eyes moved from Landon back to the Director.
“Sir, respectfully, we’re just three sailors. I think if you’re looking for a few super spooks, the Agency, or even the ISA, would be your first stop.” The ISA, or Intelligence Support Activity, is an extremely secretive unit within Joint Special Operations Command that focuses on intelligence gathering and theater preparation before special operations forces hit the ground.
“It appears I’ve joined you during the exciting part of the conversation,” said Landon, taking Sterba’s response as his cue to enter and join us at the table. “Joe, it’s specifically because you’re not a part of CIA, ISA, or the Defense Clandestine Service that you are the right ones for the job.
“The problem is this: what we’ve built over the last dozen or so years has grown too big to move quickly. Did you know there are sixteen primary intelligence agencies in this country? Sixteen. And within each, there are dozens of directorates responsible for intelligence product and operations. Add to that a tripling of the management layers in recent years—and the increasing inability of politicians to make a decision without polling and focus groups—and you end up with a giant jar of molasses.”
Director Nichols took the baton, continuing to address Sterba’s concern. “Chief, you stopping the attack in Afghanistan was the perfect example. As much as Karzai irritates the hell out of me, his death, and the death of the Afghan General Assembly, would have been a devastating blow to the free world.
“You didn’t have specific orders to save them. You didn’t have a committee directing you. Hell, no one here even believed you. But you knew it had to be done. You knew it was the right thing to do. And you acted instantly and with conviction.”
Given that we had spent the past several days being berated specifically for the perseverance we’d shown, I was rather surprised at this sudden turn of events.
“Sir, I don’t think you addressed the Chief’s question,” I said. “Seems like what you are looking for are spooks. The Commander is probably the closest, given her role in Naval Intelligence. But Sterba is a shooter and I am an aviator.”
“Your designator may be aviator, but we both know you’re a shooter as well, Jackson.” The Director of National Intelligence paused and pointed at the flaming sword insignia I wear on my right collar, despite U.S. Navy regulations. It was clear he knew what it was and had read my file.
While I am, in fact, an aviator in the U.S. Navy, my career at one point took a detour with the New Zealand Army. I am a dual citizen by birth which, while hell on my accent, did allow some flexibility in service. To be honest, my first few days in the Kiwi army weren’t the best. I’d been placed there by an uncle who felt I needed a wakeup call following the death of my parents. But I attacked the assignment with vigor. I grew stronger and more determined every day, every month, and every year, eventually being selected to serve in the NZSAS. And though my sand beret and blue belt are packed away, I still wear the insignia bearing the ‘Who Dares Wins’ motto of the regiment on my collar. And on my heart.
The DNI continued, saying, “You have the skills we need, Jackson. When I was still wearing green, the Army brought a few soldiers up from your former squadron to spend six weeks teaching one of their specialties: tracking.
“I will always remember those NZSAS troopers. They were the most professional soldiers I had ever met. And they hammered into us the fundamentals of tracking. Do you remember them?”
“The enemy leaving breadcrumbs?” I replied. I would like to say I immediately regretted being a smart ass, but that wouldn’t exactly be the truth. Needless to say, I did not look at Chen, knowing that her glare would have been stern enough to knock me off my chair.
The DNI made a humphing noise, though the corner of his mouth did
“Sir, respectfully, we’re just three sailors. I think if you’re looking for a few super spooks, the Agency, or even the ISA, would be your first stop.” The ISA, or Intelligence Support Activity, is an extremely secretive unit within Joint Special Operations Command that focuses on intelligence gathering and theater preparation before special operations forces hit the ground.
“It appears I’ve joined you during the exciting part of the conversation,” said Landon, taking Sterba’s response as his cue to enter and join us at the table. “Joe, it’s specifically because you’re not a part of CIA, ISA, or the Defense Clandestine Service that you are the right ones for the job.
“The problem is this: what we’ve built over the last dozen or so years has grown too big to move quickly. Did you know there are sixteen primary intelligence agencies in this country? Sixteen. And within each, there are dozens of directorates responsible for intelligence product and operations. Add to that a tripling of the management layers in recent years—and the increasing inability of politicians to make a decision without polling and focus groups—and you end up with a giant jar of molasses.”
Director Nichols took the baton, continuing to address Sterba’s concern. “Chief, you stopping the attack in Afghanistan was the perfect example. As much as Karzai irritates the hell out of me, his death, and the death of the Afghan General Assembly, would have been a devastating blow to the free world.
“You didn’t have specific orders to save them. You didn’t have a committee directing you. Hell, no one here even believed you. But you knew it had to be done. You knew it was the right thing to do. And you acted instantly and with conviction.”
Given that we had spent the past several days being berated specifically for the perseverance we’d shown, I was rather surprised at this sudden turn of events.
“Sir, I don’t think you addressed the Chief’s question,” I said. “Seems like what you are looking for are spooks. The Commander is probably the closest, given her role in Naval Intelligence. But Sterba is a shooter and I am an aviator.”
“Your designator may be aviator, but we both know you’re a shooter as well, Jackson.” The Director of National Intelligence paused and pointed at the flaming sword insignia I wear on my right collar, despite U.S. Navy regulations. It was clear he knew what it was and had read my file.
While I am, in fact, an aviator in the U.S. Navy, my career at one point took a detour with the New Zealand Army. I am a dual citizen by birth which, while hell on my accent, did allow some flexibility in service. To be honest, my first few days in the Kiwi army weren’t the best. I’d been placed there by an uncle who felt I needed a wakeup call following the death of my parents. But I attacked the assignment with vigor. I grew stronger and more determined every day, every month, and every year, eventually being selected to serve in the NZSAS. And though my sand beret and blue belt are packed away, I still wear the insignia bearing the ‘Who Dares Wins’ motto of the regiment on my collar. And on my heart.
The DNI continued, saying, “You have the skills we need, Jackson. When I was still wearing green, the Army brought a few soldiers up from your former squadron to spend six weeks teaching one of their specialties: tracking.
“I will always remember those NZSAS troopers. They were the most professional soldiers I had ever met. And they hammered into us the fundamentals of tracking. Do you remember them?”
“The enemy leaving breadcrumbs?” I replied. I would like to say I immediately regretted being a smart ass, but that wouldn’t exactly be the truth. Needless to say, I did not look at Chen, knowing that her glare would have been stern enough to knock me off my chair.
The DNI made a humphing noise, though the corner of his mouth did
Similar Books
The Gift of Fire
Dan Caro
Billionaire Kink
Virginia Wade
The Super Spies and the Cat Lady Killer
Lisa Orchard
Queen by Right
Anne Easter Smith
Bradbury Stories
Ray Bradbury
The New World (The Last Delar)
Matthew Cousineau
Thursdays At Eight
Debbie Macomber
Sure Thing
Ashe Barker
The Grey Man
John Curtis
Hotel Living
Ioannis Pappos