Miles To Go Part 1

Miles to Go.

Amy Dawson Robertson.

Dedication.

For Mom, for always believing in me and for being the best there is, ever.

For S-H, for letting go of the aliens and encouraging me to take the s.p.a.ce and time to write.

Acknowledgments.

Many people were kind enough to read Miles to Go in its early stages and offer valuable feedback. Heartfelt thanks to: Brad Buehler, Mary Buonanno, Robin Eastman Caldwell, Jen Champagne, Dana B., Karen DeSantis, Amanda Farrar, Paige Forrest, Elizabeth Frengel, Soniah Kamal, Sarah Leary, Adele Levine, Mari Millard, Barb Rich, Scott Ritter, Ella Schiralli and Beck Sheehy. And to my good friends from book club, many of whom were supportive early readers.

Thanks to my favorite Canadians, Donna Malthouse and Line Parent for lighting a fire under me by wanting to read chapter by chapter as the novel was being written.

Thanks to my editor, Katherine V. Forrest.i.t was an honor to work with her and I learned a lot through the process. And to Karin Kallmaker and Linda Hill for making it happen.

And finally to Sally Loy Woodward, to S-H and to Alexandra Ogilvie for being there nearly every step of the way and for their encouragement, boundless patience and good judgment.

PROLOGUE.

January 2001.

Senate Appropriations Subcommittee on Commerce, Justice and StateUnited States Capitol.

Was.h.i.+ngton, D.C.

Closed Session.

"May we begin, Director Wilson?" The speaker was Marcia Joplin, senior senator from Maine, and thorn in the side of countless administration officials.

Stephen Wilson took a long drink of ice water and winced as the cold struck a sensitive molar. He needed to see a dentist. Just one more thing he didn't have time for. Rubbing his jaw, the FBI Director raised his hand in a.s.sent. He was as ready as he would ever be. Even for Senator Joplin.

Joplin was that rare breed of Republican, liberal as only a few senators from small Northeastern states can be. She had muscled her way into chairing this important subcommittee through an impressive series of manipulationsshe was a born politician and feared by many, including Stephen Wilson.

"This is your fifth appearance, Director, and we are here to discuss your budget request for a new international counterterrorism team. Thank you for being here today." Joplin looked as if she were on fire, her trim figure clad in an exquisitely tailored red suit.

This was the last day of the closed budget hearings and the final item on the agenda was what a few within Wilson's inner circle had come to refer to as his pet project. It was much more than that for Wilson. It was an absolutely necessary response to a growing concern that no one seemed to be heeding. An international counterterrorism tactical team was needed to tamp down extremist factions that seemed to be sprouting mushroom-like across the globe. He wasn't against taking necessary steps to protect his country even if no arrests would ever be madethe FBI had long been more than just law enforcement. But getting his funding would be difficult and Wilson wasn't hopeful. With Joplin in control, he knew he probably wouldn't have the support he needed.

Joplin began. "To get to it, there is concern that too many funds are being directed toward what many see as a largely unsubstantiated threat. Are you prepared to make an argument for it?"

Unlike the majority of her GOP cohorts, Joplin was known to be disinclined to support defense measures that she saw as little more than undisguised sabre-rattling machismo. She was on record as being a firm believer in the generous allocation of funds for the defense of country, but in one particularly vivid interview she was quoted saying that she found it frightening that so many of her colleagues, and most alarmingly her superiors in the executive branch, seemed to be overgrown children in possession of the largest, most dangerous toy box in the world, courtesy of Boeing, Lockheed Martin, Northrop Grumman and the five branches of the U.S. Armed Forces.

Wilson cleared his throat and leaned into the microphone.

"Yes, Senator. As I'm sure you know, international terrorism has been on a dramatic rise in the last ten years. It is a dire threat to the United States and it will be on our sh.o.r.es if we don't do something about it. In the last five years alone, there has been a fifty-three percent increase in terror-related activities across the world."

Senator Joplin pursed her lips and removed her reading gla.s.ses, laying them on the dais, her favorite emphatic gesture.

"That's a dramatic number, Director, but I fail to see what it has to do with us. And as I'm sure you know, our role is not to police the world but to protect our own people."

Such shortsightedness had plagued Wilson his entire career.

"I can tell you, Senator, many of these events should be seen as an attack on American interests."

The chairwoman replaced her reading gla.s.ses on the tip of her nose and peered at the figures just handed to her. Clearly, she didn't like what she saw. Wilson knew that they flew in the face of her vision of the world as essentially benign. She finally looked up.

"And your argument for this is?"

"You're aware of the largest events. But there are countless other smaller attacksthey are outlined in the report we prepared for the committee. Hotel bombings where Americans are known to be staying. Kidnapping and hostage-taking of Americans abroad."

