Authors: Mark Young
Frank smiled. “I am well aware of your MO, Colonel Thompson. If anyone knows how to operate in the gray, it’s you. Tell me you took your ops plan and ran it up the old Marine Corps flagpole before you attacked that lab in Albuquerque. I know for a fact your bosses are still trying to figure out that one. Meanwhile, you hit another lab in Washington state with your friends from the FBI. You obtained weapons and a prototype aircraft for your friend Gerrit…shall I go on?”
Jack sat back down, glanced over at Gerrit, and shrugged. “Okay, maybe I did cut some corners here and there—”
“Cut some corners?” Frank snorted. “Your operations are so far out on thin ice that you must keep moving forward or you will fall through the crust. By the time the Pentagon got wind of your latest op, you were off on another one. Personally, I don’t know how you pulled them off, but I certainly want you on our team. I need that kind of outside-of-the-box thinking.”
Frank eyed the colonel for a moment, then shook his head.
“And how are you going to get approval for us to work together—Jack and me?” Beck asked. “Gerrit and the others are already operating off the grid for survival, but Jack and I are still part of the system.”
Frank stepped off the podium and came closer to the group. “Until we can assess and control this latest threat, both of you gentlemen will be assigned to me until this over. No questions asked. You guys have a problem with that?”
Beck looked over at Jack. Both men shrugged. “I guess that means we’re a team.”
Frank started to head back to the lectern.
Gerrit stood. “Frank, exactly who do you work for? We’d like to know since we’ll be risking our necks on this operation.”
“Ask your uncle about me. Right now, forget about Devon McAllister. You’ve got bigger fish to fry. You’ll be flying out of here in thirty minutes.” He stepped up on the podium.
“Where are we headed?” Gerrit watched the man turn back once again and smile.
“Bring some suntan lotion—you’ll need it. Based on our latest intelligence, Hassan’s focusing his attention on the Syrians. My guess is, Syria will take the lead in an attack against Israel with support from Iran and Russia. We need to get people close to them and ready to move if we can find out specific targets.”
“Why now?” Gerrit frowned. “Some major events are triggered by an anniversary, a past event that gives meaning to whatever these fanatics are working toward. Is this some kind of major jihad? The whole world is watching Syria’s internal crisis. They are slowly disintegrating from within because of this civil war. Why would they take this risk?”
Frank rubbed his jaw. “All good questions, Gerrit. Maybe they want to get even for Israel’s bombing attack in 2008 on their suspected nuclear weapons research sites at Dayr az Zawr. Maybe they need to prove something to the rest of the Arab world. Right now, we don’t know. And we have to find out very soon. All I am at liberty to tell you at this time is that it’s tied to whatever Israel might be planning. You, Joe, Alena, and your computer friend back at Tahoe—”
Gerrit glowered at Joe.
“Yes, I know about your hiding place. All of you are free to decide whether you will join us or go your own way. I hope you’ll throw in with us—for this and future operations.”
Gerrit glared at Frank. “Future ops? I don’t know squat about what you’re up to or who you work for. You stand up there giving commands like you can order us around. Truthfully, I could care less what you want. We’re taking all the risks. Unless you’re forthcoming about who you are and what you are trying to achieve—count me out.”
Bowing his head for a moment, Frank looked like he might be saying a prayer or fighting a wave of anger. Slowly, he raised his head and met Gerrit’s stare. “You’re right, I can’t force your group to work with us, but I hoped you could see the importance of all this. Beck and Jack have no choice if they choose to follow orders.”
Jack’s jaw tightened. Beck looked on impassively.
“You and the others must make a choice. Right now, I believe I can count on your uncle.”
Gerrit glanced over and saw Joe nod.
“I can protect you from our own country, give you anonymity when you most need it, and give you technical and material support for each operation. Gerrit, who do you think bailed you and Alena out when Miami PD threw the cuffs on you?”
Gerrit’s head shot up.
