Titus Ray Thriller Box Set, page 76
part #1 of Titus Ray Series
Carlton didn’t sound surprised to hear from me, but he immediately jumped to the conclusion I was calling to complain about the ASA report on Marwan.
He said, “I’m aware there’s not much there you can use as leverage, but I’ve seen you make do with a lot less before.”
I suddenly realized he’d just provided me with the opening I needed, and, if I played it right, he might actually be the one to suggest I contact Sam Wylie.
I said, “I plan to use his family as a touchstone and see where that takes me.”
“His family? You realize there’s only a wife and daughter now. His son was killed in Al-Hadar.”
“You told me that earlier.”
I heard him shuffling papers. “I believe I also told you Marwan moved his wife and daughter to Beirut last year when the civil war broke out in Damascus. They’re not living with him now, so they may not be that important to him.”
“I disagree. I believe moving them to Beirut shows Marwan is concerned about their safety. I plan to capitalize on that concern by implying we’ve picked up his wife and daughter. I could even show Marwan some doctored photographs of them.”
“That could work ...” Carlton paused, and I could hear him flipping pages now. “But Katherine noted she didn’t have confirmation of their location in Beirut. Here it is, on the last page of the SAR, she has ‘whereabouts unknown.’ If Marwan knows where they are, that tactic could backfire on you.”
“I wonder ...”
I let the thought hang in the air, and when I didn’t say anything for several seconds, Carlton asked, “You wonder what?”
“Nolan said Marwan drove from Damascus to Beirut and took a flight from there. Is that right?”
Carlton said, “That’s right. He flew from Beirut to Madrid, and we lost him at the airport in Madrid. At this point, we know he flew from Madrid to Caracas and from there on to Buenos Aires.”
“I was wondering why—”
“Why he didn’t fly a shorter route to Buenos Aires?”
“That’s right. Why didn’t he fly here directly from Damascus?”
“That’s a good question.”
I prompted him. “Why did he drive to Beirut? He could have caught a flight from Damascus just as easily.”
I waited, hoping I’d drawn the target large enough.
Carlton said, “Yamina and Samira could have met Marwan at the airport in Beirut, or perhaps even met him in Madrid, and then flown with him to Caracas.”
Dead center. Bulls eye.
“You know, Douglas, I think that makes sense. Marwan seems upset right now, like he’s afraid of something. Maybe he’s not only concerned about his own life, maybe he’s also worried about his wife and daughter. If I could locate them and document I have access to them, I could use that leverage to force Marwan to talk about Hezbollah’s plans for the attack.”
Carlton’s tone was upbeat as he explored this idea. “You should contact Sam Wylie. Tell him to tap into the security cameras at the airport in Caracas, view the tapes, and see if Yamina and Samira arrived in Caracas with Marwan. I’ll check if the Ops Center has any photographs of his family. If so, I’ll have them sent to Sam immediately.”
“Has he been briefed on Citadel Protection or should I do that?”
“Salazar already briefed him because of Valario’s connection with the training camp in Venezuela.”
“Right. I’ll initiate the call to Sam once we’re done here.”
“I’ll alert the DDO on my end. One other thing before you go. The Ops Center just learned our principal asset in Damascus went dark. At this point, Marwan may be our only source of intel on what Hezbollah is planning.”
“Is this the asset Keever Pike was running? The guy who gave us the intel on the meeting between Naballah and Zaidi?”
I’d never told Carlton I’d already figured out Pike was one of the principals running our operation in Syria, but he didn’t comment on this.
“That’s right,” he said. “Keever’s asset hasn’t responded to his request for an update for several days now.”
“That means when General Suleiman meets with Naballah to discuss the details of the attack, we won’t have any ears in that meeting.”
“That’s the situation as it stands right now. You know Keever, though; he won’t give up. He’s working 24/7 to locate the guy. Unfortunately, Mossad recently informed us there’s some chatter indicating Hezbollah recently beheaded a traitor. Keever may be less optimistic when he hears that news.”
