Two Steps Forward

by Luana Ehrlich

  Once we’d introduced ourselves to each other—as if we hadn’t spent three hours together in an operational briefing—we followed Garrison outside where his driver, an Iraqi named Kasim Fadhil, put our luggage in the back of a black Chevy Suburban.

  Mitchell volunteered to ride in the Suburban’s third-row seat, so Liz and I took the second-row seats, and Garrison rode shotgun in the front passenger seat with Kasim.

  As soon as Kasim pulled away from the airport terminal, Garrison turned around and said, “We can talk freely in front of Kasim. He’s one of us. In fact, he’ll be your driver while you’re in Baghdad.”

  “Could you give me an update on Bakir?” I asked. “Anything changed with him in the past twenty-four hours?”

  “My watchers tell me he only leaves his apartment once a day to purchase groceries at Waffir’s Market. The good news is we’ve discovered which apartment he’s in, so the moment we’re certain he’ll be gone for at least an hour, my crew will be able to get in there, wire the place, install some cameras, and take a look around.”

  “Any indication he has transportation yet?”

  “None whatsoever.”

  “We definitely need to get inside that apartment.”

  “I hear you,” Garrison said, “and I think I’ve come up with a plan.”

  Garrison described how Bakir had to walk past several small shops to get to Waffir’s Market where he bought his groceries every day.

  “For the past two days, he’s stopped to chat with a young salesgirl who works in a watch repair shop. My plan is to create a diversion that would keep him engaged at the shop long enough for my guys to bug his apartment and take a look around.”

  Mitchell asked, “Will you pay the salesgirl to keep him at the shop?”

  “No, that would be too dangerous. She seems interested in Bakir, so she might decide to tell him about our offer.”

  “You’re right to be cautious,” I said. “I don’t want Bakir to know someone has eyes on him.”

  “So here’s my plan,” Garrison said. “I’ll have one of my surveillance guys enter the shop and start harassing her just as Bakir walks in. I figure he’ll threaten my guy or get in an argument with him, which means Bakir should be out of his apartment a little longer than usual. He’s usually gone less than an hour, so this encounter should delay him and give my guys a little extra time to bug the place.”

  “I’m good with that as long as the person you assign to harass the girl has backup,” I said.

  “I’ve got that covered, but I’d be surprised if Bakir would resort to violence. I’m sure he wants to stay under the radar while he’s here.”

  “You heard Katherine describe Bakir as someone who likes to work alone, but from what you’ve said, it sounds like he’s waiting for reinforcements to arrive.”

  “Or he could be taking things slow,” Mitchell said.

  Liz said, “Maybe he’s not waiting for reinforcements. Maybe he’s waiting for his Kit to arrive. I’m talking about a weapon, a car, money, whatever he needs to carry out his hit.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “At the very least, he has to have someone lined up to supply him with a weapon.”

  “That reminds me,” Garrison said. “You’ll find a weapons package waiting for each of you in your embassy apartment. Unless you have some objection, that’s where we’re headed now.”

  “No objection, but when do you plan to create the diversion with the salesgirl?”

  “I thought I’d do it today. Bakir usually goes to the market around midafternoon.”

  “Then I’d like to head over to the al-Dura neighborhood after we pick up our weapons.”

  “You sure you want to do that? You could always view the action from our new communication facility. I think you’ll find the set up there more than adequate. In fact, when Douglas was here last year, he said it was one of the best he’d ever seen outside the Agency itself.”

  “I don’t doubt that, but I’d like to get an up-close-and-personal look at Yousef Bakir for myself. So far, I’ve only seen him on video.”

  Garrison chuckled. “So you’re that kind of operative.”

  “What kind is that?”

  “The kind that likes to get his hands dirty.”

  Mitchell said, “That’s him all right.”

  * * * *

  Baghdad was divided into two parts. One part was the Green Zone—renamed the International Zone, although no one called it that—and the other part was the rest of the city, sometimes called the Red Zone.

