by Brad Taylor
“Then what? Do you know where the meetings are occurring? What’s the schedule?”
“No, but I don’t need to. Secretary Billings will take us to the meeting. Remember, the peace talks are being cloaked by a discussion on Afghan women’s issues. He’s keeping everything close to his chest on this to protect the secrecy. They started yesterday, but Billings said it was mainly just formal introduction speeches by the participants. At some point, the secret peace talks will begin in a separate room, away from the public meetings.”
“So how is this going to work?”
Haider felt as if he was being interrogated by his father. He finally became piqued at Khalid’s tone. “It’ll work how I say it works.”
Khalid said, “You don’t know, do you? How is Sabour supposed to attack? We don’t even have the basics for the mission.”
“Did you want me to ask Billings where we could park a car bomb? Yes, we have some details to learn, but we can do that tomorrow.” Haider sat on the couch and said, “All Sabour has to do is make sure he doesn’t kill us along with the Afghans.”
Khalid said, “Did you tell your father this? That you don’t know anything?”
“No. He doesn’t need to know. Why do you care? Two days ago, you were telling me not to call my father. Now you want to talk to him every step of the way?”
“Your father entrusted us with this mission. We cannot fail.”
Haider took that in, then said, “He entrusted me. Not us. He entrusted his son.”
Khalid bared his teeth, and Haider felt a glimmer of fear at the rage he’d seen before. Khalid said, “Yes, he gave you the mission, but he told me to help execute, and I will not fail him. He didn’t entrust his son. He’s afraid of you disappointing him. And I’m here to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know. He’s your father. And if we don’t fail, he’ll be mine as well.”
Haider waited, and when Khalid didn’t continue, he said, “What does that mean?”
Khalid went to the minibar and withdrew a Sprite, opening it and taking a sip.
Haider said, “Khalid, what did my father tell you?”
“If we succeed, I get the power of your name. We’ll become brothers.”
Instead of joy, Haider felt fear. His father was pushing him out, the weak bird forced from the nest. “He said that?”
“Yes. It’s why he had me get the vehicle. I had to kill two men there. He knew you wouldn’t do it.”
“Wait . . . you killed two men? Here in Oslo?”
“Well, a man and a boy. To protect the name al-Attiya.”
Khalid said it so nonchalantly that Haider had a hard time believing it. But he knew his father, and he’d seen Khalid in Afghanistan.
Haider tried to regain his role as leader. “Whatever he’s told you, I am the one in charge. This is my mission. Not yours.”
Khalid took another sip and said, “I understand. But remember this: We will succeed. You’ve had a name your entire life. I’ll now have mine, and if that means taking it from your dead body, I will.”
81
Sitting on the couch in my sweats, I flipped through the channels on the television, looking for another news story of the dramatic bank hostage crisis. I found one, but it was the same sorry footage from another broadcast, and it was in Greek. I switched to the BBC and caught a teaser of the bank heist. My little show was coming up next.
Wearing a loose sweatshirt, yoga pants, and socks, Jennifer sat down next to me and handed me a beer. She said, “Can’t get enough of yourself, huh?”
I said, “Hey, come on now, it’s not too often you get to rob a bank on behalf of the United States. This is a Taskforce record. We’re going down in history.”
She grinned and said, “Yeah, until we get caught.”
“That ain’t going to happen. They had their chance.”
We’d made it out of the bank just fine, rappelling down the narrow alley shaft on the ropes Jennifer had emplaced. She’d done a simple loop, with the center of the rope on the anchor point, so when we hit the ground, all we’d had to do was pull one end, then stow everything in Brett’s van.
We were exactly fifty meters outside of the police blockade, which was perfect, and after getting a call from Veep that the coast looked clear, we’d simply entered the traffic and driven back to the hotel, looking at the circus in our rearview mirror.
We’d uploaded everything we gleaned to the Taskforce, then had conducted an after-action review, which, honestly, involved mostly boasting about our incredible prowess. After that, we’d had a few beers swapping lies about the mission, with Nick Seacrest hanging on every word and looking at us like we were superheroes. Which, of course, we were. He’d missed most of the fun because I’d made him stay in the hotel running the tactical operations center, giving him experience on the overarching big picture. Developing him for the future.
We had Creed on a VPN live stream just to throw him a bone for helping out, with Jennifer doing the thanking because Creed worshipped her. Honestly, it was a little cruel since he stood no chance, but I guess a man can hope—and he had done some good work. While she was talking, a shadow appeared in the background, then Kurt Hale’s head broke into the screen.
Jennifer had recoiled and we’d all shaped up pretty damn quickly. Kurt had said, “Jennifer? Is that you?”
Offscreen, she said, “Yes, sir. How are you doing?”
He’d said, “Where the fuck is Pike?”
Which didn’t sound too positive.
I took the seat in front of the screen, saying, “Right here. What’s up? You crack the data we sent?”
He rolled his eyes, saying, “I’m more concerned how you got it,” and then he punctuated every word, saying, “You. Robbed. A. Fucking. Bank?”
