Termination Orders (9 page)
Read Termination Orders Online
Authors: Leo J. Maloney
“No!” said Fastia, falling to his knees, his voice breaking. Morgan jumped to his feet.
“Let’s go, Kadir,” said Morgan. “It’s over.”
“No! It’s not over yet! Pick up your gun and shoot!”
“Let’s say I do that. What then? Do you think they’re just going to give you and your wife and daughter safe passage to the US if you disobey orders? Trust me, Kadir, we’re your only friends right now, and we’re telling you, it’s over.”
“Why would they stop us? Why?”
“We might never know,” said Morgan. “The suits always have their reasons. All we can do is hope that they made the right call.”
Conley was at the door. “Cobra, we gotta go.”
Fastia gave a last bitter look through the window, where the crowd cheered wildly for Gaddafi. Resigned, he said, “He lives, then.”
“And so do we, Kadir,” said Morgan. “Come on. The clock is ticking.”
Slipping out of the building and back into their sedan, Morgan, Conley, and Fastia drove to an air base where Fastia had arranged for a military aircraft with a flight plan to Egypt; once in the air, they would divert their course to London. Fastia’s family had already boarded and sat waiting for them. They would eventually fly to America, to start a new life. With two guards killed and the Russian weapon left behind, Gaddafi would discover there had been an assassination attempt on his life. There would be repercussions. Lives would be lost. But nothing would ever be tied back to the CIA. The dictator himself would rule for years more before being toppled by a Western-backed popular uprising.
“Well, Kadir?” asked Morgan.
Fastia took a puff from his cigar and let the smoke flow slowly out of his mouth. A child’s exuberant laughter came from outside his office.
“Tell me something,” he asked Morgan. “You have a family, like me. A home, a child. You are a different man now, with a different life. Does the past call you so strongly that you would leave it all behind on the spur of the moment?”
“I thought you, of all people, would understand,” said Morgan.
“It has been a long time since I left Libya,” said Fastia. “I have changed much since then. And history, as it seems, does catch up eventually.”
“Did they ever tell you why they aborted the Libya mission? Why they chose to let Gaddafi remain in power when we could have eliminated him back then?”
A sudden intensity came into Fastia’s eyes, and then he sighed deeply, as if trying to soothe a profound pain. “The geopolitical circumstances changed abruptly. That, or OPEC interceded on the butcher’s behalf. What does it matter?” Changing the subject, he asked, “Do you still call yourself Cobra?”
“If I have to,” Morgan said simply.
Fastia put out his cigarette in an ashtray on his desk. “I will need money,” said Fastia. “I will not charge you my normal fees, but the airplane and the asset in Afghanistan will not come cheap.”
“I have the money, Kadir. I need to know if you can deliver.”
Fastia took a deep breath. “Yes, Cobra. I will help you. For Cougar’s sake, and for yours.”
C
HAPTER
10
HAPTER
10
L
eo Guzman’s fingers flew across the keyboard. It was daytime, but his little nook was a dark burrow. The daylight, he found, would set his biological clock to a day-and-night cycle, which interfered with the alternative sleep cycle he was training himself to follow. At the moment, he was interspersing bouts of furious typing with sips of an energy drink. He was hitting the sweet spot, his wired mind racing, and feeling in a very real sense, as he often did at this job, that he had the world at his fingertips. He was concentrating so deeply and intensely that he didn’t even notice the knock on the door; he only saw the light streaming in from the hallway outside when someone opened it.
eo Guzman’s fingers flew across the keyboard. It was daytime, but his little nook was a dark burrow. The daylight, he found, would set his biological clock to a day-and-night cycle, which interfered with the alternative sleep cycle he was training himself to follow. At the moment, he was interspersing bouts of furious typing with sips of an energy drink. He was hitting the sweet spot, his wired mind racing, and feeling in a very real sense, as he often did at this job, that he had the world at his fingertips. He was concentrating so deeply and intensely that he didn’t even notice the knock on the door; he only saw the light streaming in from the hallway outside when someone opened it.
“Guzman?” he heard coming from behind him.
He swiveled around in his chair, mildly irritated at the interruption. “Oh, hey, Plante, can I help you?”
“I need you to run a trace on a phone.”
“Got the number?”
Plante told him. “Think I can get a real-time feed of the trace at my desk?”
“What, did you think I’d make you look over my shoulder?” said Guzman, grinning.
“Oh, and one more thing. Think you can keep this one quiet, too?”
