Two Days in Caracas

by Luana Ehrlich

  When he said this, he looked directly over at Roberto and furrowed his brow. While Buck’s expression wasn’t exactly the worried look I’d been anticipating, it nevertheless achieved the results I wanted because Roberto immediately jumped to his feet.

  “He’ll kill my family,” he said. “I need to warn them.”

  I laid my hand on Roberto’s shoulder. “We’ll talk about this once I’ve taken the call.”

  As soon as Buck and I were out of Roberto’s sight, I handed him back the phone and congratulated him on his award-winning performance.

  He grinned at me.

  I think he actually believed me.

  When I asked him about the latest update from Olivia, he said everything had gone as planned, and Roberto’s family had been safely stashed away at the safe house.

  I decided I wouldn’t ask him how the ladies were handling their sudden abduction. Grabbing someone off the street and then telling them you have their best interests at heart never goes very smoothly, no matter how well the plan is executed.

  * * * *

  When I stepped back in the living room, I noticed Roberto was pacing the floor. He appeared stressed, and I was happy to see Buck’s little drama had left a lasting impression on him.

  As soon as he saw me, he rushed over and asked, “What’s happening with my family?”

  “Have a seat, Roberto.”

  There was a look of frustration on his face, but he walked back over to the sofa and sat down. When I returned to my own seat, I gave Mitchell a quick wink to let him know we were in game mode.

  He nodded at me.

  The moment I sat down, I pointed my finger at Roberto and said, “Ahmed is in Caracas looking for you, and Rehman Zaidi is helping him. I’m not going to tell you how we came across this information, but Zaidi knows about Roxanna, and he believes you’re hiding out at her house.”

  Roberto’s expression was one of pure anguish. “Oh, no.”

  “I have people ready to take your family to a place of safety, but I need assurances from you that you’re willing to do whatever it takes to help us capture Ahmed.”

  He quickly nodded his assent. “Yes, of course, I’ll do whatever you want. Just make sure my family is safe.”

  I gestured at Mitchell. “Would you let our security team know Roberto is willing to cooperate with us?”

  “Sure,” he said, getting out of his chair and heading for the door.

  Moments before he reached it though, he looked back at Roberto and said, “I just hope they get to your family in time.”

  The worried look on Mitchell’s face was so believable, it even caused me a moment of concern, and that was when I decided Mitchell was a much better actor than Buck was.

  * * * *

  As soon as Mitchell returned, Roberto began bombarding him with questions.

  “Is my family okay? Are my wife and daughter safe? What about my sister-in-law?”

  “Our security team is taking care of your family,” Mitchell assured him.

  I said, “You’ll be able to see them once we’re finished here. But first, I want you to tell me about Ahmed’s emails.”

  Roberto took a deep breath. “There were only three emails, but each of them made some kind of reference to Ernesto. In the first one, Ahmed said he and Ernesto were seeing the sights of San Antonio, Texas. In the next one, he said the two of them had decided to drive from Mexico to Costa Rica. Then, in the last one, he said Ernesto had told him he’d never been on a cruise before, so he planned to rent a yacht in Limón, and join me on Margarita Island when I arrived there for the International Trade Conference.”

  “Did you tell Zaidi about the emails?” I asked.

  “I didn’t need to tell him. He knew Ahmed was emailing me, and the feeling I got from both of them was that if I didn’t cooperate, something would happen to Ernesto. I felt my only leverage with them was Ahmed’s passport.”

  “So you delayed sending it to him?”

  He nodded. “I was hoping Ernesto would recognize Ahmed wasn’t a friend, and he would try to get away from him. But Ernesto never called or emailed me—not even a text—so I finally made arrangements for Ahmed to get the passport. I felt confident once they arrived in Venezuela, I could get Ernesto alone and explain how dangerous both of these men were.”

  “And what were you going to do after that?” I asked.

  “Leave Venezuela. I’d arranged everything—passports, airline tickets, money—to start a new life in Argentina.”

