“There was only one thing she ever used the phone for,” Liz says. “Just one thing. She was using a burner phone and texting with another burner. Nina was communicating with our insider, Mr. President. She was text-messaging with our…our traitor.”
My blood goes cold. There was always a small part of me that wanted to believe that there was no traitor, that Nina and Augie had learned the code word “Dark Ages” some other way, that none of my people was capable of doing this.
“Tell me who, Liz,” I say, a tremble in my voice. “Who did it?”
“No names, sir. I just sent it.”
“I’ll read it and call you back.”
I end the call.
“Devin, Casey!” I call out. “I’m going into the communications room. The moment you’re ready, you call out to me.”
“Yes, sir.”
My phone beeps an instant later, a message from Liz. There is a document attached, which I open as I head into the communications room, Alex behind me.
The document displays as a transcript, the participants in the communication designated as either “Nina” or “U/C,” for “unknown caller”—I prefer “traitor” or “Judas” or “Benedict Arnold”—and broken down by date and time.
The first text message comes from the unknown caller on May 4. That was a Friday. That was the day after I returned from my European trip, the day after the news broke that the United States had thwarted an assassination attempt on Suliman Cindoruk and that the mother of a dead CIA operative was demanding answers.
I look at the first grouping of texts from May 4 and notice the location of the unknown caller:
1600 Pennsylvania Avenue
The text messages came from the White House. Whoever it is communicated from within the walls of the White House. It’s…unfathomable. I put that aside and start reading:
Friday, May 4
U/C: 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue
Nina: Location unknown
** All times Eastern Standard Time **
U/C (7:52 AM): I read your note, obviously. Who are you, and how do I know this is serious?
Nina (7:58 AM): U know I’m real. How else would I know the precise moment, down 2 the second, that the virus appeared on your Pentagon server?
Nina (8:29 AM): No response? U have nothing to say?
Nina (9:02 AM): U don’t believe me? Fine. Then watch your country go down in Instead of being hero, u can explain to the POTUS that u could have stopped this but didn’t. From hero to so sad!!
Nina (9:43 AM): Why would I lie about this? What do u have 2 lose? Why r u ignoring me??
I think back to the timing. We had a meeting of the national security team that morning. My inner circle, all in the White House.
Whoever this is was texting from that meeting.
I keep reading. Nina continues to pursue the unknown caller:
Nina (9:54 AM): I guess u don’t want to be the hero, then just bury head in sand and pretend like I don’t exist ???
Nina (9:59 AM):
Nina (10:09 AM): Maybe u will believe me after Toronto
Toronto. Right. That Friday was the day the Toronto subway system screeched to a halt, shut down entirely by a computer virus that we assumed was the work of the Sons of Jihad. It happened during the evening rush hour. Nina was texting about it that morning, before it happened. Just as she told me about the helicopter crash in Dubai before it happened.
So that explains how this came about, at least. I’ve been wondering how this whole thing began, how a cyberterrorist and a member of my national security team ever got acquainted in the first place. Nina initiated the conversation. She somehow got word to the Judas in our inner circle.
But whoever that insider is, why didn’t he or she just tell me right away? The moment that note was received, why not tell me about it? Why keep it a secret?
How differently this all could have turned out if the insider had just come to me at that point.
I scroll down. That’s it for May 4.
The next communication is the following day—Saturday, May 5, in the morning. Again, the unknown caller texting from the White House.
Smart, I realize. The traitor recognized that his or her location might be traced all the way down to the street address, to 1600 Pennsylvania, and made sure to be in the presence of other high-level security officials at that time. Hiding within the inner circle. Cautious. Smart.
I read:
Saturday, May 5
U/C: 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue
Nina: Location unknown
** All times Eastern Standard Time **
U/C (10:40 AM): So you’re serious. Is that what you’re going to do to our military systems, what you did to the Toronto subway last night?
Nina (10:58 AM): That times a million. I have your attn now!!
U/C (10:59 AM): Yes, I believe you now. You can stop this virus?
Nina (11:01 AM): Yes I can tell u how to stop it
U/C (11:02 AM): Telling me wouldn’t help. I don’t know enough about computers.
Nina (11:05 AM): U don’t need to know anything I will tell u what u need simple simple
U/C (11:24 AM): Then turn yourself in. Go to the nearest US embassy.
Nina (11:25 AM): And go straight to Gitmo? No thanx!!!
U/C (11:28 AM): Then just tell me how to stop the virus.
Nina (11:31 AM): Give up my leverage?? That’s the only reason u will give me amnesty. If I go first and tell u how to stop the virus, how do I know u will keep up your end of the deal?? No sorry that’s one thing I won’t do. Never
U/C (11:34 AM): Then I can’t help you. You have to do this yourself.
Nina (11:36 AM): Why can’t u help me?????
U/C (11:49 AM): Because I’m in trouble now. You told me about Toronto yesterday, before it happened, and I didn’t say anything or tell anyone.
Nina (11:51 AM): Why didn’t u tell anyone??
U/C (11:55 AM): I didn’t believe you. And have you read the news? The president is getting crucified just for calling Suliman. And here I am, texting with someone who works with him. I made a mistake. But I can’t do anything about that now.
But I believe you. Let me figure this out, ok? Just wait to hear from me, ok? Do we have time for that? When does the virus strike?
Nina (11:57 AM): In one week. I will give u til tmrw no longer
That’s the end of the Saturday, May 5, exchange. My mind is racing, trying to make sense of this. So this wasn’t some long-standing treasonous plan? It wasn’t blackmail. It wasn’t money. Just a mistake in judgment? One bad decision piled on top of another, and suddenly we’re in this mess?
The next text comes from our Benedict Arnold, again from the White House, the following morning, Sunday, May 6:
U/C (7:04 AM): I have an idea of how we can do this while keeping me out of it. Are you close to Paris?
Chapter
98
A white van, bearing the logo of Lee’s Boats and Docks, turns off the Virginia county highway onto a gravel road. Up ahead, a barrier has been erected with a sign attached to it that reads PRIVATE PROPERTY—NO TRESPASSING. Beyond it, two black SUVs are parked perpendicular to the road.
The driver of the van, who goes by Lojzik, stops the van and looks in the rearview mirror at the eight men in the rear compartment, all dressed in body armor. Four of them armed with AK-47s. The other four manning shoulder-launched assault weapons loaded with armor-penetrating rockets.
“If I take off my hat,” he says, reminding them of the signal.
Lojzik gets out of the car, looking the part of a lake guy, wearing a hat with a ripped visor, a flannel shirt, and torn jeans. He approaches the SUVs at the barricade, raising a hand as if posing a question.
“Hello?” he says. “You fellas know how I find County Road 20?”
No answer. The windows of the SUVs are tinted, so he can’t see inside.
“Anyone there?” he asks.
He asks again. And again. It’s what they thought: nobody’s occupying those SUVs. The Secret Service is spread too thin, especially with the other security now flying off in a Marine helicopter.
So Lojzik doesn’t remove his cap, and the gunners don’t spill out to fire their rockets at the convoy.
Good. They’ll need them for the cabin.
Lojzik returns to the car and nods at the men. “Looks all clear to the cabin,” he says. “Hold on.”
He drops the gear into Reverse and backs up to the end of the gravel road. Then he stops, puts the gear in Drive, and floors the gas pedal, hurtling the van toward the barricade.