When the photographer asked us for one last picture, Nikki leaned over and whispered, “The best time for you to slip away for your chat with Douglas might be when we leave the reception to change clothes. Why don’t you ask him to meet you in Room 101, and I’ll join you there when I’ve changed out of my wedding dress. Then, we’ll go back to the reception and say goodbye to our guests.”
“What happens after that?”
“We run away.”
* * * *
Nikki and I cut the wedding cake together, and once the photographer had taken two dozen pictures of us cutting through a ridiculously tall cake, I went in search of Carlton.
I found him sitting with a group of my relatives.
Evidently, he’d just told them he was one of the directors at Emergency Aid International (EAI), a non-profit relief agency.
Although EAI was a CIA-funded entity, it was a legitimate relief agency, and Carlton often used it as one of his cover stories.
At the moment, he was answering a question from Carla’s husband, Eddie, about how he’d met me. Since EAI operated all over the world, it wasn’t hard for Carlton to come up with a story about the people he’d met. As I listened to him spinning the tale, I took note of the details in case anyone asked me the same question.
Carlton said, “I met Titus several years ago when he was in Syria researching an article he was writing for the Journal on Middle Eastern Policies. We’ve been friends ever since.”
I took the empty seat beside him and said, “I interviewed Douglas for a journal article I was writing on relief agencies. We were surprised to find out our offices were located a few blocks from each other in College Park, and now whenever we’re both in town, he walks down to my building, and I buy him a cheap lunch in our cafeteria.”
My cover story—what the Agency called my Career Legend—was the same one I’d had the whole time I’d been with the CIA.
Supposedly, I was an employee of the Consortium for International Studies (CIS), a think tank located in College Park, Maryland, where I held the prestigious title of Senior Fellow in Middle Eastern Programs, a position I didn’t deserve and hadn’t earned on my own merits.
The Agency made sure I was listed on the CIS website, in their personnel database, and in all their publications.
To further authenticate my Career Legend, a writer in the Agency’s Disinformation Division wrote scholarly articles that appeared regularly in peer-reviewed journals under my name, plus I also had a couple of books published, one of which was highly reviewed by Middle Eastern experts.
To my adoring public, I was an outstanding scholar.
My relatives had never questioned my nerdy career choice, so they must have found my public persona totally believable.
I tried not to read too much into that.
Carlton said, “That’s right. Whenever we’re in town together, Titus buys me a cheap lunch, and I give him free advice.”
Uncle Harold, who was seated to Carlton’s left, said, “Free advice is always worth what you pay for it. I can’t remember who said that, but I believe it’s true.”
Carlton and I didn’t say a word while everyone around the table chimed in with their own words about free advice, but while we were sitting there listening, I pulled out my cell phone and sent him a text telling him to meet me in Room 101.
A few minutes later, Uncle Harold said, “Here’s the best advice I ever heard. ‘Always be looking to the future, it’s where you’ll spend the rest of your life.’ ”
I glanced over at Nikki who was motioning for me to join her at the front of the room. “Right now, I’m only interested in the present.”
“Don’t be fooled, Titus,” Uncle Harold said, as I got up to join Nikki. “Your future’s just around the corner.”
* * * *
As the single ladies began gathering around Nikki in hopes of catching her wedding bouquet, I pulled Danny aside and made him promise to call me if he had any concerns about Eleanor while we were out of the country.
He patted me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about Eleanor. Just relax and enjoy your honeymoon. She’ll be fine.”
“Just make sure she doesn’t pick up any of your bad habits while we’re gone.”
“You mean like she’s picked up some of yours?”
I didn’t get a chance to respond to Danny, because at that moment, Nikki tossed her bouquet, and in the chaos that followed, I disappeared down the hall to Room 101 and my briefing with Carlton.
* * * *
When I entered Room 101, Carlton was sitting in a folding chair looking down at his Agency sat phone. He greeted me, then returned his gaze to the screen.
As usual, Carlton was impeccably dressed. He was wearing a charcoal grey suit, a white shirt, and a blue silk tie, along with a matching pocket square.
“Congratulations, Titus. It was a beautiful ceremony. Well done.”
“I don’t deserve any credit. Nikki planned it all.”
He looked up at me and nodded. “I thought as much.”
“I barely remember the first half of it. Until I saw Nikki standing in the aisle, nothing came into focus. It’s all a blur until then.”
“You’d do well to remember that moment, Titus. Nothing is as important as your spouse. It’s the secret to a happy marriage.”
Carlton often passed on such tips for a happy marriage to the operatives he supervised, whether they were married or not. I assumed it was because he and Gladys had been married for several decades before she passed away of a heart attack, and he must have thought their longevity qualified him as a marriage expert.
However, because I’d often had dinner with Gladys and Douglas at their country home outside of Fairfax, Virginia—a ten-acre estate, which she had called The Meadows—I’d come to the conclusion it was Gladys’ sweet disposition that accounted for the longevity of their marriage and not Carlton’s expertise.
