Wendell, I agree with our goal, but not this. The suffering will be immense if we implement. It's conceivable millions could die. I can't be a party to this."
Harker gestured. "That's George Wilkinson, head of BRES."
BRES was Biological Research Engineering Solutions, the world's leading authority on boosting third world agricultural economies. If there were crop problems in Southeast Asia or Africa, you called BRES. Wilkinson was a genius. He was also recently dead.
Carter's ear began itching.
"I understand your hesitation, George. I feel the same way. There's no decision to implement as yet. But Demeter is ready if the Russians push us too far." He gestured at the short haired man with his back toward them, who nodded. "This is simply preparation. We'll be sorry to lose you. Of course I trust in your discretion about our discussions."
"I signed the paper, Wendell, I'm not going to say anything. But this is wrong. I think you must reconsider." He looked at his watch. "I have to get back to Washington. Gentlemen."
Wilkinson left the room. There was a brief silence. Dansinger spoke.
"He's a problem, Wendell."
Lodge glanced down at notes on the table. "No, Harold, he's not."
"Then I can report to the others that he will not interfere?"
"You may."
The screen blanked.
"Do you think it's legitimate?" Nick asked Harker.
"I do. We can analyze it, but I don't think it's faked."
"Wilkinson's dead."
"The implication is clear. Lodge had Wilkinson killed because he wouldn't go along with the plan, whatever it is."
"But why? That's over the top, even for Langley."
"If Lodge had Wilkinson killed, it's not official. He's gone rogue. He's planning something unauthorized about Russia. I'm going to have to go to the President. Damn."
"Who could have sent this, Director?"
"Good question, Nick. Someone who doesn't like Lodge. Someone who can't come out in the open."
"At Langley?"
"Maybe."
She set the pen down. Everyone watched her.
"This is all we needed," she said. "Up against the CIA."
"We're not up against CIA," Nick said. "We're up against Lodge. I get along with Hood and Hood wants to be DCI. Maybe I could approach him. See if he's got any knowledge of what Lodge is doing."
Clarence Hood was DNCS at Langley, Director of National Clandestine Services. In charge of field operations everywhere in the world.
"We can't risk that. What if he's part of it?" Elizabeth picked up her pen again. "I'm going to get a new autopsy on Wilkinson. We will now assume Lodge has gone rogue. We need to be careful. Whoever sent this expects us to do something about it. They may be trying to set us up for their own ends."
She looked at them. "Maybe I don't have to say this, but everyone needs to watch it."
"So," Ronnie said, "what else is new?"
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Harker had been to the White House many times, but it never failed to impress her. She waited in an anteroom outside the Oval Office. Two Secret Service agents stood nearby. The dark suits and earpieces they wore were as much a part of the White House culture as the flag flying over the building.
The building carried a tangible aura of power. Everyone who came here felt it. Everyone serious about politics wanted to be here. The White House was more than a pretty building or a symbol. It was the beating heart of the most powerful nation on earth. The man in the next room was the most important politician in the world.
There had been good presidents and bad ones. There were a few great ones. Elizabeth thought James Rice was one of the great ones. Like all powerful leaders, he was surrounded by people who tried to please and mislead him. They tended to tell him what he wanted to hear and conceal their agendas. That was especially true of the intelligence community, the big agencies.
Rice had created the Project to make sure he knew the things no one else would tell him. The Project alerted him to problems before they became more serious threats. More, it gave him a way to
Harker gestured. "That's George Wilkinson, head of BRES."
BRES was Biological Research Engineering Solutions, the world's leading authority on boosting third world agricultural economies. If there were crop problems in Southeast Asia or Africa, you called BRES. Wilkinson was a genius. He was also recently dead.
Carter's ear began itching.
"I understand your hesitation, George. I feel the same way. There's no decision to implement as yet. But Demeter is ready if the Russians push us too far." He gestured at the short haired man with his back toward them, who nodded. "This is simply preparation. We'll be sorry to lose you. Of course I trust in your discretion about our discussions."
"I signed the paper, Wendell, I'm not going to say anything. But this is wrong. I think you must reconsider." He looked at his watch. "I have to get back to Washington. Gentlemen."
Wilkinson left the room. There was a brief silence. Dansinger spoke.
"He's a problem, Wendell."
Lodge glanced down at notes on the table. "No, Harold, he's not."
"Then I can report to the others that he will not interfere?"
"You may."
The screen blanked.
"Do you think it's legitimate?" Nick asked Harker.
"I do. We can analyze it, but I don't think it's faked."
"Wilkinson's dead."
"The implication is clear. Lodge had Wilkinson killed because he wouldn't go along with the plan, whatever it is."
"But why? That's over the top, even for Langley."
"If Lodge had Wilkinson killed, it's not official. He's gone rogue. He's planning something unauthorized about Russia. I'm going to have to go to the President. Damn."
"Who could have sent this, Director?"
"Good question, Nick. Someone who doesn't like Lodge. Someone who can't come out in the open."
"At Langley?"
"Maybe."
She set the pen down. Everyone watched her.
"This is all we needed," she said. "Up against the CIA."
"We're not up against CIA," Nick said. "We're up against Lodge. I get along with Hood and Hood wants to be DCI. Maybe I could approach him. See if he's got any knowledge of what Lodge is doing."
Clarence Hood was DNCS at Langley, Director of National Clandestine Services. In charge of field operations everywhere in the world.
"We can't risk that. What if he's part of it?" Elizabeth picked up her pen again. "I'm going to get a new autopsy on Wilkinson. We will now assume Lodge has gone rogue. We need to be careful. Whoever sent this expects us to do something about it. They may be trying to set us up for their own ends."
She looked at them. "Maybe I don't have to say this, but everyone needs to watch it."
"So," Ronnie said, "what else is new?"
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Harker had been to the White House many times, but it never failed to impress her. She waited in an anteroom outside the Oval Office. Two Secret Service agents stood nearby. The dark suits and earpieces they wore were as much a part of the White House culture as the flag flying over the building.
The building carried a tangible aura of power. Everyone who came here felt it. Everyone serious about politics wanted to be here. The White House was more than a pretty building or a symbol. It was the beating heart of the most powerful nation on earth. The man in the next room was the most important politician in the world.
There had been good presidents and bad ones. There were a few great ones. Elizabeth thought James Rice was one of the great ones. Like all powerful leaders, he was surrounded by people who tried to please and mislead him. They tended to tell him what he wanted to hear and conceal their agendas. That was especially true of the intelligence community, the big agencies.
Rice had created the Project to make sure he knew the things no one else would tell him. The Project alerted him to problems before they became more serious threats. More, it gave him a way to
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