  The Green Zone was a four-square-mile area in central Baghdad. It was the headquarters of our Coalition Forces back in 2003 following the invasion to take out Saddam Hussein. During that time, the area was surrounded by concrete blast walls and barbed-wire fences that were supposed to deter Jihadi terrorists from getting inside and sacrificing themselves in order to create mass casualties.

  Most of the time the barriers had worked, but not always.

  The Green Zone was finally handed over to Iraqi security forces in 2009 with the understanding the embassies inside the Green Zone, including the American Embassy, would remain there.

  Since that time, dozens of Iraqi government buildings had been built inside the Green Zone; primarily because buildings outside the Green Zone were still being targeted by suicide bombers—hence the name, Red Zone.

  The most recent addition to the Green Zone was the new Iraqi Parliament Building. When Prime Minister Madi had inaugurated the building back in February, he’d hailed it as a showpiece of Iraqi architecture and a symbol of the new Iraq.

  Garrison told us he’d already made arrangements for our APT unit to tour the Parliament Building after visiting with members of Prime Minister Madi’s staff.

  Although the blast walls and barbed-wire fencing surrounding the Green Zone had come down a year ago, it was still the most heavily fortified area in Baghdad, and this was particularly true in the southernmost sector of the Green Zone where the American Embassy compound was located.

  When Kasim pulled up to the embassy’s security gate on the west side of the complex, a couple of Marines immediately started checking the Suburban for possible explosive devices. As they used two long-mirrored wands to scan underneath the body of the vehicle, another Marine scrutinized the ID badges worn by Kasim and Garrison.

  Once he seemed satisfied they were legitimate, he took a look in the backseat and asked to see our passports. This was after I explained the three of us were with the White House chief of staff’s office, an explanation which didn’t seem to impress him.

  I silently commended him for that.

  Once our team had passed his inspection, the Marine raised the security barrier, and we entered the compound.

  Besides the chancery, or the main embassy building where most diplomatic business was conducted, the embassy compound consisted of the ambassador’s residence, two diplomatic office buildings, a power station, a water treatment plant, a number of recreational facilities, a communications center, and about a dozen apartment buildings used by embassy personnel.

  Kasim drove past the chancery and took the perimeter road north toward some new apartment buildings. These units hadn’t been built when I’d been in Baghdad during Operation Black Tapestry back in 2013.

  That was the year the terrorist group known as ISIS was beginning to rear its ugly head, and during Operation Black Tapestry, I was living in a safe house in Baghdad along with three other operatives.

  At one point during my mission, I’d had to pay a brief visit to the embassy compound in the dead of night in order to talk to Carlton, who was directing Black Tapestry from The Bubble.

  According to him, the reason for my visit to The Bubble was to get some things straightened out.

  When I left there, I realized my attitude was the only thing he wanted to get straightened out.

  * * * *

  A few minutes after entering the compound, Kasim parked the Suburban in the parking lot of a five-story apartment build
ing. A sign over the entrance identified it as Building D.

  As soon as Kasim killed the engine, Garrison opened up the glove compartment and pulled out a manila envelope. After removing three key cards from the envelope and handing them to us, he gestured over at Building D.

  “This building is reserved for the embassy’s temporary workers and long-term guests. You’re on the first floor, apartment 105. Those key cards will give you access to your apartment, as well as the Comms Center across the street.” He pointed over to a one-story concrete building. “Once you’ve checked out the apartment, you can join me there, and I’ll show you around the place.”

  Apartment 105 turned out to be a spacious three-bedroom unit with a living room, a kitchenette, and a small dining area. Since each bedroom had its own bathroom and was identical in size, assigning bedrooms without showing partiality wasn’t a problem for me.

  I assigned the bedroom with the window in it to myself, and I gave Mitchell and Liz the windowless bedrooms on either side of me.

  Inside my closet, I found the weapons package Garrison had promised. As usual, it contained a few more items than just a handgun.

