by Paul Clark
*****
During the ten minute walk to the internet café Cameron remembered the ID and the credit card he’d taken from the short man. It was too dark to read them on the street, but now he urged Fahd to hurry. They had more than he’d thought to report to Smith, and he wanted to give the Agency guys as much time as he could to digest this, hopefully before the little man got moving again.
Now they were seated together around a machine in the small café. It was smoky and a little loud, hard Euro-pop music blaring to cater to the young crowd. Cameron opened the Yahoo mail window and typed:
URGENT FLASH URGENT
Smith,
I have met Falcon, but there is opposition in play here in Paris. Falcon was followed by a small man, probably North African, named Ahmed al-Kisani, age twenty nine. I have his drivers’ license and a credit card.
Do you have assets immediately available? If so, you may still find Kisani in the third alley north of the Tower, on the right hand side of the Ave Gustave Eiffel. He has been there for about an hour already, so he may be gone by now. If you can get there, you may find something that we need. Follow him at least, perhaps pick him up if you think that wise, in either case find out what he’s up to and advise me how to proceed. Get moving if you can.
Phoenix
He did not expect an immediate reply, and none came. It would be just one-thirty in the afternoon at Langley, but then it occurred to him he had no idea whether Smith was there, or in Paris. He hoped Paris so someone could get something moving to pick up Kisani.
They had other things to do, though, and they opened a travel website to find a hotel for Fahd and his family. They worked through several, all of which had rooms that they thought would be too small, and between them they decided they needed something out of the way, not a big chain hotel like the Ritz. In the end they chose a four-star hotel in the Marais, a different district over a mile from the family’s current hotel.
“I’ve had the evil thought that we should make Mr. Kisani pay for your hotel Fahd, to compensate us for our inconvenience,” Cameron flashed the credit card to his friend.
“You are not serious, Paul? Could we do that?”
“Maybe, but no, I am not serious. I don’t know how quickly the owners would notice, but it’s no good telling them we’re spending their money at your new place of residence. Still, I may use it somewhere else if I get the chance, just to see if I can get away with it, and to drive them nuts with the expenses. It would be even better if I had his PIN for a cash machine, that would be perfect.” He regretted leaving the wallet with Miguel, perhaps Kisani had carried a slip of paper with the PIN written on it.
Cameron now had to make a decision about his own two government-issued credit cards. One was for his hotel, the other for cash. He could use either, actually, but he was trying to sort out all the consequences, if any, of using them. For one thing, he assumed the Agency could track his use of these cards in near-real time, and he wasn’t sure he wanted them to know where Fahd was, but he was not sure why. Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure he wanted the Agency to know where his hotel was, either. He put that aside for the moment. “Use one of my personal cards, maybe?” He thought about this. “No, I think not. Harder for them to trace, because they would not expect it, but if the bad guys figure it out, they can probably track me all the way back home, and that would not be good, no way. Use the government card and the trail probably stops with some front company the Agency has set up, I’m protected. OK, government card it is.
In the end he decided to use the hotel card, reasoning that it would confuse the Agency if they saw he was checked into two hotels at the same time, maybe they could not cover both here in Paris. “Hmm, maybe even three hotels, or four? They did say “don’t be cheap,” didn’t they?” They used the card, booked and prepaid online. The hotel did not have the suite Fahd wanted, but there were two adjoining rooms with enough beds and bathrooms. It would have to do.
They checked the mail, nothing. It had been twenty minutes. Cameron was starting to think of heading back to the alley and following Kisani himself—he could always hand off to the Agency when they got their act in gear, pity to waste the chance. The guy was almost certainly a small fish, but he could lead to a bigger fish right here in Paris, and that might be valuable.
Still nothing at twenty-five minutes, and Cameron went to the bar, bringing back two bottles of water and a couple of Mars bars. It had been a long day after a long trip from the States. “Is it really still Tuesday? He wondered. The confusion that always accompanied his jet-lag was setting in, and he was starting to feel groggy. “Too much to do still,” he told himself—the chocolate would have to work its magic.
When the email came, both of them had lost all hope of catching Kisani still napping, it had been over two hours since they left him unconscious in the alley. If Miguel and his pals hadn’t killed him, he was sure to be up and around by now, they agreed. The were eager to see what Smith had to say anyway
Phoenix,
Where are you now? We are very concerned about the opposition, and would like to bring you in where we know you and your friends will be safe. Give me an address and we will have someone come and pick you up.
Smith
Cameron sat back in his chair, thinking. Fahd noticed, and asked, “what is it, Paul? Why not answer, we’re wasting time. What about this Ahmed?”
Cameron was still thinking. “Something’s not quite right with that reply. What is it? What’s missing?”
That was the key, he thought suddenly. Smith had not asked about Kisani at all, and that was the urgent part. Hadn’t said whether they were moving to pick him up, nothing. Just “where are you?” Why’s that the most important thing right now? Then it came to him. “You were supposed to be following me, weren’t you Smith, and I lost you and now your shit’s in the street, so you’re trying to save your own bacon?” It felt right. He wasn’t worried about his own side, really, but he was pissed that they’d tried to follow him, even if it was for his own good, and he was more pissed that he’d just wasted, what, thirty minutes, and this guy was just trying to cover his own ass.
Smith,
Quit screwing around. We are safe for the moment, nothing to worry about at all. You go pick up this Kisani guy, let me know when you do and what you know about him, then I’ll come in. Meantime, I’ve got stuff to do. Anything else you’d like to know about the guy off his ID or the credit card?
If not, I’ve got things to do, and I’ll check in again in an hour or so to see what you have.
Phoenix
As expected, the reply was as immediate as he figured the guy could type, wherever he was.
Phoenix,
Cute. Ok, give me the ID stuff, any numbers, date of birth, place of birth if it’s on there, address, telephone, everything. Can you fax an image? Credit card number, name, expiration date, and the 4-digit code off the back of the card. Please.
Calling Paris station now to get things moving.
Can’t hold it against me for trying, right?
Smith
“Wrong, but I’ll probably forgive you” Cameron said aloud. He fired off an email with the information on the cards, answered “Maybe, maybe not” to the question, and said he’d be back online in two hours and they better have something to tell him about Ahmed. He killed the screen and turned to Fahd.
“Cheeky guys. Well, let’s get moving, abu Mohammed.” Just for fun, he decided to try to use Ahmed’s card, but he gave it to Fahd for this first try. “You look more like an “Ahmed” my friend” he said with a shrug, and Fahd smiled.
The card worked, and the clerk didn’t ask for ID. “Well, it was only ten euros, but this has all kinds of possibilities for mischief” Cameron grinned, and they stepped outside to hail some taxis.