“Speaking of my spouse,” I said, as I removed my tuxedo jacket, “as soon as Nikki changes clothes, she’s supposed to meet me here so we can return to the reception and say goodbye to our guests. She mentioned something about them blowing bubbles at us as we leave, so I hope you won’t mind if I go ahead and change clothes while you’re giving me your update on Lisa Redding.”
Carlton gestured at me dismissively. “Sure, go ahead.” He looked down at his cell phone again as I began removing my shirt and tie. “I liked your choice of wedding tie, by the way. Very classy.”
I suspected he knew the tie wasn’t something I would have chosen to wear, but I thanked him anyway.
He said, “When I spoke with Moshe Geller this morning, he offered to have someone in his office check out the information on Lisa Redding for you, but after giving it some thought on the trip out here this afternoon, I just sent him a text message to let him know you’d prefer to check it out yourself.”
“Is there some reason I’d prefer to check it out myself, instead of having Shin Bet do it for me?”
“Yes. If I’d accepted Geller’s offer, there’s a good chance he would have called me up in two or three days and asked me to do him a favor in return.” Carlton shook his head. “Right now, I’ve got three operations up on the board, so I don’t have time to do any favors for anyone. Besides, I have a feeling you’d like to have a face-to-face talk with Ms. Redding yourself, especially since it’s a personal matter.”
“You’re right,” I said, sitting down and slipping off my shoes. “So, tell me, did Geller actually locate Lisa Redding, or did he just come up with an address for her?”
Carlton put his hand inside his jacket and pulled out a white envelope. “All the information Geller gave me is in here. You’ll have plenty of time to read it on your way to Morocco.”
After I took the envelope from him, he reached inside his pocket again. This time, he pulled out an encrypted Agency satellite phone.
“I checked out a sat phone for you from Support Services so you can call me from Marrakesh.”
Once he handed it to me, he said, “Now, don’t make a big deal out of this assignment, Titus. I’m really just asking you to do me a favor. The last thing I want is for this to interfere with your honeymoon.”
Carlton’s use of the word “favor” was his way of telling me this was an off-the-books assignment, which usually meant whatever I reported back to him wouldn’t be entered into any official record.
He often used such terminology to rationalize his persistent claim he was not an Agency rule breaker.
“Nothing’s going to interfere with my honeymoon,” I said, “but I’m assuming it won’t be a problem if Nikki knows about my assignment.”
“No, that won’t be a problem. Nikki’s security clearance covers this, but keep in mind, I’m not really giving you an assignment.”
“Right. So, tell me about this favor.”
“I don’t have time to go into the details of why I’m asking you to do this, but I’d like for you to photograph the members of the security detail who’ll be traveling with the Iraqi delegation to the Arab Summit. This shouldn’t be too difficult. They’re staying at your hotel and—”
“The Iraqi delegation is staying at La Mamounia?”
“Why does that surprise you?”
“It’s a five-star luxury hotel. With the Iraqi economy in shambles, I’m surprised the delegation is indulging in that kind of luxury.”
“If Prime Minister Madi himself wasn’t leading the delegation, the members might have stayed elsewhere but, as you know, Abdul Madi has extravagant tastes.”
“I really don’t know very much about the new prime minister.”
Carlton gave me his I’m-not-sure-I-believe-you look. “You mean you haven’t been reading the DBS while you’ve been on inactive status?”
The DBS or Daily Briefing Summary was a summarized analysis of the major events happening around the globe. The entire U.S. intelligence community—all seventeen agencies—contributed to the summary. As a Level 1 covert operative, I was allowed access to it by logging onto the website of the Director of National Intelligence with my Agency password.
“Sure, I’ve been skimming through the DBS pretty regularly,” I said, “but I haven’t done any in-depth reading on the profiles of the heads of state.”
“But you’ve been keeping up with the political situation in Iraq, haven’t you?”
I shrugged. “Maybe a little.”
He looked amused. “I thought so. Since there’s a possibility you could be named the next station chief in Iraq, I don’t doubt for a moment you’ve been educating yourself on the subject.”
“Sure, I’ve done some reading, but since I haven’t heard a word from Teddy Davenport, I just figured his restructuring plan must have died a natural death once it reached the seventh floor.”
“No, it’s alive, and I expect it to be implemented, but you’re right about one thing, it did hit some bureaucratic snags along the way.”
“It’s alive, huh? I can’t say I’m happy to hear that.”
“Have you told Nikki there’s a possibility you might become the next CIA station chief in Baghdad?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t see any need to do that. I’m still not convinced I’d take the position if I’m offered it, and I doubt if she’s ever entertained the idea of moving overseas, much less to Baghdad.”
Carlton didn’t respond as he watched me walk over and grab my blue sports jacket, but the moment I slipped it on, he said, “You have a point there. Gladys wasn’t the adventurous type either. When we lived overseas for a couple of years, she was like a fish out of water.”
I stepped over to a full-length mirror and ran my fingers through my hair. “I didn’t say Nikki wasn’t adventurous. Although she approaches things a little more cautiously than I do, she’s usually up for a challenge. I’m sure she’d do just fine in Iraq.”
Carlton stood to his feet. “There you go then.”
