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East China Sea
February 14th
0715 Local Time
“Cal, wake up, we’re landing in ten minutes,” she said, gently shaking him.
Cal “Spectre” Martin groaned as he stirred from his deep sleep. He had been sleeping on one of the Gulfstream G550s luxurious leather couches that had been converted into a bed. He rubbed his eyes and rolled over, seeing the beautiful blonde woman standing over him.
“Cal, c’mon, get up,” she said. “Deputy Director Miller wants to talk about a few things before we land.” It was Michelle Decker, the FBI agent that had saved his life on multiple occasions and had helped prove his innocence.
Spectre rubbed his eyes as he sat up. Decker leaned in and kissed him softly as she smoothed down his light brown hair and handed him his black sport coat. “We’ve made it this far,” she said.
“How long have I been asleep?” Spectre asked as he took the coat and twisted side to side to stretch out his back. “This thing is a rock. You’d think a G-5 would at least have a Sleep Number bed.”
Decker laughed softly as she sat on the couch across from Spectre’s makeshift bed. “At least five hours. I think I’ve made some headway with Deputy Director Miller, but he still wants to talk about the contents of the thumb drive before you talk to the President.”
Spectre frowned. The thumb drive was toxic. It contained recorded conversations between the recently deceased director of the top-secret group Project Archangel and then Secretary of Defense Kerry Johnson. The recordings directly linked Johnson to a Chinese spy ring responsible for the theft of an F-16 and funneling of American secrets to the Chinese. It was pure kryptonite to the current administration.
But Spectre knew that it was the only thing keeping him and Michelle alive and out of jail, and that the only person that could do anything with the information it contained was the President herself. Spectre had refused to talk to anyone except the President before coming out of hiding. Spectre wasn’t really sure how Decker had arranged the meeting, but the FBI had sent Miller to escort them directly to Air Force One so they could meet with the President on her Southeast Asian tour just weeks after her inauguration.
Miller had been told only that Spectre had sensitive information that the President needed to see, but Decker had been careful not to give any details as to the contents of the drive and the implications it might contain. That had not stopped Miller’s curiosity, however. He had spent most of the trip from New Orleans to their fuel stop in Hawaii trying to gain as much information as he could about the circumstances surrounding Spectre’s sudden importance. Spectre’s only relief had been the nap he had taken as soon as they were wheels up from Hawaii.
Spectre made his way into the front cabin where Miller and two other agents were having what looked to be a very serious discussion. Spectre walked in and sat on one of the large leather chairs across from the Deputy Director as Decker took her spot in a chair next to the other agents.
“Mr. Martin, I trust you had a good nap?” Miller asked as Spectre took his seat. Miller was in his fifties with a balding head trimmed with gray hair.
“As good as can be expected,” Spectre replied. “Sounds like we’ll be landing soon?”
“The flight crew just said we’ll be touching down in Taipei in about ten minutes, but I wanted to discuss a few things with you before things get too busy,” Miller said.
Spectre looked at Miller and then at the two agents intently watching. “I’ve already said all I can say about the flash drive, Director,” Spectre said sharply. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to understand.”
“Oh, I already know that,” Miller replied with a forced smile. “Special Agent Decker has already told me what you’ve done for the agency and several investigations over the last two years. If Secretary of State Martha and Director Schultz trust you, then so do I.”
“Then what is this about?” Spectre asked suspiciously.
Miller turned his laptop to face Spectre. There was a satellite photo of what appeared to be a blast pattern near a gate. It reminded Spectre of the standard, run-of-the-mill security checkpoint setup of every military base he had ever seen.
“About an hour ago, an EMP suitcase bomb was set off at Andersen Air Force Base in Guam. Five people were killed, including the bomber,” Miller explained.
“Jesus,” Spectre said as he stared at the photo. “How many jets were affected?” Spectre remembered from his days as an Air Force fighter pilot that Andersen was a heavily used base for training, and bomber and tanker deployments. His first thoughts of an EMP were that it had to be a major exercise, and that someone was targeting those aircraft.
“As of right now, that total damage is unknown,” Miller replied. “So far the power grid is fried and the base has been effectively shut down except for essential personnel.”
“Terrorist attack?” Spectre asked.
“No groups have claimed responsibility as of yet, but of course that’s always a concern, which is why I’m telling you about it.”
“Oh?” Spectre asked as he looked at Decker. “Well, you know I didn’t do it. I was asleep in the back.”
“No one suspects you, Mr. Martin,” Miller replied, holding up his hands as if he took Spectre’s quip seriously. “But as a result of the attack, security has been heightened, especially with regard to the President’s visit. That’s going to pose some problems.”
“What kind of problems?” Spectre asked.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Martin, you’ll still get your time with her. But the Secret Service has decided to cut her ground time short in Taipei. As soon as the speech is over, she’s going straight to Air Force One and on to the next stop.”
“So, we’re just going to chase her around the Pacific in this jet until the Secret Service says it’s safe to stop somewhere?” Spectre scoffed.
“Not quite,” Miller replied. “It will actually be better for you. I’ve arranged for you to get your meeting with the President en route to the next stop on Air Force One.”
Spectre laughed dismissively. “Oh goody. I’ve always wanted to follow the President around Southeast Asia like a lost puppy. And what about Michelle?”
“She will meet you in Tokyo for the President’s next stop and you’ll both fly commercial air home,” Miller replied, nodding at Decker.
“And where will you be?” Spectre asked.
“With you, Mr. Martin,” Miller replied. “I’m your escort with the President.”
“No deal,” Spectre snapped. “She goes, or you can tell the Director the deal’s off.”
“Mr. Martin, there’s a very limited amount of space on Air Force One, as you might guess—”
“Make room,” Spectre interrupted. “Or you can sit this one out, but either way, it’s a package deal.”
“Cal, it’s no big deal,” Decker interjected.
“No,” Spectre said, shaking his head. “It is. I’m not going to risk it. We didn’t come this far to lose it at the end. All or none, that’s the deal, Director Miller. This is not negotiable.”
“Alright then, I’ll see what I can do,” Miller replied sheepishly.