Five Years in Yemen

by Luana Ehrlich

  “No, and the DIA never bothered contacting the Agency about it either. That’s why I was late getting back to you; As soon as I listened to the recording, I immediately called Dirk Andersen over at DIA and asked him about it.”

  “Didn’t you contact Andersen after I told you his guy Sandusky had been tailing me?”

  “Yes, but he never got back to me. Since it was a holiday, I didn’t think anything about it, but after hearing Taylor say he was planning to tell his operations officer about our operation, I contacted him again.”

  “Did Andersen apologize for keeping you out of the loop on Gault’s overseas call?”

  “Not in so many words, but he did offer to share any future intel he receives on Gault, and he hinted I should do the same.”

  I said, “That’s because I told Jeremy I was about to pay Gault a visit today.”

  “That could be the case, but I’m not too concerned about what his motives are as long as our agencies end up sharing intel with each other.”

  “Does that mean you’ll send him the information from Gault’s flash drive?”

  “As soon as the DDO has a chance to take a look at it, I’ll make sure he gets a copy. In fact, the DDO has already said he might want to invite Dirk over here to talk about it.”

  “What are the chances the DDO would revise Rebel Merchant and set up a joint operation with the DIA?”

  “That’s a possibility since we’ve both been funding Levin’s contract with SSG, but before we discuss that, tell me about your meeting with Stephen Gault and how you ended up with his flash drive.”

  Carlton was a meticulous notetaker, so it didn’t surprise me when I heard him flipping through the pages on his legal pad while I was telling him about my encounter with Gault.

  He was also a relentless interrogator, constantly interrupting my narrative to ask questions, turning what should have been a twenty-minute update into a long, drawn-out process.

  After I’d been on my Agency sat phone with him for almost an hour, I heard my iPhone vibrate, and I walked over to the nightstand to take a look at the screen.

  At that moment, Carlton was asking me why I’d gotten in touch with Jeremy Taylor about the phony legal document I’d needed. “You could have called me,” he said. “I was still out at The Meadows, but I could have had the Ops Center send you something.”

  I glanced down at my iPhone.

  Nikki had sent me a text.

  “Aren’t these gorgeous? How will I ever choose just one?”

  Along with the text, she’d attached a couple of images of what appeared to be a warehouse full of dazzling white wedding dresses, miles and miles of them.

  I tapped out a quick reply to Nikki before I responded to Carlton.

  “You’d look beautiful in any of them.”

  “Are you there, Titus?” Carlton asked.

  “Ah . . . yeah, I’m here. The reason I didn’t let you know about the legal document I needed was because I didn’t think it would be a good idea to call too much attention to my unofficial visit to see Gault.”

  Carlton cleared his throat. “Right. It was probably a good decision to keep the Ops Center out of it.”

  “Jeremy handled everything for me, and the SSG document looked authentic enough that Gault even put it in his safe.”

  “I’m having our analysts take a look at Jeremy Taylor’s background, but he sounds like an upfront guy just from listening to the recording.”

  “Yeah, if the DDO decides to do a joint op with the DIA, I wouldn’t mind having Jeremy on the team. Without his help, I don’t believe I would have gotten very much out of Stephen Gault, but as soon as Gault felt secure about his status with SSG, he didn’t seem to have any qualms about discussing Jacob’s proposal with me.”

  “Okay, I’ll keep Jeremy Taylor in mind if Rebel Merchant becomes a joint operation.”

  After a few seconds of what sounded like papers being shuffled around, Carlton said, “I’ve asked our counterintelligence analysts to assess the contents of the document Jacob sent Gault, so it might be more beneficial if we waited to discuss it until I’ve heard back from them.”

  Another text popped up on my iPhone.

  Nikki had sent me another photograph.

  This time, it was a picture of three male mannequins dressed in various styles of tuxedos. Her text read, “Carla thought the tux in the middle would look best on you. Any thoughts?”

  The plastic mannequin in the middle was wearing a gray jacket trimmed in black with a matching gray vest.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “No, of course I’m not kidding you. What’s the problem with waiting a couple of hours?” Carlton asked.

  “Oh, . . . ah . . . nothing. There’s no problem. I can wait a couple of hours. In fact, that sounds like a good idea.”

  “I’ll call you around six then.”

  It was only after I’d disconnected the call that I suddenly remembered I was supposed to be eating turkey casserole with my family at six o’clock.

  * * * *

  I immediately texted Nikki back and, as politely as possible, I turned down the gray tux with the matching vest.

  Then, I asked her if she could figure out a way to get Carla to put off dinner until seven o’clock. She texted me back a few minutes later.

  “Mission accomplished, but you owe me big time. See you at seven.”

  I spent the next hour and a half logged into our National Geospatial Intelligence Agency (NGA), a little-known government agency responsible for collecting geographical data. Its responsibilities also included analyzing specific features about a location and rendering detailed computerized maps of any place on earth.

  I was only interested in one place on earth—Yemen.

  Even though I knew I’d be given a thorough briefing before being sent to that part of the world, it was always better to sound as if I knew what I was talking about if I wanted to get the most accurate information out of my briefers.

