Five Years in Yemen
Page 36
“And I know how you think, so I’m not going to deny it.”
“So, you’re saying I’m right?”
“No, I’m saying you overthink things.”
“Me overthink things? You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Are you saying I overthink things?”
“Yes, of course I’m saying you overthink things.”
“Then, I guess we’ll both need to work on that, won’t we?”
* * * *
When Hussein walked back over and told us Jacob wanted Stephen to see the Marlize Refugee Camp, I assured him we already had enough material for his interview, and we could leave immediately.
“That’s good. He sounded like he wanted to go right away.”
As the three of us headed toward the bicycle shop where we’d left the Ford Explorer, I dropped a few steps behind Hussein so I could observe his reaction when we walked past Prince bin Rahman’s villa.
He did a classic double take—briefly glancing over at the villa, then quickly taking a second look. There was no one outside the residence, so the vehicles themselves had to have drawn his attention.
As I watched him give the vehicles a long look, I couldn’t read his facial expression. He seemed neither alarmed nor surprised.
“Wow, nice house,” I said. “Who lives there?”
“That’s Prince Fahd bin Rahman’s villa. He has several villas, but this is where he stays most of the time. He’s one of Prince Mohamed’s deputies in the Defense Ministry.”
“He must like to entertain. It looks like he has guests.”
“Yes, he entertains a lot, but that’s probably an official delegation from the Crown Prince in Riyadh. His ministers always drive black Land Rovers.”
I wasn’t sure what else I could ask Hussein without making him suspicious of me, so I changed the subject.
A few minutes later, we arrived at the bicycle shop.
This time, I sat up front with Hussein, and Mitchell sat behind me. If Barron followed classic CIA training, he would make sure Jacob was seated between him and Mitchell.
That seating arrangement might make Jacob uncomfortable, but it couldn’t be helped. I needed to be in the front seat in case I had to make a quick decision if we weren’t allowed to leave the compound.
More than likely, that decision would involve my Glock, the steering wheel, and the gas pedal.
* * * *
When we pulled in front of Jacob’s house, Barron stepped out the front door, but Jacob followed him a few seconds later. I noticed he didn’t look back when he pulled the door shut on his house.
However, I was immediately alarmed when I saw both he and Barron were carrying a laptop. Why would Barron allow Jacob to ignore my orders and bring his computers with him?
“Hey, good to see you again,” Barron said, after he and Jacob got inside the car.
Once Hussein had introduced Mitchell and me, Barron said, “I hope you guys don’t mind, but I convinced Jacob we should ride over to the refugee camp with you. I’ve never seen a refugee camp before.”
Hussein asked, “But why did you bring your computers with you?”
I glanced in the backseat. “I was wondering the same thing.”
“Oh, yeah,” Barron chuckled, “I can see why that might surprise you. Jacob and I just thought the kids over at the camp might like to play some video games. We have several games on our computers, and we thought it might be fun to teach them how to play a few of them.”
Hussein looked skeptical when he glanced in the backseat and addressed Jacob. “I didn’t know you played video games.”
Jacob’s response was slow in coming.
Finally, he said, “I don’t talk about it much.”
To me, his answer didn’t sound all that natural, and I wondered if Hussein would comment on how stilted he sounded.
But, by that time, we’d arrived back at the entrance, and Hussein was too preoccupied with making a righthand turn to do any more than grunt at Jacob’s answer.
The road was a narrow exit lane that would take us back out to the highway, but first, we had to drive past a guardhouse where a Saudi officer was checking each vehicle as it pulled to a stop in front of him.
Hussein’s friendly captain, the one who’d allowed us to enter the Al-Firdaus compound in the first place, was nowhere in sight.
The vehicle in front of us was quickly waved through the gate, and then Hussein pulled forward. As soon as he stopped, the officer bent down and looked inside the Ford Explorer, obviously counting heads.
When he spotted Jacob, he spoke to him in Arabic. “Good afternoon, Kadi. I don’t usually see you here at this time of day.”
“You’re right, Abdul, I’m a creature of habit,” Jacob replied in Arabic. “but my friend Stephen just arrived from Riyadh, and I wanted to show him where I teach my science class. We’re on our way over to the refugee camp now.”
I decided either Jacob was more comfortable telling a lie in Arabic or he was a quick learner when it came to playing the game, because this time, he sounded completely normal.
The officer looked down at his clipboard. “So you’re Hussein’s extra passenger. He came in with three, and now he’s leaving with four.”
“Is that a problem, Abdul?” Hussein asked.
“No I guess not, but I don’t want to make any mistakes that might get me written up on a disciplinary report, especially now.”
“What do you mean especially now?”
“Some ministers from the Crown Prince are here to meet with Prince Rahman about the shakeup going on in the Defense Ministry. I’ve even heard the Al-Jarba base might be closing.”
Hussein shrugged. “That wouldn’t be so bad. One of these days the Houthis might actually manage to hit the base and blow us all up.”
Jacob sat forward in his seat, “What’s the shakeup at the Defense Ministry? Why would they want to close Al-Jarba?”