  “Argentina? Why not go to America?”

  He looked at me as if I’d just proposed doing something completely preposterous.

  “Because I wanted my family to have a better life.” He paused and shook his head. “Islamic jihadists are planning a sarin gas attack in some of your cities today, but tomorrow they’ll be planting dirty bombs in those same cities. The U.S. has too many enemies to survive much longer.”

  Roberto, like most of America’s enemies, believed America was doomed to destruction, but I was ready to give my last breath to prove them wrong.

  Mitchell asked, “What made you go into hiding when you heard about Ernesto’s death? Why were you so certain it was Ahmed who had taken your son’s life?”

  “I wasn’t all that certain. I just knew something wasn’t right, and I needed to act quickly. I guess you could call it my instincts. The moment I got the call, it was clear to me the leadership in Hezbollah didn’t want an outsider knowing about their plans to use chemical weapons. I wondered why they didn’t just have Zaidi kill me. Why would they go to all the trouble of sending Ahmed to Venezuela? But then, I realized there were too many people who knew Zaidi and I were friends, and they didn’t want him coming under suspicion. That’s why I didn’t go to the trade conference. After hearing about Ernesto’s murder, I believed Ahmed was going to kill me too; or even worse, kill my wife and daughter.”

  I said, “Don’t you think you should have given Ahmed the benefit of a doubt? From what you’ve said, it sounds like both Ahmed and Zaidi have done nothing but treat you and your family with kindness. Maybe you’re not thinking straight right now. In fact, with all the long hours you’ve been working to get ready for the trade conference, plus hearing the news of Ernesto’s passing, you’ve hardly been able to make sense of anything.”

  Both Mitchell and Roberto looked at me as if I’d just lost my mind.

  Roberto said, “Are you crazy? Didn’t you just say Ahmed was sent here to kill me?”

  I nodded. “I did, and I believe that’s true. However, Ahmed needs to be convinced you acted irrationally when you heard about Ernesto’s death, and I’ve just given you some points to remember when you make that argument.”

  Roberto asked, “When would I need to make that argument?”

  “When you invite him over here.”

  “Over here? You want Ahmed to come here?”

  I pulled his cell phone from my pocket. “That’s exactly what I want. But first, you need to call Rehman Zaidi and persuade him to let you talk to Ahmed.”

  * * * *

  Roberto spent the next five minutes arguing with me about calling Zaidi. I kept trying to tell him he wouldn’t be present when Ahmed arrived, but he wouldn’t shut up long enough to hear me.

  Finally, he heard me say I’d be the person confronting the man who’d killed his son, and that’s when he agreed to make the call.

  However, before I allowed Roberto to use his phone, I took it back to the master bedroom and gave it to Buck. I told him when Roberto made the call to Zaidi, I wanted to be able to monitor everything he said to him.

  Buck removed the phone’s SIM card and looked it over. Then he said, “Cindy can set up the protocols to make that happen.”

  The woman sitting at the communications console turned around and lifted one of the earphones away from her ear. Then she said, “Hi, I’m Cindy.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  After listening to Buck’s instructions, she said to me, “Olivia sai
d for you to get in touch with her whenever you took a break.”

  “I’ll do that now. Will you be able to have the phone ready when I finish talking to her? I want Roberto to call Rehman Zaidi as soon as possible.”

  “I can do that,” she said. When she handed me an Agency phone, she added, “Oh, and good luck with Olivia. She’s sounded a little upset about something.”

  That didn’t sound good.

  In order to have some privacy, I walked down the hallway to the guest bedroom. It was larger than the girl’s bedroom where Mitchell had taken his nap, and while it had a bed in it, it also contained a desk and some bookshelves.

  I sat down at the desk and punched in Olivia’s phone number.

  When Olivia said hello, I could hear what sounded like several conversations going on in the background.

  “Cindy said for me to—”

  “Do you think Roberto’s telling us everything?”

