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Next, the steward gave the president his halved grapefruit and put the other half in front of Schwartz, saying, “Eat this. I’m going to get you some pancakes too, and see if we can put some meat on your bones.” The steward then winked at the president. Carl had worked in the White House for more than twenty years and was an expert at ribbing even the most powerful of Washington insiders.
With his hands clasped in front of his waist, Carl bent forward and, in a much more friendly tone than the one he had used with the national security adviser, asked, “May I get you anything to eat, miss?”
“No, thank you. I’m fine.” Kennedy wrapped her hands around the warm coffee mug.
The steward turned to President Hayes. “If you need anything more, please ring.”
“I will. Thank you, Carl.” The president watched the steward leave and then leaned back. Looking to Kennedy, he said, “I got your message last night. I’m glad to hear everything went well.”
“Yes. So far so good.” Kennedy brought her coffee up to her lips and took a small sip.
“Bill, how much do you know about last night’s activities?” asked the president.
Schwartz dumped a teaspoon of sugar onto his moist grapefruit and said, “Irene filled me in on the basics when I got in last night.”
“What time was that?”
“Just after midnight.”
The president looked to Kennedy. “Have we discovered anything yet?”
“Our man and Harut left Saudi Arabia around two this morning. They are supposed to touch down at Ramstein Air Force Base in Germany”—Kennedy looked at her watch and did the calculation—“in about thirty minutes. There they will be met by a team of specialists who will board the plane and start to interrogate Harut while airborne for Andrews.”
The president thought about asking her what she meant by the term “specialists,” but decided he was better off not knowing. “When can we expect some answers?”
“It’s hard to tell. Sometimes the information is extracted easily, but the drugs don’t always work the same way on everyone. There are certain precautions we need to take to make sure he isn’t lying.” Kennedy paused. Stansfield had told her from day one to always be on the cautious side. Especially when dealing with politicians. She looked to NSA Schwartz and then back at President Hayes. “We need to be thorough.”
Hayes stacked the newspapers, one on top of each other, off to the side. “Are we talking hours or days?”
“We will start getting information out of him within minutes. Depending on what he knows and what kind of health he’s in, we should have some answers within an hour. But let me caution you that it will take weeks to fully interrogate and debrief him.”
“But our priority here is to find out if, when, and where they are planning this attack in Washington.”
“Yes.” Kennedy nodded.
Hayes looked to Schwartz, whose job it was to coordinate the efforts of all the intelligence agencies. “I want this to receive top priority, and I want a full briefing on the interrogation.”
Kennedy nodded. “Yes, Mr. President.”
Washington, D.C.
TWO MILES EAST of the White House a green-and-white truck backed up to the entrance of a dilapidated warehouse and stopped. Plastered in large white letters across the green side of the cargo area were the words “White Knight Linen Service.” Two men in blue coveralls came out of the warehouse and hefted the rusting garage door up, its casters screeching as metal scraped on metal. The driver put the truck in reverse, and the two men guided the boxy vehicle through the narrow door with hand signals. When all of the truck was inside, the door was closed.
A hazy light filtered through the dirty windows near the roof of the building. Four men approached the rear of the truck, and a ramp was secured to the fender. The men began to unload the truck’s canvas laundry baskets and boxes of fresh linen. After about five minutes the vehicle’s cargo area was empty.
From an elevated glass office a man in green fatigues appeared. His closely trimmed beard grew from the top of his cheekbones down into his collar, and his hands and forearms were covered with thick black hair. In contrast to the rest of his body, the top of his head was bald—a shiny bronze oasis of smooth skin bordered by a horseshoe of black hair. Although short in stature, Muammar Bengazi was obviously strong.
Gripping the metal railing with his thick fingers, Bengazi watched his men work. They had come too far to make any mistakes now. Everything had to be done perfectly from this point forward. They had been given a summary from their benefactor that detailed the exact layout of the building. Bengazi was told the report had been compiled by the KGB some twenty years earlier. More recently, one of his men had got inside the building and given them a more up-to-date summary.
Bengazi whistled, and his men looked up. From his perch, he pointed to three objects sitting under canvas tarps located in the far corner of the warehouse. He watched his men walk over and yank the tarps back. Underneath sat three Kawasaki all-terrain vehicles painted in a drab tanandgreen camouflage pattern. The small vehicles were used by hunters for their maneuverability and power. Around the back of each vehicle a Ushaped cargo rack was attached. The cargo racks were stacked with metal trunks that were tightly secured by black bungee cords.
One by one the men started the ATVs. The musty smell of the warehouse was soon replaced with that of gas and oil. A small trailer, also loaded with metal boxes, was hooked to one of the ATVs and backed up the ramp and into the truck. The other two ATVs followed and were backed in tightly.
Bengazi walked down the metal stairs from the office to the floor of the warehouse. He was surprisingly light on his feet for a man of such girth. He approached a bright yellow fork
lift, climbed into the driver’s seat, and started the engine. After the vehicle warmed up, Bengazi backed it carefully up the ramp and into the back of the truck. The forklift was missing its two metal forks that were normally positioned in front.
When Bengazi had the heavy piece of machinery exactly where he wanted it, he turned it off and climbed down. He jumped from the tailgate and moved off to the side. For the next five minutes he watched his men reload enough of the truck’s original cargo to conceal the forklift and ATVs. He walked from one side of the tailgate to the other, attempting to peer around and over the boxes and baskets. Satisfied with the job, he nodded to his men and checked his watch. They were on schedule.
