Two Steps Forward

by Luana Ehrlich

  “He could be headed to a business meeting,” Garrison said.

  “Or a funeral,” I added.

  Yousef walked over to the kitchen counter and opened up a drawer, removing what appeared to be the set of keys I’d seen his brother Ammar give him two days ago.

  “He’s got Ammar’s keys,” I said. “I guess that means he’s definitely leaving the neighborhood. The question is, where’s his vehicle?”

  Garrison said, “I’ve already put Quinn and Rex on alert. They’re prepared to follow him as soon as he walks out of the apartment.”

  I looked over at Jennifer who was seated at the main console in the center of the room. “What about drone coverage? Do we have that?”

  She nodded. “We’ve got it. I’ll put it up on the big screen.”

  Yousef slipped the car keys in his jacket pocket, gave the apartment one last look, and headed out the door. As soon as he closed the door, the screen went black.

  “Could you rewind the feed about ten seconds?” I asked.

  Jennifer clicked some keys on her computer. “Is this far enough?”

  I nodded. “That should do it.”

  “What is it?” Mitchell asked, staring up at the monitor.

  “Do you see that?” I asked, pointing up at the screen. “Yousef left his cell phone on the kitchen counter. He didn’t take it with him.”

  “What does that mean?” Liz asked.

  “Nothing good.”

  * * * *

  Seconds after Yousef left his apartment, we were able to see the image from the Agency’s reconnaissance drone on one of the high-definition screens mounted on the wall of the control room.

  Jennifer immediately brought the picture into focus and zoomed in on the figure of Yousef walking down the sidewalk on Nabil Street.

  Garrison said, “Jennifer, could you bring up Quinn’s audio?”

  She flipped a switch and moments later we heard Quinn’s voice.

  “He’s in our sightline. We’re on him,” Quinn said.

  “I don’t see Quinn’s van on the aerial shot,” I said. “Where is he?”

  Jennifer picked up a laser pointer and placed a red dot on an old Audi sedan. “He and Rex have changed vehicles. Here they are.”

  Quinn said, “It looks like Yousef just flagged down a taxi. He’s obviously not going to be using those keys his brother gave him.”

  “Quinn, this is Titus. Can you hear me?”

  “Loud and clear.”

  “Can you see anyone else in the taxi besides the driver?”

  “It’s hard to say; Rex can’t get behind him right now.”

  “When the taxi makes a drop-off, just make sure it’s Yousef who gets out and not a decoy.”

  “Copy that.”

  Garrison said, “The surveillance team I assigned to watch Ammar just checked in with me. Ammar’s still at home. He hasn’t left his house yet.”

  “What do you mean by yet?” I asked. “Do you know his schedule?”

  “Well, sorta. The Legislature’s in session today. Their week always starts on Sunday, so I figured he’d probably be headed to work.”

  Jennifer said, “I just got a message from the night crew at RTM Center A. They want to know if they should notify Veronica and Douglas about Yousef leaving the al-Dura neighborhood.”

  “Not yet,” I said. “Let’s see where he’s headed first.”

  “Maybe he’s on his way to pick up his vehicle,” Mitchell said.

  Maybe.

  Maybe not.

  * * * *

  The Iraqi taxi transporting Yousef out of the al-Dura neighborhood was an older model Hyundai Sonata. The exterior was painted solid yellow, and there were no noticeable markings on it other than the lighted yellow rooftop TAXI sign.

  We watched as the taxi drove west on the Mustansiriya Skyway, then turned south on Khulafa Street, and crossed the Tigris River on the Ahrar Bridge. One block later, the taxi stopped in front of a parking garage next to the Iraqi Museum.

  “Is he meeting someone at the museum?” Garrison asked, voicing a question I’d just asked myself.

  “I have a positive ID on the passenger,” Quinn said. “It’s definitely Yousef. He’s paid the driver, and now he’s walking into the garage.”

