by Frank Perry
“Urgent new situation.”
The meeting was scheduled for 1300 that same day. So after an early lunch, Rachael requisitioned a car, and General Simmons had arranged for protective services to provide two bodyguards. CIA headquarters at Langley, VA, was located fifteen minutes north of the Pentagon near the Parkway.
When Rachael arrived at Langley, she was escorted to a meeting room somewhere below ground level. A group formed quickly with Will Lawrence in charge. The attendees included Steve Sayar, Rachael and an SES-level person from NSA in place of Hale Warner. At the outset, Lawrence acknowledged the loss of Hale, whom all respected and regarded as a friend.
He began, “Okay. Thank you all for coming on such short notice. This room is a top secret briefing facility, which is appropriate for a situation that has developed.
“As I’m sure you all have speculated, the CIA has human intelligence resources in a few key countries. These people take years to cultivate, usually beginning long before they have progressed to positions important as sources of information.
“Occasionally, these resources are compromised, and it’s our practice to give them protection if we can, usually through asylum in the States. That is the reason I called this meeting.”
After a moment for the information to settle, Steve Sayar asked, “Will, isn’t it a little unusual to involve others in matters within CIA’s charter?”
“Yes, Steve, but this time we need some help, given the circumstances and some specific demands from our asset.
“The agency needs help from the DoD, and I think you’re all stakeholders as far as this person is concerned.”
All were listening intently as Will picked up a remote projector control.
“I suspect all of you will recognize this man.” He pressed the controller, showing a bearded heavy-set Middle Eastern man neatly dressed in a western-style business suit.
All studied the image before Lawrence continued, “This is Sheik Ali Abu Qatada, Iran’s foreign minister.”
Everyone leaned forward studying the picture, since most had never seen the minister in a suit.
“You probably don’t know that Sheik Abu Qatada and I went to college together in the 1970’s when the Shah was in power. He was Ali Qatada then, my friend and son of a wealthy oil family. After the Islamic revolution, Ali was initially placed in a labor camp when his family’s holdings were nationalized. But, because of his education, he managed to work from those poor beginnings into government service, eventually achieving his current rank. Throughout his ordeals, we remained friends, and he never forgave the Ayatollah Khomeini for destroying his family and killing his father and mother. As a developing intelligence asset, I was his only handler, and you can imagine how priceless his services have been over the years.
“Sheik Qatada was previously Iran’s Minister of Intelligence and National Security. In this capacity, he had ultimate oversight of Iran’s subversive operations, including funding terrorists. I know this will sound preposterous, but he actually managed to channel most of their projects away from the U.S. and informed us of attacks when Americans were in danger. In the ‘War on Terror,’ he has been one of our most important sources of information.
“We now need to return the favor. It seems that he’s being blamed for the failure of the plot to shoot down our commercial airliners. Ali was informed of the plan before transferring to his new position a few months ago. He claims that he never knew the timing after that. For reasons that may be linked to the extortion, someone in their Ministry of Intelligence has accused Ali of disclosing the plot to us. He believes the source of this smoke screen is his successor in their spy organization. Ali doesn’t know about the final ransom payment, which corroborates this suspicion.
“In any event, he has asked for our help escaping the country and, in exchange, is prepared to disclose everything he knows about their intelligence programs, including their spies throughout the western world. There is even a possibility that he can identify this ‘King Cobra’, but we haven’t been able to discuss that yet.”
He paused to let others think about it. There was general discussion about the “value” of this defection, but all agreed that securing the Minister would be invaluable as an intelligence asset.
Rachael asked, “Will, what do you need from DoD?”
“I’m looking for ideas. Ali has been placed under house arrest, but feels it’s only a matter of days before he’ll be formally charged. That means death, and probably an arranged suicide before any trial.”
The NSA Agent said, “If he’s already under arrest, we can’t exactly invade Iran.”
Lawrence responded, “Of course not, but we must do something, and fast. He may not have many days.”
