Hardy dug his fingertips into his forehead, hoping to relieve some stress. “What do you mean Layla is not Layla?”
“Layla Bassily is actually Calista Nasser, a twenty-year-old Egyptian woman, who spent a year in France after leaving Egypt when she was eighteen. While in France, she worked at a local Antiquities shop that specialized in Egyptian artifacts. Her trail stopped a year ago. It was presumed she had returned to her home country, but we weren’t able to find any evidence of that.”
“How was she able to enter the U.S. as Layla…”
“Bassily,” said Burroughs, helping Hardy with the name. “We’re working on finding that out, but we think Calista got the real Layla to complete the paperwork for the foreign exchange program. Then, Calista forged the photo with a recent picture of herself. We have agents trying to get in touch with the real Layla’s parents and Layla herself.”
Hardy could not believe what he was hearing. “So, a twenty-year-old girl, posing as a teenager, was able to not only circumvent the student exchange process and get into the U.S., but also outsmart the Secret Service, befriend Abigail and get one step away from the President.” Hardy rubbed his face with his free hand. He had been awake for more than twenty-six hours and his eyes were stinging from the lack of sleep. He had been trained to function with little-to-no sleep, but even he had his limitations. He was not a machine. Massaging his eyes, he felt a hand on his left shoulder. He saw Charity mouthing something to him. Speaking into his phone, Hardy said, “Can you hold on a second, Director Burroughs?” He turned his attention toward Charity and raised his eyebrows.
Charity gestured toward her laptop. “I’ve got the address of where Yamadi was when he got the call.”
“Where?” asked Hardy.
“It looks like a small shop in a business district in Denver.”
“Is he still there?”
Charity shrugged her shoulders. “This address is the last known location of his cell phone. The phone went off the grid shortly after Dahlia’s asset made the call to Yamadi. My guess is he either turned off the phone or destroyed it, thinking it may lead us to him.”
“Get that address to Cruz.” Hardy returned to his phone call. “Is there anything else, Director Burroughs?”
“That’s all I have right now. If anything comes up, I’ll let you know.”
It was time for Hardy to share what information he had. “I’m on my way to Denver. We have a lead on a man named Ashar Yamadi. He may be involved in this. We intercepted a phone call between him and one of our assets. There’s something going on, but we’re not sure what it is.”
“Wait a minute.”
Hardy heard her shuffling papers and her voice faded away before coming back again.
“What was that name again?”
“Ashar Yamadi,” said Hardy.
“Son of a…” her voice trailed off.
“What is it, Director Burroughs?”
“Calista Nasser’s mother re-married after her first husband died almost twenty years ago, taking the name of her current husband. Any guesses on the last name of her late husband?”
Hardy already had the answer halfway into Burroughs question. “Yamadi,” he said, letting his head fall back onto the headrest of his seat. “What about any living relatives?”
“Calista has two older brothers.” Burroughs scanned her paperwork. “One is named Ashar.”
Thinking, Hardy spoke under his breath, but loud enough for Burroughs to hear. “Ashar Yamadi is Calista Nasser’s half-brother. This can’t be a coincidence. They have to be involved.”
Burroughs agreed. “I’m going to get everything I can on Ashar Yamadi.”
“You won’t find much, I’m afraid. He’s new to the game and apparently hasn’t left a trail.”
“Still, I need to investigate. Let me know when you’ve confirmed Yamadi’s location.”
Hardy got Charity’s attention, as well as the last known location of Yamadi’s cell phone. “I have it right here.” He passed along the information to Burroughs with some final words. “Don’t do anything, until I get there. I want in on this operation. My people will be waiting for me when I land in Denver.” Receiving Burroughs’ word that she would hold off on initiating an assault, Hardy disconnected the call and told Charity what he had learned.
Hardy checked the time on his phone. He had more than an hour before the plane landed in Denver. With nothing left to do, except wait, he asked the flight attendant for a couple of blankets and pillows. When she returned with them, he took one of each and motioned toward Charity. The flight attendant handed the remaining blanket and pillow to Charity. Reclining in his seat, he put the pillow behind his head and covered up with the blanket. He had been trained to get sleep whenever and wherever it was possible. Sometimes, he could sleep and sometimes it was difficult. This was not going to be one of those difficult times. Less than five minutes after closing his eyes, he was asleep.