  It was obvious Olivia had been listening to the audio of my interrogation of Roberto. However, she sounded a little too excited for my liking.

  “Not everything, but enough. I don’t think he’s lying about Hezbollah’s plan to use the sarin gas, if that’s what you mean.”

  “I believe he knows which American cities they’ve targeted. You’ve got to get him to identify them for you.”

  “Hold on, Olivia. We’ll have time for that later. Right now, I need to prep Roberto so he’ll sound convincing when he talks to Ahmed. We’ll deal with the chemical weapons once we’ve taken care of Ahmed.”

  Olivia sounded as if she hadn’t heard me. “I’ve got the analysts working on identifying the ships carrying those weapons. But, for all we know, they could have arrived in port already.”

  “That’s possible, of course, but Roberto seemed pretty certain they were still at sea and wouldn’t get here until the warehouses were ready.”

  “Yes, I heard him say that, but ...”

  I heard her take a deep breath, and then she said, “There’s a lot happening right now.”

  Where was Carlton when I needed him?

  I suddenly realized Olivia’s greatest strength—her ability to focus on one task and do it well—was also her greatest weakness when it came to handling all the different aspects of being a field officer.

  I decided there was only one way to make her refocus and direct her energies toward grabbing Ahmed.

  I said, “I could send Ben over to the embassy to help you handle things there. I don’t need him here anymore, so he could easily manage the operation from there.”

  There were several seconds of silence, and then she said. “Contrary to what you might think, Titus, I’m perfectly capable of conducting this operation without Ben’s help. If someone needs Ben’s help, it’s you. From everything I’ve heard, he has more rapport with Roberto than you do.”

  She was right about that, so I didn’t argue with her. Instead, I changed the subject by asking her what was going on at Zaidi’s apartment. Once she started updating me, I was relieved to hear she sounded in control again.

  “Zaidi’s guys discovered a laptop computer at Roxanna’s house, and when they delivered it to the apartment, Zaidi began searching through Roberto’s files. He told Ahmed he hoped they would provide a clue to Roberto’s whereabouts.”

  “It sounds like the perfect time for Roberto to call Ahmed and invite him over here.”

  “Roberto can call and set up the meeting time for tomorrow morning, but I’ve decided the plan needs tweaking—at least the part about making sure Zaidi doesn’t follow Ahmed to your location.”

  I didn’t like last-minute changes when the end game was in sight, but I decided not to say anything. I even gave myself a mental pat on the back for my ability to keep quiet—until Olivia finished telling me about her revised plan.

  She said, “Instead of taking Zaidi out of the picture tonight by having him involved in a car accident, I’ve arranged for a major crisis to erupt at Campamento Laguna during the night. That means Zaidi will have to fly back to Margarita Island tomorrow morning to handle it, and then you’ll only have to deal with Ahmed when he makes his rendezvous with you tomorrow.”

  “You call that tweaking, Olivia?” I asked. “You’ve completely altered the whole plan. We agreed to take Ahmed out tonight, because by tomorrow—”

  “The Presidential Directive states—”

  “—by tomorrow Roberto’s colleagues will notice he’s missing from the conference and start making inquiries about him. When the military initiates a search for him, things are going to get awfully dicey for us around here.”

  Olivia shook her head. “I’ve decided having Zaidi involved in a car accident tonight has too many variables. The Presidential Directive explicitly states the Agency is only authorized to grab Ahmed. That means Rehman Zaidi shouldn’t be touched. Logistically, this is more doable.”

  I took a deep breath and decided to try another tactic.

  “Have you cleared this with the Ops Center yet?”

  “Both Douglas and C. J. concur with my assessment.”

  While I found it hard to believe Carlton had agreed to alter the plan, I didn’t have time to contact him, so I made a last-ditch effort to get Olivia to allow everything to go forward as planned.

