Critical Exposure Read online

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  BINDLER GRABBED UP the extension handset and pressed the flashing red button. “Colonel Bindler. This is a secure line. May I help you, sir or ma’am?”

  “Colonel Bindler?” a pinched, almost nasal voice greeted him. “Please hold for the President of the United States.”

  Bindler was so taken aback that he jumped to his feet and stammered, “Yes, ma’am.”

  A moment later the voice of the President came on the line. “Alan?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You know who this is?”

  “I do, sir. Of course, sir.”

  “Very well, then we’ll skip the whole authentication BS. What I’m about to tell you is to be treated with the strictest confidence. You are not to disclose anything I’m about to say and you are not to reveal the name of the man you’re about to speak with. That’s an order from the Commander-in-Chief. Is that clear?”

  “Crystal, sir.”

  “In a moment I’m going to patch you through to Harold Brognola. Among other things, he’s an official with the U.S. Justice Department. You are to cooperate with him, answer his questions and do whatever you can to facilitate his mission up to and including placing secondary considerations on all other operational objectives save those that would jeopardize the safety of the consul and staff. Understood?”

  “Aye, sir! It’s understood.”

  “Thank you, Colonel. Please stand by.”

  There was a minute of latency and then a gravelly, no-nonsense voice resounded in Bindler’s ear.

  “Colonel Bindler, this is Hal Brognola. You’ve been advised of my capacity as it relates to your command and resources?”

  “I have, sir.”

  “Good. Then let’s get right to it. Tell me everything you know up to now about the disappearance of Ms. Serif.”

  Bindler’s jaw almost hit the ground. He’d only just put word through official channels maybe four hours before. While word traveled pretty fast through certain parts of the Pentagon upper echelon, Bindler wouldn’t have thought such information would reach the Oval Office so quickly. He certainly didn’t think something such as this would attract the attention of the most powerful leader in the free world. But then, none of what had transpired to this point could be viewed as conventional.

  Without skipping even the most minor detail, Bindler began to describe everything he knew to Brognola.

  The man listened patiently until Bindler finished. For a long while Brognola didn’t say anything, and Bindler thought at first they’d lost the connection. But then Brognola finally produced a satisfied grunt. “Everything you’ve just told me fits with the reports your superiors at the Pentagon received as it pertains to this Council of Luminárii. Moreover, Ms. Serif did an excellent job tracking the one man who might be the key to solving this puzzle.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand, sir,” Bindler said. “What’s this all about, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “I don’t mind,” Brognola replied. “In fact, I’d say it would be unfair to ask you to extend resources to people you don’t even know without at least filling you in on what I know to this point. But we don’t have time for a lot of chitchat, so I’ll be concise.

  “In short, everything Alara Serif has reported so far seems to be true. There is a Council of Luminárii and it is overseen by Gastone Amocacci. At least, we know he’s involved with the group. Our own analysis would seem to point to the fact that this group does operate in a somewhat symbiotic fashion, just as Ms. Serif’s analysis suggests.”

  “But to what end would a group like this operate, sir?”

  “You’re aware of the recent signals intelligence briefs issued by the Department of Defense indicating a potential compromise in the security of military operations abroad.”

  “I scanned the briefs that were sent, yes, sir,” Bindler replied. “But I cannot see what correlation they have to anything as it concerns this alleged Council of Luminárii. And it seems odd the DIA would let this group concern them even if they did exist. How much harm could they do, given they seem to operate at only a local level—?”

  “On the contrary,” Brognola interjected. “That’s the very point, Colonel Bindler. They’re not operating at a local level, they are operating at very much an international level. And we have good reason to believe their members include assets from a half-dozen intelligence agencies, at least.”

  “U.S. agencies?”

  “No, fortunately. In fact, we don’t believe there are any members from the United States that would belong to such a group. But there are other foreign agencies that could profit by significant disruptions in U.S. military intelligence efforts throughout the world. For one, they would be able to disrupt our efforts to control international terrorism and prevent it from reaching American shores. There are also the ties that could be broken between our agencies and other friendly intelligence services such as the British SIS or Israeli Mossad.”

  “I think I’m beginning to understand the far-reaching interests of a group like this.”

  “That’s precisely the point,” Brognola said. “And it’s why I had to get the President’s permission to reach out to you in this way. We never had this conversation. You get me?”

  “I get you, sir,” Bindler said.

  “We’re using you to get to them. You can put eyes and ears on the ground, and your people are most familiar with the social geography of the Turkish landscape. Amocacci has an office building. His corporate headquarters, supposedly, are there in Istanbul. But we think he’s also conducting operations from an estate in the Yildiz Mountains.”

  “I already have boots on the ground, sir,” Bindler said. “In fact, I have my adjutant putting together a three-man team of sniffers now.”

  “Where are they from?”

  “Part of my detachment for consulate security. Officially, that’s what I oversee here, although you probably don’t need me to tell you that. I would assume you might be able to tell me what I had for breakfast three weeks ago Tuesday.”

