Chapter Twenty
December 18
ECS Stockholm Station
Sweden
Justin had been overly optimistic and had misinterpreted his conversation with Carrie. It was true the CIA had given Flavio the location of al-Nueimi’s son. He was in the Zaatari refugee camp in Jordan, a short distance from the border with Syria and about forty-five miles northeast of Amman, the country’s capital. But neither Flavio nor Carrie had said anything about the actual handover of the boy.
“So, what are we supposed to do with this intel?” Justin could barely contain his frustration.
Carrie shrugged. “That’s all Flavio said. He was in a rush to a meeting. Bianchi from the CIA—”
Justin shook his head. “He’s not going to be of any help.”
“It’s worth a try.”
Justin glanced at Vale and then at Arkady, who made no attempt to hide the mocking grin on his face.
Vale said, “Maybe a picture of the son or a video would convince—”
“No, he’ll suspect it’s a trick, that we’ve doctored the photo or the video,” Justin said.
“What about a direct link?” Carrie asked.
“And how do we arrange that?” Justin asked. “Al-Nueimi will suspect it’s a trick, so we can track his connection and his location.”
Carrie nodded. “Yeah, it’s going to be difficult.”
Justin cursed and slammed his fist on the table. “A real freaking mess.” He sighed, drew in a deep breath, and said, “Let’s call Bianchi and see what he says.”
He pulled out his phone and dialed the CIA’s operative number.
Bianchi answered right away. “Pronto, chi parla?”
“It’s me, Justin.”
“Oh, Justin, long time no seeing,” Bianchi butchered the idiom. “How are you, my friend?”
“Well, I’m doing well. Now, I hear I’m supposed to talk to you about al-Nueimi’s son.”
“Yes, that’s correct. He’s in—”
“Yeah, I know where he is. But that’s not very useful. We need to have the kid so we can convince al-Nueimi—”
“Do you know where al-Nueimi is?”
“No, but the kid will help us find him.”
“How?”
Justin exhaled. “Oh, c’mon, Bianchi. You’re a pro. The Internet. We’ll plaster the kid’s face on the jihadist chat rooms, websites, hashtag him and boom, within a few minutes al-Nueimi’s cyber whiz kids will learn about the son and inform al-Nueimi.”
Bianchi did not answer right away. “I . . . I hadn’t thought of that.”
“So once al-Nueimi knows his kid is alive, he’ll contact us, I’m sure he will. And when he does, what do I tell him, that his kid is somewhere in a refugee camp in Jordan? That’s not gonna convince him to do jack squat.”
“You sound very sure of this, Justin.”
“I am, because I know it’s going to work.”
A moment of pause, then Bianchi said, “I wish I could help you, but my hands are tied.”
“Untie them. Talk to your boss, and tell him what a mistake he’s making.”
“Have you told your boss that?”
“My boss doesn’t know the location.”
“No, when your boss gives you an order, do you tell him that he made a mistake?”
Justin sighed as he saw Bianchi’s point. “Look, I’m not trying to make your life miserable. But Christmas and New Year’s Eve are around the corner. If al-Nueimi is planning something big, it could be at any time. If we can’t stop him because some bureaucrat made a mistake, that would be unforgivable.”
“I get it, Justin, I truly do. But it’s not up to me. Trust me, I want to help you, and I’ve pleaded your case. But you’re not getting the kid.”
Justin cursed under his breath, then looked at his team. “You folks have anything for Bianchi?”
“Yes,” Carrie said, “Do you mind sending us a picture of the kid, recent picture, if possible?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Justin glanced at Vale, who shook his head, then at Arkady, who shrugged. “Nothing else, then.”
“Okay, Justin, ciao to you and the team.”
“Ciao, Bianchi,” Carrie said.
“Take care,” Justin said and ended the call.
Arkady began to open his mouth, but Justin silenced him with a headshake. “Grab your gear, we’re leaving Sweden.”
“Where to?” Arkady asked.
“Jordan. We’re picking up al-Nueimi’s son, Naim.”