by Brad Taylor
I paused, then smiled. “But only if Kurt wants to recruit them.”
Carly shook her head, saying, “Don’t tell me a read-on means recruitment. No way. Decoy’s dead. And now Guy.” She looked me in the eye and said, “You talk about this organization as if it’s ironclad do-gooders, but Guy almost killed me. Because he was on a vendetta.”
Jennifer spoke up. “Hey, wait a minute. I wouldn’t be here if I thought this organization was evil. Like you, I had my doubts, but you have no right to judge. Guy was wrong, no doubt, and I wanted to bring him in, but he was onto something.”
“What do you mean?”
I said, “We’ve been given authority to explore the relationships of those three assholes doing business with Secretary Billings. Guy was convinced they were involved in his brother’s death in Afghanistan, and when he was hunting them, he found what he said was evidence of further terrorist activity.”
“Then why is Secretary Billings dealing with them? You just told me he was a member of the Oversight Council. Don’t tell me you’re rogue as well.”
“No, Billings knows what we’re doing. Why that jerk-off is continuing is beyond me. He’s always had his head up his ass, convinced he knows more than anyone else.”
She squinted her eyes, not liking me disparaging a cabinet official. She clearly hadn’t had to deal with him in an official capacity. I backed off, saying, “Okay, okay. He’s using them to help stabilize the Greek economy and apparently thinks they’ll help with some peace overtures in Afghanistan. He thinks he’s Henry Kissinger dealing with Black September in Lebanon at the same time they’re blowing up Israelis. Nobody believes they’re an imminent threat, but the bottom line is we still have Alpha authority.”
She had another question, but before she could broach it, the door to our room opened.
73
Knuckles barged in, about to blurt something out, then saw Carly. Nick said nothing, shifting from foot to foot, still the new guy. Exasperated, I said, “And?”
Knuckles said, “And we’re clean. We policed up some electrical components and other odds and ends, including a box of Russian ammo, so I guess that nails down who owns the 6P9. We left his clothes and other travel stuff, only taking anything compromising.”
“Anyone show?”
“Yeah. Took a while, but they’ve obviously identified the body. Some beat cops came in, then a guy that looked like he was from the US Embassy. Nothing spiked. Looked like a standard investigation, so we let ’em go.”
“That’s fine. Did you find anything of value?”
Knuckles glanced at Carly again and I said, “She was just read on. You’re not hiding anything anymore.”
He grinned and said, “Good, because I was about to blow a gasket without being able to say anything. We got the safe-deposit key, and Guy’s research to track it down. We know the bank, and we’ve got all of his digital photos he’s taken. He was right. Those fucksticks are into some bad shit. I don’t know what, but he wasn’t kidding about that new man.” He nodded at Carly, saying, “The one you said was driving? Guy’s got photos of him getting a ton of cash and new identification. On the island of Crete. How much do you know about him?”
She started to answer, and my phone rang with the peculiar ringtone telling me it was a secure call. The rest of the team heard it and knew what it was as well. They looked at me like a pack of hounds tracking a guy waving bacon.
I answered, then mouthed, Kurt.
“Hey, sir, I was just about to send you a report. Knuckles just got back.”
“Let’s have it.”
“First, looks like Guy’s alias is holding up. Knuckles watched the room overnight, and it’s not spiked with anyone other than local forces.”
“Well, that’s good news. From our end, keeping him as a tragic victim is shaky.”
“Nothing bad seen from this end. You do your magic, and we should be good. Carly’s read on to the program and good to go. She’s headed back to work to answer any further questions, but from her end, Secretary Billings’s meeting with Haider al-Attiya was kept out of the attack. His two friends managed to escape without getting rolled up.”
Kurt said, “Yeah, I know. I just got out of a briefing with the principals. Billings is headed to Oslo, Norway, and he’s taking all three of those guys with him.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“Nope. He’s even managed to convince the president to let him put pressure on Norway’s ambassador to give Haider’s driver a visa for Oslo. Apparently, that guy’s Haider’s go-to man for Afghanistan.”
