by Frank Perry
seating himself across the table.
“Mr. al-Majiid, I am Major Kinnington, one of the JAG officers here at Guantanamo. Do you speak English?”
“Yes.”
“You are to be flown as a prisoner of war on a U.S. military plane to Saudi Arabia, where you are being released in exchange for two American soldiers. If you agree to this, I have some forms for you to sign stating that you were treated respectfully and fairly here at Gitmo.”
Abd al-Majiid starred in disbelief at the Major without speaking. He looked at the documents on the table in front of him, unable to understand most of it. The Major spoke again, “If you want us to assign you an attorney, we can do that.”
Without any comment, Majiid signed both papers and pushed them back across the table. The Major then shouted, “Guards!”
The Marines entered the room as the Major spoke, “Take the prisoner back to his cell and make sure he collects his belongings and bathes. He is to be issued clean prison clothing and to be ready for transport to the air terminal later today. That is all.”
The senior guard responded, “Yesser,” and then escorted him back to his cell. At dusk, an Air Force cargo plane departed Guantanamo for the Azores, then onward to Saudi Arabia with Hasan Abd al-Majiid aboard.
The next day, Rachael sent an email to Jennifer Richardson.
“Jen,
After reflecting on your meeting on Monday, I would like to talk to you. Give me a call at my office today if you can.
Rachael”
About an hour later they had a brief discussion, and Richardson agreed to come to the Pentagon later that day. She arrived around 3:30PM, and was escorted to a small conference room in the Army Intelligence directorate. Rachael joined her immediately.
After cordialities, Rachael said, “Jen, I was thinking about a possible insider in the missile ransom case.”
“All right, and I have some new information also, so, what do you have?”
“Well, I’m not accusing anyone of anything, because there’s no proof, but we deal in a misty profession to a large degree. Some of the clues are pointing at Will Lawrence.”
“What clues?”
“I can’t divulge everything, but did you know that he has a long-time friend high up in the Iranian government? They were buddies at Berkeley.”
“You mean Ali Abu Qatada?”
“Yes, I understand that they have remained close over the years. But, it wouldn’t be unusual for someone in the CIA to have a direct line into an enemy state.”
Rachael went on, “I also worry that Hale was involved with our small group trying to find a mole, if that’s the right word, and may have been murdered. Someone tried to harm me about the same time.”
“Rachael, I know a little about that, but not much. We have some similar thoughts. I can share some things with you, but they have to be held very close.” She looked at Rachael and was distracted momentarily by the fine scar lines on her face, barely discernable under makeup. She had been a victim of a huge bomb blast in Chicago that nearly killed her. The surgeons had done a remarkable job with the sutures. She was a beautiful girl and the doctors had obviously been careful to preserve her facial features.
“Do you recognize the name, Hasan Abd al-Majiid?”
“I think he was one of the terrorists shooting missiles at our airliners.” She didn’t say that her fiancé had captured them.
“Right, he was the leader here in the states, but he’s just a pawn managed from overseas. We think his handler was in Iran.”
“Okay, then I know who he is.”
“Well, what you probably don’t know is that Majiid is no longer in jail.”
“What! That murderer killed hundreds of people.”
“Wait, it gets better. The reason he isn’t in jail is because he was labeled as an enemy combatant and sent to Guantanamo, where he was just released in Saudi for a couple captured Iraqi defense soldiers.”
“Are you serious? The guy’s a murderer. He killed Americans on our soil. He should be in Federal custody.”
“Want to know how it happened?”
Rachael just stared in disbelief, as Richardson continued, “CIA got involved with Justice, convincing them that Majiid was a puppet under a foreign terror state and had information that was vital to U.S. security that was easier to get under DoD rules. This was all done at a high level, so Justice went along with the transfer.”
Rachael responded, “Was it Will Lawrence?”
“We’re trying to find out. He’s unavailable, so we’re backtracking through others to find out who was involved. Ultimately, someone high up, like Director Lawrence, could have made this happen.”
Rachael felt reluctant to discuss the Iranian minister. Jen had not volunteered any knowledge of his defection.
