Washington, DC
The long black government limousine, parked conspicuously in a no parking zone, waits at the curb outside the FBI headquarters building. CIA counterintelligence and counterterrorism director Shane McGregor is in the backseat. He is waiting for his FBI counterpart to join him. The meeting was prearranged, and the plan is to take a short drive-by tour of Capitol landmarks to discuss what Shane has come to view as the most serious threat ever raised against American democracy. He has always thought of himself as a serious, committed public servant, working every day in his role at the CIA to protect America. What he is contemplating now many would call treason. As a patriotic American, and twenty-year CIA employee, even the word—much less the deed—makes him uncomfortable.
Shane shifts nervously in his seat, glances down at the top-secret file on the seat next to him. Titled: Project Red Dragon and now labeled Eyes Only, it is a copy of the file delivered to him by Billy and Rosie. Besides himself, only a handful of people in the intelligence community know of the existence of the file. Shane is the only one to have seen the contents. It is, at that moment, the most sensitive undercover document in the entire U.S. government.
Shortly, Shane is joined in the back seat of the car by Andrew Read, FBI counterintelligence chief (the agent chosen by then Director Wray to replace Peter Strzok who was fired from the FBI in late July 2018 for what was termed a politically biased e-mail exchange with former agent Lisa Page in the Clinton e-mail investigation). There is a thick glass partition between the front driver’s seat and the spacious back compartment to insure privacy and security. Even though the car is part of the CIA carpool, Shane has taken the precaution to have the limo completely screened for bugs and listening devices. No one can hear what he is about to talk about with counterintelligence director Read.
The two men exchange greetings. They are friends and long-time associates with parallel career paths. Shane trusts him.
Just across Pennsylvania Avenue is the neoclassical Robert F. Kennedy Building, the sprawling headquarters of the Justice Department, where at that very moment The Bad King’s DOJ consigliere, Bill Barr, is carrying out—at the express direction of the president—a personal and private inquiry aimed at career civil servants in the intelligence community with the purpose of discrediting, in the eyes of the public, the FBI’s investigation (called Operation Crossfire Hurricane) into Russian meddling in the 2016. The two men in the backseat of the black limo are now prime targets of the AG’s investigation—what is essentially a vendetta inspired by the president and aimed at discrediting them and destroying their respective careers.
The car slowly starts off, passes the White House and Lafayette Park on the way to the Jefferson Memorial. This landmark of the country’s early democratic aspirations seems particularly apropos to what they are going to be talking about.
The FBI chief glances down at the file on the seat between them. “Is that it?” he asks.
Shane nods. “That’s it. Project Red Dragon.”
Director Read picks the file up off the seat, opens the cover marked with the designation Eyes Only and—with a wry look—responds, “I have a feeling you’re about to ruin my whole day.”
Shane is deadpan. “This could ruin not just your day, but both our careers—and destroy the entire American system of government.”
The FBI director looks meaningfully back at Shane. “This came to you through Billy Tidewater?” he asks rhetorically. The FBI man knows Billy from the Russian mob’s attempt to smuggle a dirty bomb into the U.S. through the Port of New Orleans. He knows Billy’s service background and the fact that he clerked on the U.S. Supreme Court. He knows as well that for the past five years—following the presidential amnesty negotiated with Barack Obama—Billy has been actively involved with Shane in various CIA black ops.
Again, Shane nods. “Yes. And he got it from Rosie Brown, the MSNBC correspondent and news anchor. She got it from Scott Franklin.” The public story of Scott Franklin’s death now is widely known. The real secret story is not. The White House has effectively kept that under a tight seal, promoting instead to the public the phony heart attack—death by natural causes—story.
“Who really killed him?” the FBI director asks, “. . . the Russians or the White House?”
Shane frowns. “My source in Moscow thinks it was a collaborative effort between the Russians and the White House. Scott was Rosie’s deep background source for the series of stories she was preparing to write about a plot, orchestrated by the Kremlin, to keep the president in power should he lose the upcoming election.”
After a quick perusal of the headline captions of the file, “This is incredible, a plot line right out of The Manchurian Candidate” FBI director Read responds in disbelief.
Shane is matter of fact. “Yeah. I suspect Scott knew the danger he was in. That’s why he took the precaution of securing a copy with Rosie. He put a copy of the file in a locker at the airport as insurance, and he instructed Rosie that if anything untoward happened to him she was to recover the file and go to New Orleans to find Billy.”
“And that’s how you first got it?” Director Read asks. He, of course, is familiar with Billy and his background. It was, after all, his New Orleans office—after the agents there had interrogated Billy—that first alerted the CIA about the Russian mafia plot to smuggle a dirty bomb into the U.S. through the port of New Orleans.
“That’s right,” Shane replies. “As you know, he’s worked for me on several clandestine operations since we busted the Russians and shut down their New Orleans smuggling operation. He has done some contract jobs for us at the CIA and work for the Mossad. He took down that Jordanian arms dealer who was going to sell the SAMS to Hezbollah.”
