96

A new image flashed on the plasma screens.

It was the photo of a suave if balding Latino man in his midfifties, trim and impeccably dressed in a finely tailored suit.

“As you can imagine, the president is eager to see what’s on the hard drives and satellite phones you guys recovered, as are we all,” Dell noted. “In the meantime, we’ve learned a great deal about the Mexican businessman whose phone number Noah found on that burned satphone from Libya.”

She now addressed the photo on the screen.

“This is Joaquín María del Castillo. He owns one of the largest and most profitable companies in Mexico—Castillo Holdings International—headquartered in a twelve-story building in the capital. But our friend Joaquín spends most of his time at his villa just outside of Monterrey. We have a drone watching the villa right now.” She turned to an aide and asked, “Can we bring up the live video feed?”

Now Marcus trained his attention on a black-and-white image of a sprawling home built into the side of a mountain, surrounded by a lush and dense forest. Dell pointed out the two armor-plated Range Rovers parked in the driveway and two more in the open garage, the armed sentries guarding the front, back, and side doors, the guard booth at the front gate at the base of the mountain, and the CCTV cameras monitoring all movement around the villa. Then she showed the team thermal images displaying the heat signatures of a group of people in a room on the back side, or northwest corner, of the hacienda.

“We know Castillo is there,” Dell said. “We don’t have a visual on him, but for the last several hours, we have been monitoring all phone calls in and out of the house. Castillo has made or received six calls so far, and we have positively ID’d his voice. Moreover, we know he is presently holding court in that back room with five associates, though we have not been able to ascertain whether these are bodyguards or business colleagues. We are assuming the latter because all of them are sitting, while three men outside the door to his office are standing. Those are the bodyguards, we believe.”

“How many total guards are in the house and on the grounds?” Marcus asked.

“Twenty,” Dell replied.

Jenny shot Marcus a look of concern, as did Geoff and Callaghan.

“And you’re certain this Castillo guy has been in direct contact with Abu Nakba?” Marcus asked.

“Certain? No,” Dell conceded. “And in contact with Abu Nakba directly? I can’t say based on what we have so far. But Castillo—or someone using his personal satphone—has definitely been placing and receiving regular calls with people who were working at the Ghat compound while Abu Nakba was there. The first call was placed from Castillo’s phone on February 9. The calls picked up in frequency in late April. The last call from Libya to Castillo was placed on Friday, May 8.”

“The day before President Clarke ordered the air strike,” Jenny said.

“That’s right,” Dell confirmed. “Which is why Castillo has suddenly become a person of interest to this Agency.”

“Right,” Marcus said, “but there’s no way he was talking directly with Abu Nakba. Or at least, the satphone Noah found could not have been Abu Nakba’s only phone, or even his main one. Otherwise, the SEALs would never have found it at the Libyan compound. Abu Nakba would have taken it with him. And we now know he and his closest advisors had bugged out by then, probably to Yemen.”

“Or to Mexico,” Geoff said.

“You think Abu Nakba came here?” Jenny asked her colleague.

“What if he did?” Geoff asked. “And what if he is now inside the U.S. with the rest of his men?”

“No, that doesn’t make sense,” Callaghan protested. “The man is in his eighties. I can’t see Abu Nakba climbing through a tunnel into the U.S. to run some operation in person, no matter how big it is.”

“Then where is he?” Marcus asked.