  Mitchell said, “This could be where he’s picking up his vehicle.”

  “Titus, shall we wait or follow him inside?” Quinn asked.

  That was a tough one.

  “How many exits in the garage?” I asked.

  Jennifer adjusted the reconnaissance image from the drone so it was taking up the entire screen.

  “There’s an exit here on Nasir Street where he just went in,” she said, using the laser pointer, “and I believe there’s another one here on Allawi Street on the other side of the garage.”

  “Quinn,” I said, “follow him inside on foot and have Rex stay with your vehicle.”

  “I was just about to suggest that,” he said. “Yousef might recognize Rex if he went in there with me.”

  Rex made some kind of mumbled response I couldn’t hear.

  I said, “We need to know what kind of vehicle Yousef’s driving. Even if he exits on Allawi Street, if we can identify the vehicle, at least the drone can follow him.”

  “I’m on it,” Quinn said.

  Everyone in Control Room B kept their eyes glued on the aerial view of the parking garage coming from the drone, but for the next five minutes or so, we heard nothing from Quinn.

  Then, I spotted him coming out of the garage and hurrying across the street where Rex had parked the Audi.

  The moment Quinn got inside, he clicked on his comms unit. “I couldn’t find him anywhere.”

  “Not what we wanted to hear,” Garrison said.

  Quinn continued, “Either he got in a vehicle and drove out of there before I got inside, or he took the skywalk over to the museum.”

  Jennifer said, “When you were walking in, there were several cars leaving the garage on Allawi Street. He could have driven out then.”

  “Quinn, go over to the museum and have a look around,” I said. “I’ll have Henry send you some help so you can search the building.”

  While Garrison was on the phone arranging for another surveillance team to join Quinn at the museum, I had Jennifer rewind the feed from the drone, so we could observe the vehicles coming out of the garage on Allawi Street as Quinn was going in on Nasir Street.

  There were four vehicles in all, three sedans and an SUV.

  Yousef could have been at the wheel of any of them.

  It was time to get Carlton out of bed again.

  * * * *

  The seven-hour time difference between Baghdad and Langley meant Carlton’s sleep had to be interrupted yet again, but when he appeared in the Ops Center some forty minutes after the night crew contacted him, I suspected he’d been up for at least a couple of hours.

  After hearing my explanation about what had happened with Yousef and watching the video from Yousef’s apartment, he said, “I don’t believe you’ll find Yousef inside the museum. He was either in one of those vehicles that left the garage, or he walked through the garage and flagged down another taxi.”

  “I completely agree,” I said. “In fact, I’m wondering if this whole thing could have been a rehearsal for the main event.”

  “You could be right,” Carlton said. “At any rate, I don’t think he’ll be returning to the al-Dura apartment. He’s probably gone to ground somewhere in the vicinity of the museum, and if he hasn’t already picked up the vehicle, then he will tomorrow or the next day at the latest. After that, he’ll either head over to the Green Zone or perhaps out to the airport. It all depends on the identity of his target.”

  Mitchell said, “I believe there’s a good chance Abbas Alviri will identify Yousef’s target for us by the end of the day.”

  “Let’s hope so,” Carlton said. “In the meantime, I’ll have our analysts examine the video from the parking garage and see what they can tell us
about the vehicles that left the garage immediately after Yousef went inside.”

  Garrison said, “Right now, we need to leave the search for Yousef up to Quinn and his crew and head over to our meeting with Prime Minister Madi’s staff. They’re expecting us in an hour.”

  Carlton ended the video call by cautioning Garrison not to confirm the President would be making a stopover in Baghdad on his way to Israel. “I’m sure someone on Madi’s staff will ask you about it.”

  Garrison assured him he wouldn’t confirm it, but he also said there were plenty of rumors going around that the President’s visit to Baghdad was definitely on his itinerary.

  “I suspect Yousef Bakir has heard those rumors too,” I said.