I glanced at Knuckles off camera. He grinned and shrugged. I said, “Well, yeah, sir. I told you we had a safe-deposit key, and you said we had Alpha.”
“I thought you were going to just walk in and use it! Jesus Christ. You’re all over every damn TV channel in the universe, with the exception of maybe China.”
“Sir, we couldn’t ‘just use it.’ We needed the manager’s key. It worked out fine. We were in and out. No harm, and no foul.”
He looked incredulous. He shook his head and said, “We talked about the Alpha authority. It’s tenuous. It’s not really even there, except for my ignoring the president’s intent. And your solution for that was to rob a bank?”
“Sir, if I had a week or two, I could have figured out a way to do this without drama. I didn’t have that. If the Oversight Council wants to bitch, it’s their own fault.”
He looked at me, his eyes squinting, but I could see a little admiration. At least I hoped it was that and not just a bad connection. “I have no idea how you’ve lived as long as you have. It’s uncanny.”
I couldn’t resist. I said, “You should have been there. It was a piece of art. An operation that will never be topped. Sir, they have no idea what happened. We cloaked it and we disappeared. It’ll be the talk of the town, but we’ll be gone tomorrow, mission accomplished.”
He said, “You know I’ve got the Oversight Council meeting in a few hours. I’m going to have to sit there with a straight face and say you robbed a bank. I mean, I’m not sure I even want to enter the room.”
I said, “Get the data translated. Do the analysis. It’ll be the best defense. Those fucks are bad people, and it’ll prove Guy was in the right. That’s all that matters.”
He nodded, a rueful smile on his face. He said, “You’d better hope so, or we’re both going to be fired.”
I said, “Sir, trust me. Guy deserves this. This is his redemption. You recruited him and you trained him. Trust those instincts. You were right then and he’s right now.”
Kurt said, “Okay
, Pike. I believe you, but you’d better get me a SIT-REP in the next hour of everything that happened. I need some facts. The good, the bad, and the ugly. And you need to get out of Greece.”
I said, “Sir, already planned. The Rock Star bird is inbound, and we’ll be out of here tomorrow morning. I’ll send the report, but for what it’s worth, I’ve got your back. There was only good. No bad and no ugly, unless you count Creed talking to Jennifer. The best thing is to get someone on the data we sent.”
He signed off, and everyone looked at me like we’d done something wrong. Except Knuckles. He said, “What the hell. You guys look like you just got caught shoplifting. Veep, break out the beer. We did good today.”
I said, “You got that right.”
We’d spent an hour or so shooting the bull, me taking grief for my leap out of the elevator, and Nick taking a little heat for not warning me it was coming. It was some much-needed downtime after Guy’s death. We should have been packing and preparing to leave, but the venting was necessary, so I let it continue. Eventually, it wound down, and I kicked everyone out, getting one snide comment from Knuckles about Jennifer staying and Creed not even being in the country.
Par for the course with him.
We should have gone to bed, but I really wanted to see what the press was saying about the bank heist. And so I kept flipping through the channels. I waited on the BBC report and said, “That data is going to be good. I just wish we could be the ones doing the Omega operation on those assholes from Qatar.”
She smiled and said, “Well, maybe it’ll take a cycle or two to figure out what they’re up to. Maybe we’ll be back in the hopper by then.”
I nodded and said, “Maybe.” Then, “So you’re finally going to admit you like this shit?”
She smiled and said, “Yeah. Yeah, I am. This team is pretty good, and that mission was something out of a movie. And I was a necessary part of it.”
“Yeah, you were. I just wish Guy hadn’t had to die to do it.”
We sat in silence for a moment, then she said, “You did well with Carly. She needed that support.”
I rubbed my face and said, “That was hard. I mean . . . I’ve done that before, but it was one of the hardest. She talked all night about Decoy and Guy. It was crushing.”
“She wants to come to the memorial. She’s got leave coming up. She wants to be there, especially now since she’s read on.”
I sat up, “How do you know that?”
“We talked. Girl talk.”
I leaned back and closed my eyes. “That will be one more slap to her face. I don’t think Guy’s going to get a memorial. The Taskforce wants to bury his memory, and they will.”
Jennifer said, “That’s not right.”
I said, “It is what it is.”
She stood up and said, “Enough for tonight. I’m sick of the bad things. You ready for bed?”
I said, “You mean sleep, or some celebration for our super-secret mission?”
She gave me her incredibly sexy squint and said, “What do you think?”
I felt a grin split my face and said, “I think I’m ready for bed.”
And then my phone rang with its unique ringtone, meaning an encrypted call.
Meaning trouble.
I answered, expecting to hear a Taskforce analyst. I recognized Kurt Hale’s voice immediately.
“Pike, you awake?”
“Yeah, yeah, what’s up, sir?”
“You were right. We translated the data from the thumb drives, and those fucks are bad, but it’s not a slow burn like everyone thought. The guy from Crete has a false passport from Afghanistan, and the name matches the guy who Billings got a visa for entering Norway.”
“Yeah, so?”
