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Dell chimed back in.

“There’s only one person who can tell us why he placed and received so many calls from Abu Nakba or his closest associates, and that’s Joaquín María del Castillo,” she said. “That’s why you guys need to go see him and find out what exactly he knows.”

“See him?” Geoff asked. “With all due respect, Madame Director, what makes you think he’ll accept a house call from us?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Marcus interjected. “I’ve got an idea.”

“I’m sure you do, Ryker,” Dell said. “But let me be crystal clear on this point. This man is a prominent foreign national. He’s personal friends with the president of Mexico and most of the congress. He’s also personal friends with the owners of all the major media outlets in the country. I trust you’ve heard the phrase ‘Don’t pick a fight with someone who buys ink by the barrel’? It applies. Rough this guy up, and he will unleash a media firestorm against the U.S., against the president, and against the Agency, none of which we can afford. Look, I have every confidence that we can help the FBI build an airtight legal case against him and have grounds to arrest him. But that will take weeks—time that we simply do not have. So I need you guys to be on your best behavior. Ryker, I’m specifically talking to you. Don’t get me wrong. You need to be persuasive. Very persuasive. But you cannot physically harm this man. And you certainly cannot harm, much less kill, any of his people. Is that understood?”

“It is,” Marcus said.

Everyone else nodded, though Marcus knew they were all looking at him. He did not want the reputation of using heavy-handed tactics, nor of using more force than appropriate to get people to talk. But how much force was too much against terrorists plotting to kill innocent American citizens? There was a line one should not cross. Of this Marcus was certain. The laws of the United States constrained him. So did the Geneva Convention. So did the Scriptures. But where exactly was the line?

“What if Castillo provides us intelligence that leads us back into the U.S.?” Marcus asked.

“That’s exactly what I’m hoping he gives you,” Dell replied. “The man runs a mining company. We’ve suspected for some time that he’s been digging tunnels from Mexico into the U.S., but we haven’t been able to prove it.”

“And you’re hoping we can?”

“Of course.”

“Then what are our rules of engagement if we find ourselves in a tunnel or back on American soil?” Marcus pressed.

It was an important question. Legally, the CIA was not supposed to operate inside the United States.

“Let’s blow up that bridge if we get to it,” Dell replied.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t do that,” Marcus insisted. “My team and I need to know what you will and will not allow. Otherwise, I don’t see how we can proceed.”

“I’ll check with the lawyers and get back to you, Ryker,” Dell finally said.

This, however, was only one of Marcus’s concerns. “Fair enough,” he began, trying to choose his words carefully. “But I’m wondering if we could double back to the first point you raised at the start of our call.”

“The president’s address?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What about it?

“With respect, Madame Director, I would caution against any public announcement that we have taken down Badr Hassan al-Ruzami.”

“Why’s that?” Dell asked.

“Don’t get me wrong, ma’am. I realize that the president wants and needs—and deserves—a big win, especially in his first days of taking office. Nevertheless, right now, so far as we know, Abu Nakba and the rest of the Kairos network have no idea Ruzami is dead. The other two deputy commanders don’t know. And maybe more importantly, none of Ruzami’s sons know. The longer we keep that a secret, the better.”

Dell was visibly surprised, possibly even offended. “Jenny, how do you see it?” she asked.

“If Marcus hadn’t said it, I would have, ma’am,” Jenny replied. “We’ve just caught several important breaks here. Abu Jihad. Castillo. Now is not the time to tip our hand.”

Dell was quiet for a moment. Finally she said she would take the team’s advice to the president immediately. “But he may have already requested airtime from the networks,” she warned. “If so, then the genie is out of the bottle.”

Marcus glanced at the clocks on the wall above the main screen displaying Dell’s image. If the speech was happening, it would take place at 9 p.m. Eastern. It was presently 1:36 p.m. in Monterrey—the Central time zone—so that was 2:36 p.m. back in Washington. It was almost impossible for Marcus to imagine that the White House press secretary had not already requested time from the major broadcast networks for a prime-time presidential address only six and a half hours from then. He suggested they sign off and get moving. Dell agreed.

Once the screens had gone dark, Miguel Navarro turned to Marcus. “So, Agent Ryker, you said you had an idea?”