Middle East. When asked by reporters why this official response has been so long in coming Press Secretary Sheila Morgan replied that President Pierce would not be goaded into rash action by threats or acts of terrorism. His response would be well thought out, prudent, and comprehensive.
“CNN will keep you informed as soon as we know the date and time of this important policy statement by the President.”
Washington, D.C.
“I certainly am glad to see the two of you,” Elijah paced in front of the sofa where Matt and Nicole rested in the small living room of his hideaway apartment. “What did you do with the car you stole in Concord?”
“We parked it in a long-term lot at BWI Airport, wiped off our fingerprints and then took the train back into town,” replied Nicole. “What a great old car, that Packard. We parked it out of the way. I hope no one will damage it. Maybe after this thing is all over we’ll drive it back to its rightful owner.”
“Our lives may be over if we don’t figure out what the hell is going on,” Matt said, tired and frustrated. “Anne-Marie and Dr. Thomas are dead and it’s my fault.”
Eli poured himself another two fingers of Glenrothes. “We need to think this through. Look at things from a fresh perspective.”
“Dad, what did you find out about Mohammed al Nagib and William Fisher?”
“Quite a bit,” Eli said. “William Fisher’s had a very unusual career. I still can’t figure out how he wound up as one of the top dogs at the National Security Agency. His first assignment was as an embassy attache posted in Beirut, where he stayed until 1982, the year his wife was killed.”
“What?” said Matt, coming out of his depression. “How did she die?”
“She was killed in one of the Palestinian refugee camps in southern Lebanon during an Israeli raid. She was a volunteer nurse. Every so often the Israeli commandos would sneak into southern Lebanon, either across the border or come in from the sea, looking for Arab terrorists hiding out in the camps. She was shot in the back by an Israeli colonel who was leading the raid. Word among the intelligence community is Fisher took it pretty hard and became a recluse. Then about a year later he landed a plum job at the National Security Agency and steadily rose through the ranks.”
“”What exactly is the NSA?” Nicole asked.
“It’s the communications and research arm of the U.S. intelligence network. Originally, the National Security Agency staff were the code breakers but now they’re also experts on terrorism and clandestine communications used by hostile foreign governments and political groups. Fisher was recently promoted to director of Middle Eastern affairs for the NSA and is a standing member of President Pierce’s Special Task Force on Terrorism. He never remarried and is known to be dedicated, hard working, intelligent, and highly opinionated.”
“Sounds like the same jerk I met in Beirut thirty years ago,” replied Matt. “But why did he arrange that meeting at the monastery? And how did he know the Egyptian, Mohammad al Nagib?”
Eli savored his scotch, ignoring the look on his daughter’s face. “You don’t have time to read all there is about Mohammed al Nagib. Not only is he fabulously wealthy, he also shows up at high-society functions up and down the East Coast and in Europe. He has homes in London, Zurich, Athens, Rio de Janeiro, Bermuda and Cairo, plus a large estate in the Blue Ridge Mountains where he often entertains dignitaries from other countries. And he’s a big contributor to both the Republican and Democratic parties.”
“Sounds like a real slime ball,” Nicole said sourly.
“That and more. Al Nagib immigrated to the United States in the early 1970s from Egypt and somehow bought his way into the computer business. He’s now chairman of one of the biggest technology and software conglomerates in the United States. It’s based just outside Washington, near Dulles Airport, where a large number of defense and military technology companies are headquartered. He’s regularly seen in the company of a wealthy Greek shipping magnate.”
“Don’t tell me,” Matt said. “His last name is Antonopolis, right?”
“How did you know that?” Eli said, raising his eyebrows.
“One of the regulars in our AUB group was Demetrie Antonopolis, playboy son of some Greek industrialist. Demetrie’s father must be mixed up in all this and probably Demetrie as well. Anything known about al Nagib’s early days?”
“Absolutely nothing is known about him before he arrived in the United States. The record is a blank,” said Eli.
How convenient. “So,” Matt mused, “he shows up in Beirut in early 1969 trying to organize a radical group and then one year later winds up in the United States. You say he immigrated. He’s an American citizen?”
Eli nodded. “Quite the patriot. Well known and admired for throwing elaborate Fourth of July parties and lavishing thousands of dollars on fireworks.”
“Cut to the chase, Dad,” said Nicole. “What’s the unofficial word on this bastard?”
“Well, it’s never been proven but he’s suspected of being an international arms dealer and global financier. Some people believe he’s been responsible for putting people into key positions of power. Like a few heads of state, African dictators, and even some elected officials in Europe and the United States. And then when it suits him financially, he helps remove them. Think of all the recent leadership changes in the Congo and other African countries. At any rate he earns his money during times of war, not peace. And his close business ties to a Brazilian mining industrialist named Jorge Molinas are suspect. Molinas financially supports Hezbollah terrorist camps in the tri-border region of Paraguay, Argentina and Brazil.”
Matt drummed his fingers on the table, something tugging at his thoughts. A name, a face, a fact. What is it?
“I’ve made a fresh pot of tea,” said Nicole reaching across the table to pour the piping hot herbal tea into Matt’s mug. Opening his eyes he stared at the diamond tennis bracelet around her wrist. He’d never really paid much attention to it before. It glimmered in the overhead lights of the kitchen.
“I’ve got it! Your bracelet- it just reminded me of the wrist band. It was there all along in the back of my mind.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Matt?” Nicole exclaimed. She looked at her bracelet, trying to read its secrets.
“When I was escaping from the hospital I ducked into a dark room to avoid one of the guards. I was still a little groggy but there was a young woman lying in a hospital bed. I looked at her face but didn’t recognize her. She had scars like mine, another face transplant. She must have been having a bad dream because her hand shot out and grabbed my arm. I remember her saying something like, ‘No, Daddy, No.’ When I put her hand back on the bed I noticed the hospital tag around her wrist. It caught the light from the ceiling. There was no name. Only a blood type, A-negative, and two small letters. I didn’t register those letters at the time but now I can see them clear as day: K. S. Kelly Stevens.”
Eli’s face clouded. “If the press reported both of you dead,” he said slowly, “it suggests that Senator Mason Stevens is somehow involved.”
Matt sipped his piping hot tea. “What if he helped fake the accident in order to get his wayward daughter cleaned up, off of drugs, and out of sight? The last thing a powerful senator needs is a drug addict daughter. Maybe that’s why he insisted Kelly come to the reception for Dr. Melikian. He arranged the whole thing.”
“What?” asked Nicole.
“Didn’t Dr. Thomas say it was the Israelis who were the most advanced in facial transplant procedures?”
Nicole’s face went white. “You don’t think Senator Stevens is working with the Mossad, do you?”
“Whoa, young lady, you’ve been watching too many James Bond movies,” said Eli, pouring another two fingers of Scotch. “First of all foreign intelligence agencies aren’t allowed to operate inside the United States, period. And second it would be a treasonable offense, not to mention political suicide, for an elected official to be involved with any foreign government operating clandestinely on American soil.”
“Are you saying this kind of thing doesn’t happen?”
“It can happen, but certainly not with the chairman of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence. He’s cleaner than clean.”
