8:40 A.M.
SIGNALS INTELLIGENCE DIRECTORATE (SID)
NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY
FORT MEADE, MARYLAND
Samantha Stout stood in front of an oval-shaped, waist-high table. Four other individuals were with her.
The table Stout stood in front of was six feet in length and three feet across. The surface of the table was a digital screen composed of several smaller screens displaying various information—charts, live media feed, streaming live views from satellites, real-time on-the-ground video, and a dozen other sources of electronic content, all focused on the mushroom cloud of SIGINT. Stout and her analysts were poring through signals data, reaching forward, tapping the digital screen. It was a satellite map of Manhattan. She’d been able to back-trace some of the signals data and pinpoint individuals in the city who’d been part of the earlier attack pattern. It took ThinThread time to parse data, and the agglomeration of hard evidence came in waves. But it was growing. Moving red dots highlighted what she assumed were terrorists. It was growing into a red-dotted panoply as ThinThread identified, then catalogued and interfaced against the digital map. She couldn’t count the number; it was in the hundreds—all moving, on separate routes. A large cluster was around the UN.
She put her cell to her ear and called Bruckheimer.
“Yeah?”
“I did a back-pull on the metadata. They have at least four or five hundred people in New York, mostly in Manhattan,” said Stout. “Maybe more.”
Bruckheimer held his hand up, interrupting King:
“We did a back-pull on the signals, mapped it against current activity,” said Bruckheimer. “There are hundreds of what we have to assume are terrorists in Manhattan. A bunch are around the UN.”
King hit the triangular phone console on his desk, a speed dial.
The phone rang twice, then a gravelly voice came on the line:
“Adrian,” said Anna Lungren, the head of NYPD.
“Anna, you have a situation on your hands,” said King. “I need you to also notify FBI.”
“What’s the situation?” said Lungren.
“I don’t know,” said King. “I just know it’s about to happen. The president is at the UN. It’s Hezbollah.”
“Understood,” said Lungren. “Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll loop in McNaughton.”
Dave McNaughton ran the FBI.
King hung up the phone and pointed at Calibrisi.
“Get an exfiltration team in the air,” said King.
“Got it,” said Calibrisi.
“I’ll call the president,” said King. “He’s not going to be happy.”
Calibrisi walked two doors down. It was his West Wing office, when he needed one, small but with a view of the South Lawn. He picked up his phone.
Calibrisi hit speed dial for Bill Polk. Polk was deputy director of the CIA, and ran the National Clandestine Service, which included Special Operations Group, the CIA’s paramilitary and preemptive action team, and Special Activities Division, who recruited foreign agents, manipulated currency and elections, and constituted the intellectual side of operations against foreign actors and enemies.
“Hey,” said Polk. “What do you need?”
“We need an exfiltration team at the UN,” said Calibrisi.
“The president?” said Polk.
“Yeah,” said Calibrisi.
“I’m assuming by air, otherwise he’d be in a car by now, right?” said Polk.
“That’s right,” said Calibrisi.
“Got it,” said Polk. “The Eisenhower is up the coast. I think SEAL 4 is there right now. Where’s the pickup, or should they go in?”
“Roof of the UN building,” said Calibrisi.
“I’ll get to work. You can fill me in later. They should be airborne in three or four minutes,” said Polk. “What floor is he on, just in case?”
“Eighteen,” said Calibrisi.
“Do we have any Tier Ones in Manhattan?” said Calibrisi.
“Let me run a scan,” said Polk. “Back to you in five.”