If Carlton had been instructed to withhold this information from me, I knew I’d never be able to convince him to ignore those instructions, so I decided not to try.
I continued, “After Juliana and I left the guesthouse, I picked up some new intel on Ben from Mateo Aguilar. It might be enough to convince the DDO to let Keith stay in Santiago.”
“What kind of intel?”
“Mateo claims Lorenzo’s driver took Ben up to El Cobre. He sounded pretty convincing.”
“Did he mention a location?”
“No, he was vague about that. I really don’t think he has a clue.”
“Too bad he couldn’t verify what Alex’s asset told him about a farmhouse in El Cobre. As it is, I doubt if it’s enough to—”
“Reina Lorenzo is Alex’s asset, isn’t she? She’s the person he’s been calling Queen Bee.”
I heard Carlton chuckle. “So you finally figured it out?”
When I didn’t offer a response, he asked, “Does Keith know? Is that why he thinks Reina will tell him about Ben?”
“No, he’s not aware she’s Alex’s asset. He insists he and Reina have some kind of connection, and that’s the reason she’ll tell him about Ben.”
“Sounds pretty far-fetched to me. What makes him think she’ll talk to him at all?”
“She’s agreed to come by his hotel room tomorrow to pick up one of his CDs.”
“Let me guess. You want me to give the DDO the new intel you got from Mateo, so he’ll allow Keith to stay in Santiago and question Reina about Ben’s location.”
“You’re right, except for one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Who better to question Reina than Alex himself?”
Carlton was quiet for what seemed like a long time.
Finally, he said, “I believe it’s possible the DDO would allow Keith to remain in Santiago if his presence would allow Alex an opportunity to talk with Reina again. However, I’m sure he’ll insist Alex find a way to contact her at the hotel without blowing Keith’s cover. Otherwise, he might not go along with that scenario.”
“Alex is a pro. He’ll figure something out.”
“Tell Keith to give me a few minutes to contact the DDO before he makes that call.”
“You’re willing to do this in spite of the circumstances?”
“If that’s your way of getting me to tell you about the circumstances, it won’t work. But don’t worry, you’ll be hearing about them soon enough.”
* * * *
When Gabriel came out of the Aero Caribe office, I gave him the highlights of my conversation with Carlton, and he agreed to give Carlton a few minutes to talk to the DDO before he contacted him.
While we waited, I told him about the new intel I’d received from Mateo, although I didn’t mention anything about Alex Nelson, nor did I bring up the subject of Queen Bee.
I decided I would leave it up to the DDO to explain the role Alex would play in Gabriel’s rendezvous with Reina. From past experience, I felt sure the DDO was much better equipped to deal with an old soul than I was.
However, I did try to prepare Gabriel for a short stay in Santiago. “If the DDO lets you remain behind, I don’t imagine you’ll be here very long. Juliana and I will probably see you back at Langley in a couple of days.”
He nodded. “Do you know what’s on the agenda when you get back to Langley?”
“I’m not sure. Either Douglas didn’t know or he was still working out the details.”
“Maybe it depends on how the DDO views the results of the operation.”
“Oh, I’m sure the DDO will consider it a failure.”
“I’ve discussed the concept of failure with the DDO before. I told him I viewed failure as an opportunity to succeed the next time, but he didn’t agree with that philosophy.”
“I don’t imagine he did.”
“He said the best approach to failure was to find a way to reinterpret it as success.”
“Good to know. I might have to remind him of that.”
* * * *
Gabriel wasn’t on the phone with the DDO very long before he looked over at me and gave me a thumbs up. Once he’d hung up, he said the DDO hadn’t voiced any misgivings about allowing him to stay in Santiago.
When he finished telling me about the phone call, I offered him my hand. “You did a good job tonight, Keith. I apologize for my behavior earlier.”
He looked amused when he shook hands with me. “Careful, Titus, you might ruin your reputation. We all have to guard our reputations, you know. It’s the only way we’re able to survive out here.”
“I don’t worry about that as much as I used to.”
“Your reputation or your survival?”
“Both.”
Chapter 23
The Cessna Mustang contained four leather seats, two facing the cockpit and two facing the rear. When I came onboard, I noticed Juliana had already removed her shoes and made herself comfortable in one of the forward-facing seats.
After introducing myself to our pilot, whose name was Lloyd, I took the seat opposite her, and a few minutes later, I heard Lloyd revving up the Cessna’s engines.
When he began taxiing the plane down the runway, Juliana said, “Lloyd told me he’d received a flash alert on his phone just before we arrived.”
“Did he say who’d sent it?”
“No, he just said it was from someone in the Ops Center who told him there would be one less passenger aboard his flight tonight. They said the mission had been redirected. What do you think redirected means?”
I fastened my seatbelt as I felt the plane accelerating. A moment later we were airborne.
