SHORTLY AFTER THE WEEKLY meeting of the Terrorism Threat and Investigation Center broke up, Rashid and Mike Johansson drove back to their office via Connecticut Avenue. At the meeting they had explained the procedures used to crack the coconut encryptions. Leo Adornetto, Director of National Intelligence, and a regular member of the President's Council on National Security, had attended the meeting. Adornetto had a long and distinguished background in national security matters. He had served as chief investigator for the Chairman of the Armed Services Committee, CEO of the Cyber Security Institute, and most recently as a special adviser to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
In the car, Mike asked Rashid's opinion. "What did you think of Adornetto's reaction to our combined efforts with the NSA?"
Not wanting to dampen the Big Swede's enthusiasm Rashid hesitated. "He seemed interested, but a little distant."
"Distant?"
"When you oversee the entire intelligence community, and speak to the President daily, our achievement may not seem all that important."
Mike pinched his eyebrows together. "Then he's missed the whole idea of our operation; interagency cooperation to heighten national security." As if to underline his point, when a taxi cut him off in traffic, he blew his horn, holding it down, "Damn taxies think they own the streets."
Rashid wanted to lessen his old friend's agitation. "Working across agency lines to break the coconuts is an important accomplishment, but we don't know their plan and when it will go down. We only know something is brewing."
Mike dodged another taxi, and said nothing.
Rashid felt a vibration against his leg. He pulled out his phone and read Ike Gunner's number. "Hey Ike, what's up?"
Ike talked fast. "We got it. We got number seven. Big Mamma just sent me the alert. She intercepted it. It's on hold, and it's somethin' big. Wait till you see what the turban-heads are up to now!"
Rashid covered the phone and turned to Mike, "It's Gunner over at NSA." Turning back he asked Ike, "What's it say?"
"You got a see this. These dudes are on the move."
"Are you in Virginia?"
"Yep, right here, Prof."
"Hold on."
Rashid turned to Mike again. "We have the seventh message now, and Ike says it's 'something big'."
The Big Swede wet his lips, blinked his eyes and asked, "McLean, right?"
"Right."
Mike swerved the car and headed for the Georgetown Bridge that crossed into Virginia. "Those damn taxies better get out of my way."
THE SECURITY GUARDS at the NSA building recognized Doctor Youris, did a quick check, and passed him through. Even though Rashid vouched for Mike Johansson, they did a pat-down of the assistant deputy director of the FBI. Once through security, they took the elevator to the fifth floor. Ike met them at the elevator in his electric scooter, and led them to his workstation in the Black Chamber.
Rashid introduced both men. Mike extended his hand and Ike shook it. With his other hand Ike, waved a sheet of paper over his head. "It come through minutes ago and it's decrypted." All three settled around Ike's worktable. Ike passed a copy of the message to each man.
Rashid read aloud:
"In the name of Allah, the Beneficent, and Merciful.
Oh, Sword of the Great One, vanguard of the jihad and holy warrior, be it known to you, final preparations are at hand. In accordance with our supplier's agreement, three members of the Team of Deliverance will travel from different nations. They will rendezvous at the house of Hashim in our southern portal to America.
Know the team members and memorize their code names: Kassar Suri: (Khoon Baha), Alexander Kosloff: (Pasol), Danish Maloof: (Magister).
In the name of The Granter of Security, at full moon they will assemble and await your instructions. Secure a safe location. Your meeting must be blind to all who would harm you. Guard against the great Satan. If it please Allah the Exalted, your training must be swift and complete for you have their expertise no more than 24 hours. Learn the skill needed to cause the culmination of our plans to force our enemies to their knees and free us of their interference. May the All Powerful One, reward you for your actions that will bring the Day of Resurrection and Sharia rule to the world. With the blessing of Allah the Divine,
Your Mentor,
AG"
Mike Johansson rubbed his hands together. "Sounds like we finally have something to work with here." He held the paper. "They allude to a time and place. What the hell does 'southern portal' mean?"
Rashid reviewed the message, savoring each word. "El Paso, Texas," he answered. "In the first message we cracked, the Sword describes how he entered our country over the bridge from Juarez to El Paso. So that's where these people will first assemble.
Ike said, "The house of Hashim. Sounds like an international restaurant."
Mike shook his head, "I doubt it, but that's something we can check out easy enough. I'll get my people on it right away." He made a note on the back of an envelope. "What else can we deduce from this writing?"
Ike had a ready answer. "They will meet at 'full moon', that means they will meet this here Friday."
Mike asked, "How did you determine Friday?"
"I looked it up. There are 29.5 days in a lunar cycle, and eight phases of the moon in each cycle, which makes for about 3.68 days in each phase. Right now we is approaching the waning gibbous phase. The next full moon is Friday. That's five days countin’ today." Ike appeared pleased with himself.
Mike quipped, "You computer guys never stop surprising me.”
