demanded. “Who cried out, ‘We’ve been attacked and now NATO must come to our aid’?”
Hayes looked her in the eyes and answered, “America. Right after 9/11.”
“Exactly,” the Norwegian stated. “Three thousand people died. It was a horrible attack. The civilized world was sickened. And you know what? Norway was proud to fight alongside its American ally.
“Yet you’re telling me now—despite the Norwegian lives lost and blood spilled post-9/11—that if our country was invaded; if we had foreign soldiers in our streets, taking over our homes, burning our businesses, and usurping our government, that America ‘might not’ come to Norway’s aid?”
“Yes,” Hayes responded. “As terrible as that sounds, that’s what I’m saying. We’re in uncharted political waters. All of us. You know that. So we can either ignore reality, or deal with the facts as they are. The United States has chosen to deal with the facts as they are.
“America is willing to do whatever it takes to make sure none of us get dragged into war.”
“What precisely does that mean?”
“It means that we don’t let boils fester. When we find one, we go in and we lance it. We’re of the mind that an ounce of prevention costs a lot less than a pound of cure. This is what the new Cold War looks like.”
Sølvi took it all in. The world was changing, rapidly. Hayes had that right. Some of it was organic—a reaction to rapid advancements in technology and globalization. But some of it, because Norway had seen it firsthand, was the product of bad actors, skilled in propaganda and information warfare. They exploited divisions within countries, turning citizens against each other, against their government, and against their institutions. They were hell-bent on sowing chaos, distrust, and discord wherever they could.
One of the worst actors was Russia. And the only thing Russia hated as much as the United States was NATO. It saw each as a threat to its very existence and worked to undermine them both every day.
“And it’s only going to get more brutal,” the CIA operative added. “If Norway is going to survive, it needs a lot more Carl Pedersens—operatives willing to do whatever it takes to succeed. But those operatives will need to find ways to give Oslo plausible deniability because there are many things Norway would like to do, but strategically it just can’t. That goes double for punching back at Russia, if that’s who’s behind this.”
“So that’s what you’re offering me? Plausible deniability?”
“I’m offering you a chance to hunt down Carl’s killer. That’s what you want, isn’t it? All I am asking in return is that you give us a head start on whatever you uncover. Quid pro quo. I don’t care what you share with NIS, as long as my agency gets it first. Fair?”
Sølvi was being co-opted. If she said yes to this deal, she’d be placing the CIA ahead of her own organization—completely contrary to her oath.
By the same token, she was intrigued. She had no idea what information Hayes had, nor whether any of it would be helpful. The proof would be in the pudding.
“Okay,” she said, refilling their glasses and signaling the waiter to bring another bottle. “I’ll bite. What have you got?”
Taking a sip, the CIA operative scanned the patrons around them to make sure no one was listening. Once Hayes was confident that it was safe to speak, she said, “What I’m about to tell you goes no further. If you ever mention my name in connection with this intel, I’ll deny this conversation ever took place. Are we clear?”
Slowly, Sølvi nodded.
CHAPTER 15
CAMP DAVID, MARYLAND
Okay,” Lawlor said. “Walk me through it. Everything that had to do with Pedersen—and anyone who knew you were connected.”
Nicholas had turned the Laurel cabin, which was where most of Camp David’s official meetings took place, into a makeshift operations center. It had three conference rooms, a kitchen, a dining room, and a small presidential office.
Though the structure had been built under President Nixon in 1972, the main conference room boasted technology on par with the Situation Room back at the White House. There were not only multiple flat-panel monitors, capable of broadcasting television and live encrypted video feeds, but also large glass screens, which could display visuals such as maps or satellite imagery and be annotated by touch.
The glass screens were on tracks and could be slid in either direction, revealing a huge whiteboard bolted to the wall. Though Lawlor appreciated all the tech, he preferred the whiteboard—especially when brainstorming.
Nearby, a