Three Weeks in Washington, page 19
part #3 of Titus Ray Series
“Sounds like she impressed you.”
“I’ve been impressed by how well she and Ben have worked together down here. The two of them would be an excellent addition to the team tracking those canisters once they arrive in Santiago.”
“I’ll see what C.J. thinks. Does that mean you’re not willing to work with Ben anymore?”
“No, it means it’s about time for him to be the primary on an operation. Running surveillance would be a good start, and if Rehman Zaidi shows up to supervise the weapons, there’s the added bonus Mitchell would be able to recognize him.”
“Did I miss something? Did Marwan tell you Zaidi is on his way to Cuba?”
“No, I’ve just been thinking about some possibilities, and I believe one of them is that Zaidi will show up in Santiago.”
“We’ll talk about all the possibilities when you get back to Langley.”
Once he hung up, I thought about the possibilities.
One of them included seeing Nikki again.
PART THREE
Chapter 26
Sunday, June 28
When Mitchell and I arrived back at Langley, we were immediately debriefed by Douglas Carlton and Nolan Wilson. Our session included a replaying of the audio tapes from our interrogation of both Roberto and Marwan, plus a quick video call from Ken Vasco about his continuing surveillance of Roberto.
When the debrief was over, C.J. Salazar sent word for Mitchell to join him in the RTM Center next door to the conference room, and I followed Carlton up to his office on the fourth floor.
Once he’d shut the door, Carlton said, “C.J. plans to give Ben his first solo assignment today. He’ll be leaving for Cuba this afternoon and heading up the surveillance team monitoring the arrival of those vessels at the port in Santiago tomorrow.”
“Was this Salazar’s idea?”
Carlton shrugged. “I nudged him a bit.”
“And Juliana Lamar?”
“He’s also agreed to have her assigned to Ben’s team. This is strictly a non-engagement mission. They’ll only be there to observe the offloading of the ships and to verify whether their cargo contains the gas canisters. After the weapons have arrived, Ben’s team will monitor how they’re handled and warehoused in Santiago. Once we’ve determined how Hezbollah plans to get the canisters to the States, the DDO will decide how to proceed.”
“Ben may not like the non-engagement part, but he should be happy about having his own assignment, and I’m sure he’ll enjoy working with Juliana again.”
Carlton walked over and sat down behind his desk, while I took a seat in one of his guest chairs. After straightening the stack of yellow legal pads in front of him, he looked up and said, “I’m ready now.”
“Ready for what?”
“To hear your risky proposal, the one you mentioned a couple of days ago when you were down in Buenos Aires.”
“Did I say it was risky? Maybe you misunderstood me. The way I see it, the risks are minimal compared to the reward.”
“If the reward consists of preventing an attack on Washington, then I’m ready to hear it.”
I gave him my spiel. “The best chance we have of stopping Hezbollah from using those weapons is for us to know what happens in that meeting between General Suleiman and Hassan Naballah in Damascus on July 4th. What I’m proposing is that we send Marwan Farage back to Damascus to serve as our ears in that meeting.”
Carlton nodded. “While I agree with your assessment, from what I heard, Marwan wasn’t offering the CIA his services when you were questioning him.”
“That’s true, but later on, when I told him he was being shipped off to Gitmo, he agreed to make the deal.”
“I don’t believe I heard that conversation.”
I smiled. “It was strictly off the record.”
He wasn’t smiling.
“Look, Douglas, he’s worried about his wife and daughter. That’s our leverage. I promised him I’d keep his family safe in exchange for his help, and he agreed to return to Damascus and attend the meeting with Suleiman.”
“And then what?”
“Once we get the intel, we’ll get him out of there and back into the loving arms of his wife and daughter in Caracas.”
Carlton shook his head. “I talked with Al Johnson at Gitmo this morning. He said Marwan isn’t being cooperative with our people there.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. Marwan is afraid of two things. He’s afraid of being tortured, and he’s afraid of losing his family. He knows he’s not going to be tortured at Gitmo, and I’ve already assured him I’ll keep his family safe if he returns to Damascus as my asset. Right now, he has no reason to cooperate with anyone at Gitmo.”
“So you’ve painted yourself into this picture now.”
“I know that doesn’t surprise you. Since Marwan trusts me, I’m the best person to run him in Damascus.”
Carlton looked skeptical.
“Okay,” I said. “Maybe trust is too strong a word. He tolerates me. But, believe me, the feeling is mutual, and we both know it.”
Carlton immediately pulled out his Cross pen and scribbled something down on his legal pad.
I couldn’t make out the words.
Once he put his pen aside, he said, “I’ll go upstairs and run this by the DDO. At this point, your proposal appears to be our most viable option, but, as usual, he may have a different idea. If it’s a go, you can expect a briefing tomorrow, and, after that, I’ll fly down to Gitmo and make Marwan the official offer.”
The fact that Carlton himself would fly down to Gitmo was standard operating procedure. Senior Agency officials were the only persons authorized to make agreements with known terrorists.
