Wild Fire by Nelson DeMille Page A

certain individuals in the CIA and also the Pentagon . . . and maybe in the White House itself. In other words, there are others in Washington, aside from your Executive Board, who are helping. I’m sure you understand that. And understand, also, that if you didn’t exist, then the people in government who want to trigger Wild Fire would need to plant their own nukes in American cities.” He forced a smile and said, “But we like to encourage private, faith-based initiative.”
    “What’s your point, Scott?”
    “The point, Bain, is that whoever sent Harry Muller here wants to bring this to a quick conclusion. If it was the FBI, then you’re about to be busted. If it was the CIA, then they’re telling you to move fast.” He added, “I have no doubt that both organizations know what the other is up to, and it’s become a race to see whose idea of safeguarding American security is going to win out.”
    Madox stared silently, then said, “All I need is about forty-eight hours.”
    “I hope you have that much time.” Landsdale added, “I have a contact in the Anti-Terrorist Task Force where Muller works, and my guy tells me that Muller is a Mideast guy, and he doesn’t work in the Domestic Terrorist Section, so it’s unusual that he’d be picked for this job. But he further tells me that a guy named John Corey, former NYPD like Muller, and also in the Mideast Section, was the one originally picked to do this surveillance. Specifically picked. Why? That’s the question. What difference would it make who was sent here as the sacrificial lamb?” He lit a cigarette and continued, “Then, I recalled that the CIA guy who originally told me about Wild Fire was once attached to the ATTF, and while there, he’d gotten into a major pissing match with this guy Corey. Actually, worse than a pissing match—they really wanted to kill each other.”
    Madox glanced at his watch.
    Landsdale continued, “One of their many problems with each other seemed to be Corey’s present wife, an FBI agent assigned to the Task Force.” He smiled and said, “There’s always a woman involved.”
    Madox, too, smiled and said, “Sexual jealousy is the wild card of history. Empires have been destroyed because Jack was fucking Jill, and Jill was also fucking Jim.” He asked, “But what’s your point?”
    “Just that I see more than a coincidence here that Corey was supposed to be sitting where Muller is now sitting, waiting to die.”
    Madox observed, “Sometimes, Scott, coincidence is just coincidence. And what difference does it make?”
    Landsdale hesitated, then responded, “But if it’s
not
coincidence, then I see the hand of the master here—the guy who originally told me about Wild Fire and who also got me my job in the White House, and who got me introduced to the Custer Hill Club . . . but that’s not possible because this guy is dead. Or supposed to be dead.” He added, “Died in the World Trade Center.”
    Madox pointed out, “People are either dead, or they’re not.”
    “This guy is the ultimate spook. Dead when he needs to be, alive when he needs to come back. The point is, if it’s this guy who’s behind Muller’s being here, then I feel much better about our chances of getting Project Green going in the next forty-eight hours, and much better about the government initiating Wild Fire as the response.”
    Madox stared at Landsdale and said, “If that makes you feel better, Scott, then I’m happy for you. But the bottom line, Mr. Landsdale, is not what’s going on in Washington, but what’s going on
here
. I have worked on this plan for nearly a decade, and I
will
make it happen.”
    “Not if they shut you down in the next day or two.” Landsdale said, “Be grateful that you have friends in Washington, and be very grateful if my former mentor in Black Ops is alive and looking after you.”
    “Well, if you say so . . . maybe, when this is over, I can meet this man, if he’s among the living, and