Five Years in Yemen
Page 35
Barron added, “But we know Abdel Fattah was a top Al-Qaeda leader who was captured in Karbala with a large cache of documents, and we know you were translating them for the Agency.”
“It was more than just documents,” Jacob said. “There were journals, email communications, and a number of propaganda videos. The more I went through the materials, especially Abdel’s journals, the more convinced I became the Iraqi people had suffered enough.”
“What was in Abdel’s journals?” I asked.
“He made daily entries describing how his followers had planted bombs, devised IED’s, and engaged in sniper fire against the Americans. He had absolutely no regard for the civilian casualties he had caused. He even recorded grotesque descriptions of wounded children, and how proud he was of killing their mothers.”
As Jacob began reciting whole passages from Abdel’s journals, I realized he could be suffering from some sort of self-inflicted brainwashing. With his tendency to become focused on one subject, I could see how being in an isolated room and translating a terrorist’s journals for several hours a day could have that effect on him.
If that were the case, the consequences had been devastating.
I felt my phone vibrate, and when I took it out of my pocket, Jacob barely seemed to notice.
It was a long text from Carlton.
“To answer your previous question: Jacob probably came across an email Abdel wrote to his followers outlining what he claimed was the Houthis’ plans to invade Iraq using drones equipped with chemical weapons. Our analysts told me this was a completely bogus claim with no basis in fact. Don’t get bogged down on this. You need to wrap things up with Jacob and be on your way sooner rather than later.”
Jacob said, “The field tests I was conducting on the MODD system were almost complete when I decided the best way for me to help the Iraqis would be to provide them with a defensive weapon against future attacks on their country, especially since I knew terrorists were about to start using weaponized drones to attack Iraqi targets.”
“How would you know that?” Barron asked.
Jacob ignored his question and gestured at me. “I’m just assuming you know the MODD system I designed is able to stop a drone attack.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that, but I’m also curious why you thought Iraq was about to be attacked by a terrorist organization using drones.”
“I read all about it in the emails Abdel Fattah sent to his Al-Qaeda lieutenants. He told them the Iranians had supplied the Houthis with military drones that could be equipped with chemical weapons and used against the Iraqi people. Since the MODD system is designed to take control of drones and neutralize their weapons before they can cause any damage, I realized the Iraqis needed the system to stop the Houthis from attacking them.”
Barron took his eyes off the window for a moment and said, “In view of the fact the Houthis are barely capable of hitting the ocean with their missiles, it’s hard to believe they have the ability to use a drone to drop propaganda leaflets, much less carry out a chemical weapons attack on Iraq.”
As Barron was speaking, Carlton’s text about needing to wrap things up kept bubbling to the surface of my cerebral cortex. He’d sounded worried, and it made me wonder if someone at the compound had been informed Stephen Gault’s body had been found.
It was never a good sign if Carlton sounded worried.
Perhaps it was time to wrap things up.
* * * *
Although I was tempted to dispute what Jacob had read in Abdel’s emails about a drone attack coming from Yemen, I realized that discussion would have to wait for another day.
“Why don’t you explain to us how the Saudis fit into the picture you just described,” I said, “and then I’ll tell you exactly how you’re going to be able to fulfill your commitment to help the Iraqis, but still comply with the President’s order to return home with us.”
At the mention of home, Jacob’s facial expression changed slightly, and then he reached up and took off the ivory skull cap, folding it and placing it in his lap.
At that moment, I wasn’t sure what to make of this gesture.
Later, I realized it was an indication he was beginning to reconnect with reality.
“Okay, I’ll tell you how the Saudis fit into the picture,” he said. “When I was thinking about talking to someone at the Pentagon about how I’d like to help the Iraqis develop their own MODD system, a delegation from the Saudi Defense Ministry arrived in Karbala to see a demonstration of the system.”
“Would that be the delegation headed by Hasan Amari, the Deputy Defense Minister?” I asked.
“That’s right. One of the members of the delegation was a military research scientist like myself, and when I explained how I wanted to help the Iraqis build their own system, he suggested a better idea would be to build a MODD system for the Saudis. That way, they could use it to defeat the Houthis in Yemen and completely eliminate any threat they posed to Iraq.”
“That obviously appealed to you.”
“Yes. Hasan told me the Defense Ministry had received a large allocation of funds from the Crown Prince to modernize the Saudi military, and they would provide me with whatever I needed to develop a drone detection system for them. When I heard that, I felt I had my answer.”
“Why?”
“Because the Iraqis don’t have a large defense budget of their own.”
“The MODD system wasn’t exactly yours to give away, you know,” Barron said.
“He’s right,” I said. “You violated your secrecy agreement with the Pentagon, not to mention the contract you signed with SSG. Some people might consider you a traitor to your country for what you did.”
“No, you don’t understand. I didn’t bring anything with me. I didn’t hand over any classified documents, manuals, or schematics. I didn’t even take so much as a thumb drive with me. I told Hasan I would build the Saudis their own MODD system from the ground up, and they wouldn’t have to pay me anything.”