I’d already prepared Marwan for this eventuality.
I said, “I told Marwan a new interrogator would show up at Gitmo and offer him a job.”
“He gets a new interrogator every four hours. By the time I get there, he may have already told the Defense Intelligence Agency he’s willing to be their man in Damascus.”
“No, he won’t talk to anyone but you.”
“How’d you manage that?”
“I told him a new interrogator by the name of Mr. Chessman would arrive in a few days, and he should only offer his services to him.”
Carlton actually looked pleased at the name I’d chosen for him, but other than clearing his throat, he didn’t comment on it.
We talked for a few minutes about how we might handle getting some photos of Marwan’s wife and daughter to dangle over Marwan’s head, and, after that, Carlton suggested I go down to the cafeteria and get a cup of coffee while he went upstairs and pitched my proposal to the DDO and his staff.
I decided to go find Olivia instead of hanging out at the cafeteria.
* * * *
If Olivia was in the building, I knew she’d be in the basement level of the Old Headquarters Building where the Ops Center was located.
The maze of corridors, conference rooms, and RTM Centers was the hub of Agency’s operations, the place where America’s covert intelligence from around the world was assimilated, analyzed, and implemented. Briefings and planning sessions were held in the conference rooms, while ongoing operations were coordinated and monitored in the RTM Centers.
I found Olivia in Corridor C, outside RTM Center C. She was wearing a headset with a wraparound mic, and, as I walked up, I could hear her talking to someone, “We just got the video. You can stand down now.”
The moment she saw me, she pulled her headset down around her neck.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“I just stopped by to say hello. I heard you were back at work.”
“You’re such a lousy liar. You came down here to check up on me.”
“Guilty as charged.” I pointed down the hallway toward the employee lounge. “Let’s get some coffee.”
She shrugged. “Whatever.”
Corridor C’s employee lounge was occupied by two other people. However, both of them left a few minutes after Olivia and I arrived. I attributed their quick exit to Olivia’s pointed stare.
Once I’d poured us some black coffee, I brought the cups over to the small round table where Olivia was seated.
I immediately broached the subject I knew she didn’t want to talk about.
“What’s happening with your surgery?”
She took a sip of her coffee before answering me. “It’s tomorrow.”
“What time?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”
I shrugged. “Just a question.”
She shook her head. “You never ask just a question, Titus.”
I grinned at her. “If I’m around tomorrow, I thought I might drop in on you.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll be so out of it, I won’t even know you’re there.”
I dropped the subject, and we drank our coffee in silence for a moment.
I said, “I’ve heard Cartel Carlos is sending Ben Mitchell to Cuba to keep an eye on those canisters.”
She nodded. “He’s briefing him now. I’m surprised you didn’t get the assignment. You must be losing your touch with Douglas.”
“It’s a non-engagement surveillance op. Not my thing.”
She placed her cup down on the table, placed her chin in her hand, and proceeded to study my face as if I were a new species of animal and she were a biologist.
Finally, she said, “Douglas is sending you somewhere, isn’t he?”
“What makes you say that?”
“Aside from the fact you just implied you might not be around tomorrow, you would jump at the chance to run surveillance on those canisters. That is, unless you were headed somewhere else.”
I nodded. “Carlton’s working on it, but nothing’s been settled yet.”
“I know you’re not going to Cuba, so you must be headed to the Middle East, and, if I had to guess, I’d say it was Damascus.”
I just looked at her, refusing to confirm or deny her theory. When it became apparent I wasn’t about to talk about any upcoming op, she quickly snatched up our empty coffee cups and headed over to a trashcan. After she’d taken a few steps, she suddenly stopped and turned around.
The look on her face was one of triumph.
“You’re taking Marwan Farage back into Syria, aren’t you? You going to run him as our asset in Damascus.”
I smiled at her.
She stood there for a moment with a look of disgust on her face and said nothing. After tossing the cups in the garbage can, she walked back over to the table and gave me a lecture.
“I’m sure you know the risk assessment on that kind of operation is off the charts. Marwan is committed to Jihad. No matter what you’ve promised him, you’ll never be able to trust him.”
“We’re facing a much bigger risk if we don’t know the timing of the hit on Washington.”
She didn’t respond.
“If Marwan can get us that information, any risk will be worth it.”
She rubbed her arms as if she’d suddenly gotten a chill.
“I know it’s useless to try and talk you out of it, but before I leave tonight, I’ll speak to Nolan about positioning another surveillance satellite over Damascus. There’s also the possibility he could free up one of the smaller drones to do some recon for you.”
“While I appreciate your concern, Olivia, I’m confident Nolan can handle this. You should go take care of yourself and not give the Agency another thought.”
“What makes you think I’m concerned about you?”
“Don’t be such a—”
“Even if I was concerned about you, you’d probably just say you were relying on your faith and there was nothing to worry about.”
“You’re right, I might say that, but it’s only because I really do believe God is ultimately in control of everything.”
She nodded. “That’s all well and good, but I’m repositioning a surveillance satellite over Damascus tonight.”
