Her father hardly needed Amina's input; he knew exactly what Zarif was doing every minute of every day. Amina didn't particularly approve of her father's methods, but she had to give him credit. Things always turned out well for Hassan Group when Zarif went on one of his "projects." The problem always went away. Zarif was dangerous. She knew that, but she also was certain he would never hurt her. Her father would kill Zarif if he did. Regardless, it paid to be careful.
Putting Zarif on a project meant something was wrong that Amin wanted him to fix. From Amy's standpoint, the one thing that had consumed her time the past two weeks was her involvement with Brian and Nicole. She'd come to enjoy their company during the brief time they'd been together, and now she was already planning that trip to Dallas they'd discussed. She'd be leaving in a couple of weeks. She was becoming close to them. Warning bells went off in her mind. What was Zarif up to?
"I'm good, Father. I hope you are too. Everything's under control here. Where's Zarif off to this time?"
"Out of town," he said noncommittally as always. They said their goodbyes, and she walked down the hall to Zarif's office. His door was always locked, but she had a master key that opened every room in the building. She put it in the lock and tried to turn it. Nothing happened.
Suddenly the door opened and the security chief said curtly, "May I help you, Miss Hassan?"
She pulled the key out of the lock. "Why doesn't my key work? I'm supposed to have access to every door. You know that."
"I have no idea," he said evenly. "Perhaps it's a malfunction. I'll work on it."
"When? I hear you're going out of town." She glanced at the desk behind him. On top lay an open manila folder stuffed with papers. The top sheet was a picture. She stepped further into the office toward the desk, and he spun around, quickly closing the file.
"What do you want, Amy?"
Amy? Don't call me by my nickname, you bastard!
"I was just wondering where you're going. Is my father sending you off again to make something right that's wrong?"
"I suppose you'll have to talk to your father about that. Now if there's nothing else, I have work to do."
She walked out and he closed the door behind her. Had she seen the file? Probably not.
But she had. She'd seen the picture on top of the file – Brian Sadler's photograph.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Amin Hassan, his daughter Amina, and Zarif Safwan had been on the CIA's watch list for three years. Amin was a known sympathizer and clandestine supporter of terrorist organizations in the Middle East. Zarif was his security chief and enforcer and the agency kept a close eye on his activities. His passport was flagged in case he traveled to the States, but he wouldn't be stopped anywhere in the process. Instead, the CIA would monitor his activities. But for the three years he'd been under observation, Zarif had never come to the United States.
Moments ago the director was awakened by a call from the night desk at Langley. Zarif had just purchased a ticket online to travel from London to DFW International Airport. Three days from now he'd arrive in Dallas, the home of Brian Sadler and Nicole Farber. Although it was possible Safwan had other plans, it was much more likely he was coming for them.
Case thought it even more curious that Amina Hassan herself was apparently becoming personal friends with the couple. She'd been with Brian and Nicole twice while they were in London, and now she had a ticket too. She was coming to Dallas in ten days, presumably to see the couple. Case wondered what Zarif's trip had to do with Amina's. It was likely they were connected, but the CIA couldn't assume that Zarif would stay put until Amina arrived a week later. They had to move quickly.
He took a huge risk in keeping President Parkes out of the loop about Safwan and the agency's interest in his upcoming visit to the United States. But what the hell? Case's time as director was short; the new President would soon replace him with a crony who had no backbone. It was happening every week, and with every new appointment it was more and more clear to everyone inside the Beltway that experience and leadership didn't matter anymore. Yes-men of the Democratic persuasion were the new order of the day in the Parkes administration.
So the President knew nothing about Brian Sadler, the Hassans or Zarif Safwan. Ever since that meeting in the Situation Room – ever since the President had told his people to ignore the Falcons of Islam – Case had deliberately kept him out of the loop. But there was a far more important reason that Parkes knew nothing – Operation Condor.
The CIA director made a phone call, explained the situation unfolding with Zarif Safwan, and he was given instructions on how to proceed.
Sitting in his home office in his pajamas, Case glanced at his watch. As much as he regretted what he had to do next, there was no alternative. It was after midnight in Dallas. He was about to disrupt two people's lives and make them very angry. Everything would be fine eventually, but in the short term it was going to be difficult.
The shrill ring of Brian's phone woke them both from a deep sleep.
"Listen closely," Case said after identifying himself. "There's something happening that you and Nicole Farber are suddenly part of. I'm going to apologize only once that I can't tell you anything more, but you and Miss Farber have to come with my agents. Now. They'll pick you up in front of your building in an hour."
"What?" Brian responded as he became more alert. "What do you mean? I can't just leave the gallery on a moment's notice. And Nicole? What does she have to do with this?"
Nicole sat up in bed and pulled the covers to her chest. His words were scaring her.
"Who is it?" she whispered.
"Hold on a moment," Brian said, turning to Nicole. "It's the director of the CIA. Some agents are picking us up in an hour."
"To go where?"