“Sir, that’s the second thing I wanted to talk to you about. We’ve sterilized Guy’s hotel room, and we have digital proof that that ‘driver’ got his documentation in Crete days ago. He’s not some genius on Afghanistan politics.”
“Pike, anything that Guy came up with is not going to sway Billings. The man was running crazy.”
“Well, tell him to buckle the fuck up, then, because I’ve got a key to a safe-deposit box, and what’s inside isn’t going to be good news for his friends.”
“Pike. I need you to start looking at exfil options. Prepare to come home.”
I said nothing for a second, not sure I’d heard correctly. “What? We’re on an operational mission here. Yeah, Guy’s dead, but we got Alpha before that. And it’s because Guy’s dead that I’m continuing. He saved Carly’s life. Did you know that? In the end, he had a pretty fucking good trap, and Secretary Billings screwed it up. Guy gave his life to fix what he’d done wrong. He’s going to go down in history as evil, but he’s onto evidence about those guys, and I’m rooting that shit out.”
“I hear you . . . Pike, they’re going to pull Alpha authority. Shit, they’ve actually already done so. I just chose to not hear it.”
“What’s that mean?”
“President Warren said they wanted to revisit the Alpha authority at the next Oversight Council meeting. He meant he wanted me to stop all activities, then put it back up to a vote to reauthorize it, if they agreed. Which they won’t.”
I saw where he was going, giving me an out. “But he didn’t say that, did he? He didn’t say that he was rescinding Alpha until the vote, did he?”
I heard nothing but breathing, and I knew my friend Colonel Kurt Hale was about to step into Pike land. I said, “Sir?”
“No. He didn’t say that, explicitly.”
“So we have until the Oversight Council meeting before they can rescind it, right?”
Nothing.
“Right, sir?”
“Yeah. I guess that’s right.”
I broke into a smile. “When’s the meeting?”
“Two days. You don’t have anything in two days, and you’re done.”
“Oh, I’ll have something. Don’t think I can’t read between the lines here. Those fucks gave you Alpha just to bring in Guy. They played with Taskforce loyalty to get what they wanted.”
“Pike, that’s not true. They’re just making decisions based on the information they have. There’s a lot at stake here with Greece and Afghanistan.”
“Oh, bullshit, sir. They’re looking at the benefit of these guys like a neighborhood looking at the good the Mafia does, conveniently forgetting the murders. Guy was right. And we still do what’s right, don’t we?”
I saw Carly staring at me intently. I turned away. She might be read on, but she didn’t need to hear the inside baseball of what life in the Taskforce was really like.
Kurt said, “Pike, you get me something in two days, or we’re done. Guy’s sacrifice will mean nothing.”
I said, “Easy day, sir. They can forget about his brother, but I’m not forgetting about Guy.”
I hung up and everyone looked at me, waiting. I said, “We have two days.”
Knuckles said, “Two days to do what?”
“Rob a bank.”
74
Khalid flipped through the Afghan passport, seeing nothing but the new visa for Norway. He said, “Sabour Jarden. A Pashtun name. What city?”
Sipping tea and eating a fig, Sabour said, “I’m from Palmyra, Syria.”
“But we were given this name for the passport. Specifically given this name. Why?”
Sabour smiled and said, “I don’t know. I guess because we were going to Afghanistan. My first name is Sabour, but Jarden is made up. A tribal name.”
Khalid laughed and said, “How on earth were you supposed to infiltrate anything in Afghanistan?”
Sabour set his tea down, a movement made delicate by his long fingers. Khalid thought everything he did was delicate, like a bird. He was slight, with a sad smile perpetually on his face, and so far had not questioned a single thing, as if he had completely given his fate over to others. A fact that intrigued Khalid.
Sabour said, “I was the only one in our camp that had ever been to Afghanistan. I spent a year in Gardez.”
“And now you’re with us in Oslo instead. Do you have any doubts?”
The sad smile slipped out again. “No. Allah has chosen me for a great mission. I go where he tells me to go.”