  It had been several years since I’d been to Yemen. At that time, I’d only ventured inland as far as the city of Taizz, located a few miles from Mocha, a large port city on the Red Sea.

  On that operation, I’d been a member of a team sent in to rescue some American hostages taken from a cruise ship docked at Mocha. I hadn’t been the primary on the Taizz operation; that honor had belonged to Frank Benson, an operative who was no longer with the Agency.

  Unfortunately, Benson’s indecisiveness had been responsible for getting all the hostages killed, and, as a result, he’d been shuffled out the Agency’s backdoor. A few months later, he’d gone to work for the FBI where his measured approach to a problem had turned out to be more of an asset than a liability.

  Just recently, I’d worked with Benson on an interagency Joint Task Force to unmask a deep-cover Iranian operative. During our time together, I hadn’t brought up the subject of Yemen, but Benson—for whatever reason—had mentioned it after I’d saved his life during a shootout with a terrorist in Washington, D.C.

  After listening to his apology, I’d responded by telling him we’d all made decisions we’d come to regret later, but there wasn’t any reason to dwell on past failures.

  Of course, I was lying about that.

  I didn’t ever want to forget the debacle in Taizz.

  I always wanted to remember my own indecisiveness in that situation; how I hadn’t been able to make up my mind about usurping Benson’s authority; how I’d hesitated to take over the mission when my instincts had told me things were going south.

  I didn’t ever want to forget how my own inability to make a decision had probably cost the hostages their lives as much as Benson’s indecisiveness had. After Taizz, I’d vowed never to let that happen again, even if it meant the end of my career at the Agency.

  * * * *

  Carlton called me back at exactly six o’clock. As soon as I answered, he asked me the question I’d been expecting since yesterday.

  “Would it be a problem for you to l
eave for Yemen next week?”

  “No, of course not, but I thought—”

  Before I had a chance to finish my sentence, he began giving me the highlights of the assessment our analysts had done on the files contained in Gault’s flash drive.

  When he finally wrapped things up, he said, “The bottom line is they didn’t come up with any red flags. Everything Gault told you checks out, and the information Levin disclosed in his proposal has been authenticated by other sources.”

  “So you already knew the Saudis had recruited Jacob? You knew he’d been in Yemen this whole time?”

  “The answer to both of those questions is a qualified yes. Like I told you when I saw you back in October, I was planning to give you the full picture of Levin’s disappearance during your briefing on Operation Rebel Merchant in January.”

  “When you say a qualified yes, do you mean—”

  “For now, all I can tell you is that the material you obtained from Stephen Gault is good intel, and the fact that we know his travel arrangements makes it even better.”

  “What about the timing? He’s leaving next Friday. Will that cause problems for the logistics of the operation?”

  “Naturally, the Ops Center would have preferred a longer timeframe, but since a lot of the preliminary planning for Rebel Merchant has already been done, we’ll make it work. I’m guessing you’ve already done some background reading on the subject, so I know you’ll be up to speed quickly.”

  Carlton never missed an opportunity to point out how well he thought he knew me, and sometimes, in an effort to stroke his ego, I commended him on his insight, but, in this case, I ignored his statement and said, “I’m surprised at your optimism, Douglas.”

  “What optimism?”

  “You sound confident I’ll be assigned to the operation.”

  “Why wouldn’t you be assigned to the operation? I told you several weeks ago I planned to recommend you for Rebel Merchant. I haven’t changed my mind about that.”

  “To be truthful, with the new timetable, I thought I might have to do a sales job on the DDO to get him to cut my vacation short so I could be assigned to the operation.”

  “That won’t be a problem. The DDO has already given me the green light to bring you back to Langley. Your vacation is officially over at midnight tonight.”

  “Tonight?”

  “That’s right. Support Services has already booked you on a flight to Washington. You’ll leave Detroit around one o’clock tomorrow afternoon. When you land at Dulles, an Agency driver will pick you up and bring you to Langley. You should be here by four o’clock, just in time for the DDO’s interagency meeting with the DIA.”

  “Does that mean the deputy plans to expand Rebel Merchant into a joint operation with the DIA?”

  “Not necessarily. You know the DDO. He’s keeping his options open.”

  I knew the DDO.

  Keeping his options open meant he’d be assessing the advantages of allowing the DIA to partner up with the Agency. He’d be examining every aspect of the joint venture in an effort to ascertain if such a partnership would prove beneficial, first of all to him, then to the Agency, and lastly to the operation itself.

  “Will the change in the operation’s schedule affect the President’s approval or has something changed with Congressman Levin’s political aspirations?”

  “I was surprised to learn the President has already given his approval to Rebel Merchant, and although I can’t say for sure, I believe he might not be as concerned about Congressman Levin challenging him for the nomination as he is by the rumors he’ll have a more difficult opponent in the upcoming primaries.”

  “Who would that be?”

  “Senator Elijah Mitchell.”

  Chapter 17

  Saturday, November 28

  I didn’t break the news to Nikki about my imminent departure for Langley until breakfast the next morning. Since the two of us weren’t due to fly back to Norman until Sunday, I knew she’d be disappointed.

