From a thousand yards away, Will Robie, himself a very patient man, lowered his long-range optics. He smiled and set off to deliver the message.
Will Robie and Jessica Reel have been assigned to work together on a new mission—one that may be more dangerous than anything they’ve ever faced before…
A preview of David Baldacci’s explosive new thriller, The Target, follows.
The men could not have looked more tense. It was as though the weight of the world rested on their shoulders.
Actually, it did.
The president of the United States sat at the end of the small table. They were in the White House Situation Room complex in the basement of the West Wing. Sometimes referred to as the “Woodshed,” the complex had been originated under President Kennedy after the Bay of Pigs fiasco. Kennedy no longer thought he could trust the military and wanted his own intelligence overseers who would parse the reports coming in from the Pentagon. The Truman bowling alley had been sacrificed to build the complex, which had then undergone a major renovation in 2006.
During Kennedy’s era a single analyst from the CIA would man the Situation Room in an unbroken twenty-hour shift, sleeping there as well. Later, the place had been expanded to include the Department of Homeland Security and the White House chief of staff’s office. However, the National Security Council staff ran the complex. Five “Watch Teams” comprised of thirty or so carefully vetted personnel operated the Situation Room on a 24/7 basis. Its primary goal was to keep the president and his senior staff briefed each day on important issues and to allow for instant and secure communications anywhere in the world. It even had a secure link to Air Force One in the event the president was traveling.
The Situation Room itself was large, with space for thirty or more participants and a large video screen on the wall. Mahogany had been the wood surface of choice before the renovation. Now the walls were composed mainly of “whisper” materials.
But tonight the men were not in the main conference room. Nor were they in the president’s briefing room. They were in a small conference room that had two video screens on the wall and a row of world time clocks above. There were chairs for six people.
Only three of them were occupied.
The president’s seat allowed him to look directly at the video screens. To his right was Josh Potter, the national security advisor. To his left was Evan Tucker, head of the CIA.
That was all. The circle of need-to-know was miniscule. But there would be a fourth person joining them in a moment by secure video link. The regular staff in the Situation Room had been walled off from this meeting and the coming communication. There was only one person handling the transmission. And even that person would not be privy to what was said.
The VP would normally have been part of such a meeting. However, if what they were planning went awry, he might be taking over the top spot because the president could very well be impeached. They had to keep him out of the loop. It would be terrible for the country if the president had to leave office. It would be catastrophic if the VP were forced out too. The Constitution dictated that the top spot would then go to the Speaker of the House of Representatives. And no one wanted the head of what could very well be the most dysfunctional group in Washington to be suddenly running the country.
The president cleared his throat and said, “This could be momentous or it could be Armageddon.”
Potter nodded, as did Tucker. The president looked at the CIA head.
“This is rock solid, Evan?”
“Rock solid, sir. In fact, not to toot our horn, but this is the prize for nearly three years of intelligence work with our British friends under the most difficult conditions imaginable. It has, frankly, never been done before.”
The president nodded and looked at the clocks above the screens. He checked his watch against them and made a small adjustment to his own timepiece. It looked as though he had aged five years in the last five minutes. All American presidents had to make many gut-wrenching decisions. In many ways, the demands of the position were simply beyond the ability of a mere mortal to carry them out. But it was one person’s job and that one person had to act.
He let out a long breath and said, “This had better work.”
Potter said, “Agreed, sir.”
“It will work,” insisted Tucker. “And the world will be much better for it.” He added, “I have a professional bucket list, sir, and this is number two on it, right behind Iran. And in some ways, it should be number one on my list.”
Potter said, “Because of the nukes.”
“Of course,” said Tucker. “Iran wants nukes. These assholes already have them. With delivery capabilities that are inching closer and closer to our mainland. Now, if we pull this off, believe me, Tehran will sit up and take notice. Maybe we kill two birds with one stone.”
The president put up a hand. “I know the story, Evan. I’ve read all the briefings. I know what hangs in the balance.”
The screen flickered and a voice came over the speaker system embedded in the wall. “Mr. President, the transmission is ready.”
The president unscrewed the top of a water bottle sitting in front of him and took a long drink. He put the bottle back down. “Do it,” he said curtly.
The screen flickered once more and then came fully to life. They were staring at a man short in stature, in his sixties, with a tanned face, deeply lined. There was a rim of white near his hairline where the cap he normally wore helped to block the sun. But he was not in uniform now. He was dressed in a gray tunic with a high, stiff collar.
He stared directly at them.
Evan Tucker said, “Thank you for agreeing to communicate with us tonight, General Pak.”
Pak nodded and said, in halting but clearly enunciated English, “It is good to meet, face-to-face, as it were.” He smiled, showing off highly polished veneers.
The president attempted to smile back, but his heart was not in it. He knew that Pak would lose his life if exposed.
“We appreciate the level of cooperation received,” said the president.
Pak nodded. “Our goals are the same, Mr. President. No more axis of evil nomenclature. Freedom and being a productive member of the international community—that is the goal. For too long we have been isolated. It is time for us to take our seat at the world’s table. We owe it to our people.”
Tucker said encouragingly, “Those are truly inspirational words, General Pak.”
“Details are progressing nicely,” said Pak. “I hope to be able to report to you soon that they are complete. Then you can commence your part in this. Do you have operatives in mind? You must send the best you have. Even with my help, the target is a very tough one, as you are well aware.”
The president glanced at Tucker and then back at Pak. “We do, General. Our best. We would send nothing less for something of this magnitude.”
“Very wise. Neither would I, Mr. President.” Pak held up a single finger. “This will be the number of opportunities we will have. No more, no less.”
Potter said, “And we are sure of both the intelligence and the support?”
“Absolutely sure. We have shared that with your people and they have confirmed the same.”
Potter glanced at Tucker, who nodded.
“If it is discovered…” said Pak. They all became riveted on him. “If it becomes discovered,” said Pak again, “I cannot impress upon each of you enough how calamitous the consequences will be. I will surely lose my life. And America, your loss will be far greater.”
He looked the president directly in the eye and took a few moments to compose his words carefully.
“It is why I asked for this video conference, Mr. President. I will be sacrificing not only my life, but the lives of my family as well. That is the way here, you see. So, I need your complete and absolute assurance that if we move forward, we do so together and united, no matter what might happen. I need you to look me in the eye and tell me this is so.”
The blood seemed to drain from the face of the president. He had made many important decisions during his term, but none so stressful or potentially momentous as this one.
He didn’t look at either Potter or Tucker before answering. He kept his gaze on Pak. “You have my word,” he said in a strong, clear voice.