  “There’s no way I can let Roberto leave the house and rejoin his family until we’re sure Ahmed is on his way over here. Since you’ve changed the POA, Roberto will have to spend the night here without getting in touch with his family, and I know that’s not going to make him happy.”

  “You’re an expert at pushing someone’s buttons, Titus, so I’m sure you’ll find a way to redirect his attention.”

  Chapter 42

  In an effort to cool down after my confrontation with Olivia, I sat at the desk a moment and perused the titles of the books on the missionaries’ bookshelves.

  One book caught my attention.

  It was entitled When God Redirects Your Plan, and I was struck by the irony of the title in light of my present circumstances.

  I pulled the book from the shelf.

  As I thumbed through some of its pages, I noticed several of the paragraphs had been underlined, and I quickly read through a couple of them.

  After a few minutes, I put the book back on the shelf.

  The author’s folksy style made his insights sound refreshingly down-to-earth, and as I left the room, one of the author’s key points lingered with me.

  He wrote, “Nothing takes God by surprise. If your plans get changed, altered, diverted, or simply shot to smithereens, he’s still in control. Trust God. He’s got your back.”

  * * * *

  For the next two hours, I prepped Roberto on what he should say to Zaidi, and how he should approach him in order to set up the meeting with Ahmed. I decided not to tell Roberto how we planned to take Zaidi out of the picture, nor did I divulge what arrangements the Agency had made to ferret Ahmed out of Caracas and deposit him on a ship in the Caribbean for transport to Gitmo.

  What most concerned Roberto was what would happen to his family once we took care of Ahmed. On that score, I assured him if he still wanted to relocate his family to Argentina, then the U.S. government would show its appreciation for his help by facilitating those plans. I also told him we would make sure Ernesto’s body was taken to Argentina as well.

  After giving him these assurances, he seemed satisfied and ready to make the call to Zaidi. However, at the last minute, he asked for me to put those guarantees in writing. After a quick consultation with Olivia, I provided Roberto with a detailed outline of what the U.S. taxpayers would be willing to do in order to resettle his family in Argentina.

  Both of us signed the agreement.

  If I had known his true intentions in having me draw up the contract, I would have done things differently.

  * * * *

  Around eight o’clock, I announced it was time for Roberto to make the call to Rehman Zaidi. To give him an incentive, I told him he’d be allowed to get in
touch with his wife once he’d completed the call.

  In order to monitor the conversation with Zaidi, Buck provided both Mitchell and me with our own set of earphones, but, as the three of us sat down together at the table in the dining room, I warned Roberto not to indicate there were other people in the room with him.

  Moments later, he pressed a number on his speed dial and Zaidi came on the line.

  “Roberto?”

  It didn’t surprise me to hear a note of skepticism in Zaidi’s voice. He had every reason to doubt the call was actually coming from Roberto.

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  “Where are you? Why aren’t you at the conference? Are you sick?”

  “No, I’m not sick. I need to talk to Ahmed. Has he arrived yet?”

  “Yes, he’s here. We’ve both been worried about you. Where are you right now?”

  “Did Ahmed tell you what happened to Ernesto? Did he tell you my son is dead?”

  There was a short pause, and then Zaidi said, “Of course he did. I’m so sorry for your loss, Roberto. We’re both very sorry.”

  “I must talk to Ahmed. I need to know what happened to Ernesto.”

  “You wish to speak with Ahmed?”

  “Yes. I must speak to him.”

  “Okay, I’ll arrange that. I’ll have him call you. Where are—”

  Before Zaidi could say another word, Roberto hung up.

  I congratulated him on a job well done, and he gave me a weak smile. We both knew the hardest part was yet to come.

  Twenty minutes later, Ahmed called Roberto.

  “It’s me, Ahmed.”

  “I must talk with you about my son’s death.”

  “I don’t know what you may have heard, but his death was an accident, and I can explain everything. Where are you?”

  “I’m at a friend’s house in Caracas. When I heard about Ernesto’s death, my wife and I couldn’t be alone.”