by I A Thompson
“Sure thing, let’s focus on our jihadi beauty queen.” Ted replied and then rubbed his hands together in excitement. “This ought to be good.”
“You’re disgusting!” Deanna’s eyes shot daggers at her colleague. “You know what these crazies do to women. There is nothing good about it.”
“Look at this, guys!” Frank projected the information he found on the big screen that covered the eastern wall of their office. “An awful lot of similarities between Maddy and Amani. If this is not one and the same person, then it’s damn sure twins we’re looking at here.”
The door to their office opened and Turtle walked in, looked at the big screen and scowled. “Anything I need to know? I got called to the DDA’s office. Whatever he wants, it can’t be good; What did you guys do?”
The four looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders; CIA Deputy Director of Analytics, DDA John Treadwell, did not usually call people like Monty Richards into his office. Not unless something was wrong.
“Nothing, sir,” Frank said. “we are following up on a report from our Damascus station, regarding a potential female ISIS recruiter, but we’ve only just begun our research. It’s too early to speculate.”
“Well, okay then. Carry on,” Richards nodded, before he turned around and left.
2
Montgomery Richards was not a happy guy; A lifelong agency man, he had worked his way up from the analyst pool to a low-level supervisory position and he was certain that it was the end of the line for him. At age 50, he couldn’t care less about babysitting know-it-all twenty-somethings. But he was painfully aware that he really didn’t have any other options within the organization.
While he was making his way to the executive floor, he wondered what had caused Treadwell to summon him. His mind raced through the cases his team were working on and the reports on his desk waiting to get finished. Did he miss a deadline? He didn’t think so. Did his team mouth off to someone they shouldn’t have? He hadn’t heard anything.
Once he was in Treadwell’s reception area, the DDA’s assistant led him to the executive’s office. Monty cleared his throat and wiped his sweaty hands on his pants as he approached the boss who was sitting at the conference table with another guy who looked somewhat familiar. Both men stood up to greet him. Nice gesture, right before you drop the hammer, he thought.
“Mr. Richards, so good to see you. Thank you for making yourself available on such short notice,” Treadwell welcomed him with the warm courtesy that made him so popular around the organization.
“My pleasure, Mr. Treadwell, always happy to be of service,” Monty replied. As if I had a choice in the matter, he thought to himself.
“Mr. Richards, I’d like to introduce you to Cliff Hernandez, the Director of Interpol’s Washington National Bureau. Cliff, please meet Montgomery Richards, who leads one of our most accomplished analyst teams.”
They shook hands and exchanged pleasantries while Monty tried to absorb and make sense of what an Interpol guy was doing in Langley.
Once seated, the discreet assistant served coffee and water, before she left the room. Monty tried to get a good look at the stylish office without gawking as he wiped his clammy palms with a napkin; It was the first time he was in the inner sanctum. The wood paneling, elegant office furniture, carefully selected artwork and first-class videoconferencing equipment oozed power and importance.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why we’re here,” Treadwell started. “I will let Cliff give you the big picture and then we’ll talk about how you can help.”
“Thank you, John,” Hernandez took over. “Mr. Richards, as you may know, Interpol’s mission is to prevent and fight crime through enhanced cooperation and innovation on police and security matters. For us here in the Washington Bureau, that includes collaborating with our sister agencies within the Department of Justice, DOJ, and as needed with other government agencies.”
Monty nodded firmly.
Hernandez continued, “We are currently part of a multi-national investigation into what we believe to be a rather sizeable network of drugs and arms dealers with potential ties to a variety of terrorist organizations. As you can imagine, it’s quite an undertaking that requires a lot of teamwork, which is why we’re standing up a task force, code name ‘Identity’, dedicated solely to this investigation.”
Monty feigned interest, seeing little connection between what Interpol was doing and what he and his team were working on.
Treadwell added, “Interpol has asked for help from a variety of DOJ agencies which are all adding value to the task force. Interpol has the lead; Justice takes care of enforcement stateside while we and the NSA provide intel and analysis.”
“I’m honored you’re thinking of me. How can I help?” Monty leaned forward eagerly, adrenalin rushing through his body; Finally, somebody had realized his potential.
“We need help with analyzing the data collected by all collaborating agencies, foreign and domestic, both signals and human intelligence.” Hernandez took a sip of his coffee. “And your team has the reputation of being one of the best in the business in connecting dots and making sense of chaos.”
Monty glanced at Treadwell. “The whole team? What about our other cases?”
“Actually, at the moment it’s only one analyst we’re looking at,” Treadwell clarified.
Monty nodded again. “Frank McCreary is my senior analyst. Great guy, he’ll be an asset to your task force. How long will you need him?”
Treadwell and Hernandez looked at each other and it dawned on Monty that the decision had already been made and he was simply being notified.
Treadwell smiled. “Thank you for offering up Mr. McCreary; He is certainly very qualified, but we’re more interested in Regina Livingston.”
“Regina?” Monty thought he’d heard wrong. “She is a good analyst, but isn’t this a bit above her pay grade?”
“Well, we can fix that, can’t we?” Treadwell replied sarcastically with an arch of his brow.