"What are other countries doing about this?"

"Not enough. We don't have sufficient diplomatic relations with many of the countries where these acts are taking place.

These factions are not stupid. They know to hit us where we are weakest. That's why we need to take the lead and act now."

"The FBI's Hostage Rescue Team was originally designed to attend only to domestic matters but has long taken on international missions. Why can't they continue to cover that arena?" Joplin asked.

"A team functions best when it has a clear mandate. The Cold War is over. No state will attack us openly. Terrorist organizations, loosely aligned to a state or multiple states, perhaps secretly funded by them, are willing to enact a kind of warfare that has no parameters. No Geneva Convention, no moral code enforced by the social contract that we insist upon from established governments. We must have a team devoted to confronting if not controlling these groups. And we have to show other countries in the same boat that we are doing something about it."

For a moment, Wilson believed he had gotten through to her. Her eyes finally showed some kind of understanding. Then she shook her head.

"I appreciate your concern for our national security, Director.

And your forward-thinking is something that the intelligence community has sorely lacked. But we are in a serious budget crisis and quite frankly I don't think we can afford to make ideological statements to foreign countries."

Wilson felt the muscles knot in his shoulders. He forced himself to relax before he continued. "If we don't, the terrorists will make their own statement, right here in Was.h.i.+ngton, D.C."

"But that's the point. They haven't hit us and you haven't made a case that they will. And, really, your scare tactics are a little much, Director. Let's get down to the nitty-gritty. How many personnel are you asking for?"

And that was it. Her face had closed and she would hear no more. Wilson looked at the other members of the committee, but they all looked tired and resigned to let Joplin win on this issue.

Wilson sighed deeply. What he was asking for wasn't much. A small beginning that could develop into something fundamentally important, once its efficacy was proven. "Okay. We're requesting fifty special operations agents, along with the necessary support staff. The fifty agents will be divided into tactical units to be deployed on specialized missions overseas designed to prevent current and future attacks on American interests at home and abroad."

"Now, word on the street," Joplin said, "is that the formation of this team is already underwayI hear you're calling it CT3 and that a call for applicants went out months ago under the auspices of an offshoot of the Hostage Rescue Team."

Wilson nodded.

"I'll remind you, Director, that this hearing is being recorded and vocalized responses are appreciated."

"That is correct, Senator," Wilson affirmed.

"And where did you find the money for this little independent venture of yours?"

"We were able to achieve efficiencies in several areas."

"That's very convenient."

Wilson said nothing.

"Yes, it's very convenient and it puts us in a difficult position since all the resources you've already put into this are for naught if you don't receive additional funding."

Wilson knew he'd made an enormous gamble, one that would be an embarra.s.sment if it didn't pay off and would likely damage his career.

"But," she went on, "there's no way we can authorize that much money for this. We've been very generous with the rest of your budget request." She paused, eyebrows raised, and waited for Wilson to nod, indicating his agreement.

He did.

What a consummate b.i.t.c.h, he thought.

"In light of your impa.s.sioned argument we will authorize funds for twelve agents for this new team as a kind of pilot project. On one condition..." She paused, removing her reading gla.s.ses again, her eyes tightening before she continued. "I have long been frustrated with what I see as the Bureau's adherence to an outmoded s.e.xism in their hiring practices on these specialized teams. For instance, as you know, women have never been members of the Hostage Rescue Team. I want to see that change with this new team."

Wilson was expecting this, had heard through one of his friends in the Senate that Joplin planned to make it an issue.

That was why when he put out the call for applicants, he allowed, even encouraged, women to apply. John MacPherson, a former Hostage Rescue Team operator and subsequent Special Agent in Charge, would be helming CT3 and he'd make d.a.m.n sure no women were ever sent on any kind of a.s.signment they couldn't handle.

The week before, Wilson had found a few hours in his schedule to drive down to Quantico and take a look at the group of people he believed might one day thwart the kinds of threats that Americans had yet to imagine. There were fifteen women who'd made it through the application process. And there was one who stood out so starkly from the rest of the field that Wilson, against all his better instincts, wondered if she might be the exception to his hard-and-fast rule that women should never, ever, be in a position where they might have to enter into true combat.

As Wilson walked onto the maneuvers field that morning, he raised a hand to MacPherson. The applicants were practicing hand-to-hand combat. The day was crisp and clear and though they had hauled a few battered mats out from the gym, there was a lot of cold hard ground to contend with. The rules were to pin your opponent and leave no bruisesotherwise it was no holds-barred street fighting. Most of the men were paired up with other men and the same went for the women, but two of the women were a.s.signed to fight with men. One was small and compact. Wilson couldn't place her ethnicity, but she was dark and attractive. She was paired with a stocky man who pinned her repeatedly until she finally threw up her hands in surrender.