  Besides the Glock 30S, the items included a holster, ammo, an extra magazine, a knife, a set of high-powered binoculars, and a first-aid kit.

  After loading the Glock, I took it and the holster and left everything else inside the canvas bag.

  Before we left the apartment, Mitchell and Liz mentioned they’d found their weapons package, and like me, the handgun was the only thing they’d decided to take with them.

  As we were about to head out the door, I told them I was planning to have Kasim drive me over to the al-Dura neighborhood after we’d seen the Comms Center. “I’d like to do this solo, though,” I said.

  Mitchell said, “I figured you’d be needing backup. Someone I met in Marrakesh recently told me having backup was essential when you were operating in a hostile environment.”

  “And that was good advice,” I said, “but in this case, I’m not meeting anyone. I’m only doing an eyes-on surveillance of Bakir, and I’ll have at least one member of Garrison’s team with me at all times, plus I’ll probably just be observing everything from a surveillance vehicle.”

  Liz said, “I don’t mind monitoring things from the Comms Center. I’m a techno nerd, so I’m looking forward to seeing their set up.”

  I looked over at Mitchell. “While I’m gone, I’d like for you to check in with the RTM Center and update them on our status. Douglas might have an update for us as well.”

  “Will do,” he said, although he didn’t look too happy about it.

  I figured he was upset I wasn’t taking him with me to the al-Dura neighborhood to check out Bakir. On the other hand, he could have been upset with his windowless bedroom.

  * * * *

  The Comms Center wasn’t an exclusive CIA facility. It was used by all the U.S. intelligence services with interests in Iraq, including the FBI, DIA, NSA, and the rest of the three-letter spy entities.

  When Garrison met us in the entryway of the building, we were required to undergo a facial recognition scan by one of the security officers. After that, he escorted us down a corridor to Control Room B.

  “There are three control rooms here in the Comms Center,” Garrison said, “but your key card will only give you access to Control Room B. That’s the control room used exclusively by the Agency.”

  Once we entered the room, Mitchell seemed a lot happier, but it wasn’t hard to figure out why. The director, Jennifer Sanders, was an attractive woman who appeared to be about Mitchell’s age.

  The moment he walked in, I saw them smile at each other in a very friendly way, and I was guessing they’d gotten to know each other when he’d been in Baghdad last month to meet with Abbas Alviri.

  After Garrison introduced Liz and me, Mitchell told Jennifer it was good to see her again, and then Garrison directed our attention to the features of the state-of-the-art equipment in the control room.

  The only equipment I found interesting was an overhead video monitor, but it wasn’t its features I found interesting; it was the fact it was displaying aerial photographs of the al-Dura neighborhood.

  I assumed the images were coming from a reconnaissance drone positioned overhead, and Jennifer confirmed this a few minutes later.

  “Here’s where Yousef Bakir is staying,” she said, pointing to the middle building in a row of apartment buildings at the end of Nabil Street. “We’ve had him under constant surveillance ever since he arrived, but keep in mind that’s only when he leaves the building. We have no clue what’s he’s been doing inside his apartment.”

  Garrison said, “We should be getting pictures inside his apartment soon, like maybe in a few hours.” He looked at me and asked, “Are you ready to head over there now?”

  “Sure, Henry, but don’t feel like you have to go with me. Even though it’s been awhile, I’m familiar with the city, and besides, I’m sure Kasim knows where he’s going.”

  Garrison glanced down at his watch. “I wish I could be two places at once, but I’m supposed to meet one of my assets at a teahouse on the other side of the city at four o’clock, so I might be cutting it close if I went with you.”

  “Problem solved,” I said. “I’ll be fine on my own.”

  “Are Liz and Ben staying here?” he asked.

  “That’s right. Liz will be monitoring things from here, and Ben’s going to contact the Ops Center and update them on our status. If Douglas has any new intel from the past twenty-four hours, I’m sure he’ll pass that along as well.”