Monty swallowed nervously. What did they see in Regina that he had missed? Whatever it was, he had a hunch it was about to bite him. “Of course, just say the word, I’ll be happy to submit the paperwork.”
“I take it,” Treadwell continued, “you weren’t very impressed with Ms. Livingston’s report last year on the Catalonian Separatists’. Thanks to her thorough work, we were able to provide our counterparts in Spain with information that led to the arrest of 15 people from Spain, Morocco and Libya who were planning terrorist attacks across Southern Europe.”
“I’m very glad to hear that her work was so well received.” Monty couldn’t remember the Catalonia report if his life depended on it. “All the hard work that went into developing her into a first-class analyst is clearly paying off.”
“Glad to hear we’re on the same page, Richards. Please submit the necessary paperwork to get her to the next pay grade and to have her detailed to task force ‘Identity’. I want both on my table for signature by the end of the day.” Treadwell stood up and thanked them both for coming; the meeting was over.
Monty scrambled to get on his feet. “Everything will be done as you requested, sir.” He shook Hernandez’ and Treadwell’s hands and headed out, keeping his composure just long enough to make it to the bathroom next to the elevators.
He locked himself in the handicapped stall, took off his jacket and loosened his tie. What the hell just happened? Had he just committed career suicide or was this the break he had been waiting for his entire tenure with the agency? He splashed cold water on his face, trying to bring back the natural color of his skin which had turned a sickly grey. Sweat poured profusely down his back, and he couldn’t be more thankful for having a spare shirt in his office.
He could have kicked himself for not asking if he would get a replacement for the time Regina was going to be gone. It would have been an elegant way of increasing his staffing level because once he got the extra body, no one would take him or her away agai
n. It was done all the time and he had just thrown away a prime opportunity.
He used the rough paper towels to dry his face as he looked in the mirror, pleased to see he was back to his normal self again, and no longer looked like someone who had been put through the wringer. Putting his jacket back on, he fastened and straightened his tie and made his way back to his office, avoiding heavy traffic areas, and changed into his clean shirt. He would break the news to the team after lunch.
3
“What do you think about grabbing a bite to eat with Esin?” Regina suggested to Deanna after a quick glance at the clock on her computer indicated that it was lunch time. “We can pick her brain about our mystery lady in Damascus.”
“Good idea,” Deanna replied. “I’m starving anyway.”
“Okay, let me ping her and see if she’s available. Guys, do you want to join us?” Regina already knew the answer but didn’t want to shut Frank and Ted out. As expected, their love for the gym came far before lunch with a group of chatty women and so they didn’t hesitate to decline her offer. “Dee, she can meet us in fifteen minutes. Excellent, that’ll give us plenty of time to get to the cafeteria.”
Since they were relatively early for lunch, they had their choice of prime locations in the light-filled, state-of-the-art cafeteria, vaguely resembling the food court of a mid-size mall. They each grabbed their favorite pre-made salads, Southwestern Cobb for Deanna and Chicken Caesar for Regina.
Esin Kahraman approached them minutes later, carefully balancing her tray while holding on to her attaché case. As a Collection Management Officer for the Directorate of Operations, she was always on the go and carried her office with her wherever she went. Of Turkish descent, fluent in English, Turkish and Arabic and with years of experience as Operations Officer all over Southern Europe and the Middle East, Esin became an informal mentor for Regina shortly after she joined the agency. She was one of a small handful of people who knew of Regina’s dream to one day cross over from her analyst role to an operations position.
“Ladies, what’s up in analyst land?” Esin put down her tray and mobile office, straightened her jacket and sat down.
“The usual,” Regina smiled. “Data, data everywhere, lots of garbled tidbits, white noise, and occasionally, a useful nugget, or at least we hope so. That’s one of the reasons why we wanted to get together with you. Of course, first and foremost, we wanted to see you, but we also have something we want to run by you.”
Esin smiled and her beautiful face lit up. Tall, slender, with thick, waist length, chestnut brown hair, blue eyes and milky white skin, Esin could easily pass as a model. When she was younger and active in the field, her looks provided her with the perfect cover when traveling around the world for covert operations. Her carefully crafted second identity opened many doors and her razor-sharp mind, paired with impeccable social graces and trade craft resulted in a wealth of valuable intel for the agency.
“Let’s hear,’ she said.
Regina and Deanna laid out what they had found so far about Amani Nazar and the possible connection with Maddy Cooper.
“I can’t wrap my mind around why a girl from a seemingly happy upper-middle class family would turn into a crazed terrorist supporter,” Deanna spoke while gesturing with her fork.
