Three Weeks in Washington, page 42
part #3 of Titus Ray Series
* * * *
All three of the CIRG units arrived at the Calverton Travel Center within five minutes of each other. Once the last unit had joined the other two, they immediately surrounded a sky blue 18-wheeler with California license plate number 5W69588.
The moment the driver and his passenger were confronted by two dozen FBI personnel wearing black tactical gear, they surrendered without offering any resistance.
When that happened, everyone inside RTM Center C cheered and gave each other high-fives.
While I was enthusiastic about the peaceful takedown, my excitement was short-lived when I saw the FBI videographer moving around to the back of the truck in anticipation of opening up the cargo doors.
What if there were no canisters inside? What if Franco Cabello had double crossed Hassan Naballah and kept the sarin gas for himself?
The more I thought about it, the more I became convinced Cabello had done exactly that.
I knew the cartel wouldn’t have any scruples about using the weapons to protect their drug empire, so this made perfect sense to me.
On the other hand, since Cabello was ultimately a business man, he could have decided to auction the weapons off to the highest bidder, say a terrorist group like ISIS or al-Qaeda, and thus enhance his revenue stream.
I was conjuring up a third scenario, when one of the agents brought the driver around to the rear and had him unlock the cargo doors.
Once the doors swung open, all I could see were a couple of wooden crates, and I thought my worst fears had been realized. Then, two of the FBI guys hopped inside the truck and made their way down the aisle between the stacked crates. Seconds later, one of them appeared at the cargo door and gave the rest of the CIRG guys a thumbs up.
Not more than five minutes later, the Ops Center began receiving images of the pallets of gas canisters inside the truck. The grayish-blue metal canisters were nestled inside wooden pallets and appeared to be as harmless as a bunch of propane canisters sold at Walmart stores everywhere.
However, there was no mistaking the warning message written in Arabic on the outside of each of the canisters or the red and green chemical weapons symbol used by the Syrian military.
Once the feds on the upper level of the RTM Center saw the video coming in, they loudly congratulated each other on a job well done. For a brief moment, I thought someone was about to lead them in a cheer.
Carlton turned to me and said, “It’s time for you to make that call to Hassan Naballah.”
“I don’t need a bunch of cheerleaders around me when I do it.”
Carlton handed me the encrypted cell phone Naballah had given Marwan. “Go upstairs and make the call from my office. Mrs. Hartford will let you in.”
In the elevator on the way up to Carlton’s office, I congratulated myself on a job well done and gave Keever Pike an imaginary high five.
Chapter 55
Sally Jo was waiting for me when I arrived in Carlton’s outer office, so I had to assume he’d called ahead and told her I was coming.
I could have been wrong about that, because Sally Jo had a phenomenal intuition.
There were times when I even found it a little scary.
When she opened the door to his office, she said, “Now remember, Titus, if you move something out of its usual place, you’ll need to put it back before you leave.”
“Don’t worry, Sally Jo. I know the drill.”
“Of course you do, dear. I’ll leave you alone now.”
I sat down on Carlton’s sofa and placed the cell phone beside me.
After closing my eyes and laying my head back against the seat cushion, I tried to recall Marwan’s voice, the way he sounded when he’d spoken to Hassan Naballah. I needed to remember his exact tone.
Had he sounded deferential? Had he used formal Arabic or the less formal, more colloquial speech?
As I let those conversations play out in my head, I realized his Syrian dialect had been tinged with a Spanish accent. Should I try and mimic that?
I picked up the phone and made the call.
“As-Salaam-Alaikum.”
Naballah replied, “Wa-Alaikum-Salaam. Did Franco send you the text? Do you have a location?”
“It’s Calverton Travel Center; Exit 31; 5W69588.”
Naballah repeated the information back to me.
“That’s correct.”
“I’ve been studying the I-95 freeway near Washington. I believe Exit 31 is near Baltimore. That means Leandro and his men should have plenty of time to arrive at the travel center before Cabello’s deadline expires.”
“I believe so.”
“Are you well, Marwan? Are you enjoying your visit with your family?”
“I am. And you?”
“I’m fine, but I’m worried about Jamal. He’s been missing for several days now.”
“Missing?”
“He left shortly after you did on Saturday, and no one’s seen him since.”
“Strange.”
“While it may be strange, I don’t find it surprising. He was always coming up with some scheme to make money. I imagine that’s why he decided to leave so abruptly. Someone must have offered him a chance at a better life.”
I doubted Jamal was enjoying a better life right now.
“Perhaps you’re right.”
“When you get back to Damascus next week, we’ll be celebrating our great victory over the Americans. Once things have settled down here, I have something important to discuss with you. It’s an opportunity General Suleiman offered me when I met with him last Saturday night. His plan also involves you.”
Even with my short answers, I knew I’d already pressed my luck at pretending to be Marwan, but when Naballah brought up what sounded like an upcoming operation, I couldn’t resist asking him for further details.