Abdul said, “The deputy minister, Hasan Amari, was murdered a few days ago, and some people are blaming Prince bin Salman.”
Jacob sat back in his seat and didn’t say a word.
Hussein, on the other hand, appeared shaken. “Deputy Amari is dead? How did it happen? When did you hear about it?”
“I heard the news about an hour ago.”
He motioned for Hussein to move forward. “I’ll give you the rest of the details when you get back to the compound.”
Hussein put the car in gear. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be at the camp.” He motioned at Jacob and Barron in the backseat. “I think I’ll probably stick around until I bring them back.”
If that were true, then Operation Rebel Merchant was in trouble.
Chapter 38
Once we were on the highway headed toward the refugee camp, I glanced in the backseat to see how Jacob was handling the news of Amari’s murder. He didn’t appear to be affected by what he’d heard, although it was hard to tell since he had his eyes closed.
He also had his laptop clutched to his chest like it was some kind of security blanket. Suddenly, it dawned on me that’s exactly what it was—the adult version of a kid’s security blanket.
He probably had all his MODD system research, his computations, his drawings, all the notes he’d made, basically all the stuff he couldn’t bear to leave behind on those laptops.
Actually, the more I thought about it, the more I realized it wasn’t such a bad idea he’d brought both his laptops with him, although I was surprised he’d been able to talk Barron into it.
Barron smiled and raised his eyebrows when I looked over at the laptop he was holding. That’s when I spotted the ACS sticker on the lid, and it finally registered with me he’d brought Stephen Gault’s laptop with him and not one of Jacob’s laptops.
Now, I wasn’t sure if Jacob had talked Barron into letting him bring his laptop, or if it had been the other way around. That is, Barron hadn’t wanted to leave Gault’s laptop behind, so he’d told Jacob to bring his own laptop with him.
However, I didn’t believe Carlton would share my feelings.
In fact, I was sure he would see things from a different perspective—namely, that the benefits of having the laptops weren’t worth the risk Barron had taken when he’d allowed Jacob to leave the house with his laptop.
Before Operation Rebel Merchant was over, I had no doubt Carlton would express that opinion to Barron, pointing out—in his own forceful, yet instructive way—that Hussein was not only Jacob’s driver but also someone who was expected to tell his superiors if he observed any changes in Jacob’s behavior.
Bringing his laptop to the refugee camp would certainly qualify as unusual behavior, despite the bizarre story Barron had given Hussein about allowing kids to play video games on the laptops.
The best argument Barron could give Carlton was that we’d made it out of the compound without incident, and the laptops were now in our possession and not the Saudis.
On the other hand, Carlton was seldom convinced—even by the best arguments—if the lives of his operatives had been endangered by another operative’s risky behavior.
* * * *
When we were about five minutes away from the refugee camp, I got out my phone and told Hussein I needed to check in with my producer and ask her where he should drop us off.
“That’s a good idea,” he said. “Marlize is a big camp, so it might be better for your producer to meet us in the northern sector over where the classrooms are located.”
“Delaney, this is Austin,” I said, when I got her on the phone. “Ralph and I have finished our interview with Hussein, and we’re headed over to Marlize now.”
“How did it go?” she asked.
“It went great. Hussein was an excellent subject.” I gave him a big smile. “Stephen Gault and a friend of his are in the car with Ralph and me. Hussein will be dropping them off at the classrooms located in the northern sector of the camp. Is that a good place to meet you?”
“Conrad and I are visiting one of the emergency aid trailers and setting up an interview right now. It’s the EAI trailer just as you enter Marlize. Could Hussein drop you and Ralph off there?”
“So you’re at the EAI trailer at the entrance. Hold on a minute. I’ll check with him.”
I looked over at Hussein. “Delaney and Conrad are setting up an interview for me at one of the emergency aid stations. She said they’re at the EAI trailer at the entrance. Could you drop us off there?”
“Oh, sure. No problem.”
I told Delaney we’d see her in a few minutes and hung up.
Now, it was Jacob’s turn to chime in.
Silence.
I resisted the temptation to look around and see if he’d been listening to my conversation with Delaney. Instead, I decided to give him another cue.
“Emergency Aid International is one of the largest aid organizations in the world. Getting an interview with one of their workers should generate some good publicity for the documentary.”
Silence.
Barron spoke up. “I’ve heard of the EAI organization. They have a great reputation. I’ve always wanted to see how they operate.”
“Hussein,” Jacob finally said, “before we go see the classroom, would you mind if we also stopped off at the EAI trailer? I’d like to show Stephen one of the food distribution centers.”
When Hussein didn’t immediately respond, I felt certain he was about to voice his opposition to this idea, so I quickly spoke up and said, “That would be another good location to get some footage of you, Hussein. I was hoping to shoot some video of you at the camp.”
Following my lead, Mitchell said, “What a good idea. Delaney will probably want to lead off the documentary with Hussein’s interview.”
“Is that right?” he asked, clearly flattered by Mitchell’s assessment.