The other woman was tall and muscular in a way that some women can be without the appearance of bulk. And there was something deeply appealing about her. Her male opponent was much largera tall, large-boned, barrel-chested man who should have been able to subdue her in an instant. But as Wilson watched them he saw she had three a.s.sets that the man, with all his strength, couldn't compete with. She was extremely fast with a kind of quickness that seemed to be allied with a deep instinct to survive. She was also wily and as he watched her he could see that her instincts meshed perfectly with her active mind and she was continually able to trick the man, antic.i.p.ating and countering his every move. And then there was her ferocity. Wilson was sure he'd never seen it to such an extent in a woman and he didn't think he'd care to see it again. But it did give him pause. She took to heart the rule that she was to leave no bruises but she would not allow herself to be held. The man had no opportunity to pin her and Wilson could plainly see from the frustration creasing his face that he was trying with all his might.

Driving back to D.C. that afternoon, he acknowledged to himself, Yes, there are exceptions. He'd had a long conversation with MacPherson before he left and as he was about to get into his car he asked about the woman.

MacPherson ran his fingers through his close-cropped hair and shrugged. "What do you want me to say? She's exceptional.

Like nothing I ever thought possible."

Wilson thought of his wife and daughters and decided to play devil's advocate.

"So? What's the problem?"

"You're kidding me, right? I thought we were on the same page here."

"We are, my friend. But let me ask you clearly. Is she unsuitable?"

"Depends on what you mean by unsuitable," MacPherson said too quickly. Then he drew his lips in and shook his head again before looking at Wilson. "No. She's not unsuitable."

"What's her name?"

"Rennie Vogel."

Wilson had thought a lot about Rennie Vogel since that afternoon but he would still argue for her exclusion. He saw it as a moral obligation, to keep his men as safe as he could and he believed even the most talented woman would hamstring an otherwise solid team. So with the CT3 selection period still going on as he sat in the Capitol hearing room, he continued his debate with Joplin. It was a debate he wouldn't share with his wife.

"With all due respect, Senator, our national security is at stake and this is no time for sociological experiments," Wilson said.

"Do you see women in the workforce as a sociological experiment, Director Wilson?" she said, leaning forward.

Wilson quelled a strong desire to roll his eyes. "You know as well as I do that women have been thoroughly integrated into FBI culture for years. Women have served capably as special agents, intelligence a.n.a.lysts and linguists. But special operations forces are a different animal. Whether you consider the Rangers, the SEALs or the Hostage Rescue Team, the men selected for these elite teams are exceptional in their physical abilities. This cannot be overlooked and I will respectfully remind the committee that the United States Armed Forces has never permitted women to serve as front-line combat soldiers on the ground. The rationale for this is well doc.u.mented"

Before Wilson could continue, Joplin said, "So, if the Armed Forces won't allow women to be grunts, how could they possibly qualify for a special operations force?"

Wilson nodded."That's my conclusion."

Joplin pa.s.sed a hand over her face.

"I hear what you are saying and I believe you believe it to be true. But we have to look at history. No one could have predicted what women have accomplished in just the last century and you know as well as I do that women have seen action on the front lines whether they were ever intended to or not." Joplin consulted her notes. "Panama. 1989. Female soldiers involved in firefights, female convoy drivers ambushed. In the Gulf War, women saw action on the front lines. What I'm suggesting to you is that just as all men aren't suitable for special operations, not all women are either. But some will be. And when you begin to sift through your applicants, qualified women will rise to the surface."

Wilson took a deep breath before he responded. "Your points are well taken, Senator, but infantry is not special operations and I believe in this one area of physical ability, by insisting upon the presence of women, you will only be putting the women and the team in danger. A special operations agent must have superior qualifications in many areas, one being physical strength and prowess. I'm sure the committee wouldn't want to be responsible for the death of an agent injured in combat because his teammate, a woman, is unable to pull him to safety."

A few senators raised their eyebrows at this, but Joplin remained expressionless, unmoved.

"And let me remind the committee," he continued, "that the Hostage Rescue Team at its inception was open to both men and women. The single female applicant excelled in most elements of the training, but she failed the exercises involving upper-body strength. And, perhaps most importantly, she was unable to perform the full-body carry that is absolutely fundamental to saving lives."

"Are you telling me, Director Wilson, that you are willing to judge every potential female applicant based on the failure of one woman?" Joplin leaned forward and held up her finger for him to see.

Wilson said nothing and thought again of Rennie Vogel.

Joplin continued, "Enough on this issue. The bottom line is that we don't have the money for this pie-in-the-sky kind of request. Another year, maybe, but this year you will have to make do with twelve agents for your new team and, Director, let's make sure two of them are women."

"Is that a stipulation, Senator?"

"Yes, it is."

0.

CHAPTER ONE.