Titus Ray Thriller Box Set, page 92
part #1 of Titus Ray Series
Just thinking about that analogy made me feel a little funny.
“Here are the gifts you’ll be carrying with you when you arrive at Naballah’s headquarters. You’ll give one to Naballah, and the other one you’ll present to the general.”
Marwan’s eyes narrowed. “I guess that means you’re aware the council members often bring Naballah a gift when he calls a security council meeting?”
“Yes, we know about such practices.”
This admission seemed to bother him less than I thought it would.
He opened one of the purple boxes.
Inside, was a gleaming gold nugget about the size of a quarter. It was nestled on a piece of black velvet.
“Oh, that’s beautiful,” Trudy said.
Along with the nugget was a label certifying the gold had been mined in Santa Elena, Venezuela, one of the country’s most famous gold mines.
I opened the second box and revealed a similar nugget. “When you present these gifts, you should tell General Suleiman and Hassan Naballah you purchased the gold nuggets for them while you were vacationing with your family in Venezuela.”
Marwan nodded, carefully looking over the box he was holding. “Is the nugget capable of transmitting sound?”
I shook my head. “No. The audio transmitters are actually embedded inside the boxes themselves. The men would have to tear the boxes apart to find the transmitters, but we don’t think that will happen.”
Marwan quickly closed the purple box with a snap. “You don’t think that will happen? And what if it does? If they find the transmitters, I won’t be allowed to leave the compound alive.”
Before I had a chance to respond, Pike got out of his chair and walked over to where Marwan was seated.
“Nothing like that will happen,” he said, sitting down beside him. “We’ve studied the psychology behind these gifts, and the results are indisputable. Even though the nuggets aren’t worth all that much, just the idea of owning gold recently taken out of a mine creates such a visceral feeling of raw power, it’s guaranteed to overwhelm all other emotions. Once these men unwrap their gifts, they won’t be able to think about anything else.”
As if he were quoting from an article he’d written, Pike explained how mankind’s love affair with gold went back thousands of years and encompassed every ethnicity. He cited statistics, told a couple of anecdotes, and ended up giving Marwan a mini-lesson on the precious metal’s history. Although I knew exactly what he was doing, he did it so well, I found it fascinating.
Of course, almost everything Pike said—except the history lesson—was a bunch of malarkey. However, Marwan appeared to be placated by this diversionary tactic, and, at that moment, I was optimistic he wouldn’t have any more concerns about the transmitters inside the purple boxes.
Had Rehman Zaidi not called Marwan a few minutes later, I’m certain that would have been the case.
* * * *
As soon as I asked Trudy to put up an aerial view of western Damascus where Naballah’s compound was located, Marwan’s phone vibrated.
When he pulled it from his pocket, he glanced down at the screen and said, “It’s Rehman Zaidi. Should I answer it?”
I nodded, “Put it on speaker. He probably wants to know how you’re feeling.”
After giving the traditional Muslim greeting, “Assalamu alaikum,” Zaidi inquired about Marwan’s health.
“I’m much better now,” he said.
“You sound better. What made you ill?”
Marwan looked up at the ceiling a moment, and then he touched the bump on his head. “I fell and hit my head in the stairwell of my apartment just as I was leaving for the mosque. I thought I might pass out.”
I nodded at Marwan, letting him know I was pleased at how he was handling himself.
Zaidi said, “You won’t miss the meeting on Saturday, will you?”
“I’ll be fine by then.”
“That’s good, because if General Suleiman questions me about Ahmed’s death, I want to be able to count on your support. I plan to tell him it was Roberto Montilla who killed him, and it wasn’t my fault.”
“Roberto killed my cousin. I’m sure of that.”
“I’ve heard rumors the general was close friends with Ahmed.”
“That’s true. Ahmed once told me so himself.”
“I’m sure you understand my concern then. The general might consider me his enemy because I didn’t protect his friend. I could end up dead.”
“Why would you think such a thing?”
“He’s been known to take out his pistol and shoot someone who disagrees with him. I’m afraid if he believes I’m responsible for Ahmed’s death, that could happen to me.”
I noticed Marwan eyeing the purple boxes on the table. “You could be right,” he said.
I was afraid Zaidi’s paranoia was beginning to rub off Marwan, so I drew my finger across my throat, indicating he should cut the call short. I immediately regretted the gesture, but Marwan got the message.
He said, “I have to go now, Rehman. I’ll see you on Saturday.”
After Marwan disconnected the call, there was no mistaking the look on his face. It was clouded over with worry.
I quickly pointed to the aerial view of Naballah’s compound and said, “I was just about to explain the plans we have for getting you out of the compound in case you run into a problem.”
Pike looked surprised.
I assumed it was because Carlton had told us not to discuss those plans with Marwan.
* * * *
I pointed to a spot on the map just outside a cordoned off area around Naballah’s headquarters. The whole section encompassed a city block and had been designated a security zone by the Syrian government.
I said, “While you’re inside the compound, the three of us will be here on Bin Abdul Road.”
