monitor and helped Adams get strapped into it When he was done helping Adams, he began checking out the rest of his gear.
As Rapp slid the bolt on his submachine gun back, Rielly asked, “Is that an MP-Five?”
Rapp looked up, frowning, more than a little surprised that she could even make a guess let alone get the manufacturer correct.
“Close. It’s the new MP-Ten. How do you know what an MP-Five looks like?”
“My dad’s a police officer in Chicago.”
“Oh, that’s right.”
“What are you going to do?”
“A little reconnaissance.”
“Where?”
Rapp placed the submachine gun on the ground.
“You sure do ask a lot of questions.”
“I’m a reporter. It’s my job.”
Rapp frowned and nodded as if he had just been reminded of a particularly bad thing.
Rielly picked up on the expression and asked, “Is there something wrong with that?”
“Normally”-Rapp shrugged his shoulders-“probably not. But under the current circumstances, I can see where we might have a problem.”
“And why would that be?”
“Why?” Rapp tilted his head. “Because when this whole thing is over, you will probably have one hell of a story to tell.”
“I owe you a lot. I wouldn’t report anything that you didn’t agree to.”
Rapp slid his pistol out of his thigh holster and pulled back on the slide. The cylindrical brass round was where it should have been, and Rapp let the slide go forward.
“What if I don’t want you to report a single word of this mess? What if I want you to act like we never met, and none of this ever happened?”
“That’s not realistic.”
“Well, then we have a problem.”
Looking at him, she wondered why he would have to be so secretive.
“Who do you work for?”
“I can’t tell you that.” Rapp shoved his pistol back in its holster.
“Seriously, I’d like to know.”
“And seriously”-Rapp shook his head and opened his eyes wide-“I can’t tell you.”
“It must be the CIA.” Rielly kept her eyes on him, trying to get the slightest hint of a reaction. She got nothing.
“It has to be the CIA, otherwise you could tell me.”
“Wrong. Are you a woman of your word?”
“Yes.”
Good. Then someday, if we both make it out of here alive, I’ll tell you my life story.” Rapp smiled, showing a set of long dimples on both cheeks.
Rielly smiled back and nodded.
“So you work for the CIA.”
“I never said that,” replied Rapp.
IRENE KENNEDY STOOD over the secure phone in General Flood’s office and felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. On the other end was Colonel Fine of the Israeli foreign intelligence service, Mossad. Fine had just given Kennedy a brief overview on the three names she had given him the night before. There was no surprising information on the first two terrorists, but the third was an entirely different matter.
Mustafa Yassin was the man in question, and Kennedy was curious. The colonel had come up with three matches on the name Mustafa Yassin. The first was a fifty-seven-year-old officer in the Jordanian army, and the second was an eighteen year-old suspected Palestinian dissident.
When Colonel Fine finished giving the background on the individuals, Kennedy asked, “Could you repeat the info on the last Yassin, please?”
“Sure, but let me caution you, Yassin is a fairly common name over here, so this might not be the same guy. The last Mustafayassin is an Iraqi.
We don’t have a lot of information on him, but what we do have all revolves around the invasion of Kuwait. Since then there has only been one update added to his file. According to our intelligence, his alias is the Thief of Baghdad When the Iraqis rolled into Kuwait and started looting, it was this Yassin fellow who they put in charge of breaking into all of the bank vaults.”
“What else do you have on him?” asked Kennedy.
“Not a lot, but this isn’t the guy I would worry about. My bet is Aziz recruited this eighteen-year-old fellow from Gaza as cannon fodder.”
Kennedy looked down at Flood’s desk and thought about the possibilities.
“Can you locate him?”
“I already have my people checking on all three. So far I’ve only been able to confirm the whereabouts of the Jordanian officer.”
“I thought you kept close tabs on these dissidents.”
“We do” started Fine, “but things are a little stressed over here right now. What is the phrase you like to use?… The natives are restless. We have another indfada on our hands. Aziz seems to have motivated every Palestinian between the age of two and seventy to pick up a rock and protest.”
Kennedy had been so focused on the immediate concerns of the crisis that she hadn’t thought of the repercussions it might be having abroad. What Fine said made sense, and if they didn’t step in and handle things more firmly, it would only get worse.
“Ben, it would be a big help if you could track down this kid as soon as possible.”
“I have my best people on it, Irene. I can assure you of that.”
“Thank you, Ben. Is there anything else?”
“Well…” There was a four-second pause.
“The word on the street is that you grabbed Sheik Harut, the night before last.”
“Where are you hearing that?”
“Several sources, actually. The Huns are all guessing it was either you or me, and since I know it wasn’t me, then it must be you.”
“I’m not in a position to discuss that matter right now, but I can assure you when I know anything about it, you will be briefed fully.”
Fine didn’t say anything for a long while and then said, “Irene, this is uncomfortable for me, but there are those in my government who are very unhappy with the way this crisis is being handled.”
Kennedy turned around and sat on the edge of General Flood’s desk. There were many that, put in her shoes, would simply have told the colonel that the U.S. was doing just fine managing the crisis, and that it would appreciate it if its allies would keep their opinions to themselves.
Fine continued.
“It is our fear that you may make a short term decision that could be catastrophic to Israel’s interests.” Kennedy thought about Fine’s words honestly and refused to let nationalism seep into her thought process.
There was no doubt that Israel had a lot on the line, and it didn’t take a Rhodes scholar to figure out how they “would like the crisis resolved.
Kennedy usually stayed out of this type of discussion, but in the current situation, and considering her own frustration with Vice President Baxter, she felt it prudent to try to assuage some of Fine’s fears. She also knew that whatever she said would be relayed up to the highest levels of the Israeli government, “Ben, people like us don’t make policy; we only advise.
Having said that, however, I can assure you that at every juncture of this crisis, there have been those of us
