Arden rocked her hand back and forth. “Switzerland has an extradition treaty with the United States. Even so, they don’t generally allow themselves to be sucked into the fray between nation-states. But it’s likely that they’d just simply deny you admission and that would be that.”
“Anyplace else?”
“Are we looking at just Europe?”
“Yes. Or anything within driving, train, or boat distance. I don’t want to deal with airport security.”
“Ukraine, Croatia, the Western Sahara, but why anyone would go there is beyond me because prison would be better, and Russia might cut a deal, but the operative term is ‘deal.’ You’d have to have something that they want. And the leadership is stocked with a bunch of fickle bastards. They’ll help you out if the deal is good, but will just as quickly toss you out when you no longer serve their needs.”
“So if the United States demanded my extradition, just about every country would send me packing.”
Arden paused. “Well, I don’t think you’re framing the question right. You may have more options than you think.”
“That sounds hopeful. How should I frame it?”
“It’s not the United States that will be gunning for you, it’s the Saudis. It was their embassy that you infiltrated, so they’re going to be the ones asking for extradition. And they have refused extradition treaties with a whole host of states, so when they come begging for assistance it’s likely that their lack of cooperation will be thrown back in their face.”
“Excellent. Run down the countries that won’t agree to extradite if the Saudis request it. Is Switzerland back on that list?”
“Yes it is.”
Smith turned a corner and glanced again in the rearview mirror. As far as he could tell they weren’t being followed.
“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Arden said. “I deserve an explanation, because it’s now abundantly clear to me that you used me and pushed for an invitation to that party because you knew that your colleague was there.”
“Not true. I knew someone was there, but I’m just as surprised as you are that it was Dr. Taylor.”
“Who did you expect?”
He shook his head. “I can’t tell you that.” She looked prepared to argue and he held up a hand.
“I’m not done with my questions. What if we take Dr. Taylor to the police and she files charges?”
“Against the embassy personnel?”
Smith nodded. “Yes. What happens then?”
“Nothing. They’ve all got diplomatic immunity, which may go a long way to explaining why they were holding her there. Worst-case scenario is the perpetrators get sent home, Saudi Arabia issues an apology, and a new crew takes their place. Case closed.”
“What about me? Do I have immunity?”
“Not unless you’re a diplomat.”
“I’m not.”
“Then no.”
“So they can get off scot-free for kidnapping Taylor, but I can be arrested for breaking her out?”
Arden sighed. “Look, I know where you’re headed with this, and it doesn’t seem right, but that’s how it is. Without diplomatic immunity countries would play endless games with the representatives of other countries. Arresting them, imprisoning them, you name it.”
“You see why I don’t think we should go to the police. What good will it do?”
“What is it that you do want to happen?”
“I’m going to France. From there I’ll drive to Switzerland, and once there I’m going to see that Taylor is put on a flight home.”
“Why not just drive to Heathrow and drop her at the entrance? Put her on a plane?”
“Because this country has too many cameras that will trace our every step and provide an easy way to track us and because I think they’re trumping up charges against me and”—he gave her a pointed look—“you as we speak.”
Arden snorted. “Me? What for? I did nothing.”
“Not true. You brought me to the party as your guest and you’re on camera in that basement helping me break Taylor out. You provided me with the gun that was used and they might even claim that you had a hand in the explosion. And you have a motive, because you bear a well-known grudge against the Saudis for what you perceive to be their dismal record on human rights.”
“I don’t perceive anything. It’s the truth. Their record speaks for itself and it’s dreadful.”
Smith took a turn and followed a sign pointing them to Dover and the Channel Tunnel. He merged onto the M20 and accelerated. Arden raised an eyebrow and then groaned, put her head back, and closed her eyes.
“I’ll need my clothes and money. They’re all back in my hotel,” she said.
“And a passport,” Smith said.
“I don’t go anywhere without that. It’s in my purse.”
“Will they have flagged them by now?”
Arden cocked her head to the side. “Takes a while for an Interpol notice to go up. We might still be safe.”
“I’ll cover you.”
She slid one eye open and looked at him. “You said that at the reception and look where that got us.”
Smith watched the rearview mirror and saw that they had a new problem on their hands.
They were being followed.
37
President Castilla requested Klein’s presence at a DC fund-raiser twenty minutes after he’d received the call from the U.S. embassy in London. Ten minutes later, Klein strode into the green room where the president was waiting to be ushered onto a stage for a speech. The president spotted him and his face revealed a mixture of relief and concern.
“Fred, so good to see you again. Ladies and gentlemen, give me a moment here? Mr. Klein and I are old friends and would like a quick catch-up in private.” Castilla spoke to the assembled aides, liaisons, and members of the Secret Service.
“You have twenty minutes, sir,” an aide said. Castilla acknowledged her with a nod and waited while the people in the room filed out.
“Is this room secure?” Klein asked.