  * * * *

  Garrison gave us a brief orientation on how we—the Advance Preparation Team from the White House—should conduct ourselves at the Parliament Building and with Madi’s chief of staff.

  He noted it wouldn’t seem strange for us to ask a lot of questions, including questions about security, protocols, or procedures.

  Garrison gestured at Liz. “For example, since you’re supposedly a member of the Secret Service, it would be natural for you to ask questions about the Crown Prince’s visit and what kind of security arrangements they have in place for him.”

  “What about our weapons?” I asked. “Will it be a problem if we have them on us?”

  “No,” Garrison said, “we won’t be entering the building through the public entrance, so you won’t have to leave them behind. These days, hardly any government official walks around Baghdad without carrying a gun.”

  “As the Press Officer for the APT unit,” Mitchell said, “would it be appropriate for me to ask about security procedures?”

  “Oh, sure. Reporters are always asking questions about the security around the Prime Minister.”

  Just before we left the control room, I walked over and spoke to Jennifer. “If you get any information about Yousef’s location, would you contact me immediately?”

  “Does it make you nervous not knowing where he is?”

  “No, it doesn’t make me nervous; it terrifies me.”

  Chapter 33

  The new Iraqi government facility was more than just one building. It was an entire complex covering almost fifty acres between Zawra Park and the old Presidential Palace in the very center of the Green Zone.

  The architect’s plans for the government complex called for a total of twenty structures in various sizes and designs, although only three of the buildings had been completed so far.

  These included the Iraqi Parliament Building, where the Legislature conducted its business; the Executive Building, where the Prime Minister had his offices, and the Federal Council Building, where the Iraqi Supreme Court met.

  However, the Iraqi Parliament Building was the showpiece of the complex, and when Kasim drove the Chevy Suburban through the VIP entrance on the west side of the complex, we all agreed the structure was impressive, both in size and design.

  Almost as impressive though, was the Executive Building, and as Kasim drove us past the ceremonial front entrance and around to a side door, Liz pointed out it resembled a scaled-down version of the White House, including the white columns in the front.

  Kasim, who hadn’t said a word on the drive over to the government complex, suddenly spoke up and said, “Anti-Americanism is very strong in Iraq, so when our legislators approved the architect’s plans for the Executive Building, it was very controversial.” He shook his head. “Now, we’re fighting over an American-looking building.”

  As we got out of the Suburban, Garrison gestured at the Parliament Building about a hundred yards away. “After we meet with the chief of staff here at the Executive Building, we’ll walk over to the legislative facility where we’ll be given a tour of the building and meet the Speaker of the Parliament, Bahram Hadi.”

  “Will we need to show any ID to get inside?” I asked.

  “No, after you get your security badge here, you can go anywhere in the complex.” Garrison pulled a plastic badge out of his coat pocket. “I’m at the complex about once a week, so I just keep mine with me.”

  “So, you’re saying if we just keep the badge they give us today, then when the Crown Prince arrives here tomorrow, we’ll be able to get back in the complex using the same badge?”

  He nodded. “I know what you’re thinking. It’s not the best security in the world.”

  “You’ve got that right.”

  * * * *

  The process of getting through security at the Executive Building and receiving an ID badge was easy. All we had to do was show the officer our passports.

  Once that was done, Garrison took us up to the third floor for our scheduled appointment with Salah Khalili, Prime Minister Madi’s chief of staff.

  As Garrison made the introductions, Khalili shook hands with each APT member: Coordinator, Warren McHughes; Press Officer, Corey Foster; and Secret Service Agent, Liz Conner.

  After Khalili invited us to have a seat in his office, we engaged in some social chitchat for a few minutes, and then he asked us our opinion of a bribery scandal involving a U.S. Congressman.

  Since I knew absolutely nothing about it, I had to fake a response.

  Garrison, on the other hand, had all the salacious details.