  “I might, but I couldn’t tell you that,” Brognola replied with a chuckle.

  The quip put Bindler somewhat at ease. “So would you like me to proceed as planned?”

  “I would,” Brognola said. “But only in the role of gathering information. You are not to execute a rescue operation of any kind until our man arrives.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, did you just say you were sending someone here?”

  “Yes. His name is Colonel Stone and he’s part of the DIA.”

  “And perhaps a bit more?”

  “I said I’d shoot straight with you, Colonel Bindler,” Brognola said in a steady but warning tone. “I didn’t say I’d give you the entire playbook. Any decision to rescue Alara Serif or to conduct any other offensive action against those you sniff out will be Stone’s decision. You’ll operate at his discretion and you will give him your full cooperation.”

  “Yes, sir. But...Hal—may I call you Hal?”

  “Of course.”

  “Wouldn’t a fully equipped staff of U.S. Marine special operations be a better choice? Even if we find Alara, we may not have a lot of time to act on the information. They might move her or, worse...well, I don’t have to spell it out for you.”

  “Look, Bindler, if it comes right down to it and you have no other choice, you’re authorized to go in and get her out. But if it appears there’s no immediate threat to her life, then you are to wait until Colonel Stone gets there. Trust me when I tell you there’s nobody you’d rather have for a delicate situation like this.

  “Now are there any other questions?”

  “Just one, Hal. I’d like to know why somebody didn’t jump on this before now. I mean, you...or...someone has had this information awhile. Why sit on it if you knew it was legit?”


  “I can’t speak for the bureaucrats in Washington or your superior officers at the Pentagon,” Brognola replied truthfully. “We only became aware of it about thirty-six hours ago. And right now we’re waiting for Stone to get back to us regarding another lead he’s pursuing. But trust me, we didn’t sit on the information. As soon as I was told what we might be dealing with and Ms. Serif’s analyses flagged our systems, I was on the phone arranging this meet.”

  “Okay, thank you. I believe you.”

  “That’s most appreciated. Now if you don’t mind, I need to get going. We’re sending a coded communication your way, along with a cypher for decryption. Use the standard dual-authentication methods for decoding the message. It contains clear instructions on how to report back to us with any findings your people make. You are not to communicate that information to any entity other than us, and you are to keep all the regular reports flowing out of there just as normal.”

  “In other words, keep the status quo so as not to alert the enemy we may be on to them.”

  Brognola chuckled. “I can see why you were chosen for that post, Bindler. You’re as sharp as they come.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Good luck, man,” Brognola said and then hung up.

  Bindler stared at the receiver for a moment before placing it quietly in the cradle. This wasn’t at all the call he’d expected. One low-ranking DIA analyst had disappeared, maybe kidnapped and possibly dead, and the White House and some black ops group get involved. Not that it mattered to Bindler, since he was a Marine and Marines followed orders. Plus, he cared a lot about Alara. The thought that something bad might have happened to her on his watch didn’t set well with him at all.

  Sure, he was responsible for the security of the consulate and intelligence was not his first standing order. But he also cared about the entire staff and regardless of who they worked for, they were American citizens and they were under his protection. Someone had violated that protection and he’d been either too blind or too stupid to see it.

  Well, no more, because he planned to do everything he could to facilitate Alara’s safe return. He owed her that much. He’d violate his orders if he had to. There was no way in hell he’d leave his coworker and friend at the mercy of a bunch of terrorists. And while he had every plan to obey Brognola’s orders, he wouldn’t hesitate to pull her out of a scrape if he could find a practical way to do it without risking the mission objectives.

  She was an American and she was a friend, and Bindler saw himself personally responsible for her. The enemies of freedom and democracy had violated the most basic tenets of what it meant to be an American citizen. He wouldn’t put up with that—he couldn’t put up with it. To turn a blind eye to what had happened was nothing less than a dereliction of duty. No, one way or another, Bindler would find a way to get Alara Serif back.

  He would do it out of a sense of duty. He was a United States Marine, part of a group whose motto was semper fi—a shortened form of the Latin for “always faithful.” And come hell or high water, he would honor that motto to his dying breath.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Istanbul, Turkey

  Alara Serif’s head felt as if someone was beating against it with a hammer. She hadn’t remembered blacking out after the accident. Accident... As if that’s what it had really been. In fact she knew the impact had been a purposeful act, although she also believed they had done it only to stop her and not kill her; otherwise, she’d be dead by now.

  The words of her boss came back to her, echoing in the recesses of her mind. He’d warned her to drop the matter and leave it alone. But as usual she had her father’s curiosity and her mother’s stubbornness. Those might have been great traits for an investigative journalist or foreign correspondent, but in the intelligence trade they could be deadly. Her current situation bore out that fact.

