“So who the fuck is he?”
“If we’re drawing comparisons, think of Salim Al Douri as the Jack Welch of terrorism.”
“Jack would love you for that,” growled the president.
“The comparison I’m drawing is not on the man, but his position. Salim is the CEO of Al Nadir. His powerbase and strategy is the same as any CEO in an immensely powerful, global corporation. Growth through acquisition. Diversified to spread the risk. Think about it.”
“I’m thinking.” Treeborne glared hard at Hutchinson.
“Al Nadir is the crack kids on the streets in downtown Washington. The terrorist insurgencies in South Korea. The child prostitution rings in Russia. The fundamentalist uprisings on the West Bank. Al Nadir is the Coca-Cola of terrorism. Like any global brand, Al Nadir is everywhere. And because of this pervasiveness, they’re virtually impervious to attack. Sir, do you see? How can you take out something you can’t get a fix on?”
The president didn’t respond.
Hutchinson pressed on with his analysis.
“Mr. President, all this conflict is achieving nothing but a collateral body count in six figures and turning us into international pariahs. Our actions aren’t bringing down Al Nadir, they’re building them up. People across the world hate us. Every attack we deliver, every innocent we kill in the crossfire, gives more credence to the counter-attacks. We’re fueling the fires of discontent across the globe and feeding Al Nadir’s own recruitment drive.”
“So what the fuck do you suggest we do?” Treeborne almost spat the words at Hutchinson.
“I don’t know, sir. But I know that exhausting our troops in battles they have little hope of ever winning is not the way to overcome Al Nadir. We need an edge. A few years ago, we were the hyper-power, unstoppable, almighty. But that position has dramatically changed. Al Nadir has weapons and manpower to rival ours. Their intel capability is also on par. We never believed one country had the balls to take us on. And we were right. One country didn’t. But the terrorist conglomerate of Al Nadir has turned the tables. We’ve met our nemesis. Right now, we need to retrench and strategize. We need to find that edge, that something that will make a difference to us in this war.”
Remembering his vice president’s words, Treeborne had not believed he’d ever find the edge to win the war, but someone, somewhere, had forced the wheels of fate to move in his favor. Change was no more than a week away.
Chapter 29
Sky News ran in the background on a plasma TV inset into a paneled oak fascia. The screen displayed yet another bombing at the hands of Al Nadir. Another son fatherless. Another new widow. Another family ruined.
Ashton balled his fist and hit it on the desk, his face a murderous mask of anger.
“When is this ever going to stop?”
“It’ll stop when we take down Salim Al Douri.” Maide’s voice exposed his despondency. “Al Nadir’s a house of cards. Salim’s strength is Al Nadir’s greatest weakness. Our friends across the waters have come to the same conclusion. That’s what Kinley was in there for, but he’s run out of time. Intel has confirmed he’s been made. I know you wanted to keep him in but now he’s a liability. He must be taken out today.”
Kinley had been so much more than a double agent. He had been the confidence that gave them the belief they had a fighting chance in this war. Maide shuddered. Where would they go now? No one had survived so long in deep cover before. Kinley had sold them the profile he had carefully developed with his partner, Sam Noor. A British spy worn out by the feckless and ineffectual actions of a government ruled by Russian and Middle Eastern billionaires, who had the morals of a Filipino peasant father on the day he sold his teenage daughter to the village lothario.
Kinley needed to be believed. Lives had been sacrificed.
When Al Nadir knew what they had, a top British Intelligence agent turning of his own accord, they couldn’t wait to test him. Piccadilly was the final exam. Barely in with Al Nadir a few months, Kinley had gained access to their top league and had become a global senior lieutenant. He’d divulged secrets that Maide and Ashton agreed British Intelligence could lose, and he’d won favor quickly. Al Nadir could taste the bitterness in Kinley’s mouth as he compromised his Foreign Office position and happily provided details on safe houses, black accounts, intel networks, other agents’ locations and new technologies. But Al Nadir wanted absolute conviction that Kinley had turned.
A bombing at a major tube station in London. Kinley had the time, date and location. He knew exactly what was going to happen. When Maide received the information, it was precursored with a strict ‘take no action’. Like Kinley, Maide knew the future.
Thousands would die. This was the test. British lives on a plate.
If they made any attempt to close the station or stop the bombers, Kinley’s double agent mission would be over. He had to be believed. Al Nadir could never suspect Kinley’s real purpose.
So, on that day in late June, they had looked away as the bloodied, charred and smashed up bodies rolled out as if on a conveyor belt. Somehow, Maide had managed to sleep through the deafening scream of his conscience that night.
“You’ll have to find some other way.” Solid determination sounded in Ashton’s voice. “This has to finish. Their deaths must mean something.”
“You know we’d be slaughtered if the public ever knew.” Maide eyed the screen showing bodies being pulled out of the wreckage of a car bombing.
“That will never happen. Kinley will be out. It’s only us who know.”
“And Sam, of course,” said Maide hurriedly.
“Oh, yes…and Sam,” mused Ashton.
“But he’s a sound man.”
