20

EISENHOWER EXECUTIVE OFFICE BUILDING

Marcus returned to the White House complex.

His first stop was the personnel office, where a clerk, alerted by McDermott’s office, was expecting him. He filled out a stack of paperwork, had his picture taken, and was given a temporary set of credentials until a permanent set could be made, as well as keys to an office in the Eisenhower Executive Office Building. His next stop was to catch up with his old Secret Service colleagues, fill out more paperwork, and pick up his temporary White House hard pass.

All of it was necessary, of course, but none of it helped him actually advance the mission for which the president had appointed him, and the clock was ticking. Heading up to the fifth floor, he found and unlocked the vacant suite of offices he’d been assigned, dusted off a desk and chair, and spent the next hour working the phones.

He had a team to recruit, but that could wait. The first call he made was to Prince Abdullah bin Rashid, director of the Saudi General Intelligence Directorate, who had become a friend over the past year and a half.

“Prince Abdullah, it’s Marcus Ryker; you got a moment?”

“Yes, yes, Agent Ryker—so good to hear from you. The crown prince told me the good news. You’re truly on board?”

“I am, and I’m honored by his confidence. It’s very kind.”

“It is not kind at all, Marcus. You’ve earned his trust and clearly the president’s as well. We should meet.”

“When?”

“My day is packed. And I head home first thing in the morning. Could you meet me tonight for coffee, say ten o’clock?”

“Sure. Where?”

“The Four Seasons. I’ll meet you in the lounge.”

“See you then—thanks.”

Marcus hung up and called Asher Gilad, head of the Mossad, and Tomer Ben Ami, who after the Lebanon operation had been promoted to director of the Shin Bet. Though it was late in the evening in Israel, both men took his call and, after being briefed on Marcus’s new assignment and the seriousness of the Saudi warnings, promised to pull together whatever new intel they had on Kairos and get it to him as quickly as possible.

After them, Marcus checked in with the spy chiefs in Jordan, Egypt, Oman, and Morocco. Then he called Khalid bin Ibrahim—more commonly known by his initials, KBI—the chief of intelligence for the United Arab Emirates. Unlike the others, KBI almost seemed to be expecting his call.

“Take these names down,” he said immediately.

Marcus pulled out a pen from his jacket pocket and a notepad from his briefcase.

“Okay, go.”

“Jibril bin Badr.”

“Right.”

“Ali bin Badr.”

“Got it.”

“And Mansour bin Badr.”

“Brothers? The sons of Badr Hassan al-Ruzami? The Kairos chief of operations?” Marcus asked.

“Exactly. We’ve been building dossiers on all three of his boys. I’ll send you everything, but you have to understand these are sick bastards. They range in age from twenty-one to twenty-seven, with Jibril the oldest and Mansour the youngest. They’re known within Kairos as ‘the Enforcers.’ Remember Uday and Qusay, Saddam Hussein’s boys?”

“Sure.”

“These guys are worse.”

“Worse?”

“Much worse,” KBI said. “Their father trusts them implicitly and thus gives them the most dangerous and deadly assignments. We know Jibril, for example, loves the Godfather movies. Watches them all the time. Imagines himself a New York gangster. Lived in Cairo for the last decade or so, until last year.”

“What happened last year?”

“He thought some Egyptian cop was flirting with his girlfriend. So he invited the guy to an Italian restaurant, you know, ‘just to clear the air.’ Ends up shooting the cop in the face, just like Michael Corleone. Then saunters out of the place with blood and brain matter all over him. After that, he fled to Libya and disappeared.”

“Any leads?”

“No. Now that the Saudis have spotted his father in Yemen, it’s likely he’s there too. But not for long. The crown prince is right. After you guys took out Abu Nakba and his boys in Libya—and brilliant work, by the way, really sharp . . .”

“Thanks.”

“. . . Kairos is without question planning to retaliate in some spectacular fashion, and probably with several major operations, not just one.”

With those calls done, Marcus now turned to recruiting his team: Jenny Morris, Geoff Stone, Donny Callaghan, and Noah Daniels, in that order. Fortunately, unlike Pete, they all said yes.