The moment Dr. Monte Harper extended the wire antenna on the Breitling Emergency, the watch began to broadcast a distress signal at 406 MHz to the nearest COSPAS-SARSAT satellite in five-second bursts every two minutes.
A joint venture among Russia, the United States, and Europe, the Cosmicheskaya Sistyema Poiska Avariynich Sudov–Search and Rescue Satellite-Aided Tracking system piggybacked equipment on a variety of satellites at various altitudes, including seventy-two medium Earth orbit search-and-rescue (MEOSAR) satellites. Among these MEOSAR was a group of four earth observation satellites collectively known as the A-train.
The twenty-three-foot-long caboose of the A-train, Aura’s primary mission was to monitor the earth’s climate and air quality, but piggybacked on board was additional SARSAT equipment needed to receive the distress signal and pinpoint its location. Once received, Aura broadcast the information back to ground control, which simultaneously notified the Search and Rescue Point of Contact (SPOC) associated with the country code of the device and the SPOC associated with the distress beacon’s point of origin—in this case the Mission Control Centers in Suitland, Maryland, and Ankara, Turkey, respectively. Both SPOCs notified the Consolidated Personnel Recovery Center with the remaining military in Afghanistan that someone in the Wakhan had sent up a virtual flare.
Under normal circumstances, the coordination center would dispatch search-and-rescue assets immediately. In this case, the information was intercepted by an other government agency case officer (read “CIA”) who’d asked to be notified if a signal of any kind was picked up from the eastern end of the Wakhan Corridor. The case officer sent this information directly to his boss at Langley, who pushed it up to D/CIA, who forwarded it to the ODNI. Mary Pat Foley informed Acting President Mark Dehart forty-one minutes after the emergency locator beacon antenna on the Breitling was deployed and A-train satellites had traveled almost halfway around the planet.
Scott Adler, Bob Burgess, and General Vogel entered the Oval Office shortly after Foley arrived. Vogel shot her a half-smile—a lot for a guy with his stony expression. Chadwick had been projecting, grasping at straws about President Ryan’s behavior on Air Force One. No one had leaked. Chadwick had just realized Ryan was a human being and subject to human emotions.
They’d all seen the shepherd’s video confession implicating the Harpers as spies. The experts at Fort Meade judged it authentic, at least insofar that it wasn’t a deepfake—but even a layman could see the confession was under duress. The file had been scrubbed of metadata, but what little remained was consistent with location tags on other video, leading analysts to conclude that it was shot in Tajikistan.
“This signal came from a watch?” Dehart asked.
“That’s correct, sir,” Foley said. “According to the ID number that communicated with SARSAT. A Breitling Emergency Mission.”
“On the spendy side, I’d imagine,” Dehart said.
“On the order of ten grand or better new,” the SecDef said.
Dehart drummed his fingers on the desktop. “I’m no operator, but it would seem to me that a watch like that would be taken from a prisoner the moment he was arrested.”
“Maybe they didn’t know what it was,” Adler offered.
“They’d know it was expensive,” Foley said. “So you’re right. It’s odd that the Harpers would still be in possession of it. Could be a trap, or whoever has it is just monkeying around without knowing what it does.”
“I’ve spoken at length to Foreign Minister Wang,” Scott Adler said. “He assured me he is not personally aware of any issues in Tajikistan or the Wakhan, but will make it a priority to discuss it in the Zhongnanhai.”
“Like a car salesman going to talk to the manager,” the SecDef said.
“I get that a lot,” Adler said. “And frankly, I give it a lot, too. Nature of the beast. Wang is relatively new. Considering what happened to the last foreign minister when he crossed Zhou, he’s treading lightly. I’ll get him back on the line and up the ante on our end.”
Dehart leaned back in his chair . . . Jack’s chair. Foley pushed the thought out of her mind.
“Are we one hundred percent sure the Harpers are not somehow connected to U.S. intelligence?”
“We are, sir,” Foley said. The question demonstrated that the man wasn’t going to go off half-cocked. She gave him that. Still, it made her crazy to think about going into a situation like this without Jack Ryan.
“Anything that might make Beijing believe they’re spies?”