Maide stared at Ashton, suddenly not able to read the PM.
“Let’s hope so.”
Chapter 30
Sam waited for Ellie to respond. As each second passed before she spoke, Sam struggled to understand why his wife was making a conscious decision to lie to him. The more he thought about the fact that Ellie was getting ready to deceive him, the more annoyed he became. He made one last effort to access the truth.
“Ellie, you screamed because you burnt your hand on the coffee, didn’t you?”
“Well…I think so,” replied Ellie blankly.
She looked away from Sam’s piercing stare.
“What do you mean you think so?” snapped Sam. “I don’t understand why you can’t just tell me what happened.”
“Look, Sam, I’m not sure. Something happened in the kitchen but I can’t remember.”
“Ellie, you woke the whole bloody building when you screamed. You must know why?”
Sam’s annoyance melded into worry. Lack of recall was a sign of trauma. Selective amnesia kicks in when the brain is faced with a painful or horrific experience. He had seen it happen many times to operatives in the field. The brain takes over, erases the experiences and creates a void. Operatives had often lied about their actions, but they hadn’t done so intentionally or consciously. Their brains had done it for them. Ellie was exhibiting the same traits and this worried him greatly.
“It was a spider, ok!” Ellie flushed with embarrassment.
“You screamed like that over a bloody spider?” Sam’s voice gave away to Ellie that he didn’t buy her excuse. “I thought you feared nothing,” he added.
“Well it seems we both have things to still learn about each other.” Ellie’s rebuttal was poignant and biting. Sam was surprised she’d used the moment to take such a low shot.
“I deserved that.”
Sam was solemn. He had no right to cast judgement over his wife’s lies when he’d lied to her for over ten years.
“No. No, you didn’t,” replied Ellie softly.
Sam could see the shame flick across her face. She’d used his own guilt against him to deflect his questions.
“Yes, Ellie. I did. I lied to you. I didn’t confide in you. I betrayed our trust and openness. But believe me, I did it for you. I did it
to protect you.”
“Protect me?”
“Yes. What you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you. You were safe. But that’s changed. The balance shifted this morning. Please, darling, you must forget what I’ve told you. You must never, never repeat what you know to anyone. My life and now yours depends upon your absolute discretion. Can I…”
But Ellie wasn’t listening. She had tuned out. Balance shifted. That’s what Sam had said. Simple words. But they had meaning. They had sparked something deep inside her. She thought hard. Why should they mean anything? Unbecoming wrinkles creased across her forehead.
“What did you mean by balance shifted?”
Ellie’s words, like a swashbuckler’s sword, cut through Sam’s with a determined thrust.
“Sorry, what?” Her interruption had distracted him but he answered her question. “Balance shifted. It means you’re no longer in the dark as to what I really do. You have come into the light. You know the truth. I no longer have the balance over the information you know. The balance of power has shifted. We’re now on an equal footing.”
“Could they mean something else, those words?”
“They could mean many things. Why do you care?”
Sam’s interest was piqued. He had just revealed he had lied to keep her safe, but she didn’t seem to care at all. Ellie appeared more obsessed with two passing words.
“I’m not sure. It’s just those words…”
Ellie’s voice wandered off and she stared with confused eyes at her husband.
Sam shook his head and replied with terse efficiency.
“Look Ellie, I’d love to discuss this, but I’m going to be late if I don’t leave now. My driver has already buzzed up twice and I mustn’t keep the PM waiting.”
He kissed her swiftly, opened the door and marched down the corridor with a single thought in his mind.
All the years of psych-ops training and he still couldn’t read his own wife.
Chapter 31
Justin Maide, unlike the PM, wasn’t a great believer in hope. In his world, probabilities weren’t good enough. He liked assurances. Better still, he liked certainties. Talking to Sam yesterday had left him with considerable uncertainty.
“Sam, that’s it. We’ve got to take him out. It’s virtually certain they know.”
“Sir, you’ve got to give Kinley time!”
“You know I can’t,” Maide had said. “Abort is underway.”
“Abort? God, sir. I really think you’re being preemptive. It’s still not conclusive.” Sam was exasperated.
“How conclusive do you want it to be? The last operation built on Kinley’s intelligence was a bloodbath. They knew everything. They were waiting. It was a setup. You know that, Sam. You saw the report.”
“But we’ve all put so much into this. You know that. We can’t just throw it all away. Give him one more chance,” shouted Sam.
Maide listened. Like Sam, he remembered all the sacrifices that had been made for Operation Snowdrop.
“He’s no longer viable. I’m sorry. The decision has been made.”
“Change it! You have the authority.”
“No.”
“You’re wrong on this one, sir,” said Sam.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” replied Maide.
“You’re making a big mistake.”
“Time will tell.”
“You know, sir, I hope it doesn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“Imagine if you are aborting the one man who could bring down Al Nadir. How does that make you feel?”
“Not good,” said Maide. “But the decision is final. There is nothing more to discuss.”
“And what if he doesn’t accept it?”
“Then we’ll invoke sign off. You know how these things work.”