“Be careful, Plante. Someone might think we’re running some kind of covert intelligence-gathering operation or something.”
Plante grinned at the joke.
“Anyway, it’ll be ready by the time you’re back at your workstation.”
“Appreciated, Guzman.”
“You got it.”
Plante closed the door, and the room was plunged back into its previous denlike darkness. With a few strokes of the keyboard, Guzman began to run the trace. The program connected surprisingly fast, immediately placing the cell phone in a residential neighborhood in Bethesda. He noted the speed only long enough to deduce that someone else must be tracing that same number. But having done what Plante asked, he only cursed the disruption and began to work himself back into sublime hyperconcentration.
C
HAPTER
11
HAPTER
11
“
I
hope you understand, Barry, that this is a career ender.” Nickerson watched with well-concealed pleasure as the young senator squirmed in his seat. It had been over a full minute since he had set the pictures down in front of the man, and Lamb still hadn’t taken his eyes away from them. “If the media got ahold of this . . . I mean, we can already see the story play out, can’t we? Senator Lamb caught with a pretty young thing named Erika Dillon. Speculations abound on whether she’s a call girl. Political base disgusted. Your own party dumps you like a barrel of toxic waste.”
I
hope you understand, Barry, that this is a career ender.” Nickerson watched with well-concealed pleasure as the young senator squirmed in his seat. It had been over a full minute since he had set the pictures down in front of the man, and Lamb still hadn’t taken his eyes away from them. “If the media got ahold of this . . . I mean, we can already see the story play out, can’t we? Senator Lamb caught with a pretty young thing named Erika Dillon. Speculations abound on whether she’s a call girl. Political base disgusted. Your own party dumps you like a barrel of toxic waste.”
“What—” said Lamb, trying to keep his voice steady. “What do you want?”
They were in Nickerson’s office. Nickerson had pulled the drapes shut for a claustrophobic effect and left his standing lamp as the only light source. It cast enormous dark shadows on the walls. It looked, he observed with pleasure, like an interrogation room.
“Barry . . .” said Nickerson. “Barry, Barry, Barry. What kind of man do you suppose I am? I hope you see this for what it is. I hope you realize that this is me helping you.”
“
Helping
me?” said Lamb. He was sweating. And Nickerson loved to watch them sweat. He loved that special blend of shame and fear they got when they sat in that chair. He wondered if Lamb would cry.
Helping
me?” said Lamb. He was sweating. And Nickerson loved to watch them sweat. He loved that special blend of shame and fear they got when they sat in that chair. He wondered if Lamb would cry.
“Why, Barry, this is your second chance. Your new lease on life.”
“What are you talking about? Oh, Jesus . . .” Lamb rubbed his temples.
“Think about it. If these pictures were in someone else’s possession . . . How many people do you know who would not immediately turn them over to the press? No, Barry, this is good news. This is your wake-up call. This is when you are confronted by your folly, Senator Lamb, and given the chance to turn things around.”
“Do you mean—”
“That I’m not going public with this? Of course not! Give me more credit than that, Lamb. I do not destroy a man’s life lightly.”
Lamb let out a sigh of relief, but his anxiety did not leave his face, and he still glanced nervously at the photographs every few seconds.
“Of course,” said Nickerson, “courtesy does go both ways, does it not?”
“What d-do you m-mean?” Lamb stammered. He was beyond the deer-in-the-headlights stage now. He fidgeted nervously with his hands.
“I mean, I need a stalwart ally on the Intelligence Committee. I believe we are going astray in the push for greater oversight.”
“Ah,” said Lamb, as it dawned on him. “So this is the price of your friendship?”
“It’s crass to talk about price. What we face here is a gentlemen’s agreement. A mutually beneficial relationship.”
“It’s blackmail. That’s what this is.” Lamb’s fists were balled up white.
Nickerson’s expression grew cold and flat, but he said nothing.
“I see what you are now, Nickerson. Jesus Christ, and to think you’ve actually got a reputation as a—Listen. I won’t be bullied, Nickerson. Do what you will. I’m not folding.”
Nickerson nodded. “I suppose I have to respect your integrity. Say, what do you think will make a bigger splash, Lamb—sending these to a reputable newspaper or going tabloid?”
Lamb stood up to face him. “You wouldn’t!”
“I suppose we could always split the difference and do both. What do you think?”
“Nickerson . . .” he said, pleading.
“Or maybe we trickle them out online,” Nickerson continued, ignoring him. “Make a game of how long we can keep this in the news cycle.”
“Please don’t do this,” said Lamb.