Khalid laughed again and said, “You believe Allah is speaking through Haider and his father?”
“Yes. Do you not?”
When Khalid didn’t answer, Sabour said, “Why are you here, if not for the caliphate?”
The question was confusing, precisely because Khalid had never really given it any thought. In the end, simple anger drove him forward. He was not seeking anything more than to prove his own self-worth. He wanted to be like Sharif, a self-made man, and so he continued leveraging Haider for a lost cause of tribal affiliation. He was Muslim, of course, but other than its providing an outlet for his hatred of the West, he’d never really given Islam or the caliphate much reflection.
Khalid said, “I do what I do for my own reasons. I’m curious about you, though. You know what you’re here for, right?”
He didn’t say it out loud, as if the fact that Sabour’s success involved giving his life was somehow not to be verbalized.
“Yes. Of course.”
“And you have no qualms? No fear?”
The smile appeared and left, like a shadow. “Of course not. All I am doing is moving on to something greater. I’m leaving this mortal land for paradise. Most must endure a lifetime before entry, but I will be granted access by virtue of my sacrifice.”
Khalid nodded as if he understood, but he didn’t. Haider’s phone rang, and Khalid picked it up, seeing the country code for Qatar. He knew who it was, and expected the usual excoriation from Sharif. He was pleasantly surprised.
“Where is my son?”
“Sir, he’s with the secretary of state. They’re talking about the peace meetings.”
“Good, good. You are the one I wanted to talk with anyway. You had no trouble getting into Oslo with the shahid?”
The statement confused Khalid, but he didn’t let it show in his voice. “No. Secretary Billings took care of his entry, just as you said would happen.”
“And Haider knows the meeting location?”
“Not yet. He’s finding out now . . . sir, what did you mean, you wanted to talk to me?”
“Write this down.” Khalid grabbed a pen, and Sharif relayed an address in the Gronland section of Oslo. He had Khalid repeat it, then said, “That is an automobile shop in the city near the Islamic Cultural Center. The men there will give you the keys to a Range Rover. You will bring it back to the shahid.”
“Yes, sir. Do I pay them?”
“No. They have been well compensated. But you will go alone.”
Khalid’s instincts kicked in at the words. Sharif had shown him only scorn in the past, so if he wanted Khalid to go alone, there was a reason, and it probably involved protecting his son. He said, “I’ll need the shahid to learn. I’ll take him with me.”
“You can teach him when you get back. You go alone. There will be a man named Abdul-Haq, and he’ll also provide you weapons for emergencies. I want you to use them on him.”
Khalid said nothing. Sharif said, “Khalid, can you do this?”
“Why?”
“He is a link. A weakness. I want him removed to protect the mission.”
Khalid didn’t respond. Sharif continued, “Khalid, you have shown a willingness to do what’s necessary, and an intelligence to get it done. You killed in Afghanistan, correct? That’s what Haider tells me.”
“Yes. I did.”
“The Americans? You killed the one they captured?”
“Yes.”
“And you survived the attack in Greece without panicking. Haider said the shahid was a bundle of nerves afterward, but you were in control. Is this true?”
“I guess . . .”
“Khalid, Haider does not have it in him. If I send him, he will fail. You do this, and you will become my second son.”
Khalid could not believe the words. The promise it held. He said, “Are you toying with me?”
“No. I mean what I say.”
“Okay, sir. It will be done.”
Sharif disconnected and Khalid set the phone on the table, lost in thought. The door to the room opened, and Haider entered.
The first words out of his mouth were, “Sabour, never, ever speak to the secretary again. He’s starting to question.”
Sabour nodded and Khalid said, “From the plane?”
“Yes. From the plane flight.”
After takeoff, the first thing Secretary Billings had done was question the attack at Delphi, playacting as if he had no idea why it had occurred and ensuring they knew that the United States had protected them by eliminating their connection to the Audi. No mention was made of the man who’d died, Secretary Billings acting as if he were the innocent bystander proclaimed by the press.
