Read Online No Fortunate Son by Brad Taylor - Free Book Online Page B

his glare one moment longer, then said, “Call Braden. Tell him to deliver the package as soon as it arrives.”
    Colin began dialing and Seamus said, “Let the games begin.”
    *   *   *
    Twenty-eight hours later a nondescript two-door Fiat pulled over on rue Royale, a large expanse of park separating the driver from the US embassy in Brussels, Belgium. A man exited carrying a small Styrofoam ice chest, just large enough for a six-pack of soda. The Belgium weather was blustery, and he didn’t look out of place wearing a hat and scarf, his cheekbones the only thing visible just below the sunglasses on his face.
    He entered the park and walked through until he reached rue Ducale, the rear of the US embassy just in front of him, local national guards surveying everyone who exited. He circled the block, coming south down boulevard du Régent. He passed the Russian embassy and saw the black chain-link fence and the Belgian guards protecting the front entrance to the US embassy. He continued to approach, nodding to the guards and proceeding around the fence, just one more pedestrian walking the boulevard.
    When he reached the front of the embassy, still outside the fence, he bent over and placed the ice chest on the ground, in full view of the guards and the cameras, then walked rapidly away. Before the guards could react, he was gone.
    A suspicious package alert was called, requiring a response from the Brussels police force bomb squad. They used their robots and other technical kit, setting back Seamus’s plan by another four hours and aggravating the hell out of the drivers on boulevard du Régent, now closed in the name of safety. Finally, after enough exploration, a man in a full-on blast suit stiffly advanced, looking like a character from a Saturday morning cartoon. He bent over the container, searching all around for hidden triggers. When he saw none, he removed the lid. Then he fell back.
    At first, the men in his squad thought he’d tripped but when they saw him crawling away they became agitated. One zoomed a camera in on the Plexiglas shield of his helmet.
    It was covered in vomit.

12
    A s Kurt raced as fast as he could through the DC traffic, George Wolffe said, “They didn’t give you any indication of what this is about?”
    “No. But it’s serious. I haven’t seen this much activity since Khalid Sheikh Mohammed. Everyone’s spinning. And it’s going to leak. Only a matter of time.”
    “Who are the players?”
    “The chair of the Senate Intelligence Committee is going bonkers. He’s a powerful guy, and his twins are gone. The SECDEF wants to start bombing Pakistan. And that fucking governor of Texas is raising holy hell.”
    “What about the vice president?”
    “Surprisingly, I haven’t heard much from him. They’re really hoping to keep that under wraps. Can’t see how that’ll happen, though.”
    “This meeting is Oversight Council only, right?”
    “Yeah. Something’s broken free.”
    As they pulled into the lane for White House security, George considered his words, then said, “I hate to be a CIA stickler about sources and methods, but we’re starting to blend Taskforce activities with the traditional intelligence architecture. The pressure to share is going to be enormous, and we’re going to be compromised.”
    Kurt showed his identification to the uniformed Secret Service manning the gate at the West Wing, waited until he was checked off a list, then pulled through. He said, “Maybe. Maybe not. We can use the director of Central Intelligence. Thank God he’s a Council member. Wecan feed all of our intelligence into the CIA, and they can sanitize it for the FBI. Hopefully they’ll do the same in return.”
    “That’s not going to be timely. And what happens if we find one of them? Are we going to conduct an assault? Or call for someone else?”
    “I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
    “We need to start. If we conduct a rescue, successfully or not,