Chapter Eight

 

 

CIS Headquarters, Ottawa, Canada

November 5, 8:00 a.m.

 

Carrie folded her hands over the briefcase resting on her lap. Across the desk, McClain continued to peck at his tablet with two fingers. He had said he just needed a minute to finish typing an important email. That was five minutes ago.

She wanted to let out an innocent cough to get his attention, but she knew McClain would clue in to the real purpose of such an interruption. And with what she was planning to ask him, Carrie did not want to give McClain even the slightest irritation. If she were to sit and wait for an hour, she would do so without any complaints.

“There we go. It’s all done.” McClain shoved the tablet away over a pile of red folders stacked on the left side of his large mahogany desk. “Let’s hope the minister’s not going to sit on this forever. Like he did on the Mali operation.”

Carrie gave McClain a slight head nod. The minister had delayed the authorization for the Mali rescue mission for twenty-four hours. During that time, the kidnapped UNICEF aid workers had been moved to another location, which made their rescue much harder than if the team had been given the go-ahead right away. Thankfully, all hostages had been freed without any casualties on the part of the two CIS ground teams involved in the operation.

McClain reached for one of the green folders to his right. He picked one up, opened it, and said, “All right, so now we can talk about your Pakistani mission. First, Rahim. I’ve talked to the CIA and the NSA about tracking his phones and his close circle of relatives and friends. At his first misstep, we’ll get him.”

Carrie nodded. “Our Peshawar station has two surveillants shadowing Rahim at all times. We’ll have a record of all his meetings.”

McClain leaned back in his seat. “It’s Rahim’s job to meet with shady characters, so that he can provide actionable intel. You need to be absolutely certain before bringing any accusations against him.”

Carrie flinched, but stifled the first thought that came to her mind and the frown that began to form on her face. She just kept her gaze on McClain. He had not directly brought up Hamood in the conversation, but the implication was clear. McClain did not want to hear another claim of someone being a traitor without solid substantiated evidence. “Of course, sir,” she said in a low voice.

“Good.”

He flipped through a few pages in the folder. “We still don’t have specifics about the attack in Galawar. Videos and pictures have surfaced and our teams are trying to identify the men appearing in those images. A Taliban group, The Army of Allah, has claimed responsibility.”

Carrie cocked her head. “The Army? They haven’t operated in that area in over a year. And their specialty is suicide bombers or car bombs.”

“Yes, my thoughts exactly.” McClain lifted his glasses at the bridge of his nose, then ran his hands through his gray hair. It had grown shoulder-length and was wavy and curly at the back. He seemed to be compensating for the receding line at the top of his forehead. “Why would they dabble in organizing this kind of ambush? But then, they have new commanders and better militants, fresh off the Iraqi training camps and combat grounds. So, maybe they’re branching into a new type of terror.”

“Maybe,” Carrie said.

“Anyway, our teams are still examining everything we’ve got. As far as you and Nathan are concerned, Khan is in the past. No action against ISIS is in the works at the moment, as we haven’t found Khan’s missing man. If and when he resurfaces, and depending on what type of intel we can gather from him, we’ll reconsider our steps.”

Carrie nodded. She did not like it, but it was the right decision. And she doubted the informant would come forward. After the ambush in Galawar, this informant would be even more reluctant to make contact with CIS or any other Western intelligence agency. And if, God forbid, Rahim was a turncoat, then the informant’s fate was sealed, if he decided to approach Rahim.

McClain pushed the file to the side, tossing it over his tablet. “With that out of the way, we can discuss the FSB operation and the situation in northern Syria.”

Carrie removed a manila folder from her briefcase. Then she placed her briefcase on the floor and sat perched on the edge of her chair. “I’ve got the latest update from our FSB counterparts.” She reached and handed the folder to McClain. “The highlighted sections indicate the new developments—well, the lack of any results.”

McClain studied the document for a moment. “The hostages were moved again?”

“Yes, both groups, civilians and the captured Spetsnaz team.”

“Does the FSB have any idea where they were taken?”

“No, they don’t. The rescue team had eyes on the militants’ convoy for a few minutes, as they were leaving the village. Because of the overwhelming number of vehicles—at least twenty—the great firepower of the technicals in the convoy, and the arrival of nightfall, the rescue team decided, wisely, not to engage.”

McClain nodded. She did not have to explain to him the devastating power of “technicals”—trucks with heavy machine gun mounted on the back—even against elite troops such as the Russian Spetsnaz. He tapped the second page of the document. “It says here that the Spetsnaz rescue team lost the advantage of a surprise attack, but the FSB does not elaborate. Do you know what happened?”

Carrie nodded. “Yes, Natalya explained to me that a couple of dogs outside the village noticed the Spetsnaz arrival. Their howling warned the militants, who broke camp.”

“All right. So, the FSB is now officially asking for our help, but they have no idea of the hostages’ whereabouts, right?” McClain’s blunt tone indicated his dislike of this situation.

Carrie thought about her reply for a second, then said, “Yes, the FSB wants the assistance of our ground teams. While the hostages’ location is still undetermined, Natalya and I have narrowed down the possibilities to three different sites.” She gestured to the folder in front of McClain. “There’s a series of maps near the end of the file.”

