Titus Ray Thriller Box Set, page 90
part #1 of Titus Ray Series
“Let Douglas know what’s going on. I’ll try to squeeze in behind the van.”
I took out my sat phone and told Carlton what was happening on the ground, while Pike maneuvered the Renault through the crowded street and over to the side of the road.
Carlton said, “Some of the EAI staff are en route to your location with a full load of emergency kits. Whatever happens, you have to get Marwan out of there. I’ll patch you through to Dave, and the two of you can work out the details of how you’re going to make that happen.”
As Carlton was connecting me to Dave’s phone, I noticed one of the soldiers was already directing a group of people on the street over to the EAI van. Then, as Pike managed to park behind the van, Dave came on the line.
“What’s your status?” I asked. “Make it quick because you’re about to have company.”
“He’s out cold.”
“You mean Marwan?”
“Yeah. When those barrel bombs hit the buildings, we got shaken up pretty good. I think he must have hit his head. He’s been out ever since.”
“Is he still alive?”
“Other than the bump on his head, he seems fine.”
“Let’s hope that’s true.”
Chapter 40
Sometimes, in order to hide something, it’s better to put it out there in the open where everyone can see it. That’s what I suggested we do with Marwan, and Pike agreed.
Of course, there were certain risks involved in doing it this way, and as I considered those risks, I suddenly remembered the promise I’d made to Nikki.
“Promise me when you’re away, especially during those times when you’re required to take risks, you’ll remember I’m praying for you.”
I remembered.
I phoned Dave. “You and Finn grab the blankets I saw in the back of the van and start distributing them on the street. Leave the cargo doors open when you walk away from the van.”
“Gotcha.”
The moment Dave and Finn took the blankets out of the van and started walking up the street, Pike and I got out of the Renault, walked over to the van, and climbed inside.
Marwan was lying face up on the floor of the van with a large goose egg on the right side of his head. He was still unconscious, and I wanted him to stay that way, at least for now.
After Pike and I positioned ourselves on either side of him, we each grabbed one of his shoulders and pulled him into a sitting position, Then, we dragged him to the back of the van, where we placed his arms across our shoulders. At this point, we half-carried, half-dragged him back to the Renault.
Just as we laid him out across the backseat, I glanced up and saw the captain approaching the SUV.
“What’s happening here?” the captain asked, looking inside the window.
“We found this man on the side of the road over there,” I said, pointing in the direction of the EAI van. “He needs to see a doctor.”
The captain stared down at Marwan, studying his face as if he might look familiar. “Judging from his appearance, he wasn’t caught up in the blast. Do you know how he got hurt?”
I was counting on the captain thinking the unconscious man was a member of the rebel insurgency group. If that were true, I knew he would immediately check him for some form of identification.
Pike said, “We’re not sure how his injuries occurred.”
“Was there any identification on him?”
“Yes,” I said, handing over Marwan’s wallet. “it’s all in there.”
The captain riffled through the wallet until he came to an ID card showing Marwan was a member of Hezbollah’s executive council. Once he’d spotted the card, he immediately returned the wallet to me and said, “Get this man to a hospital immediately.”
The captain waved at the soldiers guarding the roadblock and told them to let us through the barriers. As soon as we cleared the area and headed south toward the safe house, Marwan began to moan.
A few seconds later, his eyelids began to flutter. That’s when I realized I’d left the black hood in the back of the van, which meant there was a real possibility Marwan would recognize that Keever Pike the journalist was, in reality, Keever Pike the spy.
In turn, this created the possibility—or perhaps the inevitability—the DDO wouldn’t be happy with me for allowing that to happen.
* * * *
As Marwan struggled to fully regain consciousness, I texted Carlton two short sentences updating him on our status. He immediately texted back he was sending Trudy over to the safe house to assess Marwan’s injuries.
Just as Pike pulled in the garage at the safe house, Marwan sat up.
He touched the knot on the side of his head. “What happened? Where am I?”
I put off answering his questions until we were inside the house, and then, the only thing I told him was that we were somewhere safe.
He nodded and didn’t ask any more questions about our location. As a long-time Hezbollah operative, I figured he knew I’d taken him to one of the Agency’s safe houses.
When we entered the kitchen, Pike stopped and grabbed some bottles of fruit juice out of the refrigerator, offering one to Marwan.
Marwan took the bottle, but then he walked over to me and pointed to the bump on his head. “Did you do this to me?”
At that moment, I was tempted to tell him he’d been knocked unconscious as a taste of what could happen to him if he didn’t cooperate with us. After thinking about it for a moment, I decided it was time to stop playing psychological games with him.
“No, that happened when the van you were riding in happened to be on Asaker Road when the Syrian Air Force decided to dump a couple of barrel bombs on their own citizens. Those explosions shook the van and caused you to hit your head. You can blame President Assad for that knot on your head.”
“Naballah has condemned President Assad for targeting the Damascus neighborhoods,” he said. “Hezbollah would never do such a thing.”