“The DDO hasn’t signed off on the mission yet.”
“He’ll sign off on it. After the way you embarrassed him in that debrief, I’m sure the DDO considers you expendable. Rest assured of that.”
Olivia put the headset back on her head and repositioned her wraparound mic. “It’s time for me to get back to work. Good luck on the mission. You’re definitely going to need it.”
She gave me a little wave and headed for the door.
I immediately got up and followed her. “Wait a second, Olivia.”
She turned around.
“When you go into your surgery tomorrow, remember I’ll be praying for you.”
She drew a deep breath and lowered her head. When she looked up at me a few seconds later, her eyes were filled with tears.
“Why bother, Titus? I’m not worth it.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Olivia. The God of the universe considered you so valuable He came to earth 2,000 years ago and willingly gave His life for you. That’s how much you’re worth.”
“You really think that’s true?”
“Absolutely.”
She walked out the door without saying goodbye.
* * * *
I stayed behind in the break room and had a second cup of coffee. After a sip or two, I pulled out my iPhone and called Nikki.
I thought she sounded excited to hear from me.
“Are you back at Langley?” she asked.
“I just got here this morning. Where are you?”
“I’m at Quantico. I arrived on Friday, but we weren’t allowed to check in and get our room assignments until yesterday.”
“Which dorm are you in?”
“The Jefferson. All the trainees are being housed in the same dorm, but at least I’m able to have my own room. Are you familiar with the facilities at Quantico?”
“Oh, yeah,” I said, and then I quickly changed the subject before the detective started asking me a follow-up question. “When do you start your classes?”
“Tomorrow morning. Our orientation was yesterday. That’s when we met our instructors and got a tour of the facilities. I have to admit, Titus, this place is pretty awesome.”
“What’s happening now?”
“Nothing’s on the schedule for today, so I’m using my time to unpack my suitcase.”
“As exciting as that sounds, would you be willing to drop everything and meet me somewhere for dinner?”
“Let’s see. You’re offering me a choice between putting away my toothbrush and spending the evening with you. Give me a moment to think about that.”
“I know it’s a tough decision.”
There was silence on the line for a few seconds.
She laughed. “Okay, you win. Where shall we meet?”
We settled on a restaurant in Fairfax, about halfway between Quantico and Langley, and after we decided on a time, she asked me what I knew about the incident at the Navy Yard on Monday.
“I arrived here just as the crisis broke. Why?”
“The incident came up at our orientation yesterday. One of our instructors said we’d be studying the crisis as part of our training. He cited it as a good example of how local law enforcement was joining with the FBI to solve the crime. In fact, several of our instructors had worked the shooting.”
“They’re calling it a crime instead of an act of terrorism?”
“They said the shooting appeared to be drug-related, which is why I brought it up. One of the instructors implied there’s an ongoing feud with the CIA about whether this incident was related to terrorism or not. I was just wondering if you’d heard anything about it.”
“I’ve been out of town for a few days.”
She was quiet for a moment—probably biting her tongue because she knew I wasn’t going to discuss my travel itinerary with her—but then she changed the subject and told me about spending two days on the road with Stormy.
When she got to the part about arriving at The Meadows, she said, “I was told you were out of town when I took Stormy to the address you gave me. I love that house, by the way. The grounds are just gorgeous, and I’m sure the inside of the house is just as beautiful.”
“So you met Arkady?”
“Yes. Stormy and I were both a little intimidated by him at first, but then Stormy seemed to warm up to him right before I left. He wasn’t so sure about Frisco, but Arkady kept insisting the two dogs just needed some time together.”
“I’m sure he’s right.”
“I’m curious about Arkady. Does he own the house?”
I started to explain about The Meadows, but just then my Agency phone vibrated, and Carlton’s name appeared on the screen. “No, Arkady’s not the homeowner. I know you’re curious, Detective, but your questions will just have to wait. I have to go.”
“I’ll bet the owner is some beneficent fatherly type who loves dogs and took a liking to you.”
“Not even close.”
Chapter 27
After I heard Carlton’s voice mail, I left the break room and rode the elevator up to his office on the fourth floor.
His voice message, “I’m back, and we need to talk,” was short, but I was betting its brevity meant the DDO had signed off on allowing Marwan to return to Syria.
When Carlton was focused on a task, he didn’t spend time on long explanations, and if the mission had been approved, I suspected he was already considering the protocols and assembling the ops team.
As expected, when Sally Jo ushered me into Carlton’s office, she refused to give me a clue as to what I should anticipate from her boss. However, the moment Carlton pointed me over to the right side of the room, where a sofa and two matching armchairs were arranged around a small coffee table, I took that as yet another clue my mission was a go.
Carlton seldom used the cozy seating arrangement for anything other than announcing something favorable, like giving me the results of a polygraph screening or presenting me with a commendation.
In fact, I could only recall one exception to this good news rule, and that had been when Carlton, in his own quiet, indomitable way, had positioned himself in front of the sofa and lectured me about controlling my temper.