“You’re working for the Saudis for free?” Barron asked.
He nodded. “They provide me with housing, food, and clothing, and I also have a driver. If I need anything, all I have to do is to make a request, and they get it for me.”
“I’m sure they’ve never complained when you’ve asked them for anything either,” Barron said, shaking his head.
“No, they haven’t,” Jacob said, either ignoring or refusing to acknowledge the sarcasm in Barron’s comment. “When I told them I wouldn’t be able to finish the project without Stephen Gault’s expertise, they offered him a generous salary to come and work with me again.”
When he mentioned Gault’s name, he lowered his head. “I was looking forward to working with Stephen again.”
“What about your family?” I asked.
He looked up at me. “My family? You mean my brother?”
I nodded. “When you disappeared on your way to the airport in Karbala, everyone thought you’d been kidnapped by a terrorist group. Now, everyone back home thinks you’re dead, and that includes Daniel.”
The introduction of his brother into the conversation seemed to disturb Jacob, and he immediately started tugging at the edges of his keffiyeh. A few seconds later, he abruptly stood to his feet and walked over to the thermostat on the wall next to the kitchen.
After making an adjustment to the temperature, he removed the keffiyeh from around his neck. “If there’s anyone who would understand why I’m helping the Saudis upgrade their military hardware, it would be Daniel,” he said.
When I saw him remove the scarf and then heard the inflection in his voice when he said his brother’s name, I knew it was now or never.
In the next few minutes, I would either be able to persuade Jacob to come with us willingly, or we’d be forced to do a grab and go.
Chapter 37
In an apparent effort to convince me his brother would understand why he’d helped the Saudis, Jacob recited legislation Daniel had sponsored w
hich had helped the Saudis obtain military hardware.
I admit I was impressed by the way he rattled off the highlights of these legislative bills from memory.
“Daniel believes the U.S. should share its scientific knowledge with other countries,” he said, “and that’s exactly what I’m doing.”
After he came over and sat down again, I asked, “Is that because your mother taught you to help your neighbors and to look for ways to make their lives better?”
He seemed unnerved by my question. “How did you know that?”
“Daniel told me.”
“You know my brother?”
“No, but I saw him a few days ago in Washington. We were at a social event together.”
He leaned forward in his chair. “How is he?”
“I believe he’s still grieving over your death.”
“You talked about me?”
“Yes, your name came up in our conversation. I believe his exact words were ‘I assure you, if Jacob were still alive, he would have found a way to contact me by now.’”
“No,” he said, shaking his head vigorously, “contacting him wasn’t possible. I made a commitment. I’m sure he’ll understand when he knows what I’ve been doing. He also believes in what he does.”
“That’s the reason your brother could use your help right now.”
“Why would he need my help?”
“Daniel is considering challenging the President for the party’s nomination. He’s gained a substantial following, and I believe if he runs, he’ll have a good chance of winning.”
Suddenly, Jacob became animated. “Is that right? Are you telling me Daniel could be the next President of the United States?”
“That’s entirely possible, but consider what would happen if someone who opposed your brother’s nomination learned you had faked your death and betrayed your country.”
“I didn’t betray my country. I told you—”
“Yeah?” Barron said. “Well, tell that to one of those political pundits on the Sunday talk shows. As soon as they get a whiff of what you’ve done for the Saudis, they’ll hand out pictures of you giving military secrets to ISIS and write about you living with the Taliban.”
“That’s impossible. I never did any of those things.”
Barron gave him a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look. “Do you really believe that would stop your brother’s opponents?”
Jacob turned away from Barron and looked at me. “How can I help Daniel?”
“You can leave this compound with us in the next few minutes, return to the States, and cooperate with the FBI when they provide you with a story to explain your five-year absence. By doing this, you’ll greatly reduce the chances Daniel’s political opponents could use your actions against him.”
Jacob immediately jumped to his feet and said, “I’ll do it.”
* * * *
I was so stunned by his reaction I didn’t respond for a second, but then, I quickly affirmed his decision before he could change his mind.
“You’ve made the right decision, Jacob. I know you won’t regret it.”
“My brother needs me. That’s all that matters. What can I do?”
I gestured at the chair. “First, you need to sit down while I give you some instructions. You may not agree with what I’m asking you to do, but believe me, it’s for your own safety.”
Barron chimed in. “It’s for our safety as well. Don’t forget that.”
“Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”
“In a few minutes, I’ll be leaving here. Stephen will remain behind. Give me ten minutes, and then I want you to call Hussein and ask him to take you and Stephen over to the Marlize Refugee Camp. Tell him you want to show Stephen where you teach your science class.”
When I began giving him these instructions, he’d closed his eyes. Now, he was rocking back and forth.
I was hoping this was simply his way of processing stuff.
“Are you willing to do what I’m asking you to do?” I asked.