“Nothing that would send up a red flag for me if I was looking at them,” Foley said. “Certainly not spies for the Taliban. They are a husband-and-wife team of physicians who volunteer their time fixing eyes and helping new mothers in some of the poorest places on earth. Nothing more.”
“Is there anything of strategic value in this part of the world?”
“Other than the Chinese base across the border in Tajikistan?” Burgess said. “No. The Wakhan is so remote that the war has never reached it. Shepherds and yak herders. Any useful military intelligence would be extremely sporadic, on the order of patrols one or two times a year, and we can get that from satellites or a UAV.”
“The Harpers’ daughter completed a retina surgery fellowship under Cathy Ryan’s supervision,” Foley said. “It’s not common knowledge, but it’s out there, and it could give the Chinese a lever to pull if they knew about it.”
Dehart sighed. “You know what they say about privacy on the Internet these days. ‘There isn’t any. Get over it.’ If we know, then they know or will soon—if they’re looking.” He drummed long fingers on the desk, pondering the way Jack would over a slow sip from his favorite USMC coffee mug. “Something isn’t right here,” he continued. “We need to look at the subtext of what’s happening. Has Beijing ever admitted to their bases in Tajikistan?”
Burgess shook his head. “They have not, sir.”
“Then why put themselves in a position where they might be forced to do that now?”
“Any inkling that the Harpers might have traveled into Tajikistan on their own?”
“Not according to their daughter,” Foley said. “Last word she got was that they were about to begin the trek down the valley by yak train. There’s a road in Tajikistan that parallels the border. They could have gotten out by truck.”
“So they were taken in the Wakhan,” Dehart mused. “He pushed a ballpoint pen across an imaginary line on the Resolute desk. “Chinese forces, who are not supposed to be in Tajikistan in the first place, cross the border into Afghanistan . . . That’s a hell of a lot of borders to cross in order to grab someone you know isn’t a spy. What’s their endgame? Maybe they do already know about that connection with Dr. Ryan.”
“Maybe,” Adler offered. “But that’s a card I believe they would have played earlier in order to get the President’s attention.”
“You’re right,” Foley said. “And even if they did know, it still doesn’t make sense. Not that Beijing has anything to fear from Kabul, but an incursion like that is an act of war. Besides, they’re courting the Taliban of late, not trying to antagonize them by arresting their supposed operatives.”
Dehart turned to the secretary of defense. “No more specifics coming out of Tajikistan, patterns of life, that sort of thing?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary, sir,” Burgess said. “And there’s an ODA out of Mazar-i-Sharif gathering intel in the Wakhan.” He paused. “And ODA is Operational Detachment—”
Dehart raised an open hand, smiling, but clearly not wanting to be spoon-fed. “Thank you, Mr. Secretary. I know what an A-team is.” He sighed. “Okay. It’s time I played the role of unpredictable acting President.”
Adler spoke next. “I’ll get with the foreign minister on the SVTC.”
“Hold off on that,” Dehart said. “Let’s get Communications to set up a call with Zhou as soon as possible. This is something that should be handled president to president.” He caught Foley’s eye. “Acting though I may be. I’m an unknown quantity. Maybe we can catch Zhou on his back foot. Get a glimpse of what he’s up to.”
Burgess gave a nod of approval. “Zhou won’t know if you’re bluffing.”
“Exactly,” Dehart said.
Dehart got to his feet, prompting the others to stand as well.
“I’ll see to setting up your call with President Zhou,” Adler said.
“Very well,” Dehart said. “Director Foley, would you stay back for a moment.”
“How’d I do?” he asked after the others had gone.
“Sir?”
“I can see you’re grading me,” he said. “It’s to be expected, I suppose. I’d do the same thing if I were in your shoes. What would President Ryan have done differently?”
Foley gave him a motherly wink. “Not a thing, sir,” she said. “Not a thing.”
“I don’t, you know,” Dehart said.
“You don’t what, sir?”
“Bluff.”
“Due respect,” Foley said. “But you could be bluffing right now.”
“I could,” Dehart said. “But I’m not.”
“Just continue to do what you’re doing, Mr. President,” Foley said. “You’ll be fine.”