He studied the map for a second and then nodded. “If we believe you’re in trouble, we have the means to create a diversion and get you out of the compound immediately.”
Marwan looked thoughtful for a moment. He pointed over to the thobe, which he’d carefully folded up and placed on the table. “But if something goes wrong with that camera, how will you be able to determine if I’m in trouble?”
I looked over at Trudy and said, “Show him the Grasshopper.”
Trudy nodded and picked up a small gray box from the table beside her.
Inside the box was what appeared to be an ordinary Syrian locust, the most common type of grasshopper found in the Middle East.
She removed the brown metal bug from the box and placed it on the edge of the table. After picking up what looked like a mobile phone with a gamepad attached, she pressed a button.
The Grasshopper immediately took flight, and, as Trudy manipulated the controls on the gamepad, it began making a circular route around the room.
I walked over to the computer and said, “Here’s how this works, Marwan.”
I touched an icon on Trudy’s computer, and the monitor on the table in front of Marwan immediately displayed the Grasshopper’s view of the room.
“As you can tell, besides the camera on your thobe, we’ll have several other means of seeing inside the room. Don’t act surprised if you see one of these insects land on a window during the meeting.”
For the first time since speaking with his wife and daughter, Marwan smiled. “Oh, that’s good,” he said, nodding his head.
I wondered if Carlton would feel the same way about my disclosure.
* * * *
When I finished demonstrating the attributes of the Grasshopper, I asked Marwan if he usually drove his own car to Naballah’s compound.
“No, that never happens. Tomorrow evening, I’ll receive a phone call from Naballah’s personal assistant telling me what time I should expect to be picked up the following morning.”
“What’s the assistant’s name?” I asked.
Marwan hesitated. “Ah ... his new assistant is Jamal Isa. He took Rasha Mansour’s place after Rasha was accused of being an Israeli spy. You can probably guess what Naballah did to him after that.”
I stole a quick glance over at Pike. I felt sure Rasha Mansour must have been the asset who’d been feeding Pike the intel about Naballah’s inner circle. More than likely, he was the person identified as the UA in the transcript I’d seen during my briefing.
Although Pike had his eyes glued to a spot on the floor, it was easy to read the pained expression on his face.
I could identify with his loss. No matter how I felt about an asset while I was running him, I always felt terrible if he got caught, especially if I hadn’t been able to warn him he was in danger.
I quickly changed the subject and moved the conversation from Rasha Mansour over to General Suleiman.
In an effort to keep it simple and lessen Marwan’s anxiety, I told him we were primarily interested in three pieces of intel.
“We want to know the exact date of the planned attack on Washington, how the chemical weapons will be used, and where the weapons are at this moment.”
Marwan nodded. “I should know all of that by the end of the meeting.” He pointed over to the purple boxes. “Won’t you also be able to hear what the general has to say?”
“You’re right, of course, but if the general or Naballah fails to bring up one of the points I’ve just made, you’ll be responsible for getting the answers for us.”
Marwan looked worried. “How can I do that? I’m only there to give my opinion. Unless someone specifically asks me a question, I’m supposed to keep my mouth shut.”
Pike spoke up. “Give Naballah and the general your opinion. Say something radical. Do something dramatic. Create a controversy. Start an argument with someone. You’d be surprised how much information you can get out of a person that way.”
I figured Pike was speaking from experience, but his suggestion seemed to carry some weight with Marwan.
He nodded. “I guess I could do that.”
On that positive note, I decided it was time to wrap things up.
I asked, “What happens when Naballah adjourns the council? Does the driver take you back to your apartment or do you call a taxi?”
“The same driver who picks me up always takes me back home or drops me wherever I want to go.”
“Okay, that’s good. Once you leave Naballah’s compound, have the driver drop you off at Bakdash. Tell him you’ll walk home from there.”
Bakdash was a popular ice cream establishment in Damascus. It was famous for its pistachio-covered ice cream, and it was the perfect place to meet an asset, because it was always crowded.
Marwan seemed noticeably excited by this information. “Does this mean when I leave Naballah’s compound I won’t be going back to my apartment?”
“That’s right. The moment you step inside Bakdash, you’ll be on your way to Caracas. Order your favorite ice cream, find yourself a table, and wait for me to show up.”
“You make it sound so simple,” he said, shaking his head. “We all know it will turn out to be much more complicated than that.”
He was right.
PART FIVE
Chapter 43
Saturday, July 4
On the Fourth of July, at nine o’clock in the morning, Pike and I arrived in the parking lot of an abandoned warehouse off Bin Abdul Road. The building was located about two hundred yards outside the security zone set up around Naballah’s compound.
The warehouse belonged to Aramex, a parcel delivery service, but soon after the Syrian civil war had reached the outskirts of Damascus, it had boarded up its doors.
Even after leaving the city, several of their delivery trucks were still parked in the lot outside the warehouse, and Pike had maneuvered the truck we were driving into a spot alongside one of them.