He put the phone on speaker and then said to Case, "We're not going anywhere. I've done what you asked so far, but Nicole and I have lives. Besides that, Nicole has nothing to do with any of this. If there was something that could help Harry and Jennifer and the girls, I'd go to the ends of the earth to do it. So would she. But they're dead. You guys can take it from here. I'm tired of all this."
"I was hoping it wouldn't come to this. This isn't a request, Mr. Sadler. You are both in grave danger. The two of you must come with my men in fifty-two minutes. Voluntarily or involuntarily – it's up to you. This is a matter of national security. And trust me, it will help us learn more about what happened to President Harrison and his family."
Given her background in criminal defense, a thousand thoughts flew through Nicole's mind. Were they being detained? It didn't sound like it, although they were certainly going somewhere one way or another – voluntarily or against their will.
"This is Nicole, Director Case. I'm an attorney. Under what authority are you ordering us to go with your men? Where and why are we going? Are we under arrest?"
"You are not under arrest, but if you refuse to come voluntarily, I will have you placed in the temporary custody of the agency. I can't tell you where you're going. All I can promise is that this will help in the loss of your friends. I regret doing it this way, but everything will be clear soon."
Brian didn't say a word as Case told them to plan for two weeks away from home, to pack casual clothes and expect very warm weather.
"Is this some kind of damned vacation?" Nicole shot back.
"Not in the least, Miss Farber. I'm sorry . . ."
"Yeah, we got that part."
"One last thing. Ninety minutes from now you won't have access to your phones for an extended period of time. Please make whatever arrangements you need for two weeks out of the office, and do it now."
"This is absolutely crazy," Brian exploded. "It's the middle of the night, for God's sake! If you think we're doing this –"
Case interrupted Brian calmly. Dear God, he wished this weren't how it was, even though he knew they'd be on board a hundred percent by this time tomorrow.
"I've told you this is a matter of natio
nal security. You have to go, period. Your help has been of immense value so far, and we need you now more than ever. My men will see you downstairs in . . . forty-seven minutes. If you're not there, they will come and get you."
"What about Nicole? Why's she included?"
But the phone was dead. Case had hung up.
Don Case felt like a heel. This guy had done nothing but cooperate. He was a civilian who happened to have been best friends with President Harrison, and they'd put him right in the middle of all this. He wished he could have been honest. It would have made things so much easier. What little he had told Brian and Nicole was true, but he hadn't told them much. The biggest thing they couldn't be told was that this sudden trip was to hide them from a murderer – Zarif Safwan.
Brian was torn between patriotism and his fiancée's welfare. Ever since the car wreck Nicole had been a fragile person. She was recovering slowly and steadily, but she was certainly not as strong as she once had been. His agreement to help the CIA was one thing, but including Nicole was another thing entirely.
No phones for a long time? Pack for warm weather? Away for two weeks?
"We're not going," he told Nicole flatly.
"You're wasting time. We are going. As much as I don't like it, he has the authority to do what he's doing. Obama signed a law in 2011 that gives the CIA wide powers in the fight against terrorism, even inside our borders." She got up and pulled a suitcase from the closet. "You'd better get ready."
"We're not terrorists. Surely our government can't threaten ordinary citizens and take them away against their will. Is that what the world is coming to?"
"That's not the point. Give it up. He can do what he says if we refuse to go. I just want you to do one thing. Do you have his direct number?"
"Yes."
"Call him back right now. Make sure that was really him and that we're not being handed over to kidnappers or something."
"Are you crazy? Kidnappers?"
"Crazy? Crazy? What part of all of this isn't? Just call and confirm so we don't get into a car with a couple of strangers and disappear forever."
He made the call and they began throwing clothes into suitcases. Thirty minutes later they took the elevator to the lobby. Waiting for them was a man with an earbud winding up from his shirt collar in typical government-agent fashion.
"Small change in plans," he said, ushering them toward the back and helping with their suitcases. "We're going out through the service doors."
Good thing I had him call the CIA guy, Nicole thought as they were whisked through narrow halls toward the rear entrance of the building. Otherwise I'd be scared as hell right now.
"Why are we going out through the back?"
"Those are my orders, ma'am. We need to hurry."
We need to hurry? What the hell's going on? Now she was getting scared.
A dark sedan with heavily tinted windows was idling by the trash dumpsters. As they sped away, the agent said, "Mr. Sadler and Miss Farber, tonight we'll be requiring your cooperation in the interest of national security. I apologize for the inconvenience, but I assure you all this is essential. You may use your cellphones until we reach Love Field. At that point I'll collect them and you'll get them back at a later time. If you have a laptop or a tablet – anything with GPS – we'll disable the location services features so that you may use them on the plane."
He handed them heavily tinted sunglasses like the ones people wear when they have their eyes dilated. "In a few minutes we'll ask you to put these on."
Suddenly Nicole had had enough. She lost her temper. "I'm getting a little tired of this 'in the interest of national security' shit you all throw around so easily! You already said we're going to Love Field. We don't need to hide our eyes. We know where it is."
"I'm sorry. Once we're at the airport, we'll ask you to put the glasses on for a few minutes while we take you onto the airport grounds. There are governmental facilities at Love that the public isn't aware of. For now, please feel free to use your phones."