Khalid had thought it was ludicrous, as both of them knew it was the work of the United States, but for whatever reason, Secretary Billings preferred to pretend. As long as he kept facilitating their mission, Khalid would let it go. Especially since the man who’d been hunting them was now dead.
Eventually, the talk turned to the meetings, and Secretary Billings had given Sabour a greeting in Pashto. When Sabour had simply looked at him, Billings had asked where he was from, in English. Haider had translated into Arabic, and, puzzled, Billings had asked why he was using that language instead of Pashto. Thinking fast, Haider had said he didn’t speak Pashto, and Sabour didn’t speak English, so they would use Arabic to talk. Billings had taken that in, and then asked questions about the Taliban sects and the fractures after the death of Mullah Omar.
Haider had pretended to hold a conversation with Sabour, then gave out general platitudes. Not satisfied with the answers, Billings had probed deeper. Eventually, when the answers remained shallow, Billings had quit asking, looking as if he were doubting Sabour’s expertise. Khalid had redirected the conversation to the attack at Delphi, and Secretary Billings became recalcitrant, no longer eager to talk. They flew the rest of the way in silence.
Khalid said, “Is it going to be an issue?”
Haider waived his hand and took a seat, looking out at the Oslo cityscape. “No. He just thinks I’m stupid for bringing Sabour. He doesn’t suspect us of anything.”
“Where are the talks? Here, in the city?”
“No. They’re in the old town of Fredrikstad, about an hour and a half away. He’s got some work here in Oslo tomorrow, then we’ll travel down the day after tomorrow. He asked if we wanted to go with him in his vehicles.”
“And what did you say?”
“What do you think? I said we had our own vehicle arranged by the QIA. Any word on that from my father?”
“Yes. I pick up the car tomorrow. By myself.”
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75
Jennifer ate the last of her Clif Bar and wadded up the wrapper, tucking it into a pouch attached to her hip. She checked the time, seeing it had crawled past eleven p.m. She clicked her radio and said, “Pike, Pike, this is Koko. I’m ready to move. Does Creed have control yet?”
“He’s getting there. Hang on. It’s taking some additional work.”
She shifted on her metal I-beam, biting back a retort. She knew everyone else was on the net, and it wouldn’t do to snap at Pike. Even though he deserved it.
Four hours, my ass. Which is what Pike had said. She’d been stuck up in the ceiling above the ladies’ toilet for close to ten hours, smelling grease and hearing toilets flush, holding her breath every time the door opened. Things had slowed down after five, and then had begun to crawl by seven, but Pike refused to let her leave until Creed—their magic little hacker—could penetrate the internal security cameras for the bank, in effect giving her fair warning as she moved about. Irritated, she whispered, “I thought Creed said that damn slave device was going to alleviate all of this hacking work?”
Earlier, as soon as she’d entered through the ceiling tiles, she’d found a bundle of fiber-optic lines running through the space between the floors, and, guided by Creed, she’d spliced into one with a digital slave device that was supposed to make penetration easy.
Pike said, “It is, it is. According to Creed, without it, we wouldn’t stand a chance of breaking encryption. He’s working it. Just a little longer.”
Little longer. I should have taken Knuckles’s job. Let him do this.
She and Knuckles had entered the huge Alpha Bank complex between Panepistimiou and Stadiou Streets, near the university and the national library, ostensibly to rent a safe-deposit box. This, of course, they did, but their true purpose was twofold: one, determine the layout of the bank, to include the safe-deposit room, and two, for Jennifer to remain behind, setting up the escape.
After filling out the necessary forms in the old granite wing of the bank, they’d traveled four floors underground, to the vault area. Accompanied by a bank manager the entire time, they’d passed through a giant vault door like one seen on a movie set, and another steel cage door, then entered the safe-deposit-box room. The manager had given them a quick tour, then showed them their box. He’d turned one key and Knuckles the other, withdrawing the box. The manager had given them privacy at that point, whereupon they’d placed exactly nothing in the steel container.
