The Black Widow (Gabriel Allon #16) - Daniel Silva Page 0,112
ground zero of Washington’s post–9/11 national security sprawl, occupied several acres of land adjacent to the giant highway interchange. Their destination, however, was located a few miles farther to the east along Route 123. It was the George Bush Center for Intelligence, otherwise known as CIA Headquarters.
After clearing the massive security checkpoint, they proceeded to an underground parking garage and boarded a restricted elevator that bore them to the seventh floor of the Original Headquarters Building. A security detail waited in the wood-paneled foyer to relieve them of their mobile phones. Fareed dutifully surrendered his device, but Gabriel refused. A brief standoff ensued before he was allowed to proceed.
“Why didn’t I ever think of that?” murmured Fareed as they padded silently down a densely carpeted hall.
“What do they think I’m going to do? Bug myself?”
They were led to a conference room with windows overlooking the woods along the Potomac. Adrian Carter waited there alone. He was wearing a blue blazer and a pair of wrinkled chinos, a spymaster’s Saturday-morning attire. He looked decidedly displeased to see his two closest Middle East allies.
“I don’t suppose this is a social call.”
“I’m afraid not,” answered Gabriel.
“What have you got?”
“An airline ticket, a hotel reservation, and a rental car.”
“What does it mean?”
“It means the jayvee team is about to launch a major terrorist attack on the American homeland.”
Carter’s face turned ashen. He said nothing.
“Am I forgiven, Adrian?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether you can help me stop it.”
“Which flight is she coming in on?”
“Air France Fifty-four.”
“When?”
“Tuesday.”
“A few hours before the French president arrives,” Carter pointed out.
“I doubt it’s a coincidence.”
“Which hotel?”
“Key Bridge Marriott.”
“Rental car?”
“Hertz.”
“I don’t suppose they gave her a target, too.”
“Sorry, Adrian, but that’s not Saladin’s style.”
“It was worth asking. After all, she did save his life.”
Gabriel frowned but said nothing.
“I assume,” said Carter, “that you intend to let her get on that plane.”
“With your approval,” said Gabriel. “And you would be wise to let her into the country.”
“Put her under watch—is that what you’re suggesting? Wait for the other members of the attack cell to make contact? Roll them up before they can strike?”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“What if she’s not the only operational asset? What if there are other teams? Other targets?”
“You should assume there are other teams and targets, Adrian. A lot of them, in fact. Saladin told Natalie that she was going to be involved in something big—big enough to leave the United States with no choice but to put boots on the ground in Syria.”
“What if they don’t make contact with her? Or what if she’s part of a second wave of attacks?”
“Forgive me for not bringing you the entire plot gift wrapped, Adrian, but that’s not the way it works in the real world.”
Fareed Barakat smiled. It wasn’t often he was given a front-row seat to a spat between the Americans and the Israelis.
“How much does Jalal Nasser know?” asked Carter.
“Should I call and ask him? I’m sure he’d love to help us.”
“Maybe it’s time to pull him in for a little chat.”
Fareed shook his head gravely. “Bad idea.”
“Why?”
“Because in all likelihood he doesn’t know the entire picture. Furthermore,” added Fareed, “if we arrest Jalal, it will send a signal to Saladin that his network has been compromised.”
“Maybe that’s exactly the signal we should send him.”
“He’ll lash out, Adrian. He’ll hit you any way he can.”
Carter exhaled slowly. “Who’s handling the surveillance in London?”
“We’re working jointly with the British.”
“I need in on that, too.”
“Three’s a crowd, Adrian.”
“I don’t give a shit.” Carter frowned at his wristwatch. It was half past eight on a Saturday morning. “Why do these things always seem to break on the weekend?” Greeted by silence, he looked at Gabriel. “In a few minutes, several hundred employees of my government are going to learn that the Office has an agent deep inside ISIS. Are you prepared for that?”
“I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
“Once she gets off that plane, she’s no longer your agent. She’ll be our agent, and it will be our operation. Are we clear?”
“Perfectly,” said Gabriel. “But whatever you do, make damn sure nothing happens to her.”
Carter reached for the phone and dialed. “I need to speak to the director. Now.”
48
ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA
QASSAM EL-BANNA WOKE TO THE call to prayer. He had been dreaming, about what he could not recall—his dreams, like contentment, eluded him. From an early age, while still a boy in the Nile Delta of Egypt, he believed he was destined for greatness. He had studied hard in school, won admission to