“That’s right. I had my people move in and clear the way. I won’t always be able to help you like that—but I’ll try. That’s the best I can offer. It’s a dangerous world out there.” Frank paused for a moment. “I need a group like you who can work outside the chain of command, off the grid, so to speak, to work those targets our own government deems too risky or politically sensitive to take on directly. We can no longer risk sitting back, watching and waiting. We must take action.”
“You’re talking about international border crossing,” Gerrit said, “conflict with other countries, and a lack of government support—as far as I can see.”
“That’s about it,” Frank said. “I can get you resources for each operation. No questions asked. You will only be accountable to me. Each of you has exceptional skills I need to make these operations successful. For example, between you, Alena, and a third party, you will be able to converse in any language in the Middle East. You have the weapons and tactical experience to handle most limited encounters. Alena brings her experience from Mossad and…other skills…to operate in just about any foreign country.”
Gerrit found himself nodding, as he inventoried what each member of his team brought to the table.
Frank continued. “But you’re right, Gerrit. If you’re caught, our government will deny any connection. You will have to fend for yourself.”
Frank waited, presumably for that to sink in, before continuing. “Personally, I will never leave you out there alone. Hell or high water, I will do everything in my power to make sure you come back alive. Are you in?” No one backed out so Frank pressed on. “Beck, I need you to stay stateside. Run down the leads we develop on Brandimir and his network. I don’t have to tell you that you’ll be treading on a heap of political landmines. Walk carefully.”
Frank turned to Jack. “Colonel, I need you to fly to Tel Aviv and connect with some of your contacts there with the IDF. We need some eyes and ears in Israel we can trust.”
Jack gave a slow nod.
“And Gerrit,” Frank said. “If you’re going to join this effort, I have plans to get you and Alena to Dubai. From there you’ll work your way toward Damascus. Once on the ground, I’m afraid you’ll have to get creative—”
“I’m familiar with the distance from Dubai to the Syrian capital,” Gerrit said. “Why so far?”
“Too many eyes in Kuwait, and landing you closer to the target might give our enemy a greater ability to identify and expose your activity. In Dubai, we can make you blend in quickly. At least that is the plan.”
“What about Iraq?” Gerrit asked. There was a lot of desert between Dubai and their destination. A lot of obstacles to face. “I know that country pretty well.”
“I know, Gerrit, but there have been a lot of changes in that country since you left. After we basically pulled our military out, a lot of political shifts have made that country very unstable and susceptible to Iranian influence. Dubai, on the other hand, has been a source country where we’ve set up an aggressive network of agents, particularly focusing on our enemy across the Persian Gulf.
“The embargo against Iran forced them to come to countries like the United Arab Emirates to acquire technology and other restricted materials through third-party arrangements. Dubai is a logical place—through its banking networks and other means of commerce—for rogue countries to acquire what they need. Gives us room to operate.”
“You mentioned a third person will be joining us?”
Jack stood. “Hey, how many people are you inviting to this party, Frank? We’ve always operated on a need-to-know. Using another outside person puts Gerrit and the others at risk. It’s hard enough trying to protect them right now.”
Frank nodded. “I understand, Jack, but this won’t be a new face. You’ve already met her at Langley.”
“Her? You mean…?” Jack gave Gerrit a sheepish look. “I never had a chance to tell you. Remember the gal in Afghanistan you went off with on some special ops? She’s the one who took the photos of Hassan and Stuart…er, Brandimir, in Paris. Man, I’m going to have to get used to calling that guy by another name. Anyway, she’s the one who put the names together.”
Frank stepped down from the podium. “And she’s the one who intercepted the communication between Hassan and Yegorov off the coast of Azerbaijan today.”
Alena came over to sit next to Gerrit. “Who’s this woman?” she whispered, nudging him.
Jack looked at Gerrit and rolled his eyes.
Gerrit stomach tightened. He’d almost forgotten. “Shakeela Vaziri,” he said, then looked over at Frank.
“An Iranian?” Alena looked at him quizzically.
“Born and raised in Philadelphia. Persian and Azeri descent.”
“That must have been a combination. And you met her…?”
Gerrit’s mind traveled in time, to another place, another war. “We met in the Middle East. Worked together on an operation—just the two of us.”
