The Red Cell André Gallo (essential reading .txt) 📖

he could see Steve and Kella, who were Skyping from their condo, and on the other, Preston Fairbanks, the San Francisco FBI special agent in charge. Sitting at his conference table were Thérèse LaFont, Bob Trent, and Hank Maloney, who was playing nervously with a paperclip.

“The president could not be here; otherwise he would be chairing this meeting.” If he wasn’t at a fundraiser in Las Vegas, he thought. “But make no mistake, he is very aware and concerned about the new information on General Yosemani. Thérèse, could you please bring us all up to date?”

“As you all know,” she said, “we’re here because Kella caught sight of Yosemani’s bodyguard—she refers to him as ‘Gold Glasses’—in San Francisco.”

“On the Golden Gate Bridge,” Kella jumped in. “We were five hundred feet above him. If it hadn’t been for that antiquated elevator, we could have gotten to him.”

“But it was almost two weeks ago,” LaFont continued, “we actually had eyes on the general when Steve and Kella saw him and his bodyguard at the airport in Brussels. They were on the same flight to Paris but lost them there. Although we alerted the French, they lost him, too. Checking through their records later, they think the two were traveling on Croatian passports.

“About ten days ago,” LaFont said, “the NSA told us Yosemani seemed to be on his way to Cyprus. But when Steve alerted us, Marshall suggested we request the actual intercept from NSA. It turned out their information was a conclusion rather than raw data. In the actual intercept, Yosemani told his Tehran office to alert someone by the name of Khazaee he was on his way. Since the records showed Khazaee was the Iranian Intelligence officer at their embassy in Nicosia, the NSA analyst concluded Yosemani was heading there. However, a bit of research revealed this fellow Khazaee is now in New York, with the Iranian Mission at the United Nations.

“Should I mention the no-smoking flap at the U.N.?” Trent asked.

“Go ahead,” LaFont said.

“Last week, a sternly phrased memo was sent by the secretary general’s office to all 193 members, reminding them of the no-smoking rule and threatening financial sanctions against any country that violates this rule. As it turned out, the Lichtenstein ambassador originated the complaint. He claims he smelled cigar smoke in a conference room he used. We followed up, and found out a member of the French mission had walked in on a meeting in that same conference room only an hour before the Lichtenstein ambassador used it. The occupant at the time was this guy Khazaee and two others, names unknown. We showed the ambassador’s secretary a binder of photos and she identified Yosemani as one of the other men.”

“It shouldn’t be too difficult to confirm Yosemani’s presence in New York,” Harry Baxter said. “Between the FBI and the NYPD, I thought we had New York pretty well locked up.”

“I did talk to the FBI, sir,” Maloney said, having deprived the paperclip from ever fulfilling its God-given function by straightening it out into a three inch metal pointer, which he waved as he spoke. “No one who looked like Yosemani even came close to the Iranian mission. But the FBI did identify two possibles who landed at JFK using Bulgarian passports. God knows what kind of documentation they have now.”

“We are looking,” Fairbanks said through the TV screen from San Francisco, “for the two men by checking all of the recent registrations in the main hotels. Nothing yet, sir.”

“Well, now that we know they’re in San Francisco, now that we know either Iran or Syria or both will certainly retaliate for the missile attack on Syria that our ships in the Mediterranean are ready to initiate, how are we going to prevent this Yosemani from carrying out whatever it is he’s planning?”

“Mr. Vice President, we have been studying this question for some time,” Fairbanks said, “and I am confident we have our defenses well in place. First of all, we believe their main target in San Francisco will be the Federal Building. It is symbolic of all government structures in the state; therefore, we have a coordinated defense plan that includes several law-enforcement agencies in the city. Other possibilities include the Transamerica Building, the Coit Tower, the wharf, and other tourist sites.”

“What about the Syrian Minister of Defense’s statement this morning?” Maloney asked, pointing his paperclip toward Fairbanks’s image. “He said if American missiles touch any Syrian airport, civilian or military, the damage on similar targets in America will be tenfold.” He switched his gaze toward Baxter, “I suggest our focus should be San Francisco International, which does not mean of course,” looking again toward Fairbanks, “that the Federal Building should not be adequately protected.”

“And what do you think, Steve and Kella?” Baxter asked.

“We did see him,” Steve said, “on the Golden Gate Bridge. We don’t think he was there as a tourist. He was there casing a target.”

“And I am sure,” Kella said, “his boss, the general, is not far away. In fact, of course I’m guessing now, I believe he was speaking on his cell phone to the general. Further, I’m guessing the general was looking down at him from the overlook.”

“The Golden Gate Bridge,” Steve said, “is a great target. I think Yosemani is aiming high, that his plan is to equal or better the 9/11 attack on the Twin Towers—including casualties. I’m talking about his ego. The bridge is both symbolic—it is known throughout the world as a West Coast icon—and economic. Closing it would cause irreparable damage to the city and to the state’s economy.”

“If this guy is looking at bridges,” Fairbanks said, “I think he would put the Bay Bridge at the top of his list. Economically speaking, it’s much more significant than the Golden Gate.”

“Remember, where he’s from,” Steve said. “I bet there are a lot of people from