While our vehicle had the Aramex logo on the outside and looked exactly like the other trucks in the lot, the interior resembled a mini version of an Ops Center control room. Lining both sides of the vehicle were four video monitors, and mounted below them were two computers and the rest of the tech equipment from the safe house.
Pike and I had been sitting inside the cramped quarters of the truck for about twenty minutes when all four of the surveillance monitors sprang to life.
Although Carlton had said the feed from the Ops Center would be available shortly after we arrived at the warehouse, I wasn’t expecting to see anything on the screens until Naballah’s driver picked Marwan up from his apartment—approximately twenty minutes from now.
Pike seemed as surprised as I was by the images we were seeing. But, after taking a closer look at the feed, we both realized we were only viewing aerial shots of Damascus from the two Agency drones flying overhead.
In addition to the drone footage, we could also see a live shot of the grounds inside Naballah’s compound. This feed was coming from a camera on the rooftop of a residence located about three blocks away from us.
According to Pike, when one of his surveillance guys had scaled the outer wall to install it on the roof, he’d almost been discovered by the homeowner.
Pike pointed to an image on one of the monitors and said, “Monitor #4 is a view of the south gate. It’s the one Naballah’s driver will use when he brings Marwan into the compound.”
Pike’s explanation was primarily for Carlton, who was over at EAI headquarters receiving the exact same feed as we were.
The three of us, along with Trudy, were wearing headsets linked up to the Agency’s secure communications system (SCS). Anything we said on the SCS network could be heard in the Ops Center back at Langley—unless one of us deliberately pushed the mute button.
Carlton immediately commented on Pike’s statement. “From this angle, I believe we’ll also be able to identify the general’s entourage.”
Trudy, who was two miles away from the Aramex warehouse and didn’t have access to the images we were seeing, said, “I guess I’ll have to catch that movie later.”
Pike said, “The only movie I care about seeing is the one you’ll be making with the Grasshopper.”
Trudy was inside the Renault in a residential area overlooking Naballah’s compound to the east. Pike had chosen the site because it offered the least obstructive route for Trudy to navigate the Grasshopper over to the second story window of Naballah’s library, which was where we’d heard the general would be meeting with Naballah in less than two hours.
We had received this intel on Friday, when the general had checked into his suite at the Sheraton.
Not long after General Suleiman’s arrival, Naballah’s assistant had called him to confirm the details of the meeting, and the listening devices Pike had installed inside the suite had picked up every word of their conversation.
Unfortunately, the general was either a man of few words or extremely cautious on the phone, and, except for the time and place of the meeting, we hadn’t gained any new intel.
“Here we go,” Pike said.
He pointed to Monitor #1, which displayed an aerial view of a black SUV pulling up to the front of Marwan’s apartment.
As soon as the car arrived, Marwan hurried out of the building wearing his white thobe.
In his hand was a small plastic bag.
Presumably, inside the bag, were two purple boxes.
* * * *
We watched as the black SUV made its way through the city streets of Damascus and arrived at the south gate of Naballah’s compound.
Even though the security guards must have recognized the driver and Marwan, they still carefully scrutinized their passes and looked inside the trunk of the vehicle. After that, one of the guards ran a long-mirrored pole underneath the body of the vehicle to check for explosive devices.
Finally, after the gate slid open, the SUV was allowed to enter the compound. From there, the driver made his way around to the front entrance of Naballah’s headquarters.
When he stopped in the circle drive, Marwan emerged from the vehicle and walked over to the portico of the building, pausing to straighten his white thobe before walking inside. The moment he’d finished adjusting his thobe, an image pixilated across Monitor #2, and now, we were able to see what Marwan was seeing as he entered the foyer of Naballah’s headquarters.
Inside the high-ceiling hall, with its black and white checkered floor, was a metal detector manned by a couple of guards. They immediately took Marwan’s cell phone and did a thorough scan of the contents of his plastic bag. They also insisted on removing a ballpoint pen they discovered in the pocket of his white trousers when they patted him down.
Since the Ops Center had not yet activated the audio devices inside the purple boxes, there was no sound to go with the images we were seeing on Monitor #2. Still, I could have sworn I heard Marwan breathe a sigh of relief when the guards waved him through the metal detector.
Once he’d taken the elevator up to the second floor, he was met by two additional security guards standing in front of a set of double doors. After one of the guards used his handheld wand to scan the plastic bag yet again, the other guard opened the door and ushered him inside.
Upon entering the room, Marwan paused a moment, and, although I had no way of knowing for certain, I thought he might be surprised to see he was the only person inside Naballah’s library.
What surprised me, though, was the decision someone had made to call the room a library. That person was either unacquainted with the concept or was being factitious, because the room contained only one bookcase, and there were fewer than a dozen books on its shelves.
Next to the bookcase was an oversized pedestal desk. Despite its name, it was obvious the room functioned mainly as a place to receive guests and conduct official business.
In addition to a half dozen overstuffed armchairs, there were two upholstered sofas, with a small wooden table at the end of each sofa. Except for the beautiful Persian rug partially covering the hardwood floor, the room was colorless and had a dull, utilitarian look to it.