McClain flipped to the first colored full-sized large map of the area. He nodded as he studied it for a long moment, paying particular attention to the red Xs Carrie had placed on the map.

Carrie said, “Kurdish Peshmergas control the eastern and the northern areas, so the militants would not be able to penetrate too far away in that direction. If they are crazy enough to take their chances with the Peshmergas, we’ll hear about any and all clashes, as we have our ears on the ground.”

McClain nodded. Two Peshmergas were on CIS’s list of trusted assets.

“And the Spetsnaz team arrived at the south, and is canvassing the area toward the southwest, where I’ve placed the blue arrow.” She leaned forward and gestured with her finger. “So, it only makes sense for the militants to have moved in the only possible direction, following the easiest escape route.”

“West?”

“Yes. And if they did that, which both Natalya and I are positive they did, there are only three villages, well, clusters of cinderblock buildings, where the militants can hide. The three spots indicated by the X marks.” She nodded toward the map. “The next pages have aerial shots of the sites.”

McClain’s eyes flipped to the page. He glanced at the close-ups. They were grainy and blurry, but the small cinderblock structures were visible. There were about twenty or so in each of the first two locations. The third one, which was also the furthest away from the Peshmergas’ front, contained maybe thirty or more structures, which seemed larger than the previous locations. “So it’s a toss-up between these three?”

“Yes. The CIA has a couple of drones in the area. They’re monitoring the militants’ activities, to determine, if possible and with some accuracy, their location.”

McClain nodded and leaned back on his seat. He removed his glasses, rubbed his eyes, then let out a deep sigh.

Carrie also sat back on her seat and waited for McClain to make a decision.

He drummed his fingers at the edge of the table, then swung in his swivel chair and walked to the floor-to-ceiling bulletproof windows. He glanced out at the Ottawa city skyline and without looking at Carrie, asked, “How far are these locations from Justin’s last known position?”

His question and the abrupt change in the conversation took Carrie by surprise. She blinked, then reached for her briefcase. She had compiled a folder with all the intelligence she had gathered on Justin. It contained all reports of locations, dates, and people who possibly had spotted him. All those reports had remained unconfirmed. “I . . . give me a moment, sir. I need to check my files.”

She flipped through the pages, looking for Natalya’s latest update. The FSB man on the ground—a Syrian who was identified only by his first name, Yahya—had placed Justin in the region. Carrie found the right spot on the page. She knew the intelligence by heart, but she also knew very well the importance McClain placed on documentation when it came to relaying crucial information. He distrusted memories, as memories were unreliable. It was a lesson that was drilled into Carrie’s mind ever since her time at the Plant, the training facility for CIS recruits. “According to FSB’s intel, Justin is supposedly about ninety miles in the eastbound direction, in an area in the hands of Peshmergas.”

“And this intel is accurate as of . . .”

“Four days ago.”

“Huh,” McClain said.

A tense silence reigned for a few moments.

Then McClain turned around. His face was twisted into a dark frown, and he stared at Carrie with his fiery eyes. He sank his hands into his dark khaki pants, then tipped his head toward Carrie. “And you want me to assign you to this search-and-rescue mission, so that you can veer off and hunt for Justin?”

Carrie held McClain’s heavy gaze. She did not like the words he was using or his tone. “Veer off” made it sound as if she was doing something unsanctioned. “Hunt” left a bad taste in her mouth in terms of McClain’s objectives for her operation. She thought about her reply and said, “I’d like to volunteer to look for the Russian hostages and help our allies.” Carrie spoke in a soft voice, carefully considering every word. “After that operation is completed, while in the region, if we can confirm Justin’s location, I’d also like to join our teams who’ve been trying to find him and bring him home.” She emphasized the words “find” and “bring,” giving McClain a not-so-subtle hint about her intentions to find Justin alive.

McClain nodded slowly but his facial expression did not change. He moved close to the desk but did not sit on his chair. “And what makes you think you can find Justin? Our teams have been searching for him for over a month with no results.”

Carrie shrugged. She thought about how to best word her reply so as to not sound cocky, but also not to undermine the value she was bringing to this operation. And she could not share with McClain her private quest to locate Justin. She probably knew more about his possible hideouts than even the two CIS teams. “I’ve worked with Justin for a long time. I know how he operates. I know how he thinks. We both share the same contacts among the Peshmergas and—”

McClain waved a dismissive hand. “But that knowledge and those contacts have done no good. We’re no closer to finding him than when he disappeared. Seven weeks ago.” His voice grew louder, with much bitterness and frustration.

Forty-eight days, actually, Carrie thought. “So far. We can’t find Justin if he doesn’t want to be found. We’ll have to change tactics.”

McClain walked to the table and sat on its edge, a couple of steps away from Carrie. “And what do you suggest?”

“Justin has been evading our teams because he knows we’re coming for him. It’s quite easy for Peshmergas to find out who’s coming and who’s going in their land, especially foreign ops who stick out a mile away. They warn Justin, and he moves on to another village.”

“True. And how do we make our teams stealthier?”