After saying goodbye to Carlton, I realized I still had a few minutes left before meeting Juliana and Mitchell in The Bubble.
I decided to remain at Vasco’s desk a little longer and enjoy the solitude. I needed time to recharge my batteries.
Nikki once told me being alone drained her. She said when she was around people, she always felt energized. I told her I was just the opposite. Being alone reinvigorated me.
Did that mean Nikki and I weren’t really compatible or was it just the opposite?
Did it count if I laughed a lot more when I was with her?
* * * *
When I entered The Bubble, I discovered Juliana had already informed Wylie’s office in Caracas I’d requested a conference call with him.
She said, “He sent word he’d be available in fifteen minutes.”
Mitchell spoke up. “What he probably said was, ‘Hold your horses, partner. I’ll be there as soon as I’ve lassoed this steer.’”
Juliana laughed. “Why would he say that?”
I said, “Because Sam Wylie’s a Texan who’s never gotten over it.”
Ben nodded. “Yeah, when I met him, he immediately let me know his parents had named him after Sam Houston.”
Juliana said, “I probably should know this, but who exactly is Sam Houston?”
Mitchell said, “Don’t feel bad. I didn’t know who he was either. I ended up googling him.”
Mitchell told her some facts about the now deceased Texan, including some of his funnier quotes, and, as I watched the two of them laughing together, I came to the conclusion they were definitely compatible.
Before Wylie came on the line, I told Mitchell what I’d discussed with Carlton about Marwan’s family.
He said, “When I saw Katherine’s note about not being able to locate Marwan’s wife and daughter, I wondered if that was relevant, but then I didn’t give it a second thought.”
“Always give those little seedlings room to grow, Ben. You might be surprised at what comes out of the ground.”
“Should I write that down?” he asked. “It’s not quite up to one of Sam Houston’s quotes, but it’s close.”
Wylie’s face suddenly appeared on the screen in front of us. “Did someone just mention the great Sam Houston?”
Chapter 23
Friday, June 26
At six o’clock the next morning, Mitchell and I were sitting inside The Bubble, waiting to hear back from Sam Wylie.
When we’d talked to him around midnight, he’d assured us he wouldn’t have any trouble getting access to the security cameras at the airport in Caracas, and he was confident he could do it in less than six hours.
If anyone else had made that promise, I might have been skeptical. However, when we’d worked together in Caracas, I could tell he ran a very competent team of operatives, so I hadn’t doubted him.
After Mitchell and I had signed off with Wylie, Juliana had dropped us off at our hotel so we could grab a few hours’ sleep. Even though I’d offered to call a cab for our return trip to the embassy, she’d insisted on picking us up herself.
When we’d climbed inside her Jeep a few hours later, she’d smiled and handed each of us a large cup of black coffee.
The coffee alone might have been enough for me to fall in love with her, but, for Mitchell, it had sealed the deal.
He carried on a non-stop conversation with her all the way over to the embassy, pelting her with embarrassing personal questions and sharing equally personal stuff with her about his own life.
The moment Juliana had left us alone in The Bubble, Mitchell had clammed up.
I was fine with that, because I needed a few minutes to gather my thoughts before Wylie checked in with us.
Around 6:05, Mitchell broke the silence.
“How old do you think Juliana is?”
“Too old for you.”
“No, she’s not.”
“Probably late thirties.”
“I’m thirty.”
“She could be forty.”
“I doubt that. She—”
Wylie’s image pixilated across the video monitor.
“Are you boys saddled up and ready to ride?” he asked.
Mitchell responded with a passable Texas drawl. “Shoot, I reckon.”
Wylie formed a six-shooter with his hand and aimed it at Mitchell, whispering “POW” after making the shot. Afterward, he blew away wisps of imaginary smoke.
Wylie said, “This kid’s a quick learner, Titus. Have you noticed that?”
“Hard to miss.”