“What kind of opportunity?”
“We’ll discuss it later. I need to call Leandro now and let him know where to pick up the shipment.”
Since I knew the Ops Center was waiting for Naballah to make the phone call to Leandro, I didn’t press the issue and immediately told him goodbye. “Ma'aasalaama.”
“Go celebrate Samira’s birthday now, Marwan. We’ll all be having a celebration on 7/11 when we bring down the Great Satan.”
Within the next twenty-four hours, Hassan Naballah would get the news the chemical weapons had been confiscated and the Hezbollah members of the Baltimore cell had been arrested. At that point, he’d realize there would be nothing to celebrate on 7/11.
Shortly after reaching that conclusion, he would reluctantly pick up the phone and tell General Suleiman his decade-long plan to rain down death on Washington had failed.
When that moment arrived, I’d give anything to have a Grasshopper in place to capture the general’s reaction to that news.
* * * *
After disconnecting the call, I looked around the room to make sure I hadn’t disturbed anything. Once I’d readjusted one of the pillows on the couch, I left Carlton’s office and returned to the reception area.
I noticed Sally Jo was talking on the phone, so I simply waved at her to let her know I was leaving. She immediately shook her head and raised her hand like a traffic cop.
“Yes, sir,” I heard her say to the caller, “I’ll see that he gets the message.”
Once she hung up, I asked, “Was that our boss? Was Douglas checking up on me?”
“That was definitely our boss, but it wasn’t Mr. Carlton on the phone. It was the DDO, and he wants to see you in his office immediately.”
“Now?”
She peered at me over the top of her wire-framed glasses. “He said immediately.”
“Well then, would you get in touch with Douglas and tell him my phone call went well, and he should see activity at the house in Baltimore at any moment?”
“Of course. Anything else?”
“You might mention I’m on my way upstairs to meet with Deputy Ira.”
She nodded. “I’m not sure why the DDO wants to see you, Titus. But, for what it’s worth, he didn’t sound angry.”
I thanked Sally Jo, but I wasn’t convinced her information was all that helpful to me.
Once the deputy had made up his mind about something, he seldom revealed his emotions.
* * * *
I was all alone as I rode the elevator up to the seventh floor. I was happy about that. It meant I didn’t have to engage in social chit-chat with anyone, and I could use the time to figure out why the DDO wanted to see me.
What immediately came to mind was the death of Walid Khouri.
From the beginning, I suspected the DDO had been acquainted with Khouri on a personal basis, although I had no evidence to back that up. Nothing, except my own intuition. Granted, it probably wasn’t as good as Sally Jo’s intuition, but it was fairly reliable most of the time.
If my suspicions were correct, then I’d done the DDO a big favor by killing Khouri.
I’d spared him the embarrassment of having some Congressional committee investigate why the CIA’s Deputy Director of Operations had been personally acquainted with an Iranian deep-cover operative, someone who had been just days away from dropping canisters full of sarin gas on the nation’s capital.
Did I expect to receive a commendation from the DDO for helping him avoid such a scenario?
Hardly.
My next guess was that I was being called up to the DDO’s office to receive a condemnation. If so, it probably involved Keever Pike.
Perhaps the DDO would give me a blistering lecture for allowing my Hezbollah asset to find out Keever Pike the journalist was, in reality, Keever Pike the spy.
In the end, I had to admit I wasn’t sure what to expect from the DDO, but, as I was escorted into his office, I thought I’d prepared myself for every possible scenario.
As it turned out, my preparation was less than adequate.
* * * *
Robert Ira occupied a corner office on the seventh floor of the Old Headquarters Building. Not surprisingly, he had a million-dollar view.
The floor to ceiling windows overlooked several hundred acres of the Virginia countryside, which, at this time of year, resembled a lush Garden of Eden. As far as the eye could see, there were rolling green hills, thick forests, and an abundance of flourishing plant life.
Nevertheless, the room itself had a cold minimalist look to it. Unlike Carlton’s office, there were no bookshelves full of books and there was no comfortable seating area. Instead, the room was dominated by Ira’s glass-topped desk and a long black conference table.
When I stepped inside the room, the DDO was seated at the far end of that table.
Seated next him was Senator Elijah Mitchell.
The DDO gestured at an empty chair. “Have a seat, Titus.”
While I was tempted to sit down at the opposite end of the table—as far away from the two men as possible—I walked around the table and took a seat across from the Senator.
When the DDO introduced me to Senator Mitchell, neither one of us referred to our previous encounters.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Senator.”
He nodded at me. “Deputy Ira was just telling me the missing canisters have been located. Congratulations.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The DDO said, “Yes, good job. There’s no doubt you saved the lives of many here in Washington, and I’m personally grateful for what you’ve done. You’re to be commended, Titus.”
Although the DDO hadn’t mentioned Walid Khouri specifically in his scant praise, I read a veiled reference to the man’s fortunate death in his statement anyway.
“Thank you,” I said, accepting his meager commendation.
