The Invisible

DNI Bale, and Stan Chavis. If nothing else, it was proof that Saifi had had a hand in everything that had taken place. It featured the Algerian terrorist standing before a white flag that bore the oval-shaped symbol of the Salafist Group for Call and Combat. Saifi’s first demand had been quick and to the point: he wanted the release of 48 prisoners currently being held at Guantanamo Bay, all of whom were either Algerian-born or of Algerian extraction. This hadn’t come as a surprise to anyone. Neither had his second demand: a sum of fifty million U.S. dollars to be divided among forty accounts in banks known for their willingness and ability to block government inquiries. All of it was to be delivered within the next forty-eight hours, or Saifi would begin killing hostages. He had threatened to start with Fitzgerald, but Harper had immediately dismissed that part of the recording. The acting secretary was by far the Algerian’s biggest bargaining chip, and there was no way Saifi would kill her until he had gotten what he wanted. On this point, they were all in complete agreement.

“Sir, there’s nothing unexpected or unusual about Saifi’s first two demands,” Harper began. “Assuming Mengal isn’t involved, Saifi

could, theoretically, use the money to reestablish the GSPC, which hasn’t been on anyone’s radar for years. If Mengal is involved, then Saifi might still receive a portion of those funds. I doubt he really cares much about the prisoners . . . You’ll recall that he hardly gave any instructions on where they were to be transferred, or how they were supposed to get there. He did, however, give extensive instructions on how the money was to be delivered. Saifi doesn’t have a financial background, so obviously, he has someone advising him in that direction. More likely, Mengal—again, assuming he’s involved—

is the one calling the shots with respect to the second demand. He was a senior figure in ISI, so presumably, he would know how hard it is to wipe funds clean of electronic surveillance.”

Brenneman considered that for a moment. “And what about the third demand?”

Harper hesitated. The third demand was the one that had thrown them all for a loop, mainly because it didn’t fit in with what they knew about the Algerian terrorist. Before the tape ended, Saifi had demanded an immediate cessation to the forthcoming Indian-Israeli arms deal, pointing out that the sale of superior military technology to India would “infect the Indian people with the same grandiose, imperalistic dreams that have consumed the U.S. government for years.” As with the money, Saifi had given specific instructions on how the cancelled deal was to be reported in the media. He’d picked out three major networks—DD National in India, PTV1 in Pakistan, and CNN in the United States—and insisted that the cancellation be reported on all three channels prior to July 18, the date the transaction was scheduled to go through.

“The third demand, sir, is not concurrent with what we know about Saifi’s background. Nor does it make sense when one considers the aims of his group. In other words, it’s completely out of character for him. But if Benazir Mengal is actually behind the whole thing, then it might make perfect sense. If that deal falls through, Pakistan will maintain the status quo, militarily speaking, and the Pakistani forces fighting in Kashmir will suddenly have a huge psychological advantage. We don’t know much about Mengal just yet—I have people working on that right now—but we do know that he spent a decade with ISI in a senior role. If he still has some strange allegiance to his former service, I wouldn’t put it past him to engineer something like this.”

“Fair enough,” the president said. He frowned for a moment, thinking it through. Then he looked up and appraised them both.

“Gentlemen, I’d like you to take a hard look at that tape. We need to try to learn from it, and we also need to try and figure out why Saifi

didn’t use the secretary of state on the recording. That still doesn’t make sense to me. But for now, let me return to the issue at hand, namely, what took place today in Madrid. The Spanish government is already asking some dangerous questions, and they’ve only just started looking. I have to know that there is nothing out there that could link us to this. If I’m going to deny it outright, I need to be sure it won’t come back to us. That it won’t come back to me.”

“It won’t, sir,” Harper assured him. “That is the one thing you can be certain of. In the meantime, no one is standing still. The Bureau’s team landed at Chaklala this morning, and they’re already examining the vehicles destroyed in the ambush, as well as the site itself on Airport Road. With any luck, they’ll have some preliminary observations by the end of the day. We can factor in whatever they come up with and go from there.”

“Good,” Brenneman said. He got to his feet, and the other men followed suit. “That’s what I wanted to hear. Interagency cooperation on this matter is absolutely vital.”

“Of course,” Andrews said as he approached the door, Harper a few steps behind. “We’re doing everything we can, sir.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Brenneman paused just inside the door, which seemed to open of its own accord. He appraised them both in turn. “Gentlemen, I want hourly updates. Obviously, I want to see anything relating to the situation in Kashmir, but finding Secretary Fitzgerald remains our top priority. In order to do that, we need to find Mengal as soon as possible. As far as I’m concerned, nothing is more important than tracking him down. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Andrews answered for both of them. “Perfectly clear.”

CHAPTER 21

WASHINGTON, D.C. • LAHORE, PAKISTAN

Five minutes after the meeting was over, the two CIA officials left the building from a door on the south side of the West Wing. The air was oppressive: heavy, warm, and still. Mountainous black clouds positioned directly overhead seemed to promise rain, although the sun still broke through occasionally, spilling yellow light over the dark pavement. The surrounding trees seemed completely immobile, frozen in anticipation of the building storm. The two men began crossing the pavement toward the waiting Town Car, which was tucked in between a pair of black Chevy Suburbans. All three vehicles were running, and as Harper and Andrews approached, a number of security officers broke away from their idle discussions and climbed into the armored SUVs, preparing for the short drive back to Langley. Andrews walked up to the Lincoln, and the driver’s-side window slid down immediately. He spoke a few words to the driver, unbuttoned his suit coat, and handed it in through the window. Loosening his tie slightly, he turned and walked back to Harper.

“Hot as hell out here,” he remarked, rolling his sleeves up over his thick forearms.

“Yeah, but it looks like rain, and we could use it.”

“I hate this town in the summer,” Andrews growled, looking up at the darkening sky. “The air is so damn thick . . . It’s like trying to breathe underwater.”

“August is just around the corner,” Harper pointed out. “The worst is yet to come.”

“My sentiments exactly,” Andrews said. He seemed to brood for a moment before nodding curtly toward the east colonnade. “Come on. Let’s take a walk. I need some air.”

Having no real say in the matter, Harper ignored the verbal hypocrisy and fell in beside the DCI. They walked along the curved road until they reached the Jacqueline Kennedy Garden, which lay just south of the east colonnade. They entered the garden on the west side, following the redbrick walkway between strips of bright grass and beds of colorful flowers. Although the East Wing was visible through the vegetation, they were largely blocked from view by boxwood hedges and small trees. Harper knew that a number of marines and Secret Service agents were posted outside the building, but they remained out of sight. In short, they had complete privacy. They had walked for nearly five minutes before Andrews finally spoke.

“Did you know that Andrew Jackson planted some of these personally?” He gestured toward a cluster of small, well-kept magnolia trees. “A different time,” he mused, more to himself than anything else. Still, Harper felt compelled to respond and muttered his agreement. They continued in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Andrews paused beside a neatly trimmed hedge of American holly. He loosened his tie a little more, then wiped his brow with the back of his hand.

“John, nothing about this situation makes sense,” he began, fixing his subordinate with a steady gaze. “The president made a good point in there. If they have her, why didn’t they show her on the tape? That would have made a much greater impact than words alone, and let’s face it: Brenneman might just pay them if it means keeping a tape like that out of the media. It’s one thing to know she was