far disclosed. They had plenty of leads to run down, and enough intel to keep them busy for eight months to a year.
“I’d say there’s just one last thing we need to get out of him,” Jack Ryan Jr. said.
“What’s that?” Rounds replied.
“The why of it all. This guy’s thinking is too layered. All the pieces and parts of Lotus—Yucca Mountain, the Losan, the attacks in the Midwest ... Was the whole point terror, or something bigger? It has to be more than Nine-Eleven writ large, right?”
Clark cocked his head thoughtfully and looked to Hendley, who took a beat, then said, “Damned good question.”
By mid-morning they had what they wanted; they turned their attention to the tricky matter of turning Yasin over to the FBI. As symbolically and visually appealing as the idea might be, trussing up the Emir like a Christmas goose and shoving him from a moving car onto the steps of the Hoover Building was a nonstarter. The Campus had for weeks been skirting the gray line between remaining in the shadows where it was designed to operate and attracting the attention of the U.S. government.
So the question became how to “regift” the world’s most wanted terrorist without having it blow back on them. In the end, Dominic Caruso, having learned the lesson from Brian, came up with the solution.
“KISS,” he said. “Keep it simple, stupid.”
“Explain.” This from Hendley.
“We’re overthinking it. We’ve already got the perfect cutout: Gus Werner. He tapped me for The Campus, and he’s in tight with Dan Murray, Director of the FBI.”
“This is a damned big gift horse, Dom,” said Chavez. “Think he’ll go for it? Better question: Think he can make it work?”
“How would it go down?” asked Jack.
“He’ll be arrested immediately and locked up in a very secure location. You know, read him his rights, offer him an attorney, try to talk to him some. Get a U.S. Attorney involved. They’ll tell the Attorney General, who’ll tell the President. After that, the snowball starts getting big. The press gets involved, and we sit back and watch the show. Listen, Gus knows how we work, and he knows how the Bureau works. If anybody can sell it, he can.”
Hendley considered this for a few moments, then nodded. “Call him.”
In the Hoover Building, Gus Werner’s phone rang. It was his private line, and few people had access to that. “Werner.”
“Dominic Caruso here, Mr. Werner. You got a few minutes this afternoon? Say, twenty minutes.”
“Uh, sure. When?”
“Now.”
“Okay, come on down.”
Dominic parked a block from the Hoover Building and went into the main lobby, showing his FBI ID to the desk guards. That allowed him to walk around the metal detectors. FBI agents were supposed to carry sidearms. In fact, Dominic wasn’t at the moment. He’d forgotten and left it at his desk, rather to his surprise.
Augustus Werner’s office was on the top floor, complete with a secretary that he rated as a full assistant director of the FBI, just a few doors away from Dan Murray’s rather larger director’s office. Dominic announced himself to the secretary, and she whisked him right in. He took a seat across from the AD’s desk. It was exactly 3:30 by his watch.
“Okay, Dominic, what do you want?” Werner asked.
“I have an offer to make.”
“What offer is that?”
“You want the Emir?” Dominic Caruso asked.
“Huh?”
Dominic repeated the question.
“Sure, okay.” Werner’s expression said, What’s the punch line?
“Tonight, at Tysons Corner. Upper-level parking area, say at nine-fifteen. Come alone. I know you’ll have people close by, but not close enough to see the transfer. I’ll personally hand him over to you.”
“You’re serious. You have him?”
“Yep.”
“How the hell did that happen?”
“Don’t ask, don’t tell. We’ve got him and you can have him. Just leave us out of it.”
“That’d be tough.”
“But not impossible.” Dominic smiled.
“No, not impossible.”
“Anonymous tip, unexpected break—whatever.”
“Right, right ... I have to talk this one over with the director.”
“I understand that.”
“Stay by your phone. I’ll be in touch.”
As everyone knew it would, the call came quickly—within ninety minutes, in fact—and the time and place of the meeting was confirmed. Eight-thirty came soon enough, and then it was time to get ready. Dominic and Clark walked out to the workshop to find Pasternak giving the Emir a once-over under the watchful eye and ready Glock of Domingo Chavez.
“He good to go, Doc?” Dominic Caruso asked.
“Yes. Careful with the leg, though.”
“Anything you say.”
Clark and Dominic stood Yasin up, and Dominic took the flex-cuffs from his back pocket and attached them to his wrists.