Chapter 25

At the conclusion of Mike’s briefing on the latest engagement with a major terrorist enclave, President Archer looked across his desk at Mike. He was pretty impressed with what Mike had told him. Over the past few weeks, several dozen minor enclaves of terrorists had been taken out. These were hundred acre compounds occupied by a couple hundred armed terrorists. The compounds, like the one in Islamberg New York, usually had major training facilities. Smiling, he said, “I’m pleased with the progress we’ve had in wiping out the terrorists based here in the United States.”

“I’m glad,” Mike said thinking that they had a long way to go before it would really be safe. The Islamic Brotherhood had done a very good job in preparing the domestic battlefield.

“I’m thinking about expanding our fight to overseas,” President Archer said.

“Not yet. We’ve still got too many terrorists running around inside the country,” Mike said afraid that by turning attention overseas that they would end up never resolving the problem inside the country.

“Maybe you’re right. It’s just that I’m receiving a lot of shit from our European friends. They want us to close our bases overseas because we keep getting attacked and their citizens get hurt. They won’t step up to the problem and take care of the terrorists before they attack us,” President Archer said. Shaking his head, he said, “I keep hearing that we are supposed to be putting their interests before what is necessary for our survival. I think that is stupid. What kind of idiot argues against what is in their best interest?”

Mike shrugged his shoulders and answered, “Maybe they think that we should change our view of what is in our best interest.”

“I seriously doubt it,” President Archer answered.

Mike felt like the meeting was wandering off the subject. Taking advantage of that, he said, “There was something that I wanted to ask you.”

“What is it?”

“The memorial wall inside the old CIA building is inaccessible. I’d appreciate it if you’d help get it moved out, decontaminated, and set up in some publicly accessible place. The folks who were killed as a result of the attack should be honored by having a star put on the wall. After all, they did die in defense of this country,” Mike said.

President Archer valued the contributions of the intelligence community and felt that it was a reasonable request. He hadn’t realized that nothing had been done to honor the men and women who had fallen in the domestic war with terrorism.

Irritated at his predecessor, he said, “Consider it done.”

“Thanks,” Mike said. He knew it would be years before he’d ever see the results of this conversation, but he was keeping promise made at Dale Dawson’s funeral.

Mike entered the conference room listening to Larry coughing. It really sounded bad. Shaking his head, he said, “You really need to get that cough checked out.”

Larry looked at Mike and then asked, “Didn’t you ever wonder why we meet in a hospital?”

“No,” Mike answered.

“I’m a patient here,” Larry said. He coughed and said, “I’ve been here for over two years. I’m the subject of an experimental treatment for lung cancer involving a genetically engineered virus that attacks only cancer cells.”

“Oh, I didn’t know,” Mike said feeling stupid.

Larry said, “I’m sorry that we didn’t tell you. The doctor in charge of the program told me a couple of months ago that the treatment has stopped working. Although the doctors used all kinds of medical jargon to explain what happened, the upshot of it all is that my cancer cells have become immune to the virus.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mike said.

Giving a weak grin, Larry said, “When I started the program they told me that I probably had only a few weeks left. Three quarters of one lung and half of the other had turned cancerous. It had actually spread to my bones. I’ve had two years of life that would have been denied to me.”

“Oh,” Mike said feeling bad that he hadn’t known that.

Shaking his head, Larry said, “I’ve watched you ever since your wife died and I’m saddened by what I’ve seen. I’ve been stuck in this hospital dying of a terminal disease and yet I’ve had more of a life than you. I find that sad.”

“Don’t say another word!” Mike said waving a hand. He didn’t want to talk about his private life.

Larry looked Mike in the eye and said, “I want you to listen to the words of a dying man. You are alive, but you aren’t living. It’s time for you to get your life together. The first thing you need to do is to get laid. I’m not talking about a hand job in some massage parlor. I’m talking balls to the wall fucking. Hire a woman if that is required, but get laid.”

Mike glared at Larry, but didn’t say a word. The comment about hand jobs in a massage parlor struck a little too close to home. He also felt that sleeping with a woman would be cheating on Karen.

Shaking his head, Larry said, “The second thing you need to do is start taking care of yourself. You’ve quit jogging. I can tell. You’re getting fat and out of shape. I bet you can’t do twenty pushups and you were a Marine. You better start jogging again. Join a gym and work out twice a week. I suggest Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

The comment about being out of shape blindsided Mike. He looked down at his stomach and realized that he had gained a little weight. He couldn’t remember when he had last gone jogging. He sat back in his chair and, as if trying to convince himself, said, “It’s not that bad.”

Larry snorted and said, “Once you get laid and can jog two miles without collapsing, then you can start taking out that little lady from your office. She’s not going to wait around for you for much longer. You better take her to dinner and a movie.”