It took me a second before I realized I’d walked right into Carlton’s verbal trap. Like the chess player he was, he’d outmaneuvered me by getting me to defend my queen, thus exposing my weakness.
I turned around and gave him a smile. “I’ll let you know what she has to say. Right now, I have to go back to the reception with my bride and let the wedding guests give us a sendoff.”
Carlton began removing his tie from around his neck. “You can’t go out there without a tie. If you did, years later you’d look back on your wedding pictures and regret not wearing one.”
He tossed me his tie. “Consider this one of my wedding presents.”
“One of them?”
“I left the other one on the gift table in the reception hall.”
As I began putting on Carlton’s tie, I said, “Danny’s taking care of our wedding gifts. We won’t open them until we get back from our honeymoon. Could you at least give me a hint what it is?”
“Sure, I’ll be glad to give you a hint. It’s something you’d like to have on a rainy night.”
“You’re giving us a flashlight?”
He grinned. “Hardly.”
Chapter 5
Sunday, May 12
When I woke up the next morning and glanced over at Nikki sleeping beside me in our hotel room in Dallas, I realized how truly blessed I was. She looked even more beautiful than she had the day before when she was wearing her wedding gown.
She was sleeping face up with her arm tucked underneath her head. When I noticed a lock of her long brown hair covering one of her eyes, I was tempted to brush it aside.
Then, I thought better of it.
I was afraid it might disturb her, and since we’d had a late night, I wanted her to sleep as long as she could.
Our flight to Morocco didn’t leave until early afternoon, so I figured I’d let her sleep at least another hour, and then we’d have brunch in the hotel’s restaurant before catching the shuttle to the airport.
Even though Carlton had suggested I wait until I was on the plane before reading the information he’d given me on Lisa Redding, I eased out of the king-sized bed, padded across the room, and removed the white envelope from my suitcase.
As soon as I got back in bed with Nikki, I pulled a thick set of documents out of the envelope.
I was absolutely certain Carlton himself must have stapled the papers together because the sheets were perfectly aligned, and the staple holding them together had been placed at precisely a quarter of an inch from the top of the first page.
Carlton had a thing about alignment—one of his many oddities—but I had yet to discover the origin of his obsession. Since his father had been a four-star general, I suspected it had something to do with his upbringing.
The moment I folded over the top sheet Nikki opened her eyes.
“What time is it?” she asked, squinting over at the window where sunlight was streaming through an opening in the curtains.
“A little after nine o’clock.”
“Really?” She pushed herself into a sitting position. “I don’t ever sleep this late.”
I pointed across the room at the mini-coffeepot. “Could I fix you a cup of coffee?”
She nodded as she got out of bed and headed toward the bathroom. “I won’t be worth anything until I’ve had some coffee.”
A few seconds later, she stuck her head outside the bathroom door and said, “That’s lesson number one in married life—always make sure I’ve had my coffee before beginning a conversation with me.”
“I’ll make note of that,” I said, pretending to write in the air with an imaginary pen.
By the time she came out of the bathroom, I’d made us both a cup of coffee, and when she took her cup from me, she gave me a kiss and said, “I couldn’t have had a more perfect wedding day, Titus. Thank you for making it all possible.”
“I didn’t do anything but show up on time.”
“Oh no, you did much more than that. Much more.”
* * * *
Lesson number two in married life is never contr
adict your wife when she wants to show you how grateful she is for something you’ve done, even though you can’t pinpoint what you’ve done to make her grateful.
I never did get around to reading Carlton’s printout on Lisa Redding in our hotel room—I was otherwise occupied.
Instead, I read it later when we were over the Atlantic on the first leg of our trip to Morocco. After reading it, I whispered to Nikki I’d discuss it with her as soon as we were alone.
During our long layover in Madrid, when Iberia Airlines provided us access to one of their guest lounges, we managed to find a table away from the other passengers. Once we’d eaten something, I pulled the document out of my carry-on and handed it to Nikki.
“After you’ve finished reading this, let me know what you’d think about us cutting our time in Morocco short by a couple of days and using the extra days to visit Israel. I’d like to run down some of these leads on Lisa Redding.”
“If there’s a chance of us locating her, you know I’d be happy to take a side trip to Israel to make that happen.”
I figured that was true, but I also suspected Nikki’s law enforcement training might cause her some concerns when we started checking out Shin Bet’s information.
I wasn’t surprised to hear her verbalize those concerns after she’d read the first page of the document. “How was Shin Bet able to obtain Lisa’s bank records without a warrant?” she asked.
“Well, Detective, that’s a good question, but it’s one I can’t answer. In fact, as you read further, you may come up with other questions like that. My advice would be to put aside your criminal justice training and view what you’re reading as simply an intelligence product.”
“So you’re saying I should overlook any of our laws that may have been broken in obtaining this information because they were carried out by a foreign intelligence agency?”
“Correct. Each country’s intelligence service operates under its own set of guidelines, so what may be illegal in the U.S. may not be considered illegal in another country. Those of us in the U.S. intelligence community don’t question intel we receive from another country too closely, even if it happens to be from one of our allies.”
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