The black sedan pulled up within moments of Derrick’s arrival, parking just outside the runway security fence. The two darkly dressed men watched as the SAD Director entered the open doorway to the private jet, closing it behind him.
The man in the passenger seat picked up and pointed a small satellite-dish-looking sound amplifier out the car window in the direction of the aircraft. The agent wore headphones that helped him make adjustments while his partner also listened with ear buds connected to the recording device, which sat between the two men.
----------
Victor half rose from his seat and gave a bob of his head in greeting. “Thank you for accepting my invitation, Director Mitchum.”
Derrick studied Magnason with a quick keen glance from his piercing blue eyes
The businessperson shifted back into the chair, "Please take a seat," motioning with his hand to one of two leather chairs on the opposite side of a desk.
“Would you like something to drink?"
"No, I'm fine," replied Derrick as he visually studied the man while asking himself, What was his motivation in this?
Victor grinned inwardly as he watched the Director attempt to size him up. “So, Director Mitchum, do I need to explain who I am, or do you already know?"
“I recognize enough, Dr. Magnason. Someone in your position doesn’t strike me as the type to play around with state secrets.”
“Nor, make unwarranted claims,” added the MEI CEO.
“True, now that I’m here, you need to explain what you said over the phone.”
Victor's phone call to Senator Robert Burton had been fortuitous; much of the Senator’s time in Congress was spent on the National Security Committee where the Senator had on several occasions spoken one-on-one with Director Mitchum. Senator Burton had been clear with the executive on one point: Director Mitchum was not the kind of person to take things lying down. Victor recognized, however, that would only be true if the Director knew what was headed his way.
“What is this all about, Dr. Magnason?”
The executive picked up a folder in the seat next to him and handed it to Derrick. “Take a look at these.”
It was a plain manila folder with a stack of photocopies inside. Derrick glanced at the first copy on the top, instantly recognizing the Presidential Seal and the words “Classified” emblazoned on it. The Director took only a summary look at the first few copies.
Concern was etched on Derrick’s face. “Where did you get these?”
“There is someone going by the name of Mr. Smith who's selling those secret documents to the media.”
“The media?” Why the hell would they be involved in this?
“I only know that World News Network has them in their possession, for the moment.”
Derrick peered at the first photocopy, again. That document carried a ‘Level-10’ security classification, as did all direct orders from the President. No one save a Deputy Director, or higher would have access to those classified documents.
“How are you coming across this intelligence?”
“I can't disclose my source just at the moment, but let me just say it is not all that has been uncovered."
“Where do you fit in all this?” asked Derrick, trying to put the pieces together.
“Before I answer your question, there’s something else that might shed light on what you’re up against.”
Victor pulled the article from his sweater pocket and flattened it out on his knee before handing it to Derrick.
"My source also gave me this.”
Derrick looked: it was from WNN, and the headline read, “McKinley Commits War Crimes.”
As Derrick scanned the contents of the article his jaw dropped. It had his name and that of his organization sprinkled throughout, and complete details of some of the SAD missions. It was proof WNN would be running the article within the next several days.
“Director, it appears you and your organization are being set up.”
For Derrick, the pieces had all come together! The interview with the President, the odd behavior and line of questioning: the President and Nelson Frank were a part of this. The two were in bed with one another, the media, the President and his administration, and at that moment, Derrick and his people were in their crosshairs.
The CEO seemed to be aware, and by his expression a light bulb had gone off.
“What is it you want out of this, Dr. Magnason?”
“Have you heard about my new media company, MENN?”
“Yes, a little.”
“Well, I’d like to publish your side of the story.”
“My side?”
“Yes, expose Mr. Smith and get your side of the story out, before it’s too late. Preferably before that WNN headline hits the newsstands.”
Derrick’s mind began to race, from what he just read in the WNN article. It did not mention missions carried out under previous administrations, only McKinley’s. That fact alone should blow the lid off the whole farce.
“Look Dr. Magnason, I appreciate what you’re saying, but I have an oath of secrecy I must uphold.”
The CEO was unshaken by the response.
“Director Mitchum, I have just two questions that I think will make my point.”
“Go ahead.”
“Have previous US Presidents conducted themselves in much the same way that McKinley is being portrayed in that WNN news story?”
“Yes,” replied Derrick, “what’s your point?”
“Do you really imagine that’s going to make any difference with the party now running the show in Washington? My guess is they won’t give a damn, one way, or another. This is a ‘witch hunt’ and you and the former President will be center stage, if they get their way.”
“Okay, I understand your point. What’s the second question?”
Victor smiled a cold smile when he responded. “Is the media going to tell the public the truth about you, or will they support those behind the charade?”
----------
AZERBAIJAN PROVINCE, IRAN - Sweating profusely despite the still cool morning air, the SAD officers approached the closing escape route as dawn approached. Karl toggled off the LED display of the GPS to concentrate on the rough ground underfoot. As the Black Angel leader plodded on, Karl became conscious of a sort of rage followed by the strange emotion of fear. Karl was able to resist the emotion thanks to the hard shell he developed during years of combat.