“You may be surprised how little it takes at that age to influence young people in one way or another.” Esin looked concerned. “They are still finding themselves and are easy prey for PR and Marketing experts. Whether it’s a car, the latest fashion, electronic gadget, music, you name it. If the message is captivating and the resulting emotions powerful, you’re in business. And make no mistake, the people who are looking to recruit these youngsters are very, very good at what they’re doing.” She sighed, “It’s dangerous to discount them as crazies, because we don’t agree with what they’re trying to ‘sell’.” Esin painted quotation marks in the air. “But that means dangerously underestimating what we’re dealing with. Think back to the first time you fell in love. What did it feel like?” She paused and gave Regina and Deanna a minute to go back in time in their minds
“Good stuff, huh? All consuming, intense, like nothing you’ve experienced before?” Both analysts nodded. “That’s what these recruiters are tapping into. They evoke these strong sentiments that can drown out any voice of reason. Now, is everyone susceptible? Most certainly not. But, take for example a girl like Maddy. And I’m by no means saying that Amani and Maddy are the same person, but for the sake of this hypothesis, let’s assume Maddy is Amani. So, our girl is on Cyprus island with her friends. They are having fun, relaxing after finals, partying, no parental supervision, probably alcohol involved, if not more.” she paused for effect.
“Now imagine for a moment a handsome young man stepping into the picture, telling her all the things she longs to hear, making her feel like the most important person in the world, promising her a life of happiness and fulfillment. She is surrounded by the artifacts from the dawn of civilization, life is beautiful and an endless adventure. Her hero has a compelling story of a misunderstood people, a fight for justice and liberty, of brothers and sisters in arms. She thinks of songs and movies depicting similar situations. Hollywood and reality blend. He treats her like a goddess, wants her to meet his parents because he knows they will love her immediately. It’s just a short boat ride across the strait, a quick day trip, she can see the coastline in the distance. She’ll be right back with her friends. He looks at her with those dark, soulful eyes. He is gentle and respectful. The land in the distance looks peaceful, just like the island she stands on. She agrees.”
Esin ate a bite of her lamb chop and put the fork back down. “Now, imagine for a second, that our young girl grew up in a household where sports, movies and reality shows dominated the TV landscape. She gets her news on her phone, in an incidental and passive manner, just a random element in a social feed. News fragments she came across about the war in the Middle East don’t connect in any conscious way to her new friend or his family home. He helps her get on the boat and they safely make it to Ras-Al-Basit in the far north eastern corner of Syria. The countryside is peaceful, but the small city is overrun with refugees from Aleppo, Homs and other embattled Syrian cities. The troubling stories she hears (translated by her friend) make her heart go out to the refugees. She helps how and where she can. He tells her about Daesh and how they’re fighting to bring back order to the region. Unaware that Daesh and ISIS are one and the same, she believes him when he says that they are the good guys.
In the constant turmoil our girl encounters, her guy is her rock and it becomes almost inevitable that she falls in love. Classic case of manipulation. They marry, she changes her name to Amani, converts to Islam, gets pregnant and is now Umm Miran, mother of Miran. She meets his friends and gets more and more indoctrinated with the Daesh philosophy. Her husband asks her to reach out to girls in Europe and America, because his friends want wives like her, she is flattered and happily agrees”
Esin paused, giving Regina and Deanna time to process the picture she painted for them.
“And so, it begins. The more she buys into the Daesh world order, the more convincing she is in luring western girls to join her. Keep in mind, she lives in relative safety and is well taken care of and therefore believes the other girls will all be treated the same. Her biggest concern is that she doesn’t have fifty different types of shampoo and conditioner at her disposal, but she is now an effective weapon to attack the West via its vulnerable youth, and she doesn’t even know it”
“How many of these women are out there?” Regina asked.
“We don’t know for sure, but from what our sources were able to gather, there is a handful of active recruiters. In cross-referencing missing girls and corresponding sightings across ISIS-held territory, we’re estimating anywhere from fifty to a hundred girls from various countries across the world, not just Europe and America, but also North Africa and Asia. This is something I want to see come to an end. I hope m
e telling you what we’re finding in the field will help you target your data collection and analysis on this topic. I understand this is not the only thing you’re tasked with working on, but I definitely think this should be a big bleep on your radar.”
Both Regina and Deanna were visibly shaken by what Esin told them. This was the kind of news that made it hard to switch back to small talk and they finished their lunch in silence.
“I’m sorry I ruined our lunch,” Esin said as they got ready to part ways and return to work.
Regina reached out and touched her arm, “Please, Esin, you did us a huge favor. You gave us much needed context. Thanks to the insight you gave us, we now have an idea what we need to look for to get a better, more complete picture of the situation.” And then with a small smile, she said, “Next time, we’ll have a fun lunch with no work discussions.”
The three women hugged, before hurrying off in opposite directions.
4
Even after a nice long lunch with his best friend, Chuck at their favorite pizzeria ‘Allegro’, Monty was still fuming. Having to give one of his best analysts to the ‘Identity’ task force was going to be a serious blow to his team. His mind raced through a half-dozen what-if scenarios and their implications for his career. He could already see a mediocre performance review for himself, because the rest of the team wouldn’t perform at the level they did when all four of them were together.
It wasn’t like he especially cared for Regina, but she made him and his team look good and that made her valuable. At the same time, he thoroughly despised the fact that she was always effortlessly ten steps ahead of him which made him feel inadequate. What made matters worse, was that there was clearly no ill intent on her part. Southern born and bred; she was polite, collaborative and personable. It was solely the fact that she was clearly smarter than him, that bugged him.
