by Lisa Harris
Carlton picked up a document from his stack of papers and said, “To that end, our first protocol is to have eyes-on access to the Imam’s residence and grounds this evening, and I’ve asked Alice Knowles from our Surveillance department in Support Services to brief us on that aspect of the operation.”
Alice Knowles was at the far end of the table from me, and when Carlton mentioned her name, she stood up and snapped the clasps on the aluminum briefcase in front of her.
After opening it, she picked up a pair of black-framed glasses and said, “After my team did an analysis of the Bureau’s surveillance setup at the safe house in Great Falls, we decided there was sufficient video coverage of the perimeter of Camp Tamal to view any activity surrounding the Imam’s property tonight. What was missing was video coverage inside the residence.”
She held up the glasses. “In order to monitor what’s happening inside the Imam’s house tonight, we’ve decided to equip each of our operatives with a WAV device. For those of you not familiar with this technology, WAV is short for Wearable Audio Video. Basically it’s a miniaturized video camera and audio amplifier. Here’s an example of what I’m talking about. This is a pair of ordinary-looking men’s eyeglasses but hidden in the center of the frame is a video camera.”
I glanced across the room to see how interested Armstrong was when Alice began reciting the technical details of the WAV device.
He appeared to be fascinated by her explanation, but I wondered if what he found fascinating was actually Alice’s appearance.
Since Armstrong and I were about the same age, I suspected he found himself intrigued by something I’d noticed about Alice several years ago—she bore an uncanny resemblance to an actress who portrayed a nurse on a popular television show that came on every Thursday night when I was growing up, someone every member of my high school football team had a crush on, including me.
She definitely had the same tousled look to her blond hair and the same California accent, although she was much taller than the actress.
I had a feeling Alice was also much smarter and more serious than the actress, and today, as she wrapped up her technical explanation of the digital camera, she sounded very serious.
She continued. “There’s also a built-in microphone embedded in the camera, and both the audio and video quality are excellent, so the Ops Center will be able to monitor everything that’s going on.”
Alice motioned at a member of the RTM Center staff, a young woman seated at one of the computer consoles, who punched some keys on her computer and then nodded at Alice. At the operator’s signal, Alice slipped on the black glasses and pointed up at the screen.
A slight murmur went around the room as we were able to see ourselves projected up on the screen from Alice’s perspective, almost as if we were standing in Alice’s shoes and looking through her eyes.
However, for some reason, the miniature camera in the pair of glasses made me look much older than Ben.
Alice took off the glasses. After laying them on the table, she reached inside the briefcase and withdrew a navy blue tie with a geometric design—rows of silver hexagons—and held it up in front of her.
“Embedded in this tie is also a WAV device.”
After putting aside the tie, she lifted a gold necklace with a black onyx pendant out of her briefcase. “And this necklace’s pendant has a WAV device in it as well.”
She held up the necklace and looked over at Jennifer. “Obviously, this necklace will be worn by you when you attend the dinner this evening. If you don’t have a dress that matches the necklace, you can always go over to Support Services and pick out something suitable from our wardrobe department.”
Jennifer said, “I didn’t bring any dressy clothes with me from Baghdad, so I’ll need to stop by there as soon as the briefing’s over.”
I pointed over at the navy blue tie. “If you want me to wear the blue tie this evening, I’ll need to stop by wardrobe as well.”
Alice smiled a little. “Actually, Titus, I chose the glasses for you. I thought they would look very appropriate on Titus Ray, a Senior Fellow with the Consortium for International Studies.”
“She’s right, Titus. They’re perfect for you,” Frank said.
I heard Ben snicker. “I guess that leaves me with the tie.”
Alice nodded as she sat down. “Once our briefing’s over, I’ll show you how to turn the device on and off without drawing attention to yourself or to the device.”
After Carlton thanked Alice, he addressed the second protocol of the operation—the security of the operational team. To that end, he had the computer operator display an aerial photograph of the Imam’s residence and the surrounding area.
Using his laser pointer, he drew a circle around the gated entrance at Falls Point Drive. “This is where you’ll be entering Camp Tamal tonight. It’s the only entrance into the compound. This fact has made it easy for Frank’s surveillance teams to observe what kind of procedure the guards follow when a vehicle arrives at the gate.”
Frank spoke up. “I’ll be glad to talk about that, Douglas.”
Before Carlton could say anything, Frank picked up his laser pointer and began placing red dots on the various landmarks—Falls Point Drive, the shopping center, Old Post Road—before drawing a circle around Sunset Lane, the road that led directly into the compound.
When I saw Carlton tense up, I had the distinct impression he had planned to brief us on the logistics of the operation himself, and he was a little annoyed at Frank for taking over this part of the briefing and stealing his thunder.
Nevertheless, Carlton did little more than purse his lips and straighten his shoulders as Frank gave us ten minutes of superfluous information about what the feds had turned up on the people they’d seen going in and out of Camp Tamal for the past four weeks.
Finally, when Frank pointed to Sunset Lane, he said, “Once you make it past the guardhouse here, it’s about three-quarters of a mile up to the main lodge, which is now the Imam’s residence.”
