Enemy of Mine

documents and equipment to Beirut. Pike’s linking up with it as we speak.”

President Warren gave him an incredulous look. “And if I’d said no?”

“Then Pike would have had some passports he would never use. I had to prep early to make this work.” He saw the president’s face darken and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Hey, all I’m trying to do is protect your peace process. What good is the money if the man holding it is slaughtered?”

27

Jennifer saw a newspaper in Louis Britt’s right hand, the signal that the meeting was safe. She moved straight past the hostess and took a seat at the case officer’s table. Now that they could recognize each other, there was no need for the verbal dance to prove who they were. He went through the mad minute again, ensuring they both understood what to say should they be asked about the meeting at a later date, then passed her a key across the table.

“That’s to a locker at the Charles Helou Bus Station. Inside are the documents and other equipment you asked for.”

“How much equipment? Will I need to bring luggage to conceal it?”

“No, it’s in a backpack already.” He took a drink of water and surprised her with his next statement. “You people have been busy. Taking the fight to the military wing of Hezbollah isn’t the smartest thing I’ve seen, but it is gutsy.”

“Hezbollah? I didn’t think they worked in the refugee camps.”

His turn to be surprised, he said, “Palestinian camp? I’m talking about the killing of the Martyrs Battalion leadership. Hezbollah’s little covert assassination cell.”

“That wasn’t us, but it is something we hope you can help with.” She pulled out the screenshot of Lucas Kane. “We think it was this guy. Your Infidel assassin. Ever seen him before?”

He studied the grainy screenshot, then said, “Nope. Where was it taken?”

She pulled a tablet PC out of her bag and showed him a Google map with the location marked.

He said, “Heart of the Dahiyeh. Headquarters for Hezbollah. If he’s on the Martyrs Battalion payroll, he’s in very, very deep. Nobody will know his name but the top leadership. And like I said, they’re dead now.”

“Yeah. Like I said, we think he killed them.”

He scoffed. “Well, then forget about finding him. He’s already smoked.”

“I’d like to think so, but this guy has a survival instinct that’s on steroids. If anyone could get out of there alive, it would be him. Before things went bad between him and this Martyrs Battalion, they had to be helping him out. Whatever passports or IDs he’s using, they had to have gotten it for him. He’s not traveling on his true passport, we know that.”

“How?”

“His name’s Lucas Kane. The Taskforce has had a run-in with him in the past, and he’s been on a watch list for at least two years. Never once has that name spiked. We’ve also scrubbed the database here in Lebanon. That name never entered or left the country.”

He said nothing for a moment, thinking. “Let me see that map again.” He studied it, saying, “Hezbollah has built their own communications infrastructure inside Lebanon. A parallel system with the help of Iran. They claim it’s to help them defend the country against Israel, but it’s really just one more step to them becoming a shadow government. I’ve passed the nodes of that network to the Taskforce should we need to target them in the future.” He pointed at a building a few blocks away from the geo-tag of the Lucas screenshot. “That’s the central junction for the fiber-optic grid and a server farm for the network.”

“Okay. How does that help? You think we should hack the network? You think his information will be in there?”

“No. The network itself is pretty secure. So much so that the Lebanese government went to war with Hezbollah over it in 2008. The LAF pretty much lost, and the communications grid is bigger than ever. Even so, the Martyrs Battalion information won’t be on it. Hezbollah’s fairly open now that they hold a majority in the government. Even its military runs around flaunting weapons. But they have to hide the assassination cell, especially after Hariri. There is a database, but it will be air-gapped. It won’t be on any network.”

“So?”

“It’s in this building. I was trying to get access to it to prove my Infidel theory, but had no luck. You get a pipe into that, and you’ll know everything about Infidel.” He leaned back in his chair. “But good luck with that.”

“You don’t think we can get access?”

“No way. Like I said, it’ll be air-gapped, with no contact to the World Wide Web. No WiFi, no Internet, nothing that can be exploited, so you’ll have to physically get hands on a computer that’s in the network. And that computer is in this building, in the heart of Hezbollah-land.”

“Can you get us greater fidelity on where this computer would be located in the building? So we don’t have to run around trying every system we see? Can your source network figure that out?”

“Yeah. I already have that information. I just couldn’t get anyone willing to risk gaining access because they were convinced it was suicide. Add to that the fact that Hezbollah’s entire infrastructure is now on red alert because of the Martyrs Battalion leadership killings, and it’s certainly suicide now. And I mean suicide for a source of mine who’s Arabic with access to the building.”

“Well, we’ll see. Get me the information on the computers and let us worry about access.”

“I’ll get it to you, along with whatever security information I have, but a piece of advice.”

“What?”

“You white boys go in that building, make sure you save one bullet for yourself. No way do you want to get taken alive.”

28

Knuckles watched the deck of the ship grow smaller as the Bell 427 picked up forward speed. He keyed the mike on his headset.

“Say good-bye to the QE Two. I don’t think we’re going to see the black hole again.”

In the dim light of the helo he saw Decoy’s teeth flash above the dive mask around his neck.

“Fine by me. That damn boat is the smelliest thing I’ve ever had the misfortune to sleep on.”

The QE II was the sarcastic nickname of a salvage boat that plied its cover all over the Mediterranean, picking up scrap metal at various ports and transporting it elsewhere. The company that owned it was located in Tangier, Morocco, and was ostensibly a Moroccan entity. It paid Moroccan taxes, flew the Moroccan flag, and employed ethnically diverse individuals, without a Caucasian among them. It was completely outside all suspicion to the Arab states it operated within. It was another thread in the web of the Taskforce; a profitable, multimillion-dollar corporation that existed for one purpose. In between its journeys, the boat acted as a floating transfer point, allowing terrorists who were snatched to be flown out of country and dropped off. The men would return back to the original country, continuing with their cover activities without anyone realizing what had happened. In a perfect mission, the terrorist simply disappeared into a “black hole,” hence the code name for the vessel.

In this case, Knuckles had transferred Crusty, then returned to Tunisia only to be recalled two days later on an alert from Taskforce headquarters. The ship had begun steaming east, getting in range of the Levant coastline when the mission had been scrubbed. Eight hours later, it was back on.

Having spent the majority of his military time inside a SEAL team, he was used to the on-again, off-again