Katherine’s list had at least fifty names on it, and beside each name was a short description of their misdeeds. The violations ranged from tardiness to possession of alcohol and a variety of things in between.
“Everyone at the Defense Department knows the Saudi military has one of the worst records for discipline in the Middle East,” Taylor said. “Since most Saudis enjoy a luxurious lifestyle with a guaranteed income, when these guys join the army, they’re not accustomed to enduring hardship or answering to authority.”
I asked, “Is that why they’re losing the war in Yemen?”
Taylor nodded. “They’re fighting against Houthi rebels who are used to tough conditions and have nothing to lose. Plus, the Houthis are determined to have a better way of life.”
Katherine switched to a different slide and said, “Douglas asked us to narrow this list down to those who might be persuaded to bend the rules if they were offered cash or other incentives. That criterion pared the list down to these three men.”
Mug shots of three different men from the Al-Jarba military base appeared on the screen, and Katherine used a laser pointer to place a red dot on one of the men.
“Titus, if this man, Hussein Al-Saffar, were offered a sufficient amount of cash, I believe he’d be willing to provide you with access to Jacob. His personnel record indicates he’s been accused of taking bribes and selling goods on the black market.”
Carlton asked, “Is he responsible for security on the base?”
Katherine shook her head. “No, he’s not a security guard.”
“But he has access to Jacob?”
“He’s Jacob’s driver. He picks him up from the compound every morning and drives him home every evening.”
* * * *
After promising not to bore us with an explanation of how her analysts had come up with a biographical sketch of Hussein Al-Saffar, Katherine projected his bio on the screen and pointed out a few details about him.
“As you can see, Hussein is the illegitimate son of Prince Khalid bin Abdulaziz, one of the lesser known Saudi princes.”
“I usually encounter at least one Saudi prince a day in Riyadh,” Barron said. “They number in the thousands.”
Katherine said, “Imagine being known as the illegitimate son of one of them. Along with being shunned by the royal family, Hussein’s had none of the economic benefits of his half brothers. It’s probably why he joined the military, and it may be the reason he occasionally supplements his salary by other means.”
When Carlton and Olivia began discussing using a surveillance drone to keep tabs on Hussein’s activities, I noticed Taylor opening the lid on his computer.
At first, I thought he was just killing time, but when I took a peek at his computer screen, I realized he was looking at a Defense Department document.
After Carlton and Olivia had finished their discussion, Taylor got Carlton’s attention. “I might have something of interest on Hussein.”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“I don’t know how useful this information may be, but when the NSA notified us that Stephen Gault had received a call from someone in Yemen, we were told that phone number was connected to a terrorist. However, we’ve recently discovered that wasn’t entirely accurate. When we investigated, we found out that particular phone was in a shipment of several hundred cell phones stolen from a warehouse in Riyadh and sold to a group of black marketeers.”
Olivia said, “That doesn’t mean it didn’t eventually end up in the hands of a terrorist.”
Taylor nodded. “Oh, I’m sure most of the stolen phones are in the hands of some bad actors right now, but I have a feeling the cell phone Jacob Levin used to call Stephen Gault came from Hussein Al-Saffar.”
“What makes you say that?”
“When I heard Hussein’s name, I thought I remembered it was one of the names on the list of illegal traders who’d purchased the stolen cell phones. I checked the list again just now to make sure my memory was correct, and his name was definitely on there.”
Katherine asked, “Do you have a date when the cell phones were stolen?”
He glanced down at the document on his computer. “It was sometime in late September.”
After Katherine studied her notes for a few seconds, she said, “Hussein was on leave in Riyadh at that time, so I’d say there’s a good chance you’re right.”
She gave Taylor an approving look—the kind she’d once given me.
He didn’t seem to notice.
* * * *
Carlton used the discussion about Hussein to reiterate he was in favor of giving me an opportunity to convince Levin to return to the States—even if I had to bribe someone to get access to Levin—but he also emphasized the process couldn’t take too long.
Delaney said, “Douglas is right. Our travel documents are only valid for two weeks. If I had requested more time to do a story about the refugee camp, it might have drawn some red flags. Most news teams don’t stay longer than a couple of days, especially in a war zone.”
“I doubt if two days would be enough time to put everything in motion,” I said, “but I can’t imagine it taking any longer than a week to convince Levin and Gault to leave the country with us.”
I looked over at Olivia. “Or, if need be, to give them no choice but to come with us.”
Carlton said, “That brings us to the last phase of the protocols, your exit out of Yemen. I’m sure we all recognize these plans will need to be adjusted as events warrant, but, as of this moment, Jacob Levin and Stephen Gault, accompanied by the GNS crew, will travel from Somahi to Al-Mukalla, where the U.S. has a small contingent of Special Ops Forces. In Al-Mukalla, you’ll board a U.S. military transport to Thumrait Air Base in Oman. From there, you’ll be flown back to Washington. Obviously, you won’t be returning to Riyadh.”
“Will you be on that flight with us?” I asked.