  Serif had no rescue fantasies. This wasn’t good, and she didn’t bother telling herself otherwise. It was a matter of practicality. The sooner she accepted what had happened the sooner she could get on with planning her escape. Her training would take over, and she was glad for the many refresher courses through which the DIA had put her. Serif recalled what her instructor had said. “Your first duty if kidnapped is the same duty of a soldier. You must view yourself when you’ve been taken by a hostile force as a POW. Once you’ve done that, your priorities are escape and evasion. You all have secrets you must keep, and if you fall into enemy hands, then those secrets potentially fall into enemy hands. Because sooner or later, you’ll talk. Sooner or later, everyone talks.”

  Serif had never forgotten that lesson, and she ran it through her mind again even as the sound of metal scraping against concrete yanked her from the dreamlike state she’d been in. A soft, reddish light came from the open steel door and silhouetted the figure that entered. Serif couldn’t make out his face but as her mind played through all the possibilities of identity, she noted the man had about the same height and physique as one Gastone Amocacci. And when he spoke, she picked out the Italian accent almost immediately.

  Yeah, it was Amocacci, all right.

  “Well, Miss Serif,” Amocacci said. “Imagine seeing you here. I trust they’ve treated you well?”

  Serif kept her mouth closed, bent on not speaking to him unless he forced her.

  “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue or are you simply employing the silent treatment?” Amocacci let out a chuckle and shrugged. “Okay, have it your way. You can remain silent as long as you’d like, in fact.”

  Amocacci took a seat in a chair bolted to the concrete floor just inside the cell door. He crossed his legs at the ankles and rested his hands in his lap, and a very casual air clung around him.

  “I suppose I should begin by telling you that I have no intention of making you talk. About anything. We aren’t going to torture or hurt you, but I’m afraid we can’t let you go, either. At least not until I’ve finished what’s begun.”

  So she had been right—Amocacci was involved in some grand scheme and it most likely had something to do with the Council of Luminárii. He’d used the term “we” after all.

  A large number of people had insisted Serif was crazy to even posit the existence of such a group. She’d never been able to understand why her colleagues and superiors had always been so quick to dismiss her ideas. She’d provided them with plenty of evidence, and yet even when her reports were sent up the chain of command, they always seemed to get squashed when they reached the Pentagon. Well, now maybe her smashed car and subsequent disappearance would generate some action. That assumed, of course, they weren’t ordered to deny the entire incident outright. If they wanted, they could wipe out her very existence and deny she ever existed.

  Serif decided to remain silent would be a foolish and useless gesture at this point. Better to see what additional information she could get.

  “I don’t know what you’re up to, Mr. Amocacci, but I can guarantee my government won’t let you get away with this. Or whatever it is you have planned.”

  “Actually, there’s very little they can do about it, I think. What we have in mind is already well begun. And I’m sorry if I disappointed you by not being surprised you know my name.”

  “I’m not disappointed.”

  “How nice. You see, I’ve known for months you had me under observation. Everything you’ve seen or heard has been by design. And it’s all been to throw you off the real scent. Your reports about an alleged council, the, uh...what did you call it? Ah, yes, the ‘Council of Lights.’ It’s all a ruse, intended to divert you from the true goals of my associates.”

  “Is that right?”

  “It is. Would you like me to prove it? I could quote you directly from some of the more colorful and dramatic passages of your reports to Washington, DC, but then I don’t see much point to it. I can tell just from the look on your fac
e that you know it’s true.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “No! I am not crazy!” Amocacci slammed his hand against the side of his chair.

  His very reaction indicated he was, however. Serif had been trained in the underpinnings of psychological warfare, and one of the first things she’d learned about megalomaniacs and crazies was that they got irate when someone called them megalomaniacs and crazies.

  “It might interest you to know that some of the people you work with colluded on getting copies of your reports to us. Does that surprise you to hear?”

  “Not really,” Serif replied with a shrug. “Mainly because I don’t believe you.”

  “I’m many things, Miss Serif, but a liar isn’t one of them. I believe honesty is next to godliness, in fact. And your refusal to believe that your own people could betray you is exactly what makes my point.”

  “I’m not listening to this anymore.”

  Amocacci produced a snort of amusement. “You don’t have any choice. And you might change your mind if I told you I actually empathize with your current situation.

  “You see, such treachery isn’t unique to the U.S. intelligence community. It’s pandemic! They will smile in your face while cutting your throat and they won’t lose a wink of sleep over it.”

  “Who’s ‘we’?”

  “Who isn’t?” Amocacci shook his head. “Every such act is perpetrated by an individual or collective, but they pose as the insidious and faceless enigma of such acts. The acts themselves are the concrete results of governments and terrorist powers operating abstractly against one another. And it is the innocents who die.”

  “American intelligence isn’t perfect, I’ll admit. But neither is any other intelligence agency.”

  “I completely agree!”

  “And neither is the Council of Luminárii.”

  “I’ve already told you, my dear, the Council of—”

  “Please!” Serif raised a hand. “Spare me your feeble attempts at denying it. I’ve been on to you much longer than you think. You see, you’ve only been in Turkey for a short time, Mr. Amocacci. But I lived here for years, and I know this culture and these people.”