She raised her eyebrows. “How cozy.”
Jack Thompson watched them, a smirk on his face.
“It was a long time ago, Alena. I spoke the language and they needed my military skills. What can I say?”
Her eyes widened. “I heard you speak Arabic? You never told me—”
“It’s part of that memory thing I’m plagued with. There is a lot I never share. Just like you, Alena.”
She started to say something, but must have thought better of it and decided to keep quiet.
Frank rapped on the lectern. “Let’s focus on what we’re up against. Shakeela has been a case officer operating from Paris but has recruited a number of agents throughout Iranian communities and the Middle East, including Dubai. She will assist you on the ground and accompany you to Syria.”
Alena leaned over and whispered, “This is getting interesting.”
Gerrit sighed.
Tell me about it.
Another jet could be heard coming in for a landing. As Frank waited for the roar to pass, Gerrit glanced one more time in Alena’s direction. This would be interesting—and very complicated on many levels.
He tried to follow Frank’s direction to the group. His mind, though, kept going back to the last time he saw Shakeela more than ten years ago, standing in a gusty windstorm, waiting for a chopper on the border between Iraq and Iran. Operation finished, he gathered his gear, waiting to return to his Recon battalion in Afghanistan. Shakeela, on the other hand, prepared to slip back into Iran on her own, assigned to a mission she refused to tell him about. He knew she was embarking on another dangerous assignment.
For a moment, his mind traveled in time to another war, another conflict more than a decade ago. A time in which life became so much more complicated.
Sand blinded him as Gerrit and Shakeela staggered toward the heavily-armed chopper. Exhausted, they pulled themselves inside as the bird began to rise. He watched Shakeela’s face, as she leaned back and closed her eyes. Something happened out there on the desert between them, as they dodged Revolutionary Guard patrols. He intended to find out just how she felt.
Several hours later, they landed in a friendly village near the sea that the Agency controlled. A shower and clean clothes helped them begin to feel normal. For two days, they walked along the shore as they waited for instructions. On the second night, he took a chance and gently took her in his arms. She did not resist. It was a night he would never forget.
And then the message came from Langley. His orders—return to Afghanistan. Hers—return to Iran,
alone
. And then the arguments began. He vainly tried to persuade her to return to the U.S. To stay there until he returned from the war. She resisted, saying it was her responsibility to follow orders. Just like Gerrit. They fought, and the more they argued the more entrenched she became.
Hours before he was to leave, it came to a head. “Stop it, Gerrit. I knew this was a mistake. You and I live in two different worlds. I must live my own life. Just like you. We can never make this work between us. Never=!”
She began to cry, and stumbled off into the night to prepare for her trip.
He let her go.
An hour later, he watched as she boarded another chopper headed for the Iranian border. That was the last time he saw her.
February 26
Dubai, United Arab Emirates
A
starlit night gave way to a brilliant, expansive airport terminal as Gerrit walked down the passageway. This was his first visit to Dubai, and he was amazed at this modern facility rivaling any he visited in the West. One could almost smell the opulence of commerce in the air.
He shouldered his carryall and headed toward a cafeteria to wait for the others to arrive. After the meeting in Key West, they acted like a football team after a huddle with Frank Collord now the acting quarterback. He had already set up aliases for the entire team before they met in Florida, with backstory information on each that would have impressed any intelligence agency in the world.
Gerrit, Alena, and Joe caught individual flights from New York to Dubai. Willy got to stay at home, manning the computer network they’d set up and taking care of Bones until Gerrit returned.
Gerrit would have several hours until Joe arrived, so he settled in a coffee shop and pulled out his laptop to check messages for any updates. As he waited for the system to open up, he saw two men watching from across the terminal. He caught a reflection in a nearby window. From this position, he could watch the two men while making it look like his back was to them.
They continued to maintain their vigil. About as subtle as a couple of Mafia hit men at a tea party. Gerrit worked on his computer, occasionally looking up to watch the two men. They never moved.
A half hour later, he closed up his laptop and started to reach for his bag.
“Gerrit, we meet in the strangest places.”