Anderson sat in the FBI’s command centre, coffee in hand, working hard to convince Flores that – despite him mishandling Aldie – the principle behind his search for McDowell and Carter was still valid. He might have over-exaggerated the case somewhat, but he remained convinced that their base was hidden somewhere not too far way. Public dissatisfaction with Cavanagh was building steadily and even though the anticipated large-scale protests hadn’t yet happened, they could only be days away.
There had been several more incidents of voters being prevented from casting their votes: Chicago, Minneapolis and San Francisco – no pattern, and nothing that significant, a few hundred votes delayed at worst. It would still be a nervous two days before the polling stations could finally shut their doors, the Republicans now expected to retake control of both the Senate and House of Representatives. It just seemed odd to Anderson to have to wait another eight weeks before such changes took effect, especially with a new Vice-President and a Secretary of State to be confirmed.
But then America seemed to do a lot of things in an odd way. The FBI wasn’t immune, chasing after Anderson one minute then using him as an ‘expert’ adviser the next. Anderson’s understanding of how McDowell and his colleagues operated came less from his own personal experience and more from detailed research into Golubeva’s rise to power. McDowell had been learning his trade then but he had obviously been an avid student, adapting the strategy to suit America’s unique circumstances.
“I presume you’ve done your own business and building checks?” pressed Anderson, not willing to give up just yet.
Flores almost looked embarrassed, “Not using your specific criteria. You’ve no proof he’s in Virginia; he could be anywhere within a thousand miles.” Flores knew he was being defensive but it wasn’t quite as simple as Anderson supposed. He had tended to downplay Anderson’s fears of an inside source, but the FBI’s lack of success in finding McDowell might well indicate that he was correct. If Hanson was a typical example, then there were likely to be other loyal Americans who truly believed they were doing the right thing, somehow deluded into helping what was now regarded as a conspiracy against the President and his Administration.
“McDowell seems to have far more limited manpower than was the case with Russia,” said Anderson, trying to sound like he knew what he was talking about. “I just don’t believe he would want to split what resources he has a thousand miles apart. Washington will eventually become the main focus; McDowell has to be based no further north than Baltimore, maybe as far as Fredericksburg to the south. His job is only half-done; surely it’s worth a shot?”
“If I assume you’re right,” Flores murmured thoughtfully, well able to follow Anderson’s logic. “Then what next? Repeat your search but with a different set of criteria?”
“We use the same criteria,” said Anderson, “but extend the search area to the whole of Virginia and Maryland.”
Flores remained unconvinced but there seemed little harm in doing as Anderson suggested – after all, the FBI was actively pursuing other similarly implausible leads.
“We’ll add in Delaware,” Flores said, mind made up. “New Jersey if we have to.” He started to rap out orders, keen to make a start; only this time, just to be sure, he’d bypass the main FBI network.
Anderson had started with several thousand possible sites; now they were likely to be heading into the tens of thousands.