“Look, Rachael, I think we’re on a common wavelength. Let’s keep each other informed as we learn things. This needs to stay up on our priority list. If we have a conspirator in government, we need to find him.”
The meeting ended the workday, and Peter was waiting in the parking lot. Jen went to the metro station below the Pentagon.
For the next few days, not much else was learned. Peter and Rachael discussed the facts over and over. They also talked about wedding plans. Peter was growing accustomed to the idea. He was most nervous about meeting her parents. They had been with her at the hospital in Chicago, but he was more seriously wounded, unable to visit her.
Puzzle
Sunday morning, Peter and Rachael were getting dressed with the television playing in the background. They were listening to CNN in disbelief as the President of Iran introducing Sheik Abu Qatada as Secretary General of the Security Council. Peter pressed the program-scheduling button on the controller sure it was an old news clip. It was astonishing. Abu Qatada was standing on the rostrum with the President of Iran, the man who had planned to have him executed. The Minister looked thinner and his beard was short, but Peter could see the man he had lowered from a bedroom window months before.
Still not finished dressing, Rachael sent a text message to Jen Richardson telling her to call her cellphone as soon as possible. Minutes later her phone rang, “This is Rachael.”
“Rachael, it’s Jen.”
Rachael responded, “Have you been watching the news?”
“No. I’m sailing on the Chesapeake right now. Why? Is something wrong?”
“We need to meet in a secure location as soon as possible.”
“Ah, okay. Look, we should be finished with lunch and back at the dock by three. Can you come to NSA, say at four?”
Rachael responded, “Yes, and I’m bringing someone with me. He has all the clearances.”
“Okay. I’ll see you at four.”
Rachael and Peter left her apartment and walked a block away for deli sandwiches then over to the Georgetown campus to eat on the lawn. They had to be careful about talking in her apartment. They stayed outdoors until three o’clock then walked back to get his truck for the drive to Baltimore. Mild weekend traffic allowed them to get to Ft. Meade faster than planned, and they had to wait outside the security gate until Jen phoned the guard station authorizing their entrance.
Once inside the impressive facility, Rachael introduced Peter to Jen.
Rachael began. “Jen, the other day I couldn’t share everything about my suspicions of Lawrence, but circumstances have changed. Several weeks ago, Peter went on a rescue mission into Tehran to save Minister Abu Qatada from imprisonment or execution. At least that’s what Will Lawrence was saying.”
“Okay. This sounds intriguing.”
Peter spoke. “Director Lawrence led all of us to believe that Abu Qatada was a valuable intelligence asset who had been compromised, so I helped get the Minister out of Iran. After we got him to the states, he was given a new identity and government protection. This morning, we saw the same guy on the news in Iran being promoted to a higher position in their government.”
Rachael interjected, “Lots of people fell f
or this scheme, risking lives and a huge amount of military resources, and it was all a scam. Will Lawrence was at the center of it.”
Jen responded, “This smells to high heaven. There was a lot of money involved and a couple of old friends in suspicious circumstances. Okay, I get it. Let’s consider this meeting finished. I’ve got a little investigating to do.”
Money Trail
Rachael was at work early on Monday. After morning briefings, she started answering routine emails when General Simmons stepped into her office saying, “Rachael, I’ve been called to Meade for a meeting, so I’ll be out of the office this morning.”
“Yes, sir. Anything I need to know about.”
“Don’t know. I was told only that it’s a two-letter level, so it’s something significant. We’ll see.”
He was gone almost five hours before returning in a rush. He stopped in her office saying, “Rachael, we need to talk. Why don’t you call Peter and get him over here. Both of you have a stake, and I need you on the same page.”
“Okay, sir. I’ll call right now.”
Twenty minutes later, Simmons, Rachael and Peter were all sitting inside the vault. Simmons began, “I think you know a lot of this, but I wanted to relate some information that came from my meeting at NSA today. Deputy Director Jennifer Richardson was asked to attend by her boss. She outlined some incriminating information about Director Lawrence at CIA. It turns out that he’s been MIA at Langley for a week, and the guy you rescued from Iran might have been involved with him in some kind of conspiracy. We think there might have been Iranian