113

ROME, ITALY

By the time the G5 landed, Noah had a new lead.

“NSA says the satellite phone account that al-Masri was calling so often in Doha is paid for by Al-Sawt,” he told the team as they transferred to a different plane, in this case a Dassault Falcon 900 business jet.

“The news channel?” Jenny asked. “The so-called ‘Voice of the Arabs’?”

“Exactly,” Noah confirmed. “Now don’t quote me on this—it’s early yet, and Langley is trying to verify—but they believe this specific phone number is used by one of their producers, a man named Hamdi Yaşar.”

“Does that name ring a bell with you, sir?” Marcus asked the Mossad chief.

“No, it doesn’t, but I’ll have my people get to work on it,” said Gilad, immediately pulling out his secure mobile phone and drafting a text.

“What’s Dell saying?” Jenny asked.

“At the moment, she’s unavailable,” said Noah. “She’s en route to Tel Aviv. But the watch officer at the Global Ops Center says Yaşar is a thirty-one-year-old Turkish national, a highly respected, award-winning field producer for Al-Sawt. He’s a globe-trotter, focuses on foreign policy and national security stories, and has arranged interviews for his anchors and correspondents with most of the leaders throughout the Middle East, North Africa, and Europe.”

“A Turkish national, you say?” Geoff asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“Oh, no reason,” Geoff replied, winking at Marcus. “Go on.”

“Anyway, Langley has no file on him,” Noah continued. “There’s no record of Yaşar being involved in terrorism or criminal activity of any kind.”

“Then he would be perfect for this,” said Tomer. “He’s got the ideal cover as a middleman.”

“For whom?” Jenny asked. “General Entezam?”

“Maybe,” said Tomer.

“Or Ahmet Mustafa?” Geoff asked.

Tomer nodded. “Perhaps. Or maybe . . . Abu Nakba.”

“We need to find out fast,” said Marcus. “If this Hamdi guy is linked to this, we need to grab him before he realizes that his man in Lebanon is dead.”

“And we have his phone number and al-Masri’s phone,” said Noah.

Marcus turned back to Asher Gilad, who had finished sending his text. “Refile the flight plan,” he said. “We need to go to Doha.”

Gilad shook his head. “Mr. Ryker, that’s not how it’s going to work. First of all, I don’t work for you. Second of all, this is a Mossad jet, not the CIA’s. It’s registered to a high-tech start-up company in Tel Aviv. We can’t just fly to Qatar. So that’s the bad news. The good news is we’re heading to Cairo as planned, and I’m going to put you on the phone with Director Stephens and Dr. Dell. You can make your case, and maybe they’ll let you go to Doha on an Agency plane. Best I can do.”

Marcus bristled at the insinuation that now that the Israelis had their guy back, they were bowing out. Catching the look in Jenny’s eyes to watch his step, however, he tacked to a different course. “You’re right, sir; sorry to presume,” he said.

“That’s okay, son. If it were up to me, I’d go grab this guy myself. But I’ve got a war to manage back home.”

“Understood—but look, I’m not the best guy to brief Stephens and Dell.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a long story—way too long to get into here—but trust me when I say it would be far better coming from you.”

“What exactly do you propose I tell them?”

“Call Stephens from your comms deck back there—very nice, by the way, state-of-the-art—and tell him we’re out, we’re safe, but we’ve uncovered a hot lead that needs to be acted on immediately. You can’t do it. Tomer can’t do it. But you recommend the rest of us go get this guy and see what he knows before he disappears off the grid, only to plot another attack. Meanwhile, in Cairo, we jump off and link up with our station chief. You guys head back to Tel Aviv with Agent Curtis and Mr. Mizrachi, make sure they get the care they need, and then you and your guys pursue whoever is in Istanbul that al-Masri was talking to.”

Gilad looked Marcus in the eye, then around the cabin at the other Americans. “Happy to,” he said. He walked to the rear of the plane, past the medics, to the communications center.

Fifteen minutes later, Gilad was back. The deal was done. Stephens and Dell were on board. A plane in Cairo was being readied, along with new passports and cover stories.

Within an hour, they would be headed to Qatar.