The Libra Affair (5 page)

“What if she wasn't flying directly to England? What if she had to fly into another country and then connected to England?” he suggested.

“Possible, but when I plugged her name into the database of travelers, her name didn't come up at all. Do you think she could be holding a dual citizenship, using a maiden name perhaps?”

“She's never been married … not as far as I know,” he spoke his thoughts aloud. “I never considered the possibility of her having a different name, but that's entirely possible.”

“Any chance she changed her name somewhere along the line and is perhaps using an old passport?”

“Not that I know of. Man, she's like thin air.”

“Well, if nothing else, we know she was at the airport,” Kate said as she continued pecking away at the keys. “I'll pull up her license photograph and see if we can get a match with someone over there at Dulles, but it'll take some time and may raise questions.”

“I don't want you to get into any trouble,” he said, concerned.

“Don't worry. The job has its perks,” she said in an uplifting voice.

“I hear that.”

“Listen, Ben, if you're really serious about this woman, you might think about heading over to Dulles with a photograph of her and start asking the counter help a few questions,” she suggested.

“You know, that's a thought.”

“Someone might talk, but with privacy issues, I really don't know what kind of results you'll get. Maybe the cops standing around can help. You might even ask someone to page her,” she added.

“Right, all good ideas.”

“How about I call you if something comes up?”

“Sounds like a plan. Thanks, Kate.”

“I'm not so sure you should be thanking me.” She paused before saying, “Ben, to be direct with you, the smell test here, it doesn't pass. If she's not worth it, you might rethink your involvement.”

Ben cleared his throat.

“I just think you should hear this from someone you know,” she told him.

“Thanks, Kate,” was all he could say.

“But have
you
seen this woman?” Ben asked the Lufthansa ticket counter attendant, holding up a photograph of Jordan.

“Sir, I'm sorry,” she said. “Regulations do not permit me to discuss passengers without their express permission.”

“Please, would you just take a look?” He pushed the photograph toward the woman. This was the fourth counter he'd visited. No one remembered seeing Jordan. No one knew anything about her.

“She's my fiancée,” he told her.

“I wish I could help you,” the woman said.

“She forgot her ring.” He dug in his pocket and held up the ring. If it was anything, it was an eye-popper.

“I see.” The attendant drew closer.

“She'll be heartbroken without it.”

The attendant gawked at the ring.

“If you can help me in any way,” he continued, “I can't tell you how much that would mean.”

Near swooning, the flight attendant said, “I've always been a sucker for a princess cut,” and then she looked back into Ben's face.

He was despondent.

“Okay,” she said. “I'll have a quick look, but I'm not making any promises.”

He watched her every move as she studied the photograph. It wasn't in the best of shape; he kept it in his wallet. All the same, it was a good representation of Jordan.

“You know, she is kind of familiar. You say her name is Jordan?” the attendant asked as she laid the photograph above her keyboard and began typing.

“Jakes,” he said. “Jordan Jakes.”

“You think she's on an international flight?”

“Right.”

The attendant continued clicking away at the keyboard. “I don't see a Jordan. But if this is the same woman, and I'm thinking it is,” she squinted as she re-examined the picture, “I actually checked her in earlier.”

“Jordan Jakes,” he repeated.

“I can't disclose names. But I'll tell you this, the lady I helped earlier wasn't Jordan Jakes.” The attendant stopped typing and returned the photograph to Ben. “I'm quite certain of it.” She said nothing further.

Ben suddenly got the idea that she'd just volleyed to him. If this conversation were going any further, he'd have to take the lead. “Right. So assume for the sake of argument, this woman you checked in earlier
is
my fiancée, can you page her for me?” he asked.

“I could, but that wouldn't do you any good.”

He angled his head. “Because they've … ”

“That's right. They've already taken off.” She glanced back at her computer. “It looks as if they departed thirty minutes ago.”

Ben looked at the flight status board located on the wall directly behind the woman. As a rocket scientist, he ought to be able to determine which flight she was referring to. “Right,” he said, finding it, “I see the flight to Frankfurt, Germany.” He paused. It was her turn.

Taking the cue, she said, “If you're asking me if flight 9253 is already en route to Frankfurt, Germany, then the answer is yes.” She paused, before adding, “I'm so sorry to inform you it appears as though you just missed your flight.”

“When's the next flight?”

“Destination to Frankfurt, Germany?”

“Yes, the same destination.”

The attendant typed in a few keys on her keyboard and studied the computer screen. “Okay, you're in luck. There is another flight to Frankfurt, Germany, tonight. It departs at 9:50
P.M.
and arrives 11:40
A.M.
”

“Great, let's book it.”

“I'll need your passport and,” she looked at him discerningly, “you're going to need a visa if you intend to make the next leg of your journey.”

“Visa?”

“Yes, sir. You'll need a visa to enter Iran.” Ben was flabbergasted; he felt as though the floor had been ripped out from beneath his feet.

“Iran?”

“Yes, sir. Tehran.”

“A visa.” He thought for a moment; no way would this flight attendant be leading him astray, not in a situation like this. Moreover,
why
was Jordan going to Iran?! What was she doing? He'd be crazy to follow her there. His mind spun in a thousand directions, but there was one thing he knew for sure: he loved Jordan. And he'd follow her to the ends of the earth if that was what it took to get her back. His decision was made. “Go ahead and book it. I need to go home to pack, but I'll be back.”

“I'll be happy to hold the reservation.” She smiled. “I'm certain your fiancée will be delighted to see you.”

Ben steamrolled his way toward the parking lot. There was just enough time to get home and pack, but he was going to need another favor. A big favor. Before reaching his car, he dialed Kate's number. When she answered, he said, near panicked, “I need a visa to get into Iran.”