“Redirected? It all depends on who sent the message. If Coach Thompson sent it, it means he’s reworking the game plan to give us a chance to put this one in the win column. If Douglas sent it, it means he’s no longer running the show and a new director has taken over. Of course, if the DDO sent it, it could mean anything.”
“So who do you think sent it?”
“I’m pretty sure Douglas sent it.”
When she asked me why, I told her I’d called Carlton and shared the new intel we’d received from Mateo, and then I mentioned his cryptic remark about his reluctance to contact the DDO because of the circumstances.
“Did he give you any hint what he meant by circumstances?”
“No, but he agreed to contact the DDO and suggest Alex meet with Reina when she comes by the hotel. That’s probably the only reason Keith was allowed to remain in Santiago.”
“Did he mention anything about what we should expect once we get to Langley?”
I shook my head. “What usually happens is that we get debriefed.”
“How long will that last?”
“Too long.”
* * * *
I didn’t expect Carlton to make contact with me again until we were at least an hour out from landing at Dulles, so I put my seat in a reclining position and took a snooze.
When the vibration from my phone woke me up an hour later, I was dreaming about a farmhouse where there was a large beehive. I was trying to extract the honey from the hive, but I was having difficulty because the bees were buzzing all around me trying to protect the queen bee. To make matters worse, there was a large dog nipping at my heels.
A woman was standing beside me giving instructions, and I suddenly realized the woman was Nikki Saxon, which meant the dog was probably Stormy.
What was Nikki trying to tell me?
When I woke up, I heard Juliana say, “You should answer your phone,” which made me wonder if I’d correctly identified the woman as Nikki.
Perhaps I’d mistaken her for Juliana.
That could only happen in a dream, because the two women were nothing alike. Nikki had dark hair, brown eyes, and an irresistible smile. Juliana was a blue-eyed blonde.
True, Juliana also had a nice smile, but I didn’t feel about Juliana the way I felt about Nikki.
As I th
ought about Nikki’s irresistible smile, I decided no matter what happened in the next twenty-four hours, I would have to see that smile in person.
* * * *
When I answered my phone, Carlton asked me to put him on speaker so Juliana could hear what he was about to tell us.
“When you land at Dulles,” he said, “you’ll be picked up by an Agency driver and taken to one of our safe houses. I’d suggest you try to get some sleep before your debrief begins at one o’clock.”
He paused and cleared his throat before continuing, “Juliana, I know you’ve never been through a debrief before, but, as you might expect, most of the questions will be directed at Titus since he’s the primary for the operation.”
“I understand,” she said.
“Don’t worry, though, you won’t be left out. You’ll still get a few questions from the committee yourself.”
I realized Juliana might not recognize this was Carlton’s attempt at making a joke, so I mouthed the word “joke” to her.
She chuckled and said, “Okay. I’m glad I won’t be left out.”
“Titus, I’ll leave it up to you to explain the house rules to Juliana. You’ll be staying at The Gray.”
“Okay, I’ll do that, but before you hang up, could you answer a question for me?”
“If I can.”
“Will Juliana and I be returning to Santiago to continue our search for Ben?”
“Circumstances are such that I can’t answer that right now, but here’s what I can tell you. Operation Peaceful Retrieval is still an ongoing operation with the same objective.”
“By circumstances, are you referring to—”
“That’s all I can say for now.”
After Carlton hung up, Juliana said, “Tell me about The Gray.”
“Let me put it this way; You’ll love The Gray, but you’ll hate the house rules.”
* * * *
The CIA owned several safe houses in and around McLean, Virginia, a residential area a few miles from Agency headquarters in Langley. The safe houses were used for debriefing covert intelligence officers, interrogating high profile defectors, and housing foreign assets.
Although all the safe houses had normal street addresses, Agency personnel always referred to them by color-coded names. The names had been chosen by Support Services according to some architectural feature unique to that residence.
The Red, for example, had a red-tiled roof and looked like an Italian villa. I’d spent several weeks in it after a run into Pakistan.
When I returned to the States following my two-year stay in Tehran, I’d been debriefed at The Gray, the Agency’s newest acquisition.
The Gray was a 10,000-square-foot Georgian style mansion located on a large acreage that backed up to Morningstar Lake. I assumed Support Services had assigned it that particular name because the exterior was painted white, while the outside shutters were gray.
The property itself was in a gated community called Morningstar Gated Community. Each residence had private access to the lake, and many of the residences had their own boathouse. The Gray was no exception.
“So what makes you think I’ll love The Gray?” Juliana asked.
“I’m basing that assumption on how you transformed the living room at the safe house in Santiago into a livable space just by moving the patio furniture inside. I’m guessing you like to be surrounded by nice things, and at The Gray, no matter what room you’re in, you’re surrounded by nice things.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
“The size of the place may surprise you. I was told the Agency bought the property a few years ago during the housing bust. They gutted most of the interior, and then when they remodeled it, they made it into a self-contained mini-fortress. Our debrief will take place in the conference room on the basement level; that’s also where the medical facilities are located. The first time I was at The Gray, I was being treated for a broken leg, and I’m guessing Carlton must have booked us there so Ben could be checked out by a doctor when we arrived.”