Castilla nodded. “Just swept for bugs no longer than fifteen minutes ago, so probably far safer than most. I saw the news reports about the Saudi embassy. So much for getting this mission accomplished without creating an international incident,” Castilla said.
“What are the Saudis saying?” Klein asked.
Castilla waved him to a chair. “The Saudis are furious and crying foul. They claim that a spy managed by us breached their security and attacked their London embassy.”
“They’re crying foul? They’re the ones that kidnapped a respected scientist and U.S. citizen. What did they expect?”
“They’re claiming that she deliberately used her aerosolized memory drug against a member of the Saudi diplomatic corps and that they were detaining her to question her about it. They said that they intended to hand her over to us when they were finished. Frankly, I think this also has a lot to do with their anger at us for reopening communications with Iran. Add to that their claims that a U.S. military researcher tested her products on an unsuspecting diplomat, the implementation of fake vaccine programs, and the recent revelations that we’ve been spying on our friends and enemies alike and they’re boiling mad.”
“Do they know for sure it was us?”
Castilla shook his head. “Not yet. They said that they’re still working on the video feed, but they seem certain that it will turn out to be us.”
Klein nodded. “That’s because they know the game is up and we have her.”
Castilla frowned. “But Rendel’s still missing. Give me some more information about this Dr. Taylor.”
“She’s a researcher at USAMRIID working on a treatment for post-traumatic stress disorder and currently on medical leave for mental issues.”
“Mental issues? That doesn’t bode well for her. Is she the one who may have taken Smith’s keycard and raised the FBI’s hackles? You think she stole the vials and was attempting to sell them on the blac
k market?”
Klein sat down. “I don’t think so. Russell called in and said that Taylor appeared to be a prisoner, not a co-conspirator.”
“Where is she now?”
“She, Smith, and Katherine Arden, the human rights attorney, are in a car driving through London.”
Castilla frowned. “Why did he bring an attorney and outsider into this? It’s bad enough that the Saudis suspect us.”
“It seems as though when the mission went south it went badly south. She was present, saw it go down, and now he’s keeping her near and trying to contain the damage.”
Castilla was up and pacing. “So we’re no closer to finding Rendel and we have an international incident on our hands.”
Klein sighed. “I’m sorry, but that seems to be the case.”
“What about Warner? Has he been able to remember anything that occurred?”
“Nothing at all, but given the extent of his injuries we may have to assume that he cracked under torture. If so, and they’re doing the same to Rendel as we speak, then the drone program is well on its way to being compromised. I understand that each password revealed aids a computer hacker tremendously.”
Castilla nodded. “I expected as much. All the passwords have been changed and the monitoring personnel put on alert that if one device begins to act strangely it’s to be pulled out of service. I’ve also ordered all of the available equipment scanned and analyzed for any changes or alterations.”
There was a tap on the door.
“Come in,” Castilla said. The door opened and the aide stood there.
“A call from London, sir. The prime minister wants to speak to you.”
“Give me a few minutes more. Let him know that I’m getting ready to give a speech, so that the conversation will have to be a short one until after the fund-raiser.” The aide nodded and retreated, closing the door behind her.
“He’s an ally at least,” Klein said.
Castilla grimaced. “He’s furious. Apparently he feels as though we could have picked another location to try to infiltrate the embassy and left his country out of it.”
Klein gave a sharp laugh. “Just how does he think we could have done that? They were holding her in London.”
“Preliminary investigation shows evidence that she had been moved several times and through various countries. Of course, the evidence is relevant only in light of what we now know. He’s Monday-morning quarterbacking and arguing that we should have been able to pinpoint her movements sooner and intercepted before she was moved to the UK. Now he has the Saudis pressuring him to pull out all the stops to investigate the break-in. I’m afraid Smith is on his own. I’m not going to throw him to the dogs right away, but if he’s captured I’m going to have to tread very lightly.”
“He understands that. Every Covert-One operative does. But I would ask that you delay any official response until I can get a handle on what’s going on here. There appears to be a strange mixture of events that I don’t like. What do drones and pathogens have in common?”
“One’s a killer and the other is a delivery method,” Castilla said.
“My thoughts exactly,” Klein said. “And it’s especially worrisome that Taylor told Smith she was being forced to work on an aerosolized version of her memory wiping drug. Disperse it over an area and subject those below to amnesia. I asked him if it was possible that one drug creates different effects for different people and he said it absolutely could. Just think about the long list of side effects that accompanies most of the drugs you purchase. There can be thirty or forty listed for one pill. Each person reacts differently.”
“Collect every bit of information that you can about this Dr. Taylor. Let’s look into any possible intersections among her, Rendel, and Warner.”
“And Meccean. Don’t forget him,” Klein said.
“And Meccean. And tell me, what are the odds that Smith will make it out of the UK without detection?”
Klein shook his head. “I can’t tell you. The UK authorities have a camera on every corner and all UK citizens can be watched whenever they’re outside. He’s in a car and they don’t have the plates as yet, but if he passes by one camera while driving then his face will be registered.”