He thought of the officer that died for his country. The same thing could happen to the entire team. The circling buzzards they had seen two days before had given away the location of the firefight and Officer Joe Bogart’s body.
Hunter was in the lead, following the path of a gully strewn with rocks when the officer stumbled. His fall sent some rocks falling, which set off an antipersonnel mine. Everyone had seen the officer fall, followed shortly by an explosion that sent shrapnel flying in all directions.
Karl swallowed and told himself to relax. “Everyone check your footing. They’ve mined our approach.”
Upon self-examination, the dazed officer discovered he only suffered bruises and a few lacerations.
Unfortunately, mines had become quite sophisticated. Along with killing, or maiming victims, some of the newer models had seismic sensors. Made to pick up on the vibration of a man’s footsteps, some models were spring-loaded and would jump into the air before exploding. Nearly all modern mines could be air-dropped, remotely armed, and set off at the touch of a button.
Karl commented, “Hunter, you are one lucky guy. Are you sure you’re okay?”
Hunter replied, “Just a little bruised is all, Karl.”
“Okay everyone, take five. I’m going to scout the area to see how bad a position we're in.”
It did not take long before Karl spotted a mine, then one more and another. Karl knew the enemy could remotely set off some, or all, of this class of mines he was seeing. His hunch was that they walked into a minefield laid by Hin
d helicopters he had seen over the past few days. This was bad news in view of the fact it suggested the Quds Force might be aware of where he and his team were. The racket of the explosion would have given their position away!
Karl felt the blood chill in his veins as he returned to the team speaking quietly “Everyone form up in single file order. We need to get out of here as quickly as we can. Do it quietly.”
Reversing track and detouring a kilometer further out of the way cost them valuable time. The landscape also opened up into a flat, barren desert floor.
----------
“Okay, he’s coming out,” said the FBI Agent as he pulled the amplifier back into the car. The driver pulled a high-resolution camera from the seat and focused on the cabin door. A tall, dark silhouette of a man darkened the lit doorway for a moment, then made his way down the stairs to a parked car.
Click...click...click.
“Okay, I’ve got him,” said the other agent. “Let the White House know, Director Mitchum is planning to talk.”
----------
Driving back to the SAD operations, Derrick’s cellphone began to vibrate in his coat pocket.
What now, Derrick thought.
“Director Mitchum.”
A whispering man's voice responded, “Director, this is Officer Timm."
"Timm, I can barely hear you...speak up, man!"
"I can't...I'm calling to give you a heads up, we are being shut down.”
Derrick was not sure he heard Timm right. “Did you say shut down?”
“Yes, Director.”
“By who?”
“Department of Justice, sir. Justice Agents showed up minutes ago and started escorting everyone out under armed guard."
Derrick could hear someone in the background banging on what could have been a stall door of the lavatory followed by, “Officer Timm, it’s time to go.”
“They’re looking for you, sir. What should I tell them?”
Derrick replied matter of factly, “Tell them the truth, Officer Timm, I’m out of the office."
He added, "Thanks for the alert son.”
Magnason had been right: the plot involved both the media and the new administration. Nothing else could explain the facts.
The SAD Director disconnected the call and glanced at his watch: 8:31 A.M., 2:12 P.M. Baghdad time. Karl's team would still be in hiding, waiting for the veil of darkness. Derrick understood only one thing for sure, he was not going to go back to the Operations Center just to be handcuffed on some trumped up charges, not while he had a team in danger.
So be it. The decision has been made. First thing, get Karl and his team back into Iraq safely. Second, go on record and expose their plot before it picked up steam. Be damned with the job, I’m not going to let one more politician kill my boys.
Derrick pulled over into a rest area. The backdoor number to the CIA was one the Director had memorized. Derrick keyed in the phone number and a male operator’s voice came on the line, “Officer Peter Galleon, your authorization?”
“Derrick, authorization Alpha, Alpha, One-Niner, Bravo, Zulu.”
“Authorization confirmed, how can I help you, Director Mitchum?”
“Patch me through to Deputy Assistant, Spencer Douglas.”
“One moment, sir.”
There was a momentary pause before the operator came back on the line. “Director Mitchum, I’m sending you to Deputy Assistant Douglas’ assistant.”
“Very good, son.”
“This is Special Assistant, Derrick Cellon. You’re trying to reach Deputy Assistant Douglas? Director Mitchum, can I give him some idea what this is regarding.”
“No, just tell him it's me and it's urgent.”
Spencer (Spence) R. Douglas was CIA Deputy Director for the Middle East. Derrick had known Spence since his days in Delta Force when they both served together during the First Gulf War. That was now a long time past, but the bond between the two men had at no time broken; each silently recognized they could count on the other to cover his back.
“Hold on one second, sir.” There was a momentary pause.
Derrick recognized Spence Douglas’ voice immediately and it had a note of concern in it.
“What is going on? I just found out you’re being shut down by Justice!"
“Spence, it’s best if you didn’t know anything for the moment. I need a favor. I need to get into Iraq...undercover.”