Juliana nodded, but didn’t say anything.
Neither one of us had talked about Ben since we’d left Lorenzo’s compound, and now the name seemed to hang in the air between us.
Finally, after several minutes of silence, Juliana shook her head and said, “I’m sorry Ben’s not with us.”
She reached up and brushed away a tear from her eye. “I wish we could have brought him home.”
For a moment, I couldn’t think of anything to say, and then I suddenly realized her emotional response might have more to do with her dead husband than her missing partner.
I leaned forward in my chair and touched her hand. “You’ve never told me the circumstances of your husband’s death, and even though I’m sure Ben’s circumstances are nothing like what happened to him, you need to remember any loss we experience often reminds us of the pain we suffered from our deepest loss.”
She pulled a tissue out of her purse and dabbed at her eyes. “You sound exactly like Keith.”
I sat back in my chair and smiled. “Talk about pain. Now that really hurts.”
* * * *
Juliana excused herself and went back to the restroom. When she returned, she reminded me I was supposed to explain the house rules to her.
“Here’s what you need to know,” I said. “First, an operative returning from the field is considered in quarantine until his or her debrief is over. Second, the debriefing sessions can take anywhere from a few hours to a few days, depending on who’s in charge of the debrief and who’s on the debriefing committee.”
“Won’t Douglas be in charge of our debrief?”
“Yes, he’ll be running the show unless the DDO decides to pop his head in, which I’m not really expecting him to do since Peaceful Retrieval is still an ongoing operation.”
“Besides Douglas, how many are on the committee?”
“Three others. There’s usually an analyst, an intel specialist, and an outside observer. The outside observer can’t be in the same division as the operations officer. He or she is appointed to the committee by the DDO. If the outside observer is acquainted with the principals of the operation, they’re not allowed to be on the committee.”
“I’m guessing being in quarantine means we won’t be allowed to leave The Gray.”
“That’s right, but there’s a little more to it than that. It also means we won’t be allowed to have any outside communication until after the debrief is over—no internet, television, cell phones, etc. This rule was put in place to prevent an operative’s recall of events from being tainted by news reports or other types of communication.”
“I can see why that rule might be necessary.”
“In my opinion it’s overkill, especially in our situation. Since Ben’s kidnapping hasn’t been picked up by the media, there’s absolutely no chance of that happening. Making a phone call wouldn’t affect the outcome of our debrief.”
“Does that mean you intend to break that rule?”
“I didn’t say that.”
She smiled. “You didn’t have to.”
PART THREE
Chapter 24
Sunday, August 9
It was around three o’clock in the morning when our Agency driver drove the Lincoln Town Car through the remote-controlled gate at The Gray.
As soon as he began making his way up the winding road to the circle drive in front of the house, he received a phone call. Apparently, this was the first time he’d ever transported anyone to The Gray, and from what I could hear, he was communicating with someone about the procedure he should follow when he pulled in front of the house.
At first, I thought he might be talking to Jim Grover, the senior security officer at The Gray, but then I remembered Jim usually worked the day shift and a subordinate covered the night shift.
Whoever it was, I figured the person giving him instructions had been tracking our vehicle from the moment we’d entered the front gate of the estate.
“There’s something I forgot to mention about staying here,” I said.
Juliana, who’d been staring out the side window, turned and looked at me. “What’s that?”
“The Gray is monitored 24/7 by closed-circuit cameras.”
She nodded. “I saw the cameras at the gate.”
I pointed out the window. “There are cameras from one end of the property to the other. They’re also in every room in the house except the bedrooms. You won’t have much privacy here.”
“So the cameras aren’t just for security purposes? They’re also being used to monitor our activities while we’re here?”
“I understand why that surprises you, but you have to realize our situation is a little different than the other covert ops people who arrive here. Some of them have just been pulled out of a hot zone, or maybe they’ve seen one of their team members killed. A few of them could have been imprisoned or even tortured. Whatever their situation, most of them welcome the idea of the good guys watching over them day and night.”
“That may take some getting used to.”
“Let’s hope we’re not here long enough for that to happen.”
* * * *
Each of the CIA’s safe houses in McLean had an Agency couple living in it. To their neighbors, the couple appeared to be the homeowners. Instead, the U.S. government owned the house, and both the husband and wife were being paid a generous salary to live in the house.
The permanent residents of The Gray were Greg and Martha Bower. It was Greg who met Juliana and me at the door.
Greg was a middle-aged man, slightly overweight, in his late fifties with short gray hair. He was dressed in a pair of lounge pants and a T-shirt. His droopy eyelids indicated he might have been dozing while he was waiting for us to arrive.
“Titus,” he said, shaking my hand, “it’s good to see you again.”
He turned to Juliana. “You must be Juliana. I’m Greg.”
“Nice to meet you.”
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