End of Days (Pike Logan #16)(53)



Palmer opened the door and said, “It might not matter. Look, we’re hitting Keta’ib Hezbollah camps in Syria right now, and are leveraging the Iraqi government to put them on a leash inside Iraq. CTF 150 with the Eisenhower Carrier Strike Group is out, waiting on orders to hammer Iran. SOCOM is working up assault plans for decapitation strikes at the Natanz nuclear facility and inside Tehran.”

Wolffe couldn’t believe how fast things had progressed. He said, “What’s Iran’s position? What are they saying?”

“The usual bullshit. They have nothing to do with it, death to the Great Satan, any attempt at an attack will be the mother of all wars. Blah, blah, blah.”

They entered the Situation Room, finding a scrum of people around a long table, each of them engaged in separate conversations, the smell of stale coffee heavy in the air. Wolffe saw President Hannister at the head of the table talking to the secretary of state, and he realized it was heated. Things really were ramping up. Fortunately, Hannister had been in a crisis like this before. It wasn’t his first rodeo in the cauldron of a new Cuban Missile Crisis.

“Amanda, I get your position, but what the hell else can we sanction? Baby powder? We’ve already sanctioned every bit of their economy. More sanctions will just look like we’re not able to do anything else, and it will have no deterrence on their behavior whatsoever. I might as well just get on TV and call them mean words.”

She said, “I don’t feel a preemptive strike at this stage is prudent.”

Hannister said, “I don’t, either, but we have to set the conditions in case it becomes prudent.”

“Prudent for whom? The military?”

Wolffe saw Hannister’s face sour and knew that wasn’t a good choice of words. President Hannister said, “In case you haven’t been listening, it’s the military that’s been urging restraint. It’s the military demanding that we prove Iran is behind these killings.”

She started to reply and Hannister finally noticed him. He waved Wolffe forward.

Wolffe reached him, Palmer right behind. To Amanda Croft he said, “Ma’am,” then turned to the president. Hannister said, “I saw the report out of Bahrain. Anything you want to add? Anything new?”

“They were definitely Arabs, and they had a pretty good plan. It looks like they’d turned a panel van into a mobile torture studio. No fixed site to assault, no address for the authorities to track down. It was pretty smart. We think they intended to pull a William Buckley with the admiral, broadcasting his torture on the net. They had a fairly sophisticated setup in the back.”

“Why didn’t you capture the Bosnian?”

“It’s a little complicated. They used explosive devices for a diversion in the hotel next door. Pike focused on preventing the killing of the target instead of capture of the man he was tracking, who was up the street. He could have taken him without a problem, but he went for the saving of the commander.”

Hannister nodded, and Wolffe said, “By the way, how’d that work out? Is there any bleed from him about Pike’s crew being there?”

“No, thank God. He has no idea what happened. He escaped and only saw a bunch of men wearing masks. Nobody knows what happened, only that someone tried to kill the head of the United States Fifth Fleet, and that someone is probably Iran. The investigation from the monarchy is ongoing.”

Wolffe said, “Might be Iran. And they won’t find anything from our end. Pike’s already in the air.”

“Tell him I’m happy he was there. He wasn’t, and we’d be at war right now.”

Wolffe just nodded. Hannister continued, “And the Bosnian? How does he fit in? Who’s the paymaster for all this shit?”

“He’s not Bosnian. He’s Croatian. We don’t know why the message said he was a Bosniak Muslim, but we believe it’s because they were lying about being in the pay of Iran. It was a cover story. His passport says he’s a Catholic.”

Hannister rubbed his forehead and said, “What the hell. What is going on here? Who is he?”

“We’re still running that down. He’s not on any of our systems. I doubt he’s ever been to the United States. He hasn’t pinged, but he will eventually. He also had another identification which is going to be delicate.”

“What?”

“He had a diplomatic passport for a group called the Sovereign Military Hospitaller Order of St. John of Jerusalem, of Rhodes, and of Malta. The name inside it was not the same name as his Croatian passport. It was Italian.”

President Hannister rubbed his chin, looked at Amanda Croft, and said, “Isn’t that the Knights of Malta? The ones with observer status at the United Nations? The group we give money to?”

She said, “It is, but they’re a Catholic humanitarian organization. They help refugee camps and things like that. They can’t have anything to do with this.”

Wolffe said, “I’m not going to argue that, but I need additional authority, and this isn’t the time for an Oversight Council meeting. It looks like you have your hands full here.”

Hannister let slip a rueful smile and said, “Yes, it would appear so. On the plus side, Denmark, the United Kingdom, and Australia are backing us up. Apparently, they don’t like their naval commanders being shot at any more than we do.”

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