“He’s listed as a shahid on the spreadsheet from the bank. They brought in a suicide bomber, and he’s traveling with the United States secretary of state.”
I had no response. The thought was incredible.
Kurt continued, “Talk to the analysts at the Taskforce. They’ve got a complete data dump for you.”
I looked at Jennifer and said, “I take it the Oversight Council meeting went okay.”
He said, “Oh yeah. They’re having heart attacks. It’s fluid—no Omega yet—but they let me get Blaine Alexander in the air. When your bird gets there tomorrow morning, I need you to get your ass to Norway.”
I said, “You just said I have no Omega authority. What’s the mission?”
“I honestly don’t know yet, but I want you on the ground for whatever it is. The Council is skittish right now, so plan on some problem solving without guidance. Blaine will provide command and control, and you’ll provide . . . what you always provide.”
I said, “Sounds about as solid as Jell-O.”
“It is. We’ve got Billings in the middle of it.”
I smiled at the thought of that idiot trying to vote on an Omega mission that involved him being tied to the terrorists. Couldn’t make up something that stupid. I said, “I love this job. Talk to you in the morning,” and hung up.
Jennifer said, “What was that about?”
“Billings fucking up my celebration, that’s what.”
82
Khalid watched Haider and Sabour enter the hotel breakfast nook together and wondered if Haider was cooking up a scheme separate from him. It would do no good. Khalid had had a long talk with Sabour after the meeting in Haider’s room, and Sabour, like Khalid, understood commitment.
The two sat down, and Khalid exchanged strained pleasantries with Haider, then ate in silence. They finished breakfast, then started the hour-plus drive to Fredrikstad. They stopped for gas twice on the trip, the last on Highway 110 just before it intersected with 111, the open fields blanketed with snow and giving the air a quiet feel.
Haider went to the men’s room and when he returned, Khalid was leaning against the SUV, rubbing his hands in the cold. He said, “We’re close to the old town. Where from here?”
“It’s about five miles away.” He glanced at Sabour in the driver’s seat, making sure the window was up, then said, “Look, Khalid, we are friends. We cannot continue fighting each other and expect to succeed. I don’t want to do that.”
Khalid said, “Neither do I, brother. Neither do I.”
Haider smiled and held out his hand, saying, “My father is right about you. You are my brother.”
The words reinforced the steel in Khalid’s soul, forging yet again the desire to please Sharif and earn his place at the table. He became emotional, his eyes misting. He said, “Let’s make our destiny.”
Haider opened the passenger door and said, “Let’s do it.”
Sabour put the Range Rover into drive, and Haider opened a sheet of paper, reading directions. He said, “You’ll go for another mile on this highway. Look for a side road on the left that disappears into the woods. Billings said it would be easy to find because it’s the only road that goes into a stand of forest. All the others go into bald fields.”
They pulled out and continued, passing an occasional car on the left and some Norwegians walking on a footpath on the right. They entered a lightly wooded area, the barren trees looking like skeletons, and Haider said, “Slow down. Keep your eyes out. It’ll be a gated road.”
Ahead, a tall wooden fence began tracking the highway. They traveled down it for about half a mile, and then saw a thin ribbon of asphalt slipping into the woods.
“That’s it,” said Haider.
They turned onto the road and drove for about a quarter of a mile through the woods before the asphalt ended, hitting another gate with a gravel drive beyond it and a two-story stone house about a hundred meters away. At the second gate were several men dressed in suits and overcoats.
Sabour pulled to a stop.
One man came to the window and said, “Haider al-Attiya?”
<
br /> Sabour said nothing. Haider said, “I am al-Attiya. From the Qatar Investment Authority, here to meet with Secretary Billings.”
The man said, “We’ve been expecting you. Please, I need all in the car to exit for a search.”
That had never happened before. Haider said, “Of course, of course,” and opened the door. Khalid did the same, but watched closely.
Before he’d even exited the vehicle, a two-man team was sweeping the underside of the Range Rover with a mirror attached to a pole and another man was working some sort of electronic tablet, aiming it at the vehicle and watching the screen. The interest in their vehicle brought something new to the game, and Khalid wondered if they should be worried.
On the one hand, it might simply be new security procedures because of what the American had done in Delphi. A knee-jerk reaction to protect the security force’s own reputation, since they’d failed to do anything about the assassin in Greece.
Or it might be something more sinister.
He saw a man slide into the driver’s seat and begin manipulating all of the controls, making sure they worked as intended. Two other men moved all three of them away from the vehicle, then searched them, apologizing as they did it.
When that was complete, one man used a clipboard and began questioning them, having them produce passports and other identification. They seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time on Sabour’s passport, asking specific questions about where he’d received it and how long he’d used it, focusing on the fact that the only visa was for Norway.
Khalid interrupted, saying, “Look, sir, I understand the protection, but Secretary Billings is the man who worked to give him that visa. We are here on his invitation. If you have questions about that, you should direct them to him.”
Khalid couldn’t see the eyes behind the dark sunglasses. The security man said, “You and Haider can go to the house. Your driver will wait here.”
Showing concern, Haider said, “Why? What has he done?”