He drew an imaginary circle around some buildings.
“As you can see from this photograph, there are six guest cottages on the opposite side of Sunset Lane, but at the moment, we don’t believe they’re occupied.”
I raised my hand. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Frank, but could you back up for a minute?”
“Oh, sure. Back up where? Did I miss something?”
“I think Titus probably wants to know what type of security he should expect to find at the guardhouse,” Carlton said.
“That’s right,” I said. “You said, ‘once you make it past the guardhouse.’ Do the guards run a wand underneath the car? Do they ask to see any kind of identification? Have your surveillance teams actually observed the guards stopping people from entering the compound?”
“Oh, I see. I suppose I should have mentioned their procedure.”
“I’ll be glad to do that, Frank,” Carlton said, signaling for the next image to be displayed. “Here’s a close-up of the guardhouse. This was taken with Ben’s phone when he was there last Saturday night.”
Although I hadn’t planned it that way, my question appeared to have provided a means for Carlton to wrestle control of the briefing out of Frank’s hands and back over to him. He proceeded to take advantage of it by describing the guardhouse down to the last detail.
When he was finished, he asked Ben, “Is there anything else you’d like to add to what I just said?”
“No, except the guard did ask to see my ID, even though he immediately recognized Kamila.”
“Did Kamila have to show her ID?” I asked.
“No, she didn’t show the guard her ID.”
Carlton said, “That brings us to the question of how the NTI cell plans to enter the compound tonight and kidnap the Imam.”
After thumbing through his document stack for a few seconds, he pulled out a sheet of paper, which he instructed the computer operator to put up on the screen.
“This
is a transcript of Kamila’s phone call with Mustafa in which she assures him she’ll help the members of the NTI cell enter the compound and get access to the Imam. I know Frank showed our operational team this transcript yesterday, so I won’t go over the details, but I’m open to a discussion of how you think Kamila might help the members of the terrorist cell get into the compound.”
Ben said, “As I mentioned to Frank yesterday, I think Kamila could tell the guards she’s expecting some late arrivals to the party or maybe a delivery for her mother’s birthday. In the case of a delivery, it could be a florist van or maybe a caterer, whereas if she tells them she’s expecting some late-arriving friends, it could be a limo.”
Frank said, “I agree with Ben’s scenarios, but once they grab the Imam and head out of the compound, I don’t believe the guards at the gate would dare use their weapons—not when the Imam will be inside the vehicle. Of course, my guys will see it all unfolding in real time through our surveillance cameras, and if the NTI cell is able to pull off the kidnapping, we should be able to prevent them from actually putting the Imam on a plane.”
Carlton nodded, but then he gestured at me. “What’s your take on that possibility, Titus?”
I shook my head. “I disagree with Ben and Frank. If Kamila orders the guards to let someone inside the compound at her say-so, her role in the Imam’s kidnapping will definitely put her under suspicion.”
“True,” Frank said, “but if she—”
“And how do we know the NTI cell doesn’t have secret orders to kill the Imam instead of kidnapping him? The terrorists may crash this party tonight with plans to gun down everyone inside.”
Ben and Frank didn’t say anything.
Noah Armstrong did.
He pointed across the table at me and said, “Nothing you’ve just described can happen to Imam Hanim tonight. No kidnapping. No assassination. Nothing. You can’t let it happen.”
He paused a moment and then added, “Those orders come directly from the President.”
Chapter Eighteen
Noah Armstrong appeared to be addressing his remark directly to me. I had no idea why. I’d only been voicing my concerns about the assumptions being made in the briefing.
Even so, I felt obligated to answer him. “All of us will be doing our best to keep the Imam safe. The only way for us to do that is to consider all the possible scenarios and plan for them accordingly.”
Armstrong leaned forward slightly and said, “I understand that, but when the President saw the PDB this morning and read the summary of the Crescent Moon operation, it made him nervous. Our relations with Turkey are at a low point right now, and if anything should happen to the Imam, and we have evidence the Turkish president was responsible for it, we’ll be forced to take drastic measures. Such measures could put our troops at the Incirlik Air Base in danger, not to mention jeopardize our relationship with our NATO allies.”
Carlton cleared his throat. “You can assure the President our focus tonight will be on making sure nothing happens to Faraji Hanim or his family, no matter what the intentions of the NTI cell might be, whether it’s to kidnap the Imam or to assassinate him.”
Frank said, “I’d be surprised if the objective of this cell is to gun down the Imam on American soil, but I hear what you’re saying, Titus. We should plan for that possibility.”
He gestured at Carlton. “Douglas and I have discussed this already, and we’ve agreed besides having our SWAT teams surrounding the compound tonight, the three of you should also be armed.”
Ben said, “I was hoping that would be the case.”
I nodded. “I agree.”
“Sure. I’m good with it,” Jennifer said, “but I’ll need my large purse. I don’t want a subcompact on me tonight.”
I thought Armstrong looked a little uncomfortable when we began discussing what type of handguns we preferred to have with us.
His fidgeting also seemed to draw Carlton’s attention, and a few seconds later, Carlton put an end to the discussion by having the computer operator click over to a different slide.
