they saw this. Kassar was smiling as he posted the video on a popular jihadist website. Like a pebble in a lake, the video would ripple across the World Wide Web. There was no way the Americans could hope to contain it.
Chapter 31
Bagram Air Base, Afghanistan
Wilson was back down in front of the main desk, and the pimple-faced airman was trying to figure out how some uneducated Latino woman could deter nine special agents of the Federal Bureau of Investigation from doing their job. The only reason he wasn’t yelling at his overpaid, overqualified entourage was that he’d been unable to get past her as well, and he was in charge.
Wilson hadn’t gotten to where he was in this world by simply quit ting every time an obstacle was placed in front of him. No, Joel Wilson was better than that. If this Air Force bitch thought she could defy his authority, she was in for a rude lesson. Tapping the reception counter with his knuckles, he demanded, “Who’s in charge of this place?”
“I’m sorry, sir, you’ll have to be more specific.”
“This place,” Wilson repeated and waved his arms around. This further cemented Wilson’s belief that the military had become the great dumping ground for America’s dim-witted masses.
“Brigadier General Earl Kreitzer, sir.”
Wilson filed that one away. “What about this hospital?”
“Overall is Colonel Wyman, sir. He’s the task force medical commander, but Lieutenant Colonel Brunkhorst is the medical chief of staff.”
“Are either of them here right now?”
“Lieutenant Colonel Brunkhorst is, sir. May I ask what this is about?” The man snatched the handset out of the cradle. “She’s going to want to know.”
“It’s about that rude woman you have in ICU… Something, something Sergeant Sanchez.”
The eyes on the young man from Kansas grew large with recognition and he placed the handset back in its cradle. “Command Master Sergeant Sanchez.”
“That’s right.”
The Kansan looked over both shoulders. “Technically, sir, Lieutenant Colonel Brunkhorst is senior in the chain of command, but truth be told, Command Master Sergeant Sanchez runs this place.”
“Shit.” Wilson slapped his hand on countertop.
“I hope you didn’t do anything to upset her, sir.” Then he leaned forward and whispered, “She’s not someone you want to get on the wrong side of.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” Wilson was on the verge of really losing it, when the most surprising sight caught his eye. Coming down the hall toward him was one of his former FBI special agents, Sydney Hayek. They had a deeply complicated relationship that Hayek had ruined. According to Wilson’s very credible information, she was now working for the CIA. Wilson stepped away from the desk. “Sydney,” he shouted with a friendly wave. “You’re the last person I expected to find here.”
Hayek, normally good at masking her emotions, was incapable of doing so. Joel Wilson was the sole reason she had decided to leave the FBI. “Why are you here?”
Wilson flashed the boyish grin that he was so proud of. “I’m the one asking the questions around here.” He reached out to touch her shoulder, but she took a quick step back. Wilson tried to cover and said, “You look good.”
Hayek crossed her arms, her eyes glancing at the men behind Wilson. “Why are you here?”
“Well, it’s good to see you as well, Sydney,” Wilson said in an easy tone. “It’s too bad I had to fly to the other side of the planet to run into you. Do you have time to grab a cup of coffee?”
There was no answer. Hayek couldn’t process what she was hearing. Standing before her was a man who had tried to destroy her life. A man who had sexually harassed her and made her actually contemplate suicide. He knew all these things, yet here he was, standing in front of her, acting as if they were old friends.
“We’re not going to have coffee,” Hayek said, remembering how her therapist had told her she needed to be firm and unambiguous.
“That’s too bad, because I could really use your help on something. I hear you’re out at Langley these days.”
“What I do is classified. None of your business.”
Wilson laughed heartily. “You must not be aware of my new job at the Bureau. I’m running the Counterintelligence Division. You know.. who watches the watchers, and all that stuff.”
Hayek shrugged in an effort to convey what she was thinking, which was: I don’t give a shit what you do.
Wilson leaned forward and with a suave smile said, “So your business actually is my business.”
Hayek wanted to crawl out of her skin. She took a step to the side and said, “I need to be someplace right now.” Two steps later he grabbed her arm.
“Slow down there, missy.”
Hayek pivoted and came back at Wilson with her left fist cocked. “Take your damn hands off me!”
Wilson let go and put his hands up in the air. “You need to calm down. Striking a federal agent will land your pretty little ass in jail.”
“How about sexually harassing a federal agent and stalking her?” After having kept it pent up for years, and thinking she was free from this imbalanced egomaniac, she could no longer keep her feelings bottled up.
Wilson had handled her before and he could handle her now. “I see that Arab temper of yours hasn’t gotten any better.”
“I’m half Lebanese, half American, you arrogant WASP.”
Under his breath, but loud enough for several of them to hear, he said, “Hell hath no furylike a spurned woman.”
“Is that what you tell yourself? You think stalking your subordinate and making up fake excuses to be alone with me and me shutting down your perverted attempts at getting me into bed somehow adds up to me wanting you?” Hayek had been over and over all of this in therapy with Dr. Lewis, the CIA’s resident shrink. Hayek had been raised in a culture in which she was a disappointment. Her father, a Lebanese immigrant, had wanted her to be nothing more than a nurse. Women had their place in this world and it didn’t involve a gun, a badge, and chasing down bad guys. He wanted to marry off his beautiful daughter at eighteen to one of his friend’s sons. It was all arranged. She was supposed to begin providing grandchildren immediately. Without her knowledge a date had already been set at St. Maron’s Church. Hayek, a gifted student, had caught the eye of her high school’s guidance counselor. By the time her father announced his grand plans, Hayek had already been notified that she had not only been accepted to the University of Chicago, but she was going on a full ride.
Her entire world fell apart in just a few days. She defied her father and he in turn threw her out on the street. In a classic I-will-showyou showdown, neither Hayek nor her father backed down. The years ticked by and the distance grew and Hayek found out she could survive without her family. Her classmates at the University of Chicago became her new family and the FBI became her life. Hayek became a force of independence, promising herself that she would never be a victim. That she would never allow a man to dictate her life. She had done just fine until the deceitful and manipulative Joel Wilson came along.
During the seemingly never-ending therapy sessions, Dr. Lewis helped her see that she had built up some very unhealthy coping mechanisms. The most obvious was that she rarely let her feelings be known. She simply put her head down, kept her complaints to herself, and moved forward. When Wilson began twisting her into knots, her silence only made things worse.
Well, there’s not going to be any more silence, she told herself.
“I’d hoped you got some help after you washed out of the Bureau. But it doesn’t look like it.”
“You asshole. No one can manipulate the facts like you.” Hayek turned back toward the other men, some dressed in dark suits, others in more casual base attire. “Do any of you actually like working with this jerk?” They all stared at her stone-faced. “Well, don’t trust him. Never… not for a second, because you don’t mean a thing to him.