"Thank you so much," Nicole muttered sarcastically.
Brian called his assistant Cory Spencer in the London gallery, where it was early morning. He brought him up to speed on a couple of urgent projects and said he was off for a couple of weeks on a secret mission he'd explain later. Cory wasn't surprised – he knew his boss would travel anywhere, anytime to see something exciting or unique. This wasn't the first time Brian had taken a sudden under-the-radar trip.
Nicole left a voicemail for her paralegal, telling her she and Brian had decided to take a last-minute fling outside the country. It sounded hokey and nothing like her, but it would have to do. A couple of court dates might have to be changed, but she had a lawyer buddy who'd make an appearance on her behalf if necessary. The other things she was working on were on the laptop with her.
As best they could in the limited time left, they firmed up things for two weeks away from the office.
They were on Lemmon Avenue now, heading along the east side of Love Field, where dozens of private aircraft were hangared. Several flight operations firms were also located on this side of the airport.
"Please put on the glasses and let me have your phones," the driver instructed.
With the dark shades on, they couldn't see a thing. They felt the car stop for a moment – probably at a security gate – then continue. When the car stopped again, nothing happened for a minute or so; then he said, "You may remove them now."
They were parked inside a private aircraft hangar and its giant door was closing behind them. A sleek Lear 70 business jet was the only plane in the cavernous building. The men ushered them on board, passed over their carry-ons and stowed their suitcases in a compartment at the back. All the window shades were lowered; when Brian reached to open the one next to him, the agent sitting opposite said, "Sorry, sir. The shades have to remain down for the entire flight."
They're going to extraordinary measures to keep us from even knowing what direction we're headed.
Within minutes the plane began moving, then made a U-turn and stopped as two pilots in the cockpit went through their final preflight checks. The plane's engines powered up, and seconds later the jet soared into the moonlit sky. Brian checked his watch; it was 2:28 a.m.
"How long will the flight take?"
"Around four and a half hours."
Long flight. Brian wondered how fast a Lear flew. Maybe five hundred miles an hour? He wasn't sure, but if that was in the ballpark, their destination was over two thousand miles from Dallas. He made a mental calculation – they could fly to Venezuela or Nova Scotia or Vancouver, British Columbia. He had no idea what to expect; he'd never experienced anything remotely similar to this clandestine operation. Not only didn't he know where they were going, he didn't even know why it was happening.
Nicole asked, "Is it okay to use my laptop and iPad?"
"Certainly. May I please see them for a moment? Yours too, Mr. Sadler." He checked for GPS, made some adjustments and returned them.
"I apologize again for the inconvenience. I've been told you will understand the reason for the secrecy once we reach our destination. I assure you this is a matter of national security."
Nicole was getting irritated. "Can you please just knock it off? I'm getting a little tired of national security."
Half an hour into the flight one of the agents went to a tiny galley area at the back of the plane. Soon they smelled the aroma of coffee brewing, and they both ordered a cup. He also offered sodas, wine, beer and water, and said he'd mix up a Bloody Mary if they liked.
Three hours after departure they had breakfast – a box containing an apple, a hard-boiled egg and a ham sandwich. As unappetizing as it seemed at first, they were hungry and devoured everything along with more coffee.
Four hours and twenty minutes after they left Dallas, Brian's ears began popping as the plane began a steady descent. The shades were still closed, so they felt rather than saw the plane's tires touch down.
"Ar
e we doing the dark glasses again?"
"No, sir. You're free to open the window shades now. I can't tell you anything – that'll be up to the people we hand you over to – but we appreciate your cooperation during the flight."
They looked out the windows as the plane's engines powered down. They were on a paved runway next to a sandy beach that ran down to clear blue water stretching endlessly away. The sun was just peeping up over the horizon. There was no other land in sight.
The agent opened the door and lowered the stairway, and a man in shorts and a T-shirt came onboard and stuck out his hand. There was a pistol in a holster on his waist; it looked out of place with his beach attire.
"Good morning, folks! I'm Special Agent Jackson Pope, CIA. I'll be taking over from here. Thanks, guys," he said to the two agents on the plane. "Have a safe flight home."
They looked around – there was lush vegetation everywhere but no buildings. Their clothes that had been comfortable in the middle of the night in Dallas were hot and sticky now. Nicole rolled up her sleeves and Brian took off his sweater.
As soon as the bags were offloaded, the door was pulled shut and the plane taxied to the end of the runway, then turned. Its engines whined louder and louder; then the pilot released the brakes and the jet screamed down the runway. They'd have to refuel somewhere along the way back, Brian thought idly as he watched the Lear heading away through wispy clouds.
They walked to an open-top Jeep Wrangler with no doors. As they drove away, they saw tall mountains covered in dense vegetation not far away.
"Where are we?"
"Only a little while longer," the CIA agent said with a smile. "I'm not authorized to speak with you about the mission. You won't be in the dark much longer now."
The mission?
The agent drove for several miles down a narrow dirt road that wound through lush tropical vegetation.
"We were told to pack for warm weather," Brian remarked. "Glad we took the advice. It's hot as hell here."
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