Threat Level Black

Somers smiled. “It wouldn’t be a minor matter to you if you were in charge of keeping the peace in a rural town. Think about it. For the most part you’d be relying on South Korean translators, and probably technical experts, to get the water running and electricity flowing. Could you trust what the translators were saying? Could you trust the people he spoke with to be open and honest?”

“Good points,” said Tyler.

“I assume you were pointing out the obvious and not buttering me up.”

Tyler laughed. As they turned toward the administrative building where they’d been assigned space, an MP came up in a Hummer.

“Major Tyler?”

“That’s me.”

“Sir, I need you to come to the secure communications center.”

Tyler started to tell the soldier that he would be along after checking in with the rest of his group, which was waiting inside. But before he could say anything the MP added, “Major, you’re wanted on the line to Washington immediately.”

Tyler was surprised to find that the call wasn’t from the Pentagon but rather an NSC staffer, who immediately began quizzing him about Tacit Ivan. The major answered the questions warily; he’d of course heard what had happened to Howe and was afraid that someone-maybe even Howe-was being set up as a sacrificial lamb for the failure of intelligence that had led to the botched mission. After a few routine questions about when they’d arrived there and how his men had infiltrated the field, the staffer began asking questions about the airstrip.

“Were you close enough to the field at Pong Yan to see into the hangar at the southeastern end?”

“Personally?” asked Tyler.

“Yes, sir.”

“I couldn’t see inside. But I didn’t have an angle to look at it. I wasn’t on the base.”

“Who was?”

Tyler gave the names of the team that had infiltrated the abandoned base. The staffer then asked if Tyler had seen UAVs at the field, or heard about them.

“You mean, flying reconnaissance for us?” asked Tyler. “We were there by ourselves.”

“No, sir, I mean based at the field. North Korean assets.”

“Not that I know of.”

“Yes, sir. Please hold the line.”

Before Tyler could say anything, Dr. Blitz came on the line.

“Ken, how are you?”

“I’m very well, sir,” he said cautiously.

“You saw no UAVs at the field?”

“No, sir.”

“Are you in a position to get up there now?”

“I, uh, can be if you want me to.”

“I do. Colonel Brott will get back to you with whatever orders you need. The sooner the better on this,” added the national security advisor. “Tomorrow morning if not tonight.”

“Yes, sir,” said Tyler. “Right away.”

“One other thing, Major. You enlisted Colonel Howe in the operation, didn’t you? Initially,” added Blitz.

“Yes, sir. He was the only person qualified to fly the aircraft. It was suggested by one of the CIA planners on the mission staff originally who’d been briefing the Russian flights; they had been touring the country the week before.”

“Was he eager to go on the mission?”

“I think he wanted to do his duty. The, uh-to be candid, Tacit Ivan wasn’t seen exactly as the first choice.”

“Did Colonel Howe know that?”

“He might have figured it out.”

“Did he push it?”

“No, sir. He just answered questions, that sort of thing. At one point I think he did volunteer to go-I mean, that was kind of implicit in his coming over, since he would have known that he was the only pilot available.”

“But you suggested the mission.”

“We suggested it to him, yes.”

“Very good,” said Blitz. “On this UAV project: You report directly to me. No one else is authorized to receive the information. Anything you need to do to accomplish the mission, anyone you want along-well, you know the drill. But otherwise strictly need-to-know. Strictly.”

“Okay.”

“Stand by for Colonel Brott.”

Chapter 2

Andy Fisher believed strongly in the value of sharing intelligence with brother agencies. Especially when cooperation might lead to the rapid conclusion of a case.

“Great bagels on Fourteenth Street,” he told Kowalski, dropping the bag on his desk at the Defense Intelligence Center in D.C. The DIA agent had returned to D.C. following the press conference announcing the sarin bust.

“Fisher, you got past security without being arrested? I can’t believe it.”

“Yeah, pretty slack. Hey, these are nice digs,” he said, glancing around. “You’d never know it used to be a laundry room.”

“What brings you here? You want to change careers and start working for the good guys for a change?”

“No, actually, I wanted to tell you that you were right.”

“You know, we have a doctor on call,” said Kowalski, a concerned look on his face. “He’ll give you sedatives.”

Fisher laughed.

“You really are sick, aren’t you?” said Kowalski.

“Talk to me about the E-bomb intelligence. How good was it?”

Utterly confused, Kowalski got up and went to his door. When he had closed it, he returned to his desk and sat down. “You all right, Andy? You look a little…ragged.”

“You mean that as a compliment?” asked Fisher, reaching into his pocket and taking out his cigarettes.

“You can’t smoke in here.”

Fisher put the pack away.