“No. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, I’ll leave the refugee camp with one of the EAI supply trucks and take a commercial flight out of Aden.”
Barron said, “If there’s one thing you can count on in Yemen, it’s unforeseen circumstances.”
On that note, Carlton ended the briefing.
Chapter 28
Thursday, December 3
The Rebel Merchant team left Langley for Riyadh on Wednesday evening. Before we left, Josh Kellerman spent a couple of hours with us going over our cover stories and handing out the items we needed to authenticate our roles on the GNS news crew.
Collectively, all the tangible items used to support a cover story were called The Kit.
In my case, in addition to the usual paraphernalia found in a man’s wallet, my Kit included a laptop computer, clothing for Austin Brice—safari-type shirts with lots of pockets, a windbreaker with a GNS logo on it, a couple of pairs of jeans, and a pair of khakis—plus an extensive array of grooming products.
When I’d seen all the hair gels and conditioning cremes in my toiletry bag, I’d immediately protested, but Delaney had insisted an on-air reporter wouldn’t travel anywhere without such products.
After wishing us success, Kellerman had left the room, and then Delaney had spent an hour advising us on the finer points of doing a remote news broadcast.
Once she’d finished speaking with Mitchell and Taylor, she’d walked over to me and said, “When we’re at the Saudi refugee camp discussing an interview or setting up a broadcast shot, I’ll have to sound like I’m bossing you around. That’s what a field producer does with the on-air talent. Despite the way it looks on a news broadcast, the producer’s in charge of the news crew, not the reporter.”
“You can boss me around all you want, as long as you promise to do what I tell you to do.”
She looked at me as if she thought I might be joking.
I wasn’t.
The look on my face must have caused her to change her mind.
“Of course, I’ll follow your directions,” she said. “Douglas made it clear you’re
in charge of the operation. I may not be in the Ops Division, but I know what it means when someone is named the primary on a mission.”
During this exchange, I’d noticed Taylor, who’d been helping Mitchell pack up his video equipment, had stopped what he’d been doing and given Delaney his full attention.
He’d probably heard the edge in her voice.
I said, “Among other things, it means I’m responsible for your safety. Things can get pretty dicey in a place like Yemen, and I’d be surprised if your experience as a Support Specialist in our Strategic Programs Division has sufficiently prepared you for spending time in a war zone.”
Delaney’s shoulders tensed up.
I’d succeeded in making her angry.
She said, “When Iran experienced a big earthquake a few years ago, the Agency had me do some freelance work as a field producer for a real GNS news crew. It’s true, I wasn’t on an operational team, they just sent me into Iran to gather data, but, believe me, conditions weren’t that great on the ground.”
“I don’t imagine they were, but I doubt if you were in danger of a rocket attack or a truck bomb going off near you.”
“No, you’re right. I didn’t feel my life was in danger.”
“It’ll be a different story in Yemen. The conditions on the—”
Suddenly, Delaney took a step toward me and invaded my personal space. “Listen, Titus,” she said, looking me straight in the eye, “you’ll have plenty of things to worry about during this operation, but, rest assured, I won’t be one of them. I’ve been taking care of myself since I was a teenager, and I don’t plan to stop now.”
I believed her.
* * * *
Now, after following Delaney into one of Lufthansa’s business lounges at the Frankfurt International Airport and watching her convince the lounge attendant our GNS credentials entitled us to make full use of the lounge facilities for our three-hour layover in Frankfurt, I decided she was right.
I didn’t need to worry about her.
At least, not when it came to her ability to take care of herself.
As soon as we entered the lounge, Delaney and Mitchell headed for the buffet, and Taylor and I took a seat near the windows in an area away from the other passengers.
After we both checked our cell phones for any messages, I said, “Since you’re using an Agency phone, I don’t imagine you’ll get any emergency messages from your daughter while you’re on this trip.”
He smiled. “No, Eleanor doesn’t have this number, but she’s a precocious child, so I wouldn’t be surprised if she manages to get my number. She’s having some anxiety issues right now and hearing my voice seems to make her feel better.”
“Sounds like she must keep your wife pretty busy.”
“My dad takes care of Eleanor when I’m out of town.”
I waited a few seconds, thinking he might elaborate on his statement, but when he didn’t, I murmured something inane like, “Oh, that’s good.”
He nodded and stared out at the tarmac.
Finally, he said, “My wife was killed in a car accident last year.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“No, it’s okay,” he said, turning away from the window. “I recently made the decision to move in with my dad so Eleanor could have family around her when I was working. My mother passed away several years ago, but Eleanor and my dad get along great, and it beats leaving her with a babysitter for days at a time.”
“I imagine he enjoys her company too.”
“He was recently diagnosed with stomach cancer, so I’m not sure how long he’ll be around himself. I’ll have to make some hard decisions about my job if anything ever happens to him.”
“I can see how having children might mean reordering your priorities, especially in our line of work.”
He shook his head. “To be truthful, this is my first trip overseas since my wife died, and I’ve been second guessing myself about leaving Eleanor ever since I boarded our flight yesterday.”