I seriously doubted his assertion.
Barrel bombs were simply large metal containers filled with high explosives and shrapnel and dropped out of helicopters. However, Hezbollah often used those same kinds of devices to target Israeli troops in Lebanon or American troops in Iraq. Instead of using helicopters, though, they placed the containers on trucks and drove them to a crowded location, using a detonator to explode the devices.
“Since you brought up the subject of Naballah, are you ready to answer my questions now?” I asked.
Marwan sat down on the sofa across from Pike and ignored me. After staring at Pike for several seconds, he asked, “Aren’t you the American journalist who’s been reporting on the civil war for The Times?”
“The same,” Pike said, seemingly unconcerned about being identified.
“Do you also work for them?” Marwan asked, pointing his finger over at me.
When Pike nodded, Marwan said, “I don’t imagine they’re holding your wife and daughter prisoner so you’ll cooperate with them, are they?”
“No, I more or less volunteered for this job.”
I said, “Your wife and daughter haven’t been harmed, Marwan. I’ll prove it to you once you’ve answered my questions about Naballah.”
“Prove it to me? You mean you’ll show me another video?”
“No, if you answer my questions truthfully, you’ll be able to talk with them in real time.” I glanced at my watch. “In fact, it’s possible you could speak to them within the hour.”
Marwan sighed and lowered his head a moment, looking as if he might be ashamed of what he was about to say.
“What do you want to know?” he asked.
I wanted to know everything.
* * * *
I reminded Marwan of the conversation we’d had in Buenos Aires on Friday when I’d asked him about why he’d been invited to the meeting with General Suleiman.
“I asked you what advice Naballah wanted you to give the general. At that time, you said you didn’t know. That wasn’t true, was it?”
He shook his head. “No, that wasn’t true. When Naballah ordered me to be at the meeting, he said I needed to convince General Suleiman our partnership with the Zeta cartel is reliable. He also wants me to explain how this partnership has allowed our operatives to set up sleeper cells in the U.S.”
“Are the cells connected to the general’s plans for the chemical weapons?”
“I don’t know anything about how General Suleiman plans to use the weapons. Naballah just told me I should emphasize how easily the cartel is able to move their product into the United States. He told me to discuss the cartel’s delivery options and shipping methods, and he said to talk about their reliability.”
“Did he tell you why you needed to convince the general of the cartel’s reliability?”
“Naballah never gives me a reason when he issues an order.”
Marwan acted as if he might be about to add something to his statement, so I waited a second before questioning him further. But, instead of saying anything, he grabbed the bottle of juice he’d been drinking and drained it dry.
When he put it back down on the table, I noticed his right thumb was twitching. It was the same nervous gesture I’d seen him make in Buenos Aires whenever I’d mentioned the chemical weapons.
Pike asked, “Would you like something else to drink?”
“Let’s have Marwan finish what he was about to say first,” I said. “What were you about to tell us about the gas canisters?”
Marwan looked surprised at my question, but then he nodded and said, “Naballah didn’t have to give me a reason why it was important for the general to hear how reliable the cartel was. I already knew why he wanted me to emphasize that.”
He took a deep breath.
Later, I knew that was the moment he’d decided to cross the deep chasm of betrayal from which there would be no return.
“As soon as Naballah made the agreement with the Iranians to take possession of the remainder of Syria’s chemical weapons, he had me contact one of the lieutenants in the Los Zetas organization. The man’s name is Franco Cabello. He’s the—”
“We know Cabello,” I said. “He’s the mastermind behind Los Zetas’ smuggling operations. Why did Naballah have you contact him?”
“The agreement Naballah made with General Suleiman when he acquired the weapons was that some of the canisters would be transferred to a small contingent of Hezbollah fighters stationed on Margarita Island. These were the recruits trained by Rehman Zaidi. The general wanted them to smuggle the canisters into the U.S.”
Marwan looked away for a second. I couldn’t tell whether he was reluctant to give me this information or he was just trying to remember the details.
He continued, “Naballah didn’t believe Suleiman’s plan would work, though. The sheikh didn’t think the Venezuelan recruits had the expertise to do the job. That’s why Naballah had me contact Cabello. Once I started negotiations with Los Zetas, he realized they had the means to get the weapons into the U.S. without putting the entire Hezbollah organization at risk.”
“So Naballah entered into a contract with Los Zetas?”
Marwan nodded. “It was strictly a cash for services agreement.”
Up to this point, Pike hadn’t said anything and allowed me to do the questioning. Now, though, he put on his journalist’s hat and proceeded to question Marwan himself.
“Just to clarify your point. Are you saying Naballah went against the general’s orders and handed the chemical weapons over to the drug cartel instead of giving them to the Hezbollah fighters trained by Zaidi?”
“That’s right.”
“How many canisters are we talking about here?” Pike asked.
“The agreement was for two shipping containers, which would be two hundred canisters.”