Wylie smiled. “Okay, here’s what I’ve got.”
After spending a few minutes explaining how he’d been able to access the data at the airport, he said, “You called it right. In the security cam’s video, Marwan’s wife and daughter were seen getting off the flight from Madrid with him.”
Mitchell executed a fist pump. “Yes!”
Wiley said, “I’ve also retrieved a still shot which shows the ladies going through customs.”
Yesterday, after briefing Wylie on Marwan Farage and his attempted murder of Roberto, I’d explained my theory about Marwan meeting up with his wife and daughter and the three of them flying into Caracas together. Besides asking Wylie to verify this, I’d also asked him to make certain the wife and daughter hadn’t flown to Buenos Aires with Marwan and weren’t somewhere here in the city right now.
I asked, “Marwan wasn’t in that still photo, right?”
“That’s right. He didn’t go through customs with them. His flight to Buenos Aires took off at the same time they were clearing customs here in Caracas.”
Mitchell asked, “Any luck locating an address for them?”
“Hold on,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee, “I’m getting to that.”
He put his “Don’t Mess With Texas” mug down and continued. “Truth be told, I didn’t need much luck. The Ops Center sent me the list of Rehman Zaidi’s contacts they’d lifted from his phone when they’d bugged his apartment a few weeks back. That made it easy for me to track the ladies to an apartment leased to Nassir Ibrahim. It’s located in the Bello Campo district, and it turns out he’s a teacher at that same Muslim school where Zaidi was employed.”
“I like what I’m hearing,” I said. “Any chance you’ve already managed to get some pictures of Yamina and her daughter?”
“No, it was too late last night. Buck and his crew are outside the apartment right now, and as soon as the ladies show their faces, he’ll capture it all on camera. I’m sure at least one of the women will mosey out later in the day.”
“Make sure the photographs clearly show their location in Caracas and what day it is,” I said. “I want Marwan to realize we have access to his wife and daughter right now.”
“Yeah,” Wylie said, “my boys know what the objective is here, but if the ladies don’t show their faces in a couple of hours, you may have to go to Plan B.”
Mitchell glanced over at me. “We have a Plan B?”
Wylie laughed. “I figured Plan B is a snatch and grab of Mrs. Farage and Ms. Samira. If that happens, I can guarantee you this cowboy will be able to stage some photographs sure to strike fear in the heart of Mr. Farage.”
I said, “I hope it doesn’t come to that. Right now, I have no reason to believe his wife and daughter are involved with Hezbollah or with any of Marwan’s activities. If I discover that’s not true, I won’t hesitate to use Plan B.”
Wylie said, “Here’s my question. Why would Marwan bring his wife and daughter along on a revenge killing?”
I said, “I’ve been asking myself that same question since yesterday, and I haven’t come up with a satisfactory answer yet. In a few hours, I plan to put that question to Marwan himself.”
Mitchell said, “His wife and daughter provide him with a good cover story. To any interested party, it looks as if the whole family is vacationing together in Venezuela; except, of course, Marwan took a little side trip to Argentina.”
Wylie picked up his cell phone. “Buck just texted me.”
He tapped out a quick answer. “He says both women have just exited the apartment, and they’re heading down the street. They’re on foot.”
I asked, “What’s on that street? Any restaurants? Businesses?”
Mitchell added, “What about internet cafes? Samira might want to go online, message her friends back home, maybe check out her social media contacts.”
Wylie said, “Don’t worry. My boys and I have this covered. By the time you get Marwan under the lights, I’ll have the photos you need, and I’ll make sure they’re enough to convince Marwan the two of you are despicable human beings who are about to kidnap his wife and daughter and do unspeakable things to them.”
Mitchell said, “I find it hard to believe he’s going to care about two people being hurt when he’s willing to have thousands killed.”
I said, “Marwan plans to kill the infidels, that’s us, the kafir, and Yamina and Samira are usra, family. To a Muslim, nothing is more important than usra.”
