Razing Beijing: A Thriller by Sidney Elston III Read Free Book Online Page B

Kosmalski made a show of looking at his
watch. “I’m sure you’re aware how tight Milner is with the president. Good luck
with that.”

6
    MARBLE-SIZED RAINDROPS
HAMMERED soundlessly against thick, bullet-resistant windowpanes as the
President sat engrossed at his desk inside the Oval Office, his back to the
world. On his desk nearby lay the biographical profiles of that evening’s
dinner guests, half of which he had browsed.
    Howard Denis, President of the United States of America,
glanced up from page one of the lengthy intelligence briefing with a pained
expression. “Whoever killed Kate Prouty has made certain these terrorists
remain at large,” he reminded the three advisors seated before him. “I trust
this doorstop here will somehow inform me who you think is responsible.”
    Sam McBurney had prepared the President’s briefing, which
did no such thing. At a loss for words, he examined the red folder in his
hands, the words ‘Eyes Only’ emblazoned on the middle of the cover. He and his
staff had worked it non-stop for the last thirty hours analyzing, condensing,
revising, and condensing yet again.
    Thomas Herman, advisor to the president for national
security, was shaking his head. “I know what this document does attempt, and
I’d like to say from the outset that I disagree with it. I’m disappointed with
the logic that McBurney and the Director are going to use because I think it is
weak. It also risks undermining our focus to apprehend those truly responsible
for the recent attack on our national heritage.”
    Lester Burns, the country’s first black Director of the
CIA, turned to Herman and smiled. “Fair enough, Tom. I hope we can change your
mind. Sam? The president has a schedule to keep.”
    McBurney offered his condolences for the loss of Katherine
Prouty before proceeding. “I also had the opportunity to observe first-hand the
particularly striking, well, brazenness, of Miss Prouty’s murderer or murderers.
Which makes our discovery of the satellite information inside that apartment
especially disturbing. We were able to place its source to a classified
database maintained by the National Reconnaissance Office. The FBI have taken
the lead in helping us isolate who might’ve leaked it.”
    “Why’s this so important?” asked the president.
    “The stolen information might well have been destined for a
third party. But consider the entirety of what the FBI have provided to us on
Ahmadi since the day of his and Miss Prouty’s murders.” McBurney briefly
described the case of industrial espionage several years ago, involving a
Midwest defense contractor and the alleged theft of stealth aircraft
technology. The FBI arrested two engineers employed by the company, one of whom
was an Iranian national. The only indictment achieved was of the American
citizen, who cut a deal with the federal prosecutor and confessed to what
appears to have been a highly compartmentalized operation—the two worked inside
the same complex and the evidence suggested they were operationally unaware of
each other.
    “Turns out that the American’s plea bargain never produced
an actionable lead to the principal running the agent, or agents,” McBurney
continued. “What we do have are hotel receipts that show Mohammad Ahmadi’s
travels took him to the same cities, on three different occasions, that
overlapped with business trips taken by these two employees.”
    Herman frowned. “Remember, I’m the one who had the FBI
dredge up Ahmadi’s bona fides in the first place. And I was present when Kate Prouty
covered this topic with him. He denied being involved; he didn’t even blink. Is
the CIA prepared to claim that Ahmadi was the principal guy in this industrial
spy ring?”
    “No.” McBurney turned toward his old nemesis. “Unfortunately
it’s a little late to subject him to a polygraph, so I am relieved to hear you
already asked him about it.”
    The Director of Central Intelligence shot McBurney a