The Thin Black Line

by Simon Gervais

  “Good. Jasmine, why don’t you get the car as Lisa and I clean things up a bit?”

  “Roger that,” responded Carson. “I’ll be in front in ten minutes.”

  After Carson closed the door behind her, Lisa went around the room removing the listening devices and the hidden video camera. Mike searched Zima for anything that would help them learn why she was there.

  “Hey Lisa, look at this,” said Mike, holding up Zima’s smartphone. “It was in her pocket.”

  Lisa took it from Mike. “We’re in luck!” she exclaimed. “She must have been using it just before we got in because it isn’t locked.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  Lisa shook her head. She went into the contact list, but it was empty. There had been a few phone calls made recently, however. Lisa called IMSI headquarters and, after giving them a quick situation report, asked them to trace the numbers used by Zima.

  “Nothing out of the ordinary,” came the voice of Jonathan Sanchez from New York. “Two of the numbers are Canadian.”

  “What about the others?”

  “All Lisbon area.”

  “Thanks,” she said before ending the call. Lisa looked over at Mike, who was finishing a search of the room for any other clues.

  “Anything?”

  “Just this,” Mike replied, showing her a piece of paper he’d found on the bed. “I think it might very well be the message Ghazi received in the brush pass.”

  Lisa read it and agreed with Mike. “This is definitely it. I’ll send it to headquarters right away,” she said, reaching for her smartphone.

  From the chair where she was tied near the window, Zima coughed a few times and moaned in pain. Mike approached her just as she opened her eyes.

  “Zima? Wake up, Zima,” he said. “It’s me, Mike.”

  Zima looked at him, unsure. “Mike?” she asked weakly.

  “That’s right, Zima. I need to know what you’re doing here. And I need the answer now.”

  “You know who I work for, Mike,” she said, exasperated. “What do you think I’m doing here?” Mike could see she was pissed at being tied to a chair.

  “Hey, Zima,” Lisa jumped in.

  “Lisa!” exclaimed Zima, a big smile appearing on her face. “Oh my God! I just shot at you.”

  Lisa showed her where the round had hit the vest. “Good thing I was wearing this.”

  “Holy shit!”

  “C’mon, Mike,” Lisa said. “Untie her, will you?”

  Mike cut through the plastic cuff with his knife.

  “Look in my mailbox,” Zima said to Lisa, who was still holding her smartphone. “The last message is from the assistant director of foreign collection.”

  Lisa read the message. “It looks genuine,” she said to Mike. “Her orders are to capture Ghazi and wait until the arrival of an extraction team.”

  “Ghazi is the guy who entered Claudel’s house while I was breaking in. I told you about him. We didn’t know at the time that he was the Sheik’s accountant, but we figured it out. Happy now?” she asked, her eyes grilling into Mike’s.

  “Of course. I’m sorry about all this. We didn’t know who you were.”

  “We should go,” Zima replied.

  “She’s coming with us,” said Mike. “I’ll brief Charles as we go, but we need to get out of here.”

  “What are you doing, Mike? I’m not going anywhere with you,” said Zima.

  Mike looked her in the eye. “You want a shot at taking down the Sheik and the man who shot at you in Antibes?”

  She nodded eagerly.

  “This man,” continued Mike, pointing to Ghazi, “is the closest link to the Sheik and Alexander Shamrock we know of.”

  “That’s the name of the guy who shot at me?”

  “Yes, he’s a former Special Forces officer and the son of a very rich man.”

  Mike could see Zima was thinking about her options.

  “Who are you with, Mike?” she finally asked. “I need to know who you’re working for.”

  “That never changed, Zima. Lisa and I are with the good guys.”

  CHAPTER 64

  The accountant was starting to regain consciousness. “We need to move before he becomes agitated,” Lisa said. “Help me out.”