As if he’d gotten something distasteful out of the way, the DDO immediately cleared his throat and took a drink of water from the crystal goblet in front of him.
After setting the glass down, he looked over at me. “One of the reasons I asked you here, Titus, was to let you know I’m pulling you off Operation Citadel Protection.”
I figured the condemnation part was coming now.
As if he’d read my thoughts, he said, “This isn’t a disciplinary action. We’ll be closing the file on this operation in a few days anyway.”
Opening the lid on his laptop, he said, “Ordinarily, you’d be due for some vacation time, but owing to some extenuating circumstances, I’m immediately assigning you to a new mission.”
The DDO turned his computer around and for the second time in as many days, I found myself looking into the face of Ben Mitchell.
Ira went over the same facts the Senator had given me the day before, describing the email the Senator had received and showing me the cartel’s brief message.
I pretended I was hearing about Ben’s kidnapping for the very first time.
Once the DDO had explained what the SOF unit had been able to learn about Ben’s disappearance in Cuba, he said, “An hour ago, I set in motion the protocols to rescue Ben, and Senator Mitchell has personally requested you be designated the primary for the operation.”
The Senator spoke up. “Ben told me how the two of you had worked together on Clear Signal and Citadel Protection, and since he spoke so highly of you, I thought you would be the logical choice to head up the operation.”
I knew that wasn’t true, but the DDO had evidently bought the Senator’s explanation.
“Has the operation been given a name yet?” I asked.
The DDO closed his laptop and said, “I’ll leave the name of the operation up to C.J. Salazar. He’ll be your operations officer. You’ll receive your first briefing in the morning at ten o’clock.”
I shook my head. “No, I won’t. I won’t be accepting this assignment.”
The DDO glanced over at the Senator, whose face was a mass of contradictory emotions.
When he looked back at me, he said, “I realize you’re not getting any down time, Titus, but the circumstances are such that—”
“I don’t care about a vacation. What I do care about is the success of this mission. That’s why I can’t accept this assignment unless Douglas Carlton is my operations officer.”
I leaned across the table and addressed the Senator. “If you want me to find your son for you, then I need the Agency’s best operations officer assigned to this operation. That would be Douglas Carlton.”
The Senator stood to his feet and looked down at the DDO.
“Give Titus what he wants.”
He did.
* * * *
On Monday, July 13, three weeks after I encountered a shooter in the Washington Navy Yard on a summer day in June, I arrived in Cuba, determined to reunite Ben Mitchell with his father.
It would take me four months to do that.
AN EXCERPT FROM BOOK IV, FOUR MONTHS IN CUBA, IS INCLUDED IN THE BACK MATTER
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Although many people have given me support and encouragement in the process of writing Three Weeks in Washington, first and foremost, I wish to acknowledge the role my husband, James, and my daughter, Karis, have played in making my writing a success. They have continued to uplift me with their prayers, strengthen me with their love, and bolster me with their confidence.
This book could not have been written without the expertise, advice, and assistance of many people, especially J.D. Younger, Major, NPD, and Dony Jay, Detective, (The Warrior Spy), plus other sources who shall forever remain nameless.
I also wish to thank my beta readers for providing critiques and suggestions.
Saving the best for last, I wish to thank my faithful readers, many of whom I hear from on a weekly basis. Your love of Titus Ray Thrillers keeps me writing past midnight. May you never stop asking, “When is your next book coming out?”
All of you serve as my inspiration.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Luana Ehrlich is an award-winning author, minister’s wife, and former missionary with a passion for spy thrillers and mystery novels. She began her series of Titus Ray novels when her husband retired from the pastorate. Now, she writes from an undisclosed location, seeking to avoid the torture of mundane housework, grocery shopping, and golf stories. Occasionally, she comes out of hiding to see her two grandsons or to enjoy a Starbucks caramel macchiato. She resides in Norman, Oklahoma. You’re invited to visit the author’s website LuanaEhrlich.com or TitusRayThrillers.com.
A NOTE TO MY READERS
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading Three Weeks in Washington, Book III in the Titus Ray Thriller Series. If you enjoyed it, you might also enjoy reading the books that preceded this book in this series, One Night in Tehran and Two Days in Caracas, along with One Step Back, the prequel to the entire series. Four Months in Cuba, Book IV, Five Years in Yemen, Book V, and Two Steps Forward, Book VI, are also available. Find all Titus Ray Thrillers on Amazon here.
An excerpt from Book IV, Four Months in Cuba, is included on the pages that follow.
Want more Titus Ray stories? Titus Ray Thriller Recipes with Short Stories is available for your Kindle for $2.99 or you can download a FREE COPY when you sign up for the Titus Ray Thriller Newsletter. By signing up for my newsletter, you’ll receive insider information about Titus Ray, plus updates about all the books in the series.
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Besides my personal website LuanaEhrlich.com, you can find out more about Titus Ray Thrillers at TitusRayThrillers.com.
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