  I just didn’t realize how disappointed she’d be.

  “You’re leaving this afternoon?” she said.

  “I mentioned yesterday I might be gone next week.”

  “Yes, but ‘I’m leaving today’ doesn’t sound anything like ‘I might be leaving next week.’ I told Carla we’d make out the guest list for the wedding this afternoon. We need your help to do that.”

  “I doubt if I’d be much help with any kind of list. Carla knows our relatives better than I do. Anyone she wants to invite is fine with me.”

  Nikki took a bite of her scrambled eggs and didn’t say anything for a couple of seconds.

  I reached over and squeezed her hand. “It means a lot to me that you want me to participate in planning our wedding, but, to be truthful, all I care about is seeing you walk down that aisle to become my wife.”

  She smiled. “Okay, that was a really nice thing to say.”

  “Don’t get me wrong. I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you.”

  She shrugged. “I’m disappointed because I thought you’d at least be in Norman for Christmas, even though I didn’t really think you’d stick around until January.”

  “Look at it this way. I’ll probably be back in Norman in plenty of time for Christmas. I shouldn’t be away for more than a week, two weeks at the most.”

  That cheered her up more than I’d anticipated.

  She smiled. “I’d love to help you decorate your farmhouse for Christmas. That big picture window in the front would be the perfect spot for a gigantic tree.”

  “I’m not usually in the States for the holidays. Even when I’ve been here for Christmas, I don’t think I’ve ever decorated a tree, much less a whole house.”

  “While you’re gone, I’ll buy some lights and decorations. We can pick out a tree together as soon as you get home.”

  We can pick out a tree together as soon as you get home.

  When Nikki walked over to the breakfast bar to get a second cup of coffee, I rolled that phrase around in my mind for a minute.

  Whether it was the happiness I’d heard in her voice when she’d said it, or the image I’d seen flashing across the cerebral cortex of my brain when I’d heard her say “we” and “home” together in the same sentence, I knew I wouldn’t soon forget how good I felt at that moment.

  We can pick out a tree together as soon as you get home.

  * * * *

  As Nikki and I rode the hotel elevator up to the third floor, she helped me come up with a story to explain my early departure to Carla.

  “I could tell her you had a crisis at work and had to get back,” she said.

  “Yeah, that’s good. You could say one of my co-workers died, and I had to attend his funeral.”

  “It was very sudden. He had a heart attack on Thanksgiving Day.”

  “Perfect,” I said, leaning over and giving her a kiss. “He ate too much turkey and dressing.”

  “Or maybe he got too excited watching the Cowboys play football.”

  I shook my head. “No, Detective, when you tell a lie, you need to keep it as realistic as possible.”

  * * * *

  Nikki and I drove over to Carla’s house so I could say goodbye to the family, and, when we were about to leave, Brian pulled me aside and asked me if I’d seen a news broadcast today.

  “No, I haven’t had a chance to catch the news. I was too busy making arrangements to fly back to Maryland to attend my friend’s funeral. Why? Did something happen?”

  “There was a news story about the possibility Senator Mitchell is going to challenge the President for the party’s nomination. Of course, his office is denying it, but just think how exciting it would be to work for someone who might be President one day.”

  “Did the story mention anyone else who might be running?”

  “No, but everyone knows Congressman Levin is laying the groundwork to throw his hat in the ring. In my opinion, he doesn’t stand a chance if the Senator decides to run.”
<
br />   “A lot can happen in a few months.”

  Brian nodded. “That’s what I love about politics. Things are always changing, and there’s loads of built-in excitement in a career like that.”

  He nudged my arm. “Of course, I realize not everyone likes dealing with excitement on a daily basis.”

  “Yeah,” I said, “it’s a little too much for some of us.”

  * * * *

  Nikki and I drove back over to the hotel together so I could take the hotel’s shuttle to the airport.

  Before we got to the hotel, I said, “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to call you tonight, but I promise I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Do you still think you’ll be leaving on Friday?”

  “That’s my assumption, but I won’t know for sure until I’ve been briefed.”

  She was quiet for a moment, and then she said, “This isn’t going to be like the last time you told me you’d be back in two weeks, and it turned out to be more like two months, is it?”

  “I hope not. I was barely coherent most of that time.”

  “And I woke up every day wondering what had happened to you, and if I’d ever see you again.”

  When we got to the hotel, I gave Nikki the keys to the Suburban, and we headed up to my room so I could grab my suitcase. She’d barely said a word when we were in the elevator, and when we got to my room, I tried making a joke about running off and leaving her here with my family, but she didn’t crack a smile.

  “Would it make you feel better if there was a way for me to call you?” I asked.

  “You mean when you’re out of the country?”

  I nodded. “I probably couldn’t do it every day, but at least I could contact you every now and then.”

  I reached over and touched her cheek. “I know it would be a lot easier for me to say goodbye, if I knew I could hear your voice sometimes.”

  “Is that even possible when you’re on an assignment? Wouldn’t you be jeopardizing your security if you made an overseas call?”

  “It would only be possible if you had one of the Agency’s encrypted sat phones.”