“It’s probably about the worst place he could be right now.”
“Agreed,” Klein said. “Can you slow down the manhunt?”
“I’ll try to hold off Interpol. If they issue an international warrant, then the moment he tries to enter another country he’ll be flagged. In the meantime, let’s increase our efforts to find Rendel and hope that Smith can elude his pursuers long enough to get some intelligence out of Taylor. We need to hear from her what’s going on.”
“Agreed. He’s been told to go dark, but I know of a way to reach him.”
“And how’s that?” Castilla asked.
Klein smiled. “That’s our secret.”
Castilla raised an eyebrow. “That you can’t even share with me?”
“Better safe than sorry. Good luck with the prime minister.” Klein headed to the door.
38
Arden turned in the seat to gaze out the back window. “Which car is it?”
“Black sedan, two cars back.”
“How do you think they found us?”
Smith figured that the crew behind him was involved with the man who had attacked Howell. If they weren’t and were actually security forces tracking him from the embassy then they must have decoded the video feed a lot quicker than he had expected. He ran through the other options. His phone was a prepaid one and only Marty knew its tracking signature, so he doubted that it was the culprit. A thought occurred to him.
“Is your phone on?”
Arden nodded.
“Turn it off and remove the battery. They could be tracking it.”
Arden dug the phone out of her purse and turned it off. “Why remove the battery? I know they can track it while on, but isn’t turning it off enough?”
“No.” Smith was annoyed with himself. Forgetting to warn Arden to turn off her cell phone was a piece of sloppy work. The whole mission had spiraled downward so fast that he was making crucial errors. He needed to come up with a plan to lose Howell’s attackers and fast.
“We need to shake the tail, ditch this car, and acquire a new one,” he said.
Arden was watching the side-view mirror. “That’s a lot.”
“Smith.” Beckmann’s voice rang in his ear, causing Smith to jerk the steering wheel in surprise. The car veered a bit off course and Arden stopped monitoring the action in the side-view mirror long enough to shoot him a look.
“What happened? Are you okay?”
“Sorry,” Beckmann said.
“Sorry,” Smith said to Arden.
“Just want you to know that Marty tracked your phone for us and Russell and I are behind you in a stolen silver Vauxhall Corsa. It’s got an engine the size of a sewing machine and I apologize for that. I wanted to steal the brand-new Jaguar F-Type parked next to it, but Russell wouldn’t let me. Too flashy. She said everyone seems to have a Corsa in the UK, so you’ll blend in better. Can you drive stick?”
“I can drive a stick shift. Can you?” Smith said to Arden.
“That’s an odd question. Yes, I can. Are you okay?” she asked.
“Just planning for our next car.”
“Got it,” Beckmann said. “We’re going to take out the black car that’s following you. After we do, we’ll make the switch. We’ll collect Taylor for debriefing, and you and Arden hit it out of here. Stay on course.”
Smith maintained his speed, keeping to the left and being sure to keep a steady pace. He couldn’t see the Corsa, but that may have been a function of the darkness more than anything.
“Is Taylor still sleeping?” he asked. Arden glanced behind her.
“She’s out. I feel sorry for her.”
“Can you wake her up? I have something important to tell her.”
Arden leaned back and shook
Taylor, who moaned and dragged herself into a sitting position.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“We’re being chased. By whom, I don’t know, but behind them is another car and in that car are two people I do know. When they’re done neutralizing the threat they’re going to take you to safety,” Smith said.
Taylor looked out the rear window. “Which car are they in? The black one?”
Smith shook his head. “Silver. But it may be back a bit farther; I can’t see it.”
“Who are they?”
“CIA.”
Taylor shook her head back and forth. “No, no, no. No CIA. I don’t trust them.”
Arden smiled. “Smart woman.”
Smith rolled his eyes. “Don’t encourage her,” he said to Arden. She shrugged and returned her attention to the side-view mirror. He caught Taylor’s gaze in the rearview. “I know these two. You can trust them. Besides, I don’t think that we have any real options right now. You need to get to safety and Arden and I need to go underground until this thing cools off.”
“Are they in that silver car that just pulled alongside the black one?” Arden asked.
Smith checked behind them and saw a small car pacing the black one. The black accelerated away and closed the distance between them. The silver car lost ground.
“I think so,” Smith said.
“I don’t know a whole lot about cars, but can that small one really keep up?” Arden asked.
Smith agreed with Arden, but there was nothing for it but to let it play out. He stomped on the gas and the town car accelerated in a smooth climb. He was thankful for the late hour, because the highway was fairly empty and he was able to cut around the slower vehicles with relative ease.
“You said you can shoot. How well?” he asked Arden.
“Well enough. Why?”
He reached around, pulled her gun out of his waistband, and held it out to her. “Here. Be prepared to shoot through the black car’s driver’s-side window.” She pressed back against the door and away from the proffered weapon.
The Geneva Strategy Page 17