  Mike and Lisa each took one of Ghazi’s arms and helped him to his feet while Zima grabbed his suitcase and other personal items. The drug was losing its effect rapidly. Within minutes, Ghazi would regain his faculties, and that would make transporting him anywhere much more difficult.

  The two IMSI operatives and Zima Bernbaum left the room and closed the door. Luckily, they didn’t encounter anyone in the elevator. The hotel lobby was busy enough, but nobody took a second look at them, with the exception of a lone couple enjoying a late-afternoon drink at the bar. They smiled at Mike knowingly. He had too much to drink, and his buddies are taking him home.

  As promised, Carson was waiting in front of the hotel with the rental car, a black late-model Audi A6. Mike and his wife sat in the back of the sedan with Ghazi trapped in between them while Zima took the passenger’s seat. If Carson had questions about Zima’s presence, she kept them to herself. She engaged the manual transmission, and the doors locked automatically.

  “Montijo Air Base?” asked Carson.

  “You got it,” replied Mike. “Primary route is fine.”

  He consulted his watch. “The plane should be there by now. As soon as we arrive at the airport, I’ll call headquarters to let them know about the latest developments.”

  A few moments later, Ghazi opened his eyes. To his credit, he didn’t panic. He simply looked at Lisa and Mike and asked in English, “Who are you?”

  “The only thing you need to know right now is that you’re coming with us.”

  “I really hope you’re Americans.”

  “Why is that?” inquired Mike.

  “Because if you can prove to me that you’re Americans, I’ll cooperate fully with you.”

  “Interesting. But why?” Mike asked again.

  “Because I don’t trust anyone anymore. My partner is dead, and I fear that I know too much. The Sheik isn’t someone to let loose ends go.”

  “Your partner?” asked Zima from the front seat.

  “Yes, my partner,” answered Ghazi, no shame in his voice. “Richard Claudel. He was a general in the French gendarmerie. He’s dead. The media are saying he died during the attack in Nice, but I know this isn’t true. The Sheik killed him. And I’m next.”

  “Why would the Sheik want to kill you?” asked Mike. “You’ve served him well, haven’t you?”

  “I told you—I know too much. I’m the moneyman. I’m the one who delivers payments. I don’t know any of the operational details of the next wave of attacks, but I know where the cells are located.”

  If that’s true, he needs to be debriefed as soon as possible, thought Mike. He motioned him to continue.

  “I’m not asking for money, but I want protection. Will you protect me?” Ghazi pleaded.

  “We can if the information is worth it.”

  “It’s worth it, all right,” Ghazi replied. “I think I know where the Sheik is.”

  ―

  The traffic on the way to Montijo Air Base was light, probably because of the rain. They were stopped at the gate by two military policemen armed with automatic rifles. The police officers checked Lisa’s documents to confirm her identity as an FBI agent, and the Audi was quickly cleared through the gate. The hangar where IMSI’s plane was parked was a short drive away. The doors of the hangar were open, and the Audi drove right in, stopping next to a Gulfstream IV whose nose was facing toward the exit.

  Lisa and Carson helped Ghazi out of the Audi while Mike opened the passenger door and said to Zima, “You stay in the car. I need to consult with my boss about w
hat to do with you.”

  Zima shrugged. “Do what you must,” she replied and closed the door herself.

  “He says he needs the bathroom,” called Lisa, halfway between the car and the airplane.

  “That’s fine. Go in the plane. Stay with him, and once he’s done, give him something to drink.”

  “Will do,” Lisa replied, already pulling Ghazi toward the awaiting jet. “The way this night is going, I might need something to drink myself.”

  ―

  As Ghazi exited the lavatory, Lisa searched him one more time to make sure that the accountant hadn’t gotten his hands on a weapon. Satisfied, Lisa walked Ghazi to a seat facing Mike. They let him drink some water and offered him a bowl of fresh fruit. They wanted Ghazi to feel safe with them. Safe enough to spill his guts.

  Once Ghazi’s drink was refilled, Mike took the lead.