Carrie shook her head. “We don’t. We take advantage of this early warning system Justin and the Peshmergas have in place.”

McClain nodded. He had started to understand Carrie’s plan. “And you believe Justin will surface because he hears you’re coming for him?”

“No, he’ll come out because he will know I’m coming.” Carrie leaned forward. “See, once I’m on the ground with the rescue team and we start looking for the Russian hostages, it will be only a matter of time until the Peshmergas learn about it. If they haven’t found out before we even land.” She sighed, then spread her hands out. “Once news of my arrival reaches Justin, he will come out and make contact.”

“You sound pretty certain about it.”

“I am. He’ll use a mediator, of course. But if I’m bringing Justin news that he can come home without fear of retribution for his actions, then—”

“No.” McClain cut her off. “That’s out of the question. We can’t have Justin fight his private wars, put our country’s diplomatic relations with powerful allies at risk, then give him a pat on his back and welcome him home. What lesson are we teaching him and other hotheads like him? That they can go off the reservation, go rogue for a few weeks, then return as if nothing ever happened?”

Carrie said nothing in direct reply. “Sir, our goal at this point is to find Justin and make sure he returns to Canada. Why don’t we take this one step at a time?”

“You’re suggesting we offer him full immunity for his unsanctioned killings. That’s not going to happen. Justin can’t operate with impunity, causing trouble and embarrassing our agency.”

Carrie nodded. She should have expected McClain’s hostile reaction. But she had hoped his wrath would have died down with the passing of time. “As far as we know, and what can be proven, is that the airplane crash was an accident, whose cause remains undetermined. For all official purposes, Justin is fighting as a private Canadian citizen on the side of Peshmergas against ISIS-affiliated terrorists. If I can convince him to come home, we can work on finding a solution that allows everyone to save face.”

“Oh, and what would that solution be?” McClain’s voice was borderline accusatory. He was not really looking for an answer.

Carrie shrugged. “I’m not sure yet. But the longer he remains out there, the smaller our chances to bring him back.” She locked eyes with McClain. “You do want him to come back and be a part of the CIS again, right, sir?”

McClain held her eyes. He did not blink or say anything for a long while. Then he sighed. “I wish things could go back as they were. But I’m afraid we’re past that point.” He shook his head, then returned to his seat. He shuffled papers around the desk for a few moments, then said, “For now, let’s just worry about making contact. While you can’t promise him there will be no repercussions for his disobeying direct orders, at the same time we have to bait him to step out into the light. No, I’m not suggesting you lie to him. But warn him that he’ll have to deal with this maelstrom he has created.”

Carrie shrugged. She felt they had completed a vicious cycle. But at least he authorized me, albeit tacitly, to be a part of the op. And perhaps we can still figure out a light punishment for Justin’s misdeeds. So she nodded and asked, “When do I roll out, sir?”

McClain frowned. “I . . . it’s still unclear. We’ll have to figure out the hostages’ new position. It will take at least a few hours for the CIA’s drones and the NSA’s wizards to pull something together. It will be late tonight or tomorrow morning, at the earliest.”

Carrie nodded. That works out well. It will give me time to visit Mom and try to get a hold of Elliot. “Anything else, sir?”

“Yes.” McClain gestured toward Carrie with his right hand. “When you talk to Justin, remind him of what’s truly important, what’s really hanging in the balance. He can have a few good months fighting terrorists outside the law, by himself, in his own, backward way. Then someone will kill him, or betray him, sell him out for a bag of dollars.

“Or he can come back, pay what’s fair for his insubordination, and then perhaps continue to do what he does best with the full support of the CIS, the entire establishment that made him who he is. He owes it to himself, to us, and to his country.”

Carrie nodded. McClain was being quite reasonable, although he had left the door fully open for Justin to be kicked out of the CIS. Or worse, be court-martialed and jailed for insubordination. One step at a time. For now, let’s just find you, Justin. “I will do that, sir.”

“All right, so then we’re done here.” He leaned back in his chair. “Once I have a clearer picture of the situation, we’ll send you off.” He tapped the folder on the desk. “Stand by for now.”

“I’ll be in Toronto to see my mom, but I can fly out from there.”

“How’s she doing?” McClain’s voice expressed genuine concern.

“Eh, she’s stable.” Carrie shrugged. “There are lots of bad days, when she can’t recognize or remember anyone. Good, lucid moments are far and few between.” She tried hard to keep her voice from wavering.

“I’m not sure I’ve told you, but my uncle also had Alzheimer’s,” McClain said in a somber tone. “He fought it hard for over ten years. The first one, when it all started, and the last—when he was the shell of the strong man he used to be—were the hardest.”

Carrie nodded. “Yeah, it’s a horrible disease.”

“I hope you have a good visit with her.”

“Yeah, so do I.”

“All right, go catch your flight now.”

“Thank you, sir.”

McClain nodded.

Carrie closed his office door behind her. Just as she arrived at the elevators, her phone rang. She pulled it out and recognized Elliot’s office number. “Elliot, this is Carrie. How are you?”

“Mr. Elliot Norton has vanished,” said the cold female voice on the other side of the line.