37

U.S. EMBASSY, JERUSALEM

Six hours later, the general was headed to Amman to brief the king.

Marcus and Kailea, however, headed straight back to the embassy. For the next few days, they’d work with the White House advance team, laying the groundwork for the president’s upcoming visit. After that, Kailea would fly to London to link back up with General Evans for the European leg of their trip. Marcus would fly home to Colorado. From the day he’d joined the CIA, he’d requested the opportunity to be home for Thanksgiving. Director Stephens had readily approved the request for two reasons. Ryker certainly needed some R & R after the intensity of the past month. And there wasn’t a snowball’s chance that Stephens was going to let Marcus get anywhere close to Moscow, the last stop on the general’s itinerary.

Each agent headed for a SCIF, a sensitive compartmented information facility. Kailea called DSS headquarters. Marcus dialed the Global Operations Center at Langley, requesting to speak with Stephens.

“I’m afraid the director is on another call, Mr. Ryker,” said the watch commander. “May I put you through to the DDI?”

“Fine, but let the director know I called —it’s urgent.”

“Of course, sir. Standby one.”

Soon, Martha Dell, the deputy director for intelligence, came on the line. “Make it fast, Ryker.”

“Of course —I just got out of a meeting with Prime Minister Eitan,” Marcus began. “He said the Saudis have credible intel that the Iranians have ordered a hit against himself and President Clarke.”

“I’m not sure how credible it is, but yes, we’ve heard,” Dell replied. “The director has been on several calls with the Saudis over the past few hours.”

“And?”

“And Prince Abdullah is telling us the same story he’s telling the Israelis.”

“You sound like you don’t believe him.”

“I wouldn’t say that, but he won’t give us the source, so it’s a bit hard to know how much credibility or weight to give it.”

“The Saudis told Prime Minister Eitan their source was ‘as good as it gets,’ someone very high and deep inside the regime.”

“Yeah, they used the exact same line with us. But he won’t say anything more.”

“You really expect him to?”

“For a threat against the president of the United States? You bet I do.”

“Martha, not to reopen old —or not-so-old —wounds, but as you’ll recall, I didn’t give you guys my source when I told you Luganov was about to invade the Baltics.”

“That was different.”

“Was it?”

“Of course,” said Dell. “We didn’t just have your word or your source’s word. We had other intel streaming in —Russian troops massing on the borders of the Baltics and Ukraine, whole divisions being transferred from Russia’s Eastern Military Districts to the Western Districts, radio and telephone and other electronic intercepts backing up what you were saying. Plus we had the photos your source gave you of the war plans.”

“You guys still didn’t believe me.”

“I did, and so did Stephens.”

“Not the president. Not General Evans. Not Bill McDermott. Not at first, especially not given all the disinformation Luganov was pumping out,” Marcus noted. “It took days to get the president to take the threat seriously and even more time to start acting. That was time we didn’t have. And even once U.S. forces started flowing into Poland and then the Baltics, Luganov wasn’t persuaded to cancel his plans. In fact, he was preparing to accelerate them. If the Raven hadn’t acted, it’s very likely Luganov would be sitting in control of one, two, or possibly three NATO countries right now.”

“What are you saying, Marcus, that someone needs to take out another world leader?” Dell asked, her tone thick with derision.

“Of course not,” Marcus countered. “I’m saying the best way to make sure another world leader —our own, not to mention Eitan —isn’t assassinated next would be to encourage him to give this speech from the Oval Office, not from the epicenter of the most explosive region on the planet.”

“Marcus, let me remind you that you’re not in Jerusalem to make policy. You’re there to make sure that when your commander in chief arrives there next month, nothing —and I mean nothing —goes wrong.”

“Why are you so quick to rule out what the Saudis are telling us, especially in light of all that’s happened back in D.C. in recent days?”

“Do I really have to remind you how sullied Riyadh’s reputation has become in this city?” Dell asked. “Trust in the Saudis on Capitol Hill is at or near record lows. I haven’t seen it this bad since 9/11. The king is an enfeebled dinosaur who’s long past his prime. The crown prince is dangerously young and inexperienced. Some of my analysts describe him as a ‘wrecking ball.’ Others say he’s ‘as reckless as he is ruthless.’ I had lunch last week with one prominent senator, whose name you’d recognize, who told me the crown prince is ‘a madman who shouldn’t be anywhere near the reins of power.’”

“Martha, I’m fully aware of the serious mistakes the Saudis have made in recent years in Turkey, Yemen, Lebanon —believe me, I get it,” Marcus pushed back. “But do I really have to remind you how helpful Riyadh’s intel was when I was hunting those North Korean warheads? Without the Saudis, we may very well have missed that oil tanker, and those warheads could be sitting right now atop a new breed of long-range Iranian missiles capable of hitting the Eastern Seaboard of the United States.”

“Enough, Ryker. Let me handle the Saudis and their intel. Just do your job and let me do mine.”