  “What can you tell us about your employer?”

  The accountant swallowed hard, then began to talk. For the next half hour he told the IMSI agents everything he knew about the Sheik, Omar Al-Nashwan, and what they’d asked him to do for them. He answered all of Mike’s questions in detail, and before long Mike reached the conclusion that time wasn’t on their side. The Sheik was about to launch an unprecedented series of attacks that would put the Nice bombings to shame.

  Mike asked Jasmine Carson to stay with Ghazi while he went outside the plane to consult with his wife.

  “Do you believe him?” Lisa asked.

  “Seems legit to me,” Mike replied. “But you never quite know with these guys. He might believe he’s telling us the truth when he’s in fact been fed misinformation.”

  “Could the Sheik really be in Spain?”

  “Why not? He doesn’t need to be close to the actual attacks. Where was Bin Laden on September Eleventh? Certainly not in New York.”

  Mike weighed his options. “Ghazi told us the attacks would take place within the next two or three days. He also said the cells never initiate a strike on their own; they wait for the Sheik’s signal. If we find him before he gives the green light, we might be able to prevent the next wave.”

  “Agreed.”

  “I’ll call headquarters and let them know what we’ve found.”

  Lisa nodded. “What do you want to do with Zima?”

  Shit! I forgot all about her. She’s still in the car. She must be fuming. “I’ll talk to Mapother. Because Ghazi mentioned that many cells were located in Canada, we should brief her on what we’ve learned. She might be in a position to help us find the actual targets.”

  “If she still wants to, Mike,” Lisa said. “You left her in the car!”

  CHAPTER 65

  Lisbon, Portugal // Malaga, Spain

  Following Mike’s call, IMSI sprang into action. Instead of flying Ghazi to New York to perform a more in-depth interrogation, it had devised a plan that they hoped would bring them closer to the Sheik’s mobile headquarters. Mapother had agreed that if Mike was confident enough to use Zima’s services, the decision came with the understanding Zima could never return to CSIS.

  To Mike’s surprise, Zima refused to quit. Mike declining to tell her for which organization she’d be working probably played a role in her decision. She had nonetheless agreed to help them out but insisted on being briefed completely. Mike had agreed and told her everything.

  When Zima learned that three cells were in Canada, she had Mike promise to keep her apprised of any new intelligence regarding potential attacks on her country. Then she requested to be taken to the closest international airport to fly home.

  ―

  In exchange for protection, Ghazi promised to help them achieve their objective. That meant they would allow Ghazi to deliver the money as ordered.

  Mike and Lisa spent hours explaining and rehearsing with him the role he would have to play. It was imperative that the bank official in Malaga felt that nothing was out of the ordinary. Ghazi would bring the two duffel bags from Lisbon to Malaga then plant at least one sticky camera and one listening device inside the vault. Nobody had any doubts about what would happen if Ghazi was caught. The operation would be blown, and Ghazi would be slaughtered without mercy.

  While Ghazi was being coached on his part in the operation, Support Five secured an apartment in Malaga with a view of the bank where Ghazi was to bring the money.

  They didn’t have a lot of time. The note indicated that the money was expected in Malaga within forty-eight hours of receiving the message. They’d already used up more than twenty-four of those hours preparing for the mission.

  Support Five remained in Malaga while Mike and Lisa provided discreet cover for Ghazi with the help of Jasmine Carson. The pickup of the two duffel bags had gone well, and Ghazi was now driving toward Malaga in his private vehicle, which Mike had tagged with a locator device.

  “He’s slowing down,” announced Mike into his hands-free cell phone as the screen on the dashboard monitored Ghazi’s progress. “He’s about six hundred meters behind you now.”

  Lisa was driving the lead surveillance vehicle, staying ahead of the accountant’s car to scan the route for a possible ambush. Mike was driving a second vehicle, trailing the accountant to make sure he didn’t try anything funny.