Sam went quiet. Oh yes, he knew the procedure. Total shut down. Secrets burned along with the truth.
“So you think he’s been completely turned. He’s not with us anymore?” asked Sam.
“I cannot answer that,” responded Maide quietly. “That is why these procedures have to be initiated.”
“Tell me, sir. What has it all been for?” Sam gritted his teeth. “If all we’re going to do is invoke sign off when things get tough, why the hell did we do anything at all?”
“To make a difference. And for a while, we did. But it didn’t last. We have to move on.”
“And just forget?”
“If necessary, yes.”
“Forget everything?” snapped Sam coldly. “Even Piccadilly?”
Sam had stepped way over the edge and he did it without taking a single beat.
“This conversation is over, Dr. Noor.”
Maide knew he had to act fast whilst Sam was in Oslo and Ellie was in Winchester. The couple’s absence gave them complete clearance to access the apartment. The call to his people had been just another call. Just another “eyes and ears” operation. He’d made the decision minutes after speaking to Sam.
Perhaps it had been frustration and disappointment on Sam’s part, but the discourse had left Maide with intense disquiet. He didn’t like his authority being questioned. Even more, he didn’t like the way Sam had used Piccadilly as a verbal weapon without hesitation.
Sam was committed and devoted, but he was also a maverick who played by his own rules. Maide always recognized this, but turned a blind eye to his insubordination. It wasn’t a concern as long as Sam got the job done.
But when he came close to crossing the line, a line that the four of them, Ashton, Kinley, Sam and himself, had drawn four years ago and agreed would never, ever be crossed, Maide knew he only had one play.
Now, more than ever, he had to know Sam was still with them, that he was still a man to be trusted. He couldn’t risk him breaking. He couldn’t risk Operation Snowdrop ever being revealed.
Being certain of everything at every stage in the game was the only way to win. Whatever the cost, he had to protect and serve. It was who he was, and no one was going to jeopardize that. He had to know everything. And he would know everything. That was how it worked. That’s how he’d made it work for thirty-eight years.
He could not feel anything, should not feel anything. He had to make that call. They were at war. And war demanded extreme measures. He had to be more than certain.
He’d taken the only option open to him. But God help them all if his surveillance found that Sam Noor was now a liability.
Chapter 32
Al Nadir would soon be crushed. Treeborne would listen to their bones crunch as if they were cockroaches. Always the hardest insect to kill, they had to be shown no mercy. Treeborne, as a boy, had enjoyed stepping on them and hearing their hard shells crack under his foot, knowing he’d taken their lives. He would do the same to Al Nadir.
The president had a few minutes before the final demonstration started.
He knew the security briefing that followed would have a very different theme to the meeting three weeks before. Gone would be that utter feeling of hopelessness. The angry despair they had all felt would vanish, for now, he had that wonderful edge. The president smiled complacently as he signed state papers ahead of the meeting. As he signed, the glint of the sleek pen caught his attention. Looking at the pen triggered a memory he cherished as one cherishes a priceless gem.
It only had been a fortnight ago.
2 Weeks Earlier
The president returned to the White House after a particularly uncomfortable state dinner with the president of China. The jibes and pokes at the continually failing US economy and the staggering success of the Chinese one had been transparent. They made Treeborne feel like a trailer park bum asking a loan shark for a tide-over before pay day. Entering his private lounge after snapping viciously at his private secretary, he’d headed for the bottle of bourbon in the corner. He needed something to calm his anger. Catching a glimpse of his face in the mirror behind the bar and seeing how tired and old it had become at fifty-one, he breathed d
eeply and shook his head. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He looked back at himself. His small head perched on almost square shoulders with dangly arms and a short, rounded body, and he knew he resembled more a chimpanzee than a head of state.
What was going wrong? Where had his power gone?
Not so long ago, he was the one to whom the world answered. Never would presidents have dreamed of targeting snide remarks at him. They would have been far too scared of the repercussions. But now, with Al Nadir ruling at every turn, his power had waned. What Treeborne needed was a booster shot. He needed an edge, something to make them all stand up and respect him again.
Treeborne took his drink and sat down on the sofa. It was then he noticed it: a package in a small brown box. Fearing a bomb, he went to call his secretary, and then stopped. The parcel had no address, only the words, FOR YOUR SUCCESS, in black capital letters. The words gave him courage. Deep inside, he knew it wasn’t a bomb, although he didn’t understand how.
He edged his chubby hand forward slowly and touched the box. On touching, Treeborne sensed something brush close to his ear, and he thought he heard the rustling of a heavy fabric. It was a familiar sensation, one he'd had before, although he couldn't remember quite when. But when he turned, nothing was there. The room was empty. It was just him, the bourbon and the box.
He looked at the box quizzically and then, with a spurt of courage, he leaned sideways and grasped it with two hands. Lifting it off the sofa, he placed the box in his lap. He stared again at the words, FOR YOUR SUCCESS.
The words were personal. Intimate. As if they were speaking to him directly and answering his call for change. They were urging him to be successful again. Gingerly, he lifted the lid and looked inside. The contents of the box were not what he expected to see.
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