“Get use to it, Mike. Ike likes to show off.” Rashid turned his attention to the words on the paper. "It says here, these men will come from different nations. That means they live outside the U.S. Let's assume a reasonable scenario. They have to come from somewhere in the middle-east or about halfway around the globe. If you consider time for preparations and travel, that’s two of the five days, leaving us with about three days before this Team of Deliverance gets airborne. Not much time."
Ike tapped his keyboard. "I can't change the day of the meeting, but I can shorten the Sword’s time to prepare for it by one day."
Rashid's eyebrows went up. “How so?”
"Simple. I programmed Big Mama to recognize their transmissions' signature, and programmed her to hold it in quarantine. I can hold it for 24 hours. I can't hold it longer because the risk of detection starts doubling after a day."
Rashid placed his hand on Ike's shoulder. "A smart move."
Mike appeared thoughtful. Standing, he stepped back. "We need a plan. A plan that will let us take control of this threat."
Ike, rubbed his hands together. "Find out where the house of Hashim is and arrest the bunch of 'em."
Mike shook his head. "That doesn't tell us what we’re dealing with. This team will meet with our un-sub who, based on everything we know, works alone. He's a Lone Wolf controlled by an outside authority. Capturing this bunch doesn't erase the threat. It would simply delay their plans long enough to replace these assailants with new people and move on."
"Mike is right," said Rashid, who felt a tightness in his stomach. "We must infiltrate this team if we are to learn the nature of this threat."
Ike blurted, "Man, how we gonna do that?"
Rashid fingered the message. "Let's start with these three team members." He turned to Mike. Do you recognize any of these names?"
"No. Not offhand, but I can do a search of our IC databases and INTERPOL. That might turn up something."
Rashid studied the message. "One name on the team sounds familiar. Danish Maloof. Not a common name. I can't place it, but I know that name." Mike and Rashid looked at each other as if studying their memories. Then in unison they said "Iran."
Mike slapped his old friend on the back. "That's right. When we worked in that part of the world years ago, Maloof, a professor at the University of Engineering and Technology in Tehran, helped us with communications between Pakistan's FIA and Iran." Rashid agreed. Mike continued. "But why would he be a part of this team? He taught in the language department. He's not political."
"It's here in front of us." Rashid poked the paper with his finger. "Three members from different nations, it says. One name, Alexander Kosloff, is Russian or Ukrainian. The other two speak a different language." Rashid ached an eyebrow. "Maloof is a translator."
Mike leaned his head forward as if to say–why didn't I think of that?
Ike backed his scooter a few feet to view both men better. "You speak Russian, don't you Prof?"
"He sure does," said Mike. And a couple of other languages, too."
Rashid crossed his arms in front of his chest in a defensive gesture. "Hold on, gentlemen. I don't like the tone of this conversation."
Mike edged over to the table. "You said it yourself, we have to infiltrate this team. It's the only way we can learn the nature of this threat. If I arrange an intercept of Professor Maloof before he gets to the rendezvous point, I can detain him as long as needed."
Ike's expression turned serious. "What if any member of this team, including the Lone Wolf, knows Maloof. Rashid would be in trouble. Big time."
Mike pushed back from the table. His face darkened. "You're right Ike. It's too dangerous. Forget I said anything."
All three men fell silent. It remained quiet in the Black Chamber for a full minute. Then Rashid spoke.
"So Danish Maloof gets deathly sick right before he boards his flight to points west. He sends a trusted associate, in his place, armed with the secret password and a note explaining the last minute change. He demands his payment for services not be reduced. What do you think?"
Ike grimaced. "It's dangerous, Prof,"
Mike moved back to the table. "Yes, but it could work. I’d make it work. My friends at the CIA would intercept Maloof before he gets to the airport in Tehran and detain him. We can forge a convincing note and an ironclad identity for Rashid."
Ike cleared his throat. "Lots of “ifs” in there, Mr. Johansson."
Both men stared at Rashid, and waited.
Until this point, Rashid had steered the conversation in the direction he wanted it to go. In his mind, he reviewed the choices he faced. Hessa's cancer is in remission, but it could come back. If it does she will need me. Still, I know she would want me to do this because our beliefs support the saving of lives. She would say, 'If it pleases Allah, then it is ordained by Him.’ She would be right, but it has value only if I can make it work. Mike doesn't know I recognize a name on this Team of Redemption; the Russian, Alexander Kosloff. He will remember me from that night years ago when we stood shoulder to shoulder in the dark subterranean chamber in Rome. I must be myself, not some impostor or this plan will fail. If I do this, I will let Mike detain Danish Maloof, forge a note, and create a new identity. But, when I arrive in El Paso, I will be Rashid al Youris, translator, seeking the protection of Allah the Forgiving, with some invisible backup from the FBI. He stared at his hands tightly clasped in front of him, and made his decision.
"Gentlemen, I don't think we can pass up this opportunity. I'll do it."