“Can you give me some idea of why I’m going to jeopardize my career?”
“I’ve got a team in harm’s way, the Martinez administration is the reason.”
Nothing else needed to be said; Spence understood what that meant and what had to be done.
“Let me place a call. What number can I reach you at?”
“772-882-2211.”
“Okay, I’ll be back with you shortly.”
Derrick sat quietly for a couple of minutes, thinking over recent events and making an effort to put together the pieces, when his cellphone began to vibrate.
“Yes, this is Mitchum.”
“There's a transport waiting for you up at JBA (Joint Base Andrews). My man will be at Service Gate B3. He'll take you in from there. Do you need anything else?"
“Yes, I’ve got a man in Baghdad, Allen Sinatra. I need him to know I’m coming and where I will be arriving.”
“Consider it done. What else?”
“I don’t suppose your man could scrounge me up some desert fatigues?”
"Yes, of course. I’ll have some hot chow waiting for you as well. Derrick, there’s one other thing you should be aware of.”
“What’s that?’
“Justice has issued an arrest warrant for you."
“Well, doesn’t that just beat the band.” There was heavy sarcasm in his reply.
“Do you want to know the charge?”
“It wouldn’t be war crimes would it?”
“How did you find out?”
“Just a lucky guess.”
“How deep in kimchee are you, Derrick?”
“I don’t have any idea, yet.”
“What else do you need?”
“Just make sure Officer Sinatra knows I’m coming. I’ll take care of everything else.”
“Okay, Director Mitchum, you’ve got my personal cellphone number if you need me.”
“I hope I won’t have to use it.”
“Good luck, Derrick.”
“Thanks, Spence.” The connection went dead.
Derrick thought for a moment, Things are going a bit too smoothly so far, as he looked around the parking lot. Everyone appears harmless, so far.
Well, one thing is working in my favor, whoever was running the show for Justice does not appear to be from the intelligence business; otherwise I’d already be in custody.
The Director took one more quick look around and that’s when Derrick noticed a dark sedan had arrived and was parked within sight of his automobile. Inside were two men in business suits.
So, I do have a tail, after all.
----------
The direct line to the President was answered by another man’s voice.
“This is Director Mitchum, I need to speak with the President. It’s urgent.”
"Director Mitchum, this is Chief of Staff, Nelson Frank. How is it that you've evaded the Justice Agents? You are to turn yourself in to security this instance."
"In good time Nelson, I need to have a word with the President."
“Mr. Mitchum, the President has relieved you of your command, I'm afraid you're in no position to make any demands."
Relieved of command! Derrick noticed a bit of sarcasm in the Chief of Staff’s voice.
“On what charge?”
“I repeat, you're not in any position to ask questions, Mr. Mitchum!”
“Look Nelson, that’s all fine and good, but I've got men in harm’s way. Shutting down my operations in the middle of a dangerous mission will jeopardize their
lives. I must insist on speaking with the President; these orders of his need rescinding, at least temporarily.”
"What do you mean, the President's orders?"
Derrick detected a bit of the unexpected in the Chief of Staff's tone. Now was the time to confirm his suspicions.
"Nelson, you don't have to play dumb with me! I'm aware that you, the President and the media are working on this together, now I suggest you put the President on the line."
There was a long pause from the Chief of Staff. "Okay, where can you be reached?"
"He has my number. Tell him to call or..."
Nelson snapped, "Or else what!"
Derrick had heard enough; Nelson unwittingly confirmed his suspicions. "I will be waiting for the President's phone call."
Derrick disconnected the connection, and hesitated a moment in thought. Several minutes later, the familiar voice of President McKinley answered on the fourth ring.
“President McKinley, this is Derrick Mitchum.”
"Derrick, did you get your men out of harm’s way?"
“No Mr. President, not yet, but there is something else.”
The former President listened in silence as Derrick explained recent events. When the SAD Director finished, the line remained silent.
"Derrick, if what you are saying is true, this administration has crossed the line."
"Unfortunately, it is all true."
"Well, I'm certain of one thing, with Martinez's control over Justice, things could get ugly no matter what facts you have.” The President's tone became more serious, "Derrick, I got you into this fix, I should have never sent your men on that mission...there was not enough time. Now that Martinez is running things, well, I’m not confident of what help I can send your way. This evidence you say you’re getting could prove to be the card you need to get out of the jam.”
“I’m not so confident, Mr. President. We both know I can’t go to the media, they’re in this affair up to their eyeballs.”
“Yes, I realize that. Do you have any ideas?”
“Yes, Mr. President, this is likely the last time we will speak until this whole thing is cleared up. Don’t be surprised by what you read in the papers. Likewise, don’t believe what they say.”
"Derrick, I am aware of your resourcefulness in tight spots. You have some very good connections in Washington and I’d recommend you avail yourself of them. I’ll see what I can do on my end. Is there a number where you can be reached?"
Derrick gave President McKinley the number to the overseas shell company.
"Thank you for the heads up, Derrick."
"Good luck, Mr. President."
“Good luck, Director Mitchum.”
SAVING HIS TEAM