“I’m telling you, Hussein,” Mitchell said. “Your segment is really good. I’m sure Delaney would be willing to pay you a little extra if you wouldn’t mind giving us some extra footage.”
He looked in the rearview mirror at Jacob. “Okay, it’s fine with me if you want to spend a few minutes at one of the distribution centers.”
A few seconds later, when Hussein turned off the highway onto the dirt road that led up to the Marlize Refugee Camp, he glanced over at me and added, “If you wanted to take some extra video of me at the camp, I guess I wouldn’t mind that either.”
I made a mental note to commend Mitchell on his excellent read of Hussein’s ego. Evidently, being flattered was just the push Hussein needed to stop off at the EAI center. I admit the timing of Mitchell’s comments about giving him extra money had also been on target, but I couldn’t possibly give him kudos for both of those actions.
Giving Mitchell too much praise could go to his head.
It might also ruin my reputation.
* * * *
During our briefing, Olivia had shown us images from the refugee camp, so I wasn’t surprised when we came around a bend in the road, and all I could see were white tents spread out in front of us in every direction.
But, as Hussein drove past a signboard with Marlize Refugee Camp written in both Arabic and English, I came face-to-face with the reality of what those tents meant—kids, babies, young mothers, teenage boys, crippled men, suffering old women, all manner of people trying to survive another day while holding out hope for a better tomorrow.
Unfortunately, I knew a better tomorrow for these people rested in the hands of a few officials in the hardliner Iranian regime, officials who were backing the Houthi rebels, so I wasn’t all that hopeful.
A processing center was on the right side of the road, and off to the left, around the camp’s perimeter, were the emergency aid centers. These so-called centers were made up of trucks, trailers, and temporary shelters set up by the international relief agencies.
In the middle of the group were two large EAI trucks with the relief agency’s familiar logo on the side. The logo depicted a small child receiving a bowl of rice from a kneeling figure. The three EAI initials—written in black lettering and outlined in gold—formed an umbrella of protection over the two silhouettes who were shown in black.
Underneath the logo was the relief agency’s motto in cursive script, “Kneeling in Service, Standing in Hope,” a slogan created by the Agency’s Disinformation and Propaganda Department after the concept of forming a legitimate relief agency was authorized by the Director several years ago.
That same logo and motto were painted on the side of the EAI trailer, which was similar to a mid-size house trailer found in mobile home parks in the U.S.
Parked next to the EAI trailer were a couple of vehicles, one of which was the Toyota Land Cruiser we’d rented at the airport in Aden. Taylor and Delaney were standing in front of the SUV engaged in conversation.
“There’s the rest of our crew,” I told Hussein, pointing off to my left. “You could pull in there next to them.”
Hussein followed my directions and parked next to the Toyota. As soon as he turned off the ignition, Delaney walked over and began issuing orders.
I saw no sign of Carlton, but I assumed she was simply following his instructions.
“Austin, I have an interview set up for you in the EAI trailer over there. It’s with one of their directors who’s here visiting the camp. You and Ralph can go right in. He’s expecting you.”
So that’s where Carlton was.
After I introduced Jacob to Delaney, I said, “Before we start the interview, do you think it would be okay if Stephen and Jacob went inside and met the director? They both want to know more about how EAI operates their food distribution centers.”
“I’m sure he’d be glad to meet them. He’s a nice guy,” she said.
“If you don’t mind,” I said, “when we finish with the director, I’d like to get som
e footage of Hussein at one of the relief agency centers. It would make a good addition to the interview we did with him, and we promised to give him a little extra compensation for his time.”
Delaney nodded. “That should work.”
She smiled at Hussein. “Conrad and I were just headed over to the EAI truck. They’re handing out food packets now, so why don’t you go with us, and we’ll look for a good spot to get some video of you.”
Hussein didn’t look all that comfortable taking orders—or even suggestions—from a woman, but he shrugged and agreed to go with her anyway.
As the rest of us headed toward the EAI trailer and our fake interview with Carlton, Taylor looked over and gave me a brief nod.
After that, he fell into step behind Delaney and Hussein.
His gesture was so deliberate, I took it as a signal Carlton had instructed him to take care of Hussein. I wasn’t sure whether that meant he and Delaney had been told to remove Hussein from the camp permanently, or if they were only supposed to keep him occupied for a little while.
Either way, as long as it meant I would have time to talk about our exit plan with Carlton, I was relieved to have Hussein out of the picture.
* * * *
When we stepped inside the trailer, we were met by a Level 3 Agency security guy. As a division head, Carlton was required to have a couple of these operatives travel with him whenever he operated in country.
I immediately recognized the guy who greeted us.
His name was Dave, but I’d forgotten his last name, or maybe he’d never told me. He wasn’t much of a talker.
The last time I’d seen Dave had been in Damascus six months ago when he and his partner, Finn, had helped me scare the living daylights out of an Islamic terrorist.
Dave grinned and patted me on the back when I stepped in the trailer. “Great to see you again,” he said.