  Garrison said, “That’s one of the reasons I’m meeting with Narmeen, my asset from the Iranian Embassy. I know she has sources inside the Quds Force, so I’m hoping she’s been able to get us more information about Bakir’s target.”

  Jennifer motioned at Mitchell. “Ben, why don’t you come over to this console, and I’ll get you connected to the Ops Center.”

  As he followed her over to the other side of the room, I said, “Ben, since our location is up on the Grid in the RTM Center, Douglas will probably notice when my blue dot heads out of the Green Zone and over to the other side of Baghdad.”

  Mitchell nodded. “What should I tell him?”

  “Tell him a wise man once told me I should always take the opportunity to get a close look at my enemy; otherwise defeating him will be impossible.”

  “That’s profound advice, Titus, but are you sure Douglas will know where you’re going when he hears it?”

  “Oh, yeah, he’ll know.”

  Chapter 29

  Once Kasim had left the Green Zone and headed down the Qadisaya Expressway over to the al-Dura neighborhood, I tried to engage him in conversation, but it wasn’t long before I realized Kasim Fadhil wasn’t much of a talker.

  About the only thing I could get out of him was that he and his father had volunteered their services as drivers for the Americans in 2003 shortly after the American invasion, and even though his father had been branded a traitor and executed by members of the Iraqi army, Kasim had continued to work for us.

  “After the war was over, I could have gone to America,” he said, “but Iraq is my country. I’ll never leave her.”

  I said, “Good for you, Kasim,” and that was pretty much the extent of our conversation during the thirty-minute ride.

  As soon as we took the Saidiya exit and entered the al-Dura neighborhood, Kasim called Sean Quinn, the surveillance team leader.

  After telling Quinn I’d be there in five minutes, he studied me a moment, and then he said, “Blue shirt; jeans; black hair; no beard.”

  Kasim took a right turn and parked the Suburban in the parking lot of a soccer field.

  Pointing up to the next intersection, he said, “That’s Nabil Street up ahead. Our surveillance van is parked about midway down the block. You’ll see signs on the side of the van advertising Asiapho, the cellular phone provider.”

  “Really?”

  He
smiled. “Henry came up with that idea so no one would question why the van is parked in the same location for several days.”

  In Baghdad, vehicles were often parked on the streets and used as billboards; this was primarily because it was a cheap form of advertising and there were a lot of old vehicles around the city.

  “Henry’s a smart guy,” I said.

  After telling Kasim I wouldn’t be gone long, I left the Suburban and walked up to the Nabil Street intersection where I turned left and headed north.

  Less than a minute later, I spotted a white van parked in front of a rug shop. It had a cartoonish red cell phone painted on the side.

  I quickly walked up and rapped on the back door a couple of times.

  Seconds later, the door swung open and I stepped inside.

  * * * *

  The back of the van contained several types of equipment, ranging from parabolic mics to other long-range listening devices. In addition, there were surveillance cameras with interchangeable zoom lenses, a couple of video cameras, various electronic equipment I didn’t recognize, and two seat cushions.

  Quinn was using one of the seat cushions.

  “Sean Quinn,” he said, offering me his hand.

  “Titus Ray.”

  Quinn appeared to be in his late 30s, although his dark brown hair had a few flecks of gray in it. He had a wide forehead, a small nose, and hazel-colored eyes. If the crease lines around the outer corners of his mouth were any indication, he smiled a lot.

  I motioned out the window. “Any sign of Bakir yet?”

  “No,” he said, pointing down at an image on his laptop, “but as you can see, my team’s ready to go as soon as he leaves the apartment.”

  The image on his screen was the same one I’d seen in the Comms Center, which, according to Jennifer, was coming from one of our reconnaissance drones. Quinn used his finger to draw a circle on the screen around a green SUV parked a few feet away from the apartments. “My crew’s in this vehicle here; the green Toyota.”