“She works for me!” Mike said.

“No, she works for Joe,” Larry said with a smile.

“Wait a second. How do you know about her?” Mike asked looking at Larry suspiciously.

Grinning, Larry answered, “I’ve been watching you.”

Mike shrugged and said, “The exercise is probably a good idea, but I’m not ready for the others.”

Larry started coughing. He pulled out a small package of tissues, removed one of the tissues, and then spat into it. His sputum was tinged with red. Staring at the red, he knew the end was coming soon.

He folded the tissue and said, “Your family is about to lose patience with you. Your mom is worried sick about you. I don’t blame them. Even the Admiral is getting tired of watching you drag around. How many women has Sally tried to fix you up with? Three or four? Hell, even Sanjay and his wife have been worried about you.”

Wanting to avoid further discussion, Mike glanced down at his watch. It was well after the time when the meeting normally started. Thinking he would change the subject, he asked, “Where are the others?”

“They won’t be coming. Tonight is just between you and me,” Larry said with a sad smile.

“Why?”

“I’m going to die soon, and someone will have to assume my position in the leadership of the Intelligence 100. We didn’t want to have to replace me and you at the same time,” Larry answered.

“Replace me?” Mike asked getting worried.

“Look, you’ve got a real good head for this game. You might not realize it, but your team has consistently delivered assessments that have been right on target. You tracked down the missing rail guns. In the process, your team discovered the terrorist supply lines. You identified entire towns that had been taken over by terrorists and used as training facilities. Your team put together a very clear picture of the terrorist infrastructure in this country and you weren’t even charged with doing that,” Larry said. He started coughing again.

Mike waited for Larry to recover before he said, “I’m just in charge of one small team.”

“We’ve got a hundred teams like yours spread all over this area. They’re working out of what used to be Internet Cafés just like you. Your team, Jack’s team, and, believe it or not, Sanjay’s team are the best we’ve got. Those three teams are the only ones that have not had a member commit suicide. The attrition rate among analysts has been horrible. We haven’t had a new field agent in six months,” Larry said.

Mike had known about the suicides, the attrition rate, and the inability to get new people. He hadn’t heard anything about how the other teams were performing.

He asked, “Just how bad is it?”

“You know that supermarket that you visited?”

“Yes,” Mike answered.

“That is the entire middle management of the CIA. The upper management of the CIA is sharing a single floor of an office building in Greenbelt with the upper management of the NSA. That’s it. We’ve got one thousand four hundred and twenty-six employees in the entire CIA,” Larry said.

“What about everyone who is working in the New CIA Headquarters Building?” Mike asked.

“The majority of the people working in those buildings are employed by the NSA and FBI,” Larry answered.

“Why in the hell are we still working in Internet Cafes?” Mike asked.

Larry snorted and said, “If there is one thing that we learned after that attack is that you don’t put all of your eggs in one basket.”

“Jesus,” Mike said.

“That’s right. Now you know why I’m so worried about you. You represent our best hope of success in this war against terror. You’ve been doing all right with the operational aspects of being in the Intelligence 100, but your mind hasn’t been engaged in the bigger picture. If you don’t get yourself together, Jack and the others are going to have to replace you,” Larry said.

“Oh,” Mike said.

Larry was silent for a minute and then said, “I would have liked to have known you better. I think we could have been friends. It’s a shame that things worked out this way.”

“Yes, it’s.”

A few days after his meeting with Larry, Mike stood in the control room of a weapons testing area at Sandia Laboratories. The technician was busy preparing the equipment that would measure projectile velocities achieved using the captured rail gun. The chief scientist came over to Mike and said, “It’s good to see you again. Your last visit created a bit of excitement around here.”

“It’s good to be back,” Mike said still feeling a bit stiff from his flight out. He had flown there on a military transport rather than a civilian airline on this trip. The civilian airlines were viewed as too dangerous.

“They are about ready to test the new weapon. It’s much cruder than the last one.”

Nodding his head, Mike said, “It doesn’t look very powerful.”

“Those aluminum foil and Mylar capacitors can pack a bit of a punch,” the scientist said while gesturing to the homemade capacitors. The terrorists had been using the power supply of an arc welder to charge the capacitors.

“How did they manage to penetrate the armor on the APCs?” Mike asked.

The scientist tossed a small projectile to Mike. Mike looked at it rather surprised by the light weight and thin construction of the projectile. Looking up, he asked, “What’s this?”

“That is what they were firing at the APCs. It works on the same principle that allows a piece of hay to penetrate through a telephone pole. I’m sure you’ve seen the demonstration using a straw and a potato. It cuts through a very small circular section of the armor and then pushes the resulting plug into the tank.”

“Nasty,” Mike said looking it over a little more carefully.