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"Mr. Rapp," said McClellan in a condescending tone, "you're very good at your job, but you're eight thousand miles away. I don't think you have a very good handle on the situation here in Washington. Now, Mr. President, we have rehearsed this "
"Secretary McClellan," interrupted Rapp, "You're sitting in a damn blast-proof bunker under a mountain two hours outside of Washington." Rapp's bold rebuke took everyone aback. "So don't start telling me you have a better handle on the situation. The situation in Washington is the same as it is every Wednesday morning fifty-two weeks a year. People are going to get up and go to work, and if you try to lock down any of these ports you're going to create a nationwide panic, which is going to, a) interfere with the NEST people trying to find this thing, and b) alert the terrorists that we're onto them."
"Mr. President, if I may." It was Paul Reimer, the former SEAL team commander who ran the Nuclear Emergency Support Teams. "I couldn't agree with Mitch more strongly. Any type of lockdown will only hinder the search."
"Excuse me, everyone." It was General Flood. "The Coast Guard has just verified the location of the four high interest vessels." Flood was reading from a sheet of paper. "The one headed for Miami and the one headed for New York are still out at sea and aren't expected into port until this afternoon." Flood studied the information. "The vessel destined for Baltimore just entered the Chesapeake and," he looked up with a grim expression, "the fourth vessel is at the docks in Charleston."
* * *
Thirty-Seven
In the mayhem that followed the news that the vessel was already docked in Charleston, lots of important people with fancy titles digressed into a free-for-all about what should be done. Mitch Rapp was all but forgotten as the cabinet-level officials forcefully stated their opinions. Fortunately, two individuals with much lower profiles knew what to do, and given the bedlam around them, didn't bother getting approval to act. The first was Skip McMahon, who was sitting in the FBI's Counterterrorism Watch Center.
McMahon turned to one of his deputies and told them to get the Charleston port captain on the line immediately. He then called Dick Schoyer, the special agent in charge of the FBI's Columbia, South Carolina, field office. Schoyer and several of his agents were already on their way to Charleston, an hour and a half from Columbia. Their plan was to meet one of Reimer's RAP Teams that was coming up from the Department of Energy's Savannah River Site to help sweep the port. The good news was their sweep would no longer be random.
McMahon gave Schoyer very explicit instructions on how to deploy his people. By the time he'd finished with Schoyer the harbor master was on the line. McMahon confirmed that the Liberian container vesselMadagascar was in fact docked, and further learned that she was due to begin off-loading her cargo shortly. Without getting into details, McMahon told the man that he should expect to see Special Agent Schoyer standing in his office in approximately twenty minutes. Until then the port captain was to under no circumstance allow a single container to be taken off the ship.
The second person to act was Paul Reimer. Technically speaking he was not supposed to deploy one of his Search Response Teams unless he received actionable intelligence from the National Security Council. Reimer had been doing this long enough to know actionable intelligence when he saw it, and he wasn't about to wait for the egos to stop their posturing. The scientists and technicians from the Savannah River Site were still gathering their equipment, and once they were done with that it would take them at least an hour and a half to get to the port.
There was a better option. Reimer's top Search Response Team was sitting on the Tarmac at Andrews Air Force Base in a Gulfstream III ready to go. He called Debbie Hanousek, the senior energy official leading the team, and gave her orders to take off for Charleston Air Force Base immediately. With priority clearance she and her six-person team would be in Charleston in less than an hour.
Back at Site R, Kennedy got the president's attention and whispered something in his ear. When she was done the president called for order and then said, "General Flood, will the navy or coast guard have any problem interdicting the two vessels that are still at sea?"
"No problem at all, sir."
"What about the ship in the Chesapeake? Any ideas?"
Flood quickly conversed with someone off camera and then said, "This intel is being fed to SEAL Team Six as we speak. They're already on alert status down in Little Creek. They can hit the ship and be in control of it before the crew even knows they're on board."
"Are they equipped to handle a nuke?" asked the Secretary of Homeland Security.
"Yes. They're equipped and trained to detect and disable any WMD."
"Have them ready to go as soon as possible, General," said Hayes.
"Yes, sir."
The president began searching the screens for the director of the FBI. "Brian, what's the plan for Charleston?"
"Boss, if I may." It was Skip McMahon asking Roach for permission to field the question. "Mr. President, I just got off the phone with the port captain down in Charleston. The ship we're interested in is theMadagascar. I told the port captain that not a single container is to be offloaded until he hears back from me. In addition our special agent in charge of the Columbia office is already on his way to the port with a team of agents. A Department of Energy team is also on its way from the Savannah River Site."
"Correction," said Reimer. "I'm also sending my top search response team. They're leaving Andrews as we speak, and should be there in just under an hour."
"An hour?" asked the president's chief of staff. "A lot can happen in an hour."
"Ma'am," said Reimer with one eyebrow raised in a disapproving frown. "It'll take them half the morning to unload that ship."
"Mr. President," said Secretary McClellan, "We have a DHS Fly Away team ready to go down there and supervise the entire operation. We can have an on-site command post set up in two hours."
Rapp wanted to scream. This entire thing was going to turn into a circus. He desperately wished he was in the room with the president so he could state his case more forcefully. Other than screaming, he had only one other option right now. In an ominous voice Rapp said, "Mr. President, there's something else I haven't told you."
Everyone fell silent almost immediately. "We believe Mustafa al-Yamani, one of the chief architects behind the African embassy bombings, the Cole, and 9/11, entered the U.S. yesterday evening, possibly somewhere along the Florida coast. He came to America in order to personally direct the attack. We're finding evidence that points to multiple cells within the U.S. Financial transfers, e-mails, airline reservations, passport applications for at least a dozen countries we've just barely scratched the surface."
"What's your point?" asked the president's chief of staff.
"It's this let's take a step back and gather ourselves. We have a good handle on these four ships, but there are bills of lading for thirteen other ships that we haven't even begun tracking. There are an undetermined number of terrorist cells operating in the U.S., we have missing Pakistani nuclear scientists, we have one of al-Qaeda's top lieutenants entering the country, and most importantly the terrorists have no idea we're on to them."
"What do you suggest we do?"