Pike raised his eyebrows as if he’d never heard this number before. “That’s a lot of sarin gas. So tell me about the agreement you worked out with Cabello. How does he plan to take possession of the canisters?”
“After Naballah gave him the names of the ships carrying the chemical weapons and their approximate time of arrival in Cuba, Cabello refused to give out the specifics of his operation. He didn’t give Naballah any details of the offloading procedure or how he planned to transport the canisters to the U.S.”
“And Naballah agreed to this?”
Marwan nodded and looked down at his feet. “I’m assuming Los Zetas has already taken possession of those canisters by now. They’re probably on their way to the States at this moment.”
Pike and I made eye contact.
We’d come to a pivotal juncture in the interrogation process, and we both knew it. I also figured Marwan knew it, and he was just waiting for one of us to ask him the critical question. Once we did, he’d try to wring some more concessions from us.
I asked him the question.
“If Los Zetas has taken possession of the gas canisters, what happens next?”
Marwan looked me in the eye. “Before I give you that information, do I have your word you’ll protect me and my family?”
I nodded. “You have my word.”
We both stared at each for a few seconds; one of us wanting to believe the other; one of us willing the other to believe.
Finally he said, “Franco Cabello will call Naballah on Saturday morning, just before Suleiman arrives. At that time, he’ll let him know the timing of when the canisters will arrive in Washington and the procedure for turning them over.”
“I’m guessing Naballah wants you there with him so you can translate for him during that conversation?”
“That’s right.”
I tried to refrain from showing any emotion on the outside, but on the inside, I was doing cartwheels.
Forty-eight hours from now, we might not only know the details of how Suleiman planned to attack Washington, but also the location of the missing canisters.
Whether it was the stress of revealing this information, or the blow he’d suffered to his head, Marwan lowered his head and began massaging his temples.
“Could I have something for this headache?” he asked.
Although I hated to admit it, having access to this vital intel was totally dependent on one man, and, right now, he wasn’t looking too good.
* * * *
When Pike got up to get Marwan some aspirin, the security system surrounding the outside perimeter of the safe house suddenly sounded an alert.
Pike and I both drew our weapons.
However, within seconds, we determined the alarm had been triggered by Trudy, who was standing at the front door holding her medical bag. She apologized as soon as Pike let her inside.
“I guess I should have let you know I was on my way over,” she said, eyeing Pike’s gun, “but I thought you knew I was coming.”
“My bad,” Pike said. “We were in the middle of something.”
“You’re just in time,” I said, pointing over at Marwan. “Here’s your patient, and he’s complaining of a headache.”
Marwan was less than enthusiastic when he realized Trudy was about to examine his head, but she ignored his skittishness and ran her fingers gently over the bruised area at the edge of his scalp.
After answering her questions, he appeared to relax a little. Seconds later, when Trudy got right up next to him in order to examine his pupils with her penlight, I saw the shadow of a smile flit across his face.
I figured Pike, who couldn’t take his eyes off of Trudy, had also observed Marwan’s behavior because he immediately asked, “So what’s the verdict? Will the patient die anytime soon?”
Marwan didn’t seem to find Pike’s question amusing.
Trudy put her penlight away and said, “I’m certain he’s going to die one day, but, for now, he’ll probably just have a headache for a few hours. As far as I can tell, he’s fine.”
“In that case,” I said, “I believe it’s time for us to make a phone call to Caracas.”
Marwan looked as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “I can speak to my wife and daughter now?”
Before I had a chance to respond, Trudy looked over at me and said, “There’s something we need to discuss first.” She pointed up to the loft. “We should probably go upstairs to do that.”
Pike remained in the living room with Marwan, while I followed Trudy up to the loft. As soon as we reached the landing, I asked, “What’s wrong? Is Marwan really okay?”
“He’ll be fine. This has nothing to do with Marwan.”
Trudy walked over to a computer and typed in some numbers. “The Ops Center will be updating Mr. Carlton in a few minutes, and he wants you in on the call.”
“Has something happened?”
“I don’t know the details yet, but I heard Ben Mitchell missed his last scheduled check in with the RTM Center. That was several hours ago.”
I was running through some possibilities in my head and didn’t respond. What happened, Ben? Where are you?
Trudy must have thought my silence meant I was worried about Mitchell.
“Don’t worry. He could be following a lead on the missing canisters, or maybe he lost track of time.”
“I’m not worried.”
What happened, Ben? Where are you?
Chapter 41
As soon as I sat down at the conference table, Carlton’s face filled up the video monitor’s screen. Within a few seconds, Trudy had changed the view to the picture-in-a-picture option, reducing Carlton’s feed to a small square at the bottom of the video. The rest of the screen stayed blank.
Carlton must have sensed I was about to ask him a question.
“Don’t start quizzing me about what’s going on in Cuba,” he said. “I won’t answer any questions until after we hear from C.J.”
“That’s fine,” I said, even though it wasn’t.
“While we’re waiting, give me an update on Marwan. Have you had a chance to question him? Is he okay?”