Shane pauses. “He is the best black ops guy I’ve got. Obama really did not want to do the amnesty deal, but he did not have a choice. Like I said, Billy is the best I’ve got. As a professional in the field, I can say that Obama was often a fool who suffered a debilitating naivete in international affairs. He was overly optimistic to the point of delusion—witness the so-called “re-set” with Russia—and did not want to see the world in terms of Realpolitik the way it really exists. He tended to view it through rose-colored glasses and the prism of his own soaring rhetoric.” This was said with some derision toward the former president.
“What about the girl?” the FBI man asks. “She has to be in considerable danger.”
Shane nods. “Yeah. The Russians so far—at the direction of the Kremlin—have made two attempts on her life. But I have Billy babysitting her. He’s taught her how to shoot, and she’s already taken out four of the Kremlin’s goons sent to kill her.”
The FBI man’s face registers his surprise. “Really?”
The CIA director laughs. “Yeah. Billy says she’s a cool hand with her Glock semi-automatic, and a dead shot.” Then in a more serious tone. “She’s a crucial fact witness, and we have to keep her alive.”
Shane then reaches into his briefcase and takes out another file, titled: The Final Solution, and labeled with the same bold Eyes-Only designation. He hands it across the seat to the FBI director. “This is what I really want to talk to you about,” he says with intended emphasis.
The FBI counterintelligence chief recognizes the file. He stares back at Shane. “This is a plot to assassinate the president of the United States,” he says flatly.
Shane stares back at him. “Yes,” he says in an ominous tone. “Since the recently concluded Senate trial did not meet the necessary vote threshold to constitutionally remove the president from office, The Bad King now believes that he has been totally exonerated. Every day now he Tweets about his complete exoneration by the Mueller Report. And he proclaims to anyone who will listen: ‘Read the second amendment. If you read the second amendment, you will see it gives me the right, as president, to do whatever I want.”’
Shane is almost bitter. “I doubt this president has ever read one word of the constitution. Either we take bold preemptive action now, and implement The Final Solution, or we just stand idly by and witness the slow dissolution of our democratic form of government at the hands of a criminal foreign dictator and a determined American tyrant.”
“Who’s going to do it?” the FBI man asks.
Shane smiles. “We are—the FBI and the CIA together. And I’ve got just the right guy for the job.”
The limo has made a short-circuit tour of the most prominent and recognizable Washington landmarks. It has turned and is headed back to the FBI headquarters building. Director Read stares blankly out the window as the car rolls slowly past the Treasury building. He is bland in his response to Shane. “Let me guess—Billy Tidewater?”
“That’s right,” the CIA man grins.
“What’s the timing?” Director Read asks.
“That’s yet to be determined,” Shane says. “We’ll have to wait to see the outcome of the fall election. If a Democrat wins and the president declares the election a fraud, invokes the Insurrection Act, and refuses to leave office—then we see what happens.”
“Is Director Wray in on this?” Read asks in a wary voice.
Shane is blunt. “No. He’s a political appointee, a strong ally of the president, a Republican toady, and a Federalist Society protege—and therefore not to be trusted. I will coordinate the operation through my department at Langley, and I’ll be counting on you to handle your end at the FBI, but the director can’t know. This must be totally clandestine and off the books.”
“You know it’s ironic,” Director Read says, “We’re career civil servants who have sworn an oath to protect the constitution and defend the rule of law, and yet the president denigrates us every day, calls into question our loyalty, attacks and tries to ruin the careers of our most dedicated and committed agents, claims we are part of some ad hoc Deep State conspiracy out to delegitimize and destroy his presidency.”
The FBI counterintelligence director leans back in the seat, continues to stare out the window at the familiar Washington scene, then—with a somewhat reflective, somber, and almost bitter tone in his voice—gives Shane the confirmation that he wants to hear.
“The President of the United States is a threat to our institutions of government, to our very democracy. And if he is defeated in the election and foments a civil war in the United States, stands in opposition to a peaceful transition of power to a new administration, then I agree, he must be taken out—forcibly removed from office by whatever means.”
As the black government limo comes to a stop in front of the FBI headquarters building, the counterintelligence director shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He genuflects out the window at the facade of the iconic building. “I’ve worked here—proudly I might say—for twenty years.” He taps the file on the seat between them. “This is treason, Shane,” he says ominously. “This could get us both hanged!”
“What the president is plotting is treason.” The CIA man breathes a heavy sigh. “Let’s not forget, this is not about us. As dedicated public servants—and you said it yourself—we’ve both sworn an oath to protect the people of the United States, defend the constitution, and uphold the rule of law.”
He pauses and looks back at his FBI counterpart. “As patriots and dedicated public servants, we have no choice in the matter,” he affirmatively states, as he slips the two ultra-secret files back into his briefcase.