Fracture Event: An Espionage Disaster Thriller by W. Michael Gear & Kathleen O'Neal Gear

Author:W. Michael Gear & Kathleen O'Neal Gear [Gear, W. Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781647346447
Publisher: Wolfpack Publishing
Published: 2021-08-23T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-Seven

The car Garcia had sent took Skip only as far as the White House. Once more he declared his weapon and surrendered his keys, flashlight, Leatherman, and knife before passing through the detectors. He didn’t get to inspect his paintings or order a cheeseburger. The Marine guard ushered him straight to the basement situation room where he’d observed the meeting the afternoon before.

Coffee and doughnuts were provided and he munched them as he waited while the guard stood “at ease” in the back of the room.

The first to enter was Bob Mason, followed by Frank Card. After introductions, Skip answered the questions he could. Then, a prickly Monica Scalia charged in, fire in her eyes.

“How the hell did you let it happen?” she demanded.

“Ma’am,” Skip replied, summoning battle-field discipline, “I was officially relieved by Ms. Randall. She left Agent Gallagher in charge.”

“Back off, Monica,” the Secretary of State called as he walked into the room. “I’ve just had a talk with Amy Randall. This is your mess, now.”

Skip raised his hands, aware that Mason and Stark were watching. “With all due respect, it’s too late for blame. The people who took Dr. French were outstanding professionals. They’d advanced the St. Regis, done their homework, and used the arrival of the FBI brilliantly.”

“Used us?” Scalia barked.

“Used you.” Skip perched on the table. “Gallagher’s team had no idea what they were getting into. Guard a bunch of professors? From what? To them it must have seemed like plush duty. Hang out in a Five-Star hotel and keep unauthorized people off the sixth floor. They had no familiarity with hotel staff or procedures and no established operational instructions on threat detection or identification.”

Monica Scalia walked over to the coffee pot, still seething.

“The question is,” Bob Mason said, “who took Dr. French?”

Skip slipped his butt off the table and took his seat. “Had to be ECSITE. Zoakalski had Mark Schott working on the model, probably making progress, until he was snatched in Garmisch. It doesn’t do for a man with Zoakalski’s reputation to let someone snatch a resource like Schott from under his nose. He has to prove to the world that he’s not taking it lying down, and he has to have a new scientist to replace Dr. Schott.”

“So he grabs French right out from under the FBI,” Card agreed. “Brassy.”

Bill Garcia strode in with a file under his arm. Two men in suits followed him. One walked over to one of the empty wall corrals. He seated himself and began to tap on a keyboard.

Scalia asked, “What about the organization that took Schott? This mysterious third party? The Chinese or whoever they are.”

The DCI was staring at the computer screen when he said, “Things continue to get more interesting. John? Got it?”

“Coming up now, sir.”

The image that formed on the screen appeared to be a white-stuccoed mountain villa. From the vegetation and angle of sunlight, Skip judged it to be a southern exposure somewhere in Italy. Smoke rolled out of the windows and doors; a fire company kept pumping water into the rambling main structure.

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