“
Or
,” said Nickerson, “you have a change of heart in the next three days and come out officially against Intelligence oversight.”
Or
,” said Nickerson, “you have a change of heart in the next three days and come out officially against Intelligence oversight.”
“I can’t just—”
“You can, Senator Lamb, and if you have any love for your career or your marriage, you will.”
Lamb just stood there, speechless and forlorn. The phone rang.
“You can go now,” said Nickerson. “I’ll be expecting news of your change of heart.”
C
HAPTER
12
HAPTER
12
D
an Morgan walked out onto the tarmac, the sun shining on his face, as the plane Fastia had arranged awaited him, door open and engines running. They had made all the arrangements with a man in Afghanistan, and Morgan had called Jenny and told her the CIA wanted to keep him around for a few more days. He told her he wouldn’t have his cell phone for security reasons but that he would call her when he could. He didn’t like lying to her, and the thought of breaking his promise made him sick. But he had to do this, and he had to keep it a secret, even from her. He couldn’t let the CIA find out about it, and they had their ways. For all he knew, they were tapping his home phone.
an Morgan walked out onto the tarmac, the sun shining on his face, as the plane Fastia had arranged awaited him, door open and engines running. They had made all the arrangements with a man in Afghanistan, and Morgan had called Jenny and told her the CIA wanted to keep him around for a few more days. He told her he wouldn’t have his cell phone for security reasons but that he would call her when he could. He didn’t like lying to her, and the thought of breaking his promise made him sick. But he had to do this, and he had to keep it a secret, even from her. He couldn’t let the CIA find out about it, and they had their ways. For all he knew, they were tapping his home phone.
“Cobra!” someone shouted from behind him. Alarmed, he turned around and saw Eric Plante jogging to catch up with him.
That didn’t take long,
he thought.
That didn’t take long,
he thought.
“What are you doing here, Plante?” Morgan asked. “You could have just called if you needed me for anything else.”
“Come off it, Cobra. I know you’re going to Afghanistan.”
“Afghanistan?” said Morgan, laughing incredulously. “I’m going home.”
“In a private jet piloted by Kadir Fastia?” Plante asked, with a knowing smile.
“I thought I’d catch up with an old friend on the way,” Morgan said.
“Right. Of course you did.”
Morgan sighed. “How’d you find me?”
“Cell phone.”
Morgan took his phone out of his pocket and stared at it. He’d turned it off but had left the battery in. He cursed himself. Rookie mistake.
“These things make it almost too easy, don’t they?” said Plante. “Listen, Cobra. I can’t say much, but since you’re determined to go through with it, I’ll tell you this much. You might not have gotten the whole story back at headquarters.”
“What are you saying? Did Kline make you hold back?” asked Morgan.
“Kline doesn’t know everything, either.”
“What are you telling me?”
“Just be careful out there,” said Plante. “Marwat isn’t the only enemy you should watch out for.”
“Plante, if you know something, I need you to tell me now,” he said impatiently.
“All I know is this: Marwat isn’t getting the opium out of Afghanistan by himself.”
“Then who is involved?” pressed Morgan.
“That’s something Conley was hoping to find out. Maybe he did, and maybe that’s what got him killed. Just watch your ass, Cobra. Things might not be what they seem.”
“Thanks for the warning,” said Morgan. He threw his phone to the ground and stomped on it. “I’ll be sure to send you a postcard when I get there.” He turned around and headed for the plane.
The beeping of the satellite phone woke her at 4:30
A.M.
She stretched, catlike, out of her cot and switched on the display. The message, coming from halfway around the world, glowed on the screen:
Cobra going to Kabul to extract target. Intercept them there. More information to come.
A.M.
She stretched, catlike, out of her cot and switched on the display. The message, coming from halfway around the world, glowed on the screen:
Cobra going to Kabul to extract target. Intercept them there. More information to come.
Cobra
. What the hell was his part in all this, she asked herself. Did he know? And if so, how much?
. What the hell was his part in all this, she asked herself. Did he know? And if so, how much?
But ultimately, it didn’t matter. The thought of her Ops team’s failure to capture the boy stung her, like failure always did. But this time, it would be different. This time, they were coming to her. And this time, she would personally pull the trigger on both the kid and Cobra.
Cobra
. What a lovely new development. She couldn’t suppress the smile that played on her lips. It would be a reunion that had been a long time coming.
. What a lovely new development. She couldn’t suppress the smile that played on her lips. It would be a reunion that had been a long time coming.
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