This time, instead of an aerial photograph of Camp Tamal, there were four pictures of four individuals on the screen. One of them was Hasan Nazim, the NTI leader who met with Kamila on Wednesday.
The other three were young men in their twenties whose photographs appeared to have been taken from a long distance away.
“I’m sure you all recognize Hasan Nazim, the leader of the NTI cell,” Carlton said. “I’ve put him in this group because these four men are the only people we’ve identified as belonging to his NTI cell.”
Frank said, “The other three men you see here have been observed doing surveillance in the area around Camp Tamal. However, because of the chatter we’ve picked up from this cell, we’re fairly certain there are at least four other members in this group.”
Ben pointed up at the screen. “Have any of them tried to gain access to the compound?”
“Just one,” Carlton said, directing his laser pointer at the photograph of the man next to Nazim. “As you can probably tell from this shot, this man, Yusef Kaynar, showed up at the gated entrance a couple of days ago. We have a video of him that was taken by one of Frank’s agents. It shows Kaynar being questioned by the guard, and a little later, it shows him handing the guard some papers.”
“Our analysts enhanced the video as much as they could,” Frank said, “and although they can’t be certain, they believe the papers were forms Kaynar had filled out by hand.”
“But Kaynar himself never went inside the compound?” I asked.
Frank shook his head. “No, he made a U-turn at the gate and left.”
“Could he have been applying for a position at the compound?” Jennifer asked.
“Good call, Jennifer,” Ben said. “Maybe he was applying for a security guard position. If he were stationed at the gate, it would make it easier for the rest of the NTI cell to enter the compound.”
Frank addressed this comment by reporting what the Bureau had learned about the employees at Camp Tamal. Although he spewed out a bunch of numbers, the essential takeaway was that everyone at the compound was a long-time employee, most of them of Turkish descent, and there were no openings for additional staff members.
When it appeared Frank might start inundating us with statistics again, Carlton said, “At any rate, we’d like for you to take a good look at these photographs, and if you should see any of these men at the compound tonight, you can be sure they’re not there to celebrate anyone’s birthday.”
As Carlton reached for the next document in his pile of stuff, Armstrong asked, “What happens if an operative spots one of these men? They won’t just start shooting, will they?”
“No,” Frank said, “not unless they see the whites of their eyes first.”
Although Armstrong smiled slightly as everyone else in the room chuckled at Frank’s comment, I didn’t think the President’s National Security Advisor was amused—not even slightly.
The moment Frank glanced over at Armstrong, he must have realized he shouldn’t have made his smart-aleck remark, because a few seconds later, he said, “Although our operatives can’t wear an earpiece tonight, and they won’t be in direct communication with our command center, they can still communicate with us through their WAV devices. If they should spot a member of the NTI cell anywhere in the vicinity, I’m sure they’ll let us know.”
Carlton motioned at the pair of eyeglasses on the table in front of Alice Knowles. “For example, if Titus is wearing those glasses, and there’s an emergency situation, he’ll be able to speak directly to us just by saying something out loud.”
“If that happens, Titus might have to use doublespeak,” Frank said. “Otherwise, the people around him will think he’s talking to himself.”
Armstrong looked over at me. “I have a feeling if there’s an emergency situation, Titus won’t care what people think.”
I gave him a nod. “You’ve got that right.”
Armstrong spread his hands out toward the table and said, “I hope I’ve voiced the President’s concerns adequately enough, but just to reiterate: whatever happens tonight needs to be handled quietly and if possible, without violence.”
Perhaps in an effort to redeem himself, Frank said, “That’s the Bureau’s objective as well, and our best case scenario is that our SWAT teams will be able to stop the NTI cell before they attempt to enter the compound.”
Carlton waved the paper he’d been holding and said, “I was just about to deal with that scenario in our final protocol.”
After asking the computer operator to put the image of the gated entrance back up on the screen, Carlton said, “As soon as Ben drives up to the guardhouse this evening, we should have a better idea of how Kamila plans to help Nazim get into the compound. We’ll be able to hear what she says to the guard through your WAV devices, which you’ll need to activate as soon as you get near Camp Tamal.”
“The moment we get that information,” Frank said, “our SWAT teams will go into action, and therefore, I think there’s a real possibility you’ll have an opportunity to visit with the Imam and celebrate his wife’s birthday without having to worry about Hasan Nazim or his cell members showing up to spoil the party.”
Ben asked, “How will you get word to us of what’s happening?”
Carlton said, “I’ll text all three of you as soon as Frank lets me know Nazim and the members of his cell have been arrested. I’ll be monitoring the situation from here in the Ops Center, and Frank will be directing the operation from the safe house on Old Post Road.”
I asked Ben, “Do you have any idea how Kamila will react when she realizes something’s gone wrong with Nazim’s plans?”
He shrugged. “That’s hard to say, but she could be relieved.”
“Maybe so,” Jennifer said, “but if you ask me, she sounds like someone who might try to figure out what went wrong and do something about it herself.”
Ben nodded. “Yes, that’s always a possibility.”