“Ben?”

“Yeah, it's me.”

“What's going on? You don't sound right.”

“I'm sorry.” He drew in a deep breath and closed his car door. “I'm in a bit of a hurry. Did you hear me?”

“What's going on?” she repeated.

“I found Jordan. She's heading to Iran.”

“Iran?”

“Yeah.”

“Is she Iranian?”

“No. I don't know.” He sounded as perplexed as his answer.

“You don't know?”

“It never came up,” he admitted.

“You were with the woman for a year and you don't know if she's Iranian?”

“Kate, I need your help. I booked a flight, but I need a visa, quick.”

“I hate to tell you, but you need a real good reason to get into Iran.”

“I've got to make this flight or I'll never catch up with her.” He started his car.

“So she's on the flight?”

“Not the flight out of here, but she's on the next leg. I can catch her, Kate. I know it's asking a lot.”

“Her name didn't show up in the system.”

“She's using another name.”

“I don't know. It sounds pretty far out. I just don't know.”

“Please, Kate. I'll do whatever I need to do. I mean it.”

The line went silent.

“Please,” he begged, which was uncharacteristic for him. He knew Kate would recognize this and this fact alone would convince her to help him.

After a long pause, she finally said, “There's no protection in Iran.”

He knew he had her and that she'd go the extra mile to make this happen for him. “I'm not going to do anything,” he said to reassure her.

“If anything goes wrong … ” She paused. “You won't have anyone to turn to.”

“Nothing will.”

“You don't know that,” she said firmly.

“I'm willing to take the risk.”

She hesitated as if weighing her final decision. “The only way you can get into Iran is through the Interests Section of Islamic Republic of Iran.”

“Can you work it?”

“I have a good friend who works over there. He owes me a favor.”

“Thanks, Kate.”

“Look, Ben, even if you have a visa in hand, they can still refuse you entry into the country. You'll be fingerprinted without a doubt and they can detain you for any reason. It's a huge risk.”

He stared out the front windshield of his vehicle, then put the SUV in reverse, pulled out of his parking spot, and started toward home to pack. “If I don't find her or know for sure that she's on the flight, I won't board. Promise.”

“Whatever you do, when you pass through customs, you can't let them know you're a scientist. If they ask what you do, you'll have to say you own your own bar and grill.”

“Okay.”

“And you're going to have to tell them why you're there. They'll be suspicious.”

“What about sightseeing?”

“You'll tell them you're interested in seeing the architecture and shopping, maybe for rugs. You better bring plenty of money to back it up because they'll ask how much you plan on spending. And another thing, you better do a quick study of the country so you sound legit.”

“Got it.”

“Stay in touch.”

Ben called Kara next and left her a voicemail explaining he was going overseas for a little while and asking her to please let the powers that be at NASA know he would be utilizing some of the copious amounts of vacation time he'd accumulated over the years.

He hung up the phone. With all the loose ends tied up, all that was left to do was find Jordan.

• • •

After a long day and night, Ben found himself inside the Frankfurt airport, hurrying along toward the next gate to catch the flight to Tehran. Just knowing Jordan would be waiting there and that he'd be seeing her shortly was scaring the crap out of him. He had no idea what he was going to say when he saw her or what she would say when she realized that he had just followed her halfway around the world. Nevertheless, it was time for answers even if he didn't like what he might hear.

Ben reached inside his pocket and twisted the ring … a princess cut.

• • •

The op was moving along as planned. Few hitches, nothing major. Until a familiar face appeared like a streak of lightning. Jordan had to look twice to be sure the man at the airline counter was actually Ben Johnson.

What was he doing there?

How did he find her?

Impossible.

Thank God she was still in disguise.

Ben had no connections she knew of who would have pulled rank to help get him a visa. Moreover, who in his or her right mind would even think about granting a visa to a NASA scientist, a guy with a Ph.D. in physics, and allow him to venture into a hostile country, and yet, there he stood big as life. Jordan was baffled. Anyone who could have worked a visa this fast would have known he was a scientist. They'd also know he'd be detained for questioning, and maybe even accused of espionage. Unless they advised him to lie.

She hadn't seen this one coming.

It meant he had a friend with connections. It also meant that Knox made an entry on the CIA database about having seen her at the airport, which meant whoever was helping him was able to smash right through the walls of the CIA and read Knox's notation. That's the only way anyone could have found her.

It had to be someone at Homeland Security. They were the only governmental agency that could tunnel through the walls of every other high-level governmental agency, get real time information off their databases,
and
accomplish the task of getting Ben a visa this fast.

It must have been his psychiatrist sister; she must have called in a favor from a friend, patient, or someone.

As to Knox's notation, all he could have entered on the CIA database was that he saw her at Dulles. There was nothing about the Libra mission on the CIA databases — it was a paperless, a covert op.

After Ben stepped away from the counter, he began searching the seats one by one. He stopped in front of a young couple. “Have you seen this woman by chance?” he asked them.

“No, I'm sorry,” the man replied.

Jordan remained motionless with her head down so that she could remain hidden in plain sight. As Ben neared her, she opened a magazine and began skimming through the pages.

Ben approached an elderly man next. When the man looked up, Ben held up a photograph. “I'm looking for this woman. Have you seen her?”

The man shook his head. “No English,” he tried to say.

Jordan had to stop him. She knew if he got on the plane to Tehran, he would be taking a one-way flight to hell. The authorities would no doubt question him as to why he was entering the country. That'd make everyone on the flight a suspect. She couldn't risk that.

“Have you seen this woman?” Ben asked another couple seated next to the older man.

The husband answered, “Check with the attendant,” and nodded toward the desk.