Steve Sayar spoke next, “Will, I can see the value in getting this fellow out and we probably owe him the effort, but what can we do?”
“I don’t know. I’d like everyone to think about this and get back to me with ideas. You cannot discuss this outside of your immediate offices for obvious reasons. Any leaks and he’ll be dead, literally.”
The meeting ended shortly afterward. Rachael was met in the lobby of the building by her escorts and driven back to the Pentagon. As they approached the East entrance, she pulled out her cellphone and hit the first speed-dial number. After one ring, she heard, “Peter.”
“Hi, what are you doing this afternoon?”
“Dunno, but I’d sure like to see my girl!”
“All right, lover boy, come to my office. We’ll have a snack and work.”
“You really are romantic!”
After walking to the cafeteria together, they brought lunch back to the department’s secure compartmentalized information facility (SKIF). Peter had a pizza, and Rachael brought a salad. The SKIF had the look and feel of a bank vault, including a thick round armored door.
Peter declared, “Wow! What a treat! I don’t think I’ve ever been allowed to eat or drink in a SKIF.” SKIFs are facilities that contain the highest classified data.
“Eat something, and don’t complain about the decorating!”
They nibbled quietly as she began. “Peter, I need your advice.”
He looked at her, continuing to eat without saying anything.
“There’s a situation with a high-level minister in Iran who needs our help to escape from the country.”
“I bet there’s a line of them waiting to get out.”
“This is serious. The guy is one of our most valuable spies and has been discovered.”
“In that case, he’s probably already toast.”
“We don’t think so. Will Lawrence knows him. They went to school together. He says he’s under house arrest for a short time, until they move him to prison.”
“Do you know the address?”
“We can find out where he lives, but get serious. What can we do to pull this guy out?”
He leaned back in his chair and steeped his hands together, looking at her, then at the ceiling. He was quiet for almost a minute. Then he leaned back on the table placing both hands flat. “Well, I’m not sure anything will work, but I can think about it.”
Research
They finished lunch and walked out without discussing it again. Peter said he would do some research and get back to her late in the afternoon. He didn’t say anything more about his ideas, but Rachael was beginning to dread having brought him into the situation.
As he left the office, he kissed her on the cheek saying, “I’ll see you later.”
Rachael looked at him apprehensively and just smiled.
Peter knew that he would upset her again if he shared his thoughts prematurely. He needed to know more facts before formulating his ideas. He left her office and headed straight to the Pentagon basement.
It took several minutes to walk to the Operations Center. Peter wanted to talk to his old friend, Master Sergeant Josh Blomstein. They had gone through Ranger training together and had been Sergeants in the 82nd before Peter was commissioned. His special r
elation with Sergeant Blomstein had been forged in the deserts of the Middle East and Africa. Josh was Peter’s primary contact for intelligence and mission planning information.
Josh Blomstien grew up in upstate New York and joined the Army after graduating from Utica High School. He served in the 82nd Airborne Division and was chosen to join the 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment-Delta, "Delta Force. Before deploying to Somalia he married his life-long sweetheart, Sarah Hart, and they had two young boys together.
Blomstien deployed to Mogadishu, Somalia in the summer of 1993. He and Peter earned their first significant medals together in that conflict and had been promoted to Sergeant together.
Although Peter had the necessary clearances to enter the OC, he was required to stop at an anteroom for Blomstein to escort him inside.
Passing through the vaulted doors, Josh met Peter, “Major Shields! As I live and breathe, how are you? It was great to read about you in Chicago, nice going pal!”
“Thanks. Josh. We lost some good people, but we saved more, including the girl I hope to marry.”
“Marry! You? That’s great man. When’s the date?”
“Well, I haven’t exactly asked her yet, but I’m working on that.
“I need your help again, buddy. How good is your information on Tehran these days?”
Josh looked at him quizzically. “You’re not planning on going downtown again?”
“No, not really, I’m just checking a few sources of information before I advise a friend.”
Josh was skeptical, “You