.

The Situation Room was located in the basement of the West Wing. A few turns and a short flight of steps down and she found herself at the entrance. A secret service agent stood by a lead lined cabinet at the door.

"May I have your phone, please, Director?"

Harker turned off her phone and handed it over. The agent placed it in the cabinet with several others. She wasn't the first to arrive.

"Do you have any other personal electronic devices with you?"

"No, that's it."

"If you need to make a call, please use one of the booths."

A row of wooden phone booths stood along the wall, modern echoes of the 1950s.

"Thank you."

Inside, a long conference table took up the center of the room. It was flanked by wide brown leather chairs. Blank television monitors covered the wall at the far end. Two tiers of computer terminals were set off to the side, manned by Air Force technicians.

The National Security Advisor was in animated conversation with General Holden, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, and the Director of National Intelligence. Half way down the table General Hood was talking with the Acting Director of the CIA, Wendell Lodge. Harker knew Lodge well from previous encounters.

Lodge was old school. Yale, Skull and Bones, five foot ten and elegant in a gray Brooks Brothers suit and college tie. Career CIA, he was 60 years old. His hair was tailored white, with the look that came only with regular four hundred dollar haircuts. His face was rosy and flushed, lending him a kindly, avuncular air that had deceived many a politician or underling.

Harker knew Lodge was nobody's uncle, kindly or otherwise. He demanded absolute obedience from his subordinates and never forgot or forgave a personal slight or a professional mistake. His boss was in Bethesda Hospital on life support. Lodge was about to step into the DCI slot unless the political process blindsided him with someone from outside the Agency.

General Hood beckoned her over.

"You know Director Harker, Wendell."

"Elizabeth," Lodge said, "nice to see you again. I hear you've been up to something with our Chinese friends. Was your operation successful?"

He smiled, but Harker wasn't fooled. She remembered Hood's warning that someone's head would roll. Lodge would be one of the executioners manning the guillotine if it came to that.

"It's good to see you, too, Wendell."

"We were just talking about your theory a coup in the PRC is tied to what's happening in California. We haven't picked up any indications of a takeover scenario at Langley."

By using the word theory Lodge was letting her know he was not convinced a coup was in progress or relevant to the current situation. It didn't matter that he had to know of Deng's warning about General Yang.

It was CYA time, and Lodge was a master of the game. Elizabeth wasn't surprised. No one wanted responsibility for being caught unawares by a terrorist attack of this magnitude.

"I suspect that will come up today," Harker said. "Whether or not a coup is actually being planned, I believe the Chinese are behind whatever is happening in California."

"I hope you can back that up, Elizabeth. That is a serious allegation."

Harker decided to feed him a little information.

"You are familiar with General Yang Siyu?"

"The head of Chinese MI?" Lodge gave her a look of interested attention.

As if he doesn't know exactly who I mean, she thought.

"The same. In cooperation with the FBI, we have established that General Yang has been plotting with the Chinese Triads on the West Coast. We tracked payments amounting to four hundred million dollars from Yang to the Triads. The money was stolen from an American investor."

"Are you talking about William Connor?"

"Yes. We identified and detained two of Yang's agents, one of whom was embedded in the FBI. He was caught red handed talking with Yang's principle aide. He passed along the information that we suspected a coup and expressed concern for his personal safety because of unspecified events planned to take place today."

Lodge raised an eyebrow. "Why wasn't Langley informed, Director?"

"I believe that was the responsibility of the FBI. They handled the discovery and detention of Yang's people. Perhaps they were embarrassed to find out one of their own is a traitor."

Harker knew that her political survival, even the survival of the Project, might depend on how this man read the situation. If he decided to oppose her, she was in trouble. There was no harm in letting the FBI take some of the heat. Besides, what she said was mostly true.

As if on cue, FBI Director Gordon Westbrooke entered the room, followed by the Director of Homeland Security, Joseph Wiseman. Harker watched Lodge's eyes narrow as he observed Westbrooke. Behind Lodge's back General Hood gave her a look of approval.

"I look forward to hearing more about this, Elizabeth. Let's get together soon. Perhaps lunch next week? I like to talk with you about something, but this isn't the place. If you'll excuse me, I think I'll go have a little chat with Gordon." He nodded at Hood and moved with purpose toward Westbrooke.

"You're on your toes today, Director," said Hood. "That was neatly done."

Harker glanced at her watch. It was almost 11:00 P.M. Kevin Hogan, President Rice's Chief of Staff came in.

"The President will be here momentarily," he said. "Please find your seats."