“I hope you didn’t feel pressured into accepting this assignment because of my recommendation. When we talked at the coffee shop in Detroit, I had the feeling you wanted to see where your investigation of Gault would end up, so I gave your name to Douglas.”
“No, I appreciate your recommendation. As soon as my director called me and told me the assignment was mine, I knew I’d regret it if I wasn’t part of the operation. Not only is Levin’s case intriguing, it’s a good opportunity for me to get my sea legs back under me. I’m sure Eleanor will be fine. I confess one of my weaknesses is having second thoughts about decisions I’ve made.”
Since it was obvious Taylor wanted to move the subject away from his wife’s death, I tried to help him out.
“I get that. I know you heard me yesterday when I was giving Delaney a hard time about her lack of experience. I deliberately did that to see how she might handle being pushed around by a Saudi customs official, but now I’m questioning whether I should have taken that approach. I have a feeling she loves a challenge.”
“So you think Delaney might decide to take some unnecessary risks in order to prove herself?”
“I’m afraid so.”
* * * *
A few minutes later, Taylor and I walked over to the buffet table and piled our plates with a variety of German foods. However, the moment we sat down across from Mitchell and Delaney, I got a text from Carlton asking me to call him ASAP.
After quickly wolfing down a forkful of bratwurst, followed by some potato dumplings, I excused myself and walked over to an empty corner of the room and punched in Carlton’s number.
“I assume you’re clear?” he asked.
“I’m clear. We’re in one of Lufthansa’s business lounges stuffing our faces before our flight to Riyadh.”
“How did you manage to get in there? I thought only first-class ticket holders or corporate types were allowed in one of those fancy lounges.”
“Delaney flashed her GNS creds and convinced the doorkeeper to let us in.”
“Now you know why she was assigned to the operation.”
“She’s impressed me so far.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I figured you’d be skeptical of her, but I felt like she had enough moxie to pull it off.”
“So you called to make sure I approved of Delaney?”
He took a deep breath. “Of course not. Why would I do that? I called to give you an update about what happened last night.”
“Okay, you’ve got my attention.”
“Keep in mind, this may not affect your mission, but Mason sent me a red alert about some new intel he’d received, and, after checking with our analysts, I believe it’s something we’ll need to monitor.”
Since Barron’s approach to new intel was more laid back than most station chiefs, I was surprised to hear he’d sent Carlton a red alert. It made me wonder if I were about to get some bad news.
I said, “Don’t tell me the rebels bombed the Saudi military base in Somahi last night.”
“No, nothing like that. This happened in Riyadh. The Saudi Deputy Defense Minister, Hasan Amari, was murdered as he left his house yesterday. Mason’s sources say there’s evidence he was killed by a faction within the ministry who disagree with the expansionist policies of Prince Mohamed.”
“Is that the group calling for the Saudis to pull out of Yemen altogether?”
“That’s right. They’ve become more vocal lately because their spokesman, Prince Saud bin Salman, was recently given a bigger portfolio in the ministry. Now, he’s trying to influence the Crown Prince to become more nationalistic. He wants him to shut down operations in Yemen and curtail Prince Mohamed’s plans to modernize the armed forces.”
“Why would bin Salman want to murder Prince Mohamed’s deputy?”
“Mason thinks bin Salman, or one of his followers, was sending Prince Mohamed a message by killing Amari.”
“Something like, watch your step; you could be next?”<
br />
“That could be it, but part of Amari’s portfolio was the military base at Somahi, so it’s possible he—”
“Was Amari also in charge of Jacob’s work on the MODD system?”
“Yes, I was getting to that. Amari headed the Saudi delegation that went to Iraq to observe the field tests on the MODD system, and, according to the Israelis, he’s been responsible for Jacob ever since he agreed to work on the MODD system for the Saudis.”
“Have you spoken with the Israelis about Amari’s murder yet?”
“No, the DDO wanted to do that himself. I’ll let you know what they have to say.”
“While the circumstances are unfortunate, it’s possible I could use Amari’s death to convince Jacob it’s time to come home.”
“Yes, I believe this development could prove beneficial to the operation.”
Unfortunately, we were both wrong.
* * * *
As I started to put away my phone, I changed my mind and decided to call Nikki. With the time difference between Frankfurt and Norman, I thought I might be able to catch her before she had to leave for work.
I dialed the number of the Agency sat phone I’d given her, and when she answered, she sounded excited. “I can’t believe you’re able to call me. Are you sure this is okay?”
“Yes, but I can’t talk very long. How are you?”
“I’m perfect now that I’ve heard your voice. Is everything going okay?”
“Absolutely. What about you? Anything new at work?”
“We’ve got a new lead on the Stadium Killer case. It came in through the Crime Stoppers hotline, and my partner and I are about to go check it out this morning.”
“I envy you. Nothing that exciting is going on with me right now. What kind of lead is it?”
“A woman called in and gave us the name of a guy who tailgates next to where her family sets up their tailgate. The location is only a block from the stadium. She described him as an odd duck because the guy is always alone.”
Five Years in Yemen Page 26