Operations Center 3, CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia
“Okay. Map that, let’s see if we know him.”
Therrien nodded, quickly plotting the facial recognition points and sending the image through their database, Leroux returning to his station to notify Morrison.
“Got him.”
Leroux felt his chest tighten. If they had a hit that fast, then this was a serious character. “Put it on the screen.” Therrien hit a few keys as Leroux sent a message to Morrison about the positive hit.
“Syrian national named Tarek Nazari. According to information we have from several hacked Syrian databases, he was born April 7th, 1979. Educated in England. Huh, Oxford.”
Leroux’s eyebrows popped. “Family?”
“His father was a senior member of the regime’s cabinet but fell out of favor when the troubles began.”
“Status?”
“Officially, unknown. Unofficially, it’s suspected he was executed.”
Child spun in his chair. “That’s enough reason for someone to go loco on their daddy’s former boss.”
Leroux nodded. “What do we have on his recent activities?”
Therrien quickly scanned the file, his eyes widening as he did. He blocked the text and sent it to the screen. “He’s been linked to half a dozen executions of Western hostages and at least a dozen beheadings. This guy is hardcore. They like to use him I think because he speaks perfect English.”
Leroux shook his head. “Lovely.”
Morrison entered the operations center, immediately staring at the screen. “Is that him?”
Leroux rose. “Yes, sir. Tarek Nazari. This guy’s a piece of work, dozens of executions linked to him. Educated in England, speaks perfect English, father was part of the regime in Syria but is thought to have been executed.”
Morrison frowned. “And where is he now?”
“That photo was taken in Serbia almost two weeks ago. We assume he’s on his way to Germany then possibly here, but we can’t be certain.”
Morrison pointed at the screen. “Let’s identify everyone he was travelling with and try to trace his route. That bus stopped somewhere, let’s see if we can catch him getting off.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Umm, sir, is that who I think it is?”
Both Leroux and Morrison turned toward Therrien, who nodded toward the screen. Leroux looked to see an isolated video clip of a man getting off a bus, his face covered then his hand removed, his face revealed for a moment before he turned away.
Leroux’s heart skipped a beat.
“Isolate the face, freeze it on the best angle,” he said, his voice barely a whisper as he stepped down, closer to the screens, Morrison at his side. Therrien advanced through the video, a frame at a time, before Leroux snapped his fingers. “There!” He grinned at Morrison. “He’s alive!”
There was no doubt it was Kane, weathered and dirty, yet absolutely recognizable. Leroux couldn’t stop smiling, resisting the urge to jump up and down, the elation he felt demanding a release.
“What are we looking at?” asked a more serious Morrison.
“I estimated the time it would take the bus to reach its destination then pulled the images from that time and found this. This is later the same day at the Serbian-Hungarian border.”
Leroux glanced back at Therrien, the smile beginning to hurt his cheeks. “Good work.” His brain caught up with what was said. “Wait a minute, he was on the same bus as the woman?”
Therrien nodded, then pointed. “And look who he’s with.”
The photo of Kane zoomed out, showing the crowd exiting the bus, Therrien isolating another man, his face hidden, but whose clothing matched exactly those of Tarek Nazari as he boarded the bus earlier.
“Christ,” muttered Leroux. Kane had clearly infiltrated one of the terrorist cells, and the fact they hadn’t heard from him meant he had no comms capability. They needed to reach him somehow.
He dropped in the nearest chair, Morrison on the phone, his words drowned out in the fog of relief. Kane was pretty much his only friend, a man who had taken him under his wing in high school and protected him from the bullies while Leroux tutored him. They had become good friends in high school though lost touch when Kane had left for college. Their chance encounter at Langley years later had rekindled the friendship. Kane had been his friend, his protector, and had also forced he and Sherrie back together after a budding romance had broken apart for reasons he had long ago forgiven Sherrie for, they not her fault.
If it weren’t for Dylan Kane, his life would be a shadow of what it was today.
“—an extraction team in theater immediately.”
Leroux tuned back into Morrison’s conversation.
“Okay, keep me posted.”
Morrison replaced the phone in its cradle and turned to Leroux. “You okay?”
Leroux nodded. “Is it wise to extract him?”
Morrison shook his head. “Hard to say. He’s clearly successfully infiltrated one of the cells, and he clearly has no way to communicate with us or he would have by now. We need to know what he knows, otherwise any intel he’s gathered is useless.”
Leroux nodded, his mind racing as he tried to think of a way to get the intel without blowing Kane’s cover and putting his life at risk.
He smiled.
“I’ve got an idea, but it requires people he can trust. And finding out where he is now.”