Wylie said, “As soon as we get the photos, I’ll have them uploaded to the Ops Center.”
I immediately started to protest, but Wylie held up his hand. “Don’t be a nervous Nellie, buckaroo. I’ll be sending you everything I’m sending them.”
“I’m not sure about that Nellie part, Sam. But, yeah, I’m probably a little anxious. I’m afraid I won’t have enough time to question Marwan before he’s shipped off to Gitmo. Did I mention I’m only authorized to do a preliminary assessment on the guy?”
“I heard about the PIA. Olivia told me about it this morning.”
Mitchell said, “Olivia? I thought she—”
I cut him off. “We heard she was sick.”
“Well, she’s back at work now. That’s how I was able to locate Yamina and her daughter so quickly. Once I uploaded the airport video to the Ops Center, Olivia contacted me directly. She said she was sending me the list of Zaidi’s contacts.”
I found it strange Carlton hadn’t mentioned Olivia was back at work, but then, seconds later, I realized what that probably meant.
“Has Olivia been assigned to Salazar?” I asked. “Is she running the second component of Citadel Protection?”
“Yeah, that’s right, but that’s only temporary because she said she was scheduled for some kind of surgery in a few days. I don’t think she was very happy about being assigned to Salazar, even temporarily.”
“I can relate to that.”
“Then you’ll appreciate what she had to say about him.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
Wylie grinned. “She said, ‘Being told you have to work with Salazar is like being told you have cancer. At first, you think you might fight it, but later on, you realize it’s not worth the fight.’”
I couldn’t decide whether I appreciated what Olivia had to say or not, but I knew I was happy she was still around to say it.
* * * *
When Juliana, Mitchell, and I arrived back at the offices of Bub’s Subs, the only person we found in 301-B was Otis. He told us Vasco had gone home around midnight, and he hadn’t heard from him since.
I glanced over at the security monitor.
Marwan was sitting on the edge of the bed in 301-A. He was bent over, with his head cradled in his hands.
I asked, “Has he slept at all?”
Otis popped the last morsel of some kind of pastry in his mouth. “Oh, yeah, he slept through the night. I woke him up and gave him a Danish and some coffee around six this morning.”
“Has he said anything? Asked for anything?”
“He’s been demanding to speak to el jefe.”
I considered it a good sign Marwan was asking to speak to someone in authority, and I told Otis to transfer him to 301-C and tell him el jefe was ready to speak to him now.
A few minutes later, I sat in front of the monitor and watched as Otis and another operative moved Marwan over to 301-C and secured his hands to the table once again. He appeared calmer than the day before, and I figured it was probably due to the rest he’d gotten the night before.
For a brief moment, I wondered if I’d made a mistake by not questioning Marwan when he’d been exhausted, as Vasco had suggested. However, after Otis had left the room, I saw the same look of fear I’d seen in his eyes the day before, and I knew I’d made the right decision to shut things down for a few hours.
I told Mitchell I wanted to give Marwan thirty minutes alone in the room before we showed up, and I used the time to grab another cup of coffee and a couple of sweet rolls. Meanwhile, Juliana was setting up an encrypted iPad for me, programming it to receive the photos Wylie had promised to send us.
As soon as she’d finished with the iPad, I handed it off to Mitchell, and then I explained how I wanted to conduct the interrogation.
“This isn’t going to be anything like the time we questioned Roberto at the safe house in Caracas. I want Marwan to see me as a threat. I want him to believe I’m holding his life in my hands. We’re not going to coddle him, feed his ego, or say pretty please. You got that?”
“Loud and clear.”
A few minutes later, Vasco entered the room.
He apologized for being late and excused himself by saying he’d been with a Congressional delegation from Washington. After throwing out the names of some senators who were in the city to discuss economic issues with the new Argentinean president, he paused, as if he thought one of us might like to comment on the company he was keeping.
I murmured, “No problem” and told him we were on our way across the hall to interrogate Marwan.