  As I observed them laughing about the scandal, I realized Garrison had learned to play his role as the embassy’s senior political officer to perfection. The same thing could be said for the way he performed his duties as the CIA’s chief of station.

  I saw no indication Khalili suspected Garrison of having a dual role at the embassy, but since he seemed more interested in politics than people, I understood why the man was clueless about Garrison’s secret life.

  “Now tell me, Mr. McHughes,” Khalili said, leaning forward in his chair, “how can my office be of service to the White House?”

  I decided to get right to the point.

  “When members of our White House staff visit Baghdad this summer, our main concern is their safety.”

  “Naturally,” Khalili said, nodding his head, “but I can assure you as long as they remain in the Green Zone, they won’t have anything to worry about.”

  While I tried to be tactful about it, I couldn’t help but point out the deficiencies I’d already seen in their security procedures.

  However, he acted more concerned about his secretary getting us some refreshments than he was about hearing how he should implement some changes in the Executive Building’s security.

  Once our tea arrived, Liz tried asking Khalili a specific question about the security procedures the Iraqis had in place for the visit from the Saudi Crown Prince, but she got nowhere with that question.

  After giving her a generic answer, Khalili used her question to ask Garrison about the possibility the President would be making a stopover in Iraq on his way to visit Israel.

  “I’ve heard those rumors as well as you have, Mr. Khalili,” Garrison said with a short laugh, “but what do I know? They don’t tell me anything.”

  Khalili frowned and gestured at me. “Surely you know the answer to that question, Mr. McHughes. You work at the White House.”

  “Our President is a man who likes to keep everyone guessing, so you’ll probably hear about his itinerary long before I do.”

  As our meeting seemed to be winding down, Mitchell asked Khalili what the procedure would be for White House reporters to get a security clearance before the staff’s visit this summer.

  “If they’re with the White House press corps they shouldn’t have any problem. Just tell them to show up here with their passports.”

  “Will they need a letter of authorization?”

  “No, that won’t be necessary.”

  Khalili stood to his feet, shook our hands again, and said, “It’s been a pleasure meeting you. At this time, I’ve arranged for you to have a guided tour of the Parliament Building. You’ll find your escort Zaid waiting for you in
the atrium as you enter the building.”

  He gestured over at a portrait of Prime Minister Madi hanging on the wall. “You’ll also get to meet the Prime Minister. He just informed me he’ll be making an appearance in the chamber this morning.”

  I asked, “Do we need to be aware of any extra security procedures in place for Prime Minister Madi’s visit to the Parliament Building?”

  He smiled. “No, Mr. McHughes. You’re in the Green Zone. There’s no need for extra security precautions. Enjoy your tour.”

  By the time our visit with Khalili had ended, I was having serious doubts about whether the President should set one foot inside the Iraqi government complex, especially with an assassin like Yousef Bakir on the loose.

  As we left the Executive Building and were on our way over to the Parliament Building, I voiced my concerns to Garrison.

  “I agree,” he said. “Since most terrorist attacks happen in the Red Zone, the Iraqis have gotten lax about security inside the Green Zone.”

  Liz said, “After what I’ve seen here today, and knowing he could be Yousef’s target, I would definitely recommend the President avoid this area during his stopover. He should just remain at the airport.”

  “And let’s not forget the President won’t be alone,” I said. “He’s bringing some prominent Congressional members with him.”

  “How could I forget that?” Mitchell asked.

  * * * *

  The Parliament Building was a circular structure. According to the brochure our escort Zaid handed us when we walked in, the architect had designed the building as a sphere to emphasize the unity and strength of the Iraqi people.

  I found this concept slightly amusing, especially the unity part.

  The Iraqi people were represented in Parliament by legislators affiliated with over 250 different political parties.

  These divergent political parties adhered to one of three ideological groups, the Shias, the Sunnis, and the Kurds. The three contrasting groups could be further divided into even more categories depending on whether their leaders were pro-Iranian, pro-American, or pro-favorite-cleric-of-the-day.