He opened his eyes and glanced over at Barron, who for once wasn’t paying any attention to us. Instead, he was gazing out the window at something happening down the street.
“Of course I am,” he said.
He gestured at Barron. “Is he supposed to be Stephen Gault? I guess some people might see a resemblance, but his mannerisms are nothing like the real Stephen.”
“That doesn’t matter as long as you treat him like Stephen Gault in front of Hussein.”
He shrugged. “What choice do I have?”
“When Hussein arrives to pick you up, I’ll be with him, along with a man named Ralph, but you should pretend you’ve never seen me before.”
“Pretend I’ve never seen you before,” he repeated.
“That’s right.”
I stood to my feet. “I know this may be difficult, but you can’t bring anything with you; no luggage, no personal items, nothing that would indicate you’re about to leave Somahi.”
“Uh . . . okay.”
“Just before we get to the camp, you’ll hear me ask Hussein to drop Ralph and me at the EAI emergency aid station. When that happens, I want you to speak up and say you’d be interested in seeing how the EAI people handle their food distribution.”
“Okay, I’ll do my best.”
“One last thing. Do you have any Western clothes you could wear underneath your thobe?”
When he nodded, I said, “Once Hussein drops us off at the emergency aid station, I’ll have you remove your thobe and keffiyeh.”
“What happens after that?” he asked.
Barron turned away from the window and gave a short laugh, “If we’re lucky, we’ll immediately head south and hitch a ride on one of our big birds back to the States.”
I got up and walked over to the window. “What’s going on outside?”
He gestured down the street toward the entrance of Al-Firdaus. “A few minutes ago, three black Land Rovers came through the gate and turned on East Street. One of the guards from the gatehouse stopped traffic for them.”
Jacob said, “It was probably someone from Riyadh coming to visit Prince bin Rahman. His villa is on East Street.”
I had a feeling the motorcade might have been the reason Carlton had urged me to wrap things up with Jacob. Since I hadn’t received any more texts from him, I also figured the battery on the sunglasses had finally run out.
Time was ticking down for all of us.
* * * *
After I left Jacob’s house and started jogging toward East Street, I thought about calling Carlton, but I decided if the motorcade had anything to do with Hasan Amari’s murder, or, for that matter, Stephen Gault’s murder, there was nothing I could do about it now.
Still, as I made my way over to the park to meet up with Mitchell and Hussein, I kept my eye out for Prince Rahman’s villa.
As it turned out, even if I hadn’t been looking for it, I couldn’t have missed it.
It was the largest house on the block.
It was also set back away from the street, and the short drive that led up to the front of the house ended in a large circular drive, where I spotted three black Land Rovers.
I jogged by the villa as if I didn’t care, and a minute later, I arrived at the park where I was expecting to meet up with Mitchell and Hussein.
The park appeared larger than the aerial view I’d seen of it.
To my left was a playground for children, plus a picnic area, and to my right was a soccer field. In the middle was a small amphitheater with a fountain in the center.
After taking a quick look at the picnic area, I headed toward the fountain, where several children were chasing each other up and down the concrete steps of the amphitheater. Occasionally, one of them would run up to the fountain and splash their hands in the water.
A small group of women were standing near the fountain keeping an eye on the children, and a couple of men were seated on a bench playing a game of chess.
I jogged up the steps and pretended to be out of breath. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here any sooner. I was way over by the market when I got your text.”
Mitchell gestured around the park. “How’s this for a great setting for Hussein’s interview? The lighting here is perfect, and the backgrounds in the test shots I’ve done aren’t the least bit grainy.”
“Yeah,” I said, “I hate it when the backgrounds are grainy.”
Hussein said, “So you like this location for my interview?”
“Yes,” I said, giving Mitchell a pat on the shoulder, “Ralph knows exactly what he’s doing. Now that he’s found the perfect spot, filming this segment shouldn’t take but a few minutes.”
I sat down beside Hussein, and after Mitchell tinkered with his video camera a moment, he backed a few feet away from us and said, “Action.”
I was absolutely certain no cameraman had ever said such a thing to a reporter before filming an interview.
* * * *
I’d just finished asking Hussein a series of easy-to-answer questions about the refugee camp when he received the phone call from Jacob.
He looked embarrassed as he lifted the phone out of his pocket.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Brice,” he said, looking down at his phone, “it looks like Jacob is calling me. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m required to take his phone calls.”
“Oh, sure, no problem,” I said. “Go ahead.”
Hussein didn’t answer his phone until he’d walked down to the end of the row and turned away from us. As soon as he was out of earshot, I used the opportunity to give Mitchell a quick update on our encounter with Jacob.
When I finished, he asked, “How did you know Jacob would be susceptible to the idea of helping his brother?”
“I didn’t. It was a shot in the dark.”
“You don’t expect me to believe that, do you? I’m sure you’ve gone over that scenario in your head several times during the past week. You’ve taken the whole thing apart, looked at it from every angle, and then put it back together again. Don’t deny it. I know how you think.”