  “He probably needs gas and a bathroom break,” Lisa replied. “I passed a gas station about a minute ago.”

  “Copy that, Lisa. He’s making a right into the gas station,” Mike said. “I’m about five hundred meters behind.”

  “Okay, Mike. I’ll pull over. Let me know when he’s on the road again.”

  “Will do.”

  Mike pulled into the gas station himself and parked off to the side. Ghazi climbed out of his car and prepaid his gas with his credit card. Nothing seemed suspicious, and within a few minutes, they were back on the road progressing toward Malaga, which was located less than a hundred kilometers away.

  Ghazi followed the exact same routine he had the previous week. He parked his vehicle in the visitors’ lot of the bank. Next, he removed the two black duffel bags from his trunk and walked into the bank.

  “He’s in,” said Jasmine Carson, stationed in the rental apartment on the other side of the street. On the table next to her was the video feed coming out of the hidden camera affixed to Ghazi’s jacket.

  ―

  In spite of the air conditioning, Ghazi couldn’t stop sweating. He couldn’t remember a time when he had been this nervous, and he wondered if he was going to see another sunrise.

  After he entered the lobby of the bank, he walked to the customer service desk and asked for the manager. The clerk told him to have a seat. As Ghazi waited in one of the orange armchairs, he worried about all the things that could go wrong. He didn’t see the man approach him from behind and jumped when he was squeezed on the shoulder.

  The bank manager chuckled. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Ghazi.”

  Ghazi got to his feet and shook the manager’s extended hand. His heart was beating faster than it ever had.

  “Same here,” replied Ghazi.

  “Please, follow me to the vault,” requested the manager.

  As he’d done the previous time, the manager ordered Ghazi to place the duffel bags on the table in the middle of the vault. He opened one of the bags and counted out twenty thousand American dollars in hundred-dollar bills.

  That was when Ghazi made his move.

  Shaking, he carefully reached inside his pants pocket to retrieve the listening device that the Americans wanted him to plant in the vault. The miniature device was already activated and would start transmitting immediately. It was fixed with an adhesive substance that would allow it to stick to any nonliquid surface. Ghazi had practiced placing the device many times in Lisbon but nearly dropped it anyway. In any case, the bank manager was so concentrated on counting the money that he missed Ghazi’s clumsiness as he affixed the m
icrophone to the underside of the table.

  However, it had taken more time than anticipated, so he didn’t feel that he could safely place the sticky camera, too. The Americans would be upset, he knew, but they were the ones who had told him that not being caught trumped every other consideration.

  The manager placed the money in a black pouch, then handed it to Ghazi and thanked him once again for a successful trip. Ghazi exited the bank and walked to his car, relieved that the worst was now behind him.

  ―

  “What will we do with him now?” Lisa asked as Ghazi walked to his car.

  “Nothing for now,” answered Mike, who had joined Carson in the apartment across the street.

  “For now?” Lisa repeated.

  “I asked Support Five to bug his apartment and his car. We’ll know if he goes anywhere. Either way, we can’t attempt to do anything here. It’s too risky,” said Mike.

  “And once he’s back in Lisbon?” Lisa asked.

  She wants to kill him!

  Mike kept his voice even. “I know what you want to do, Lisa, but we might still need him if this doesn’t work. And I’m sure our director would love to have a chat with him. But if Mapother decides we’re through with him and he gives the order, he’s all yours.”

  His wife nodded, satisfied. Carson didn’t say anything but looked away.

  The punishment was harsh, especially because Ghazi had collaborated with them. However, they all knew that very soon someone from the other side of the board would come to Ghazi asking questions—especially once their financing method was blown out of the water. The accountant had seen them, and they couldn’t afford to have him give a complete description of them to his terrorist connections.

  But Mike wasn’t sure how to react to Lisa’s wish. She had proven herself a capable operator, but wanting to actually kill someone to keep them quiet was something different. I’ll have to keep an eye on her.