“Out of the frying pan, into the fire, as you Americans say. My answer is ‘no’.” A shrewd look crossed the major’s face and he glanced from Harry to the screen. “I’m not interested in being a pawn the rest of my life. I want political asylum, a new identity, and money. The deal you must have offered Asefi.”
The request had to have caught Kranemeyer by surprise, but Harry could see no signs of it on his face. No question about it, the DCS could play poker.
“And what do you have to offer that would justify such a bargain?”
Hossein smiled. “BEHDIN. The pure and faithful one. It is the codename of an Iranian sleeper agent who has penetrated your vaunted Clandestine Service.”
In that moment, Harry was glad he had sent Davood out of the room. “This man has been activated by Tehran and is currently deployed as a member of one of your strike teams,” Hossein continued. “Give me what I have requested and I will identify him for you, before he can wreak further havoc.”
Kranemeyer’s poker face cracked into a hard smile. “I’m sorry if that was your best card, major, but it’s not good enough. We were already aware of the sleeper agent. He’s on the team with you as we speak.”
A glance at the Iranian’s expression showed that the shot had struck home, confirming the FBI’s suspicions of Davood. He shrugged. “Somalia it is then.”
“I believe we have a deal,” the DCS replied, grinning like a man who had just drawn to an inside straight.
At that moment, Harry’s headset crackled with static. “FULLBACK to EAGLE SIX, we have a visual on the subject. He’s heading toward the Gate of the Chain. Advise takedown.”
Harry didn’t hesitate. “Take him, but do it quietly.”
When he turned back, the screen above them was black. Kranemeyer was gone. Harry placed a hand on the major’s shoulder and spoke, his voice cold and hard. “Time to start earning your pay.”
“What is it, Mordecai?” General Shoham asked, entering Mossad’s analysis department. “Did you find something on the bombings?”
The analyst nodded, gesturing toward his screen. “I did, and it’s not good. We have a claim of responsibility.”
“Who wants the credit now?”
A website was loaded on the Mossad screens, displaying multiple webpages in separate windows. “The Lions of Jehovah,” Mordecai responded, indicating their logo with his cursor.
“Refresh my memory. That name is familiar. Why?” Shoham asked, leaning closer to the screen.
“Because it should be. They’re a hard-right Zionist group founded during the Second Intifada. Fiercely opposed to any concept of a two-state solution, they draw most of their support from the neo-evangelical community in the U.S.”
“Any history of direct action?”
“The closest they’ve ever come was when they blew up five of the bulldozers Sharon ordered in on the Gaza settlements. No casualties, just equipment damage, but their founder, Rabbi Benjamin Arel, went to prison. He got out-two months ago.”
“ ‘To drive the Arab from the lands of God’,” Shoham breathed, reading from the top of the page. “All right. Find out where Arel is now. We’ll want to pull him in for questioning.”
An aide hurried in, holding a secure satphone in his hand. “Lt. Laner on the phone for you, sir.”
“Give it here,” Shoham ordered, composing himself. He had enough to deal with without handling these lunatics. “Lieutenant?”
“Sir, we’re looking at a situation,” Laner began, his voice hushed, tense. “The word on the street is that Jews were responsible for the attacks.”
The general hesitated for a long moment before responding. “Here’s what’s worse. They’re right…”
Taking a final sip of tea, Fayood al-Farouk returned the cup to its saucer and typed the last two commands into his laptop, tapping the ENTER key at the end of the sequence. The next moment, the commands went racing across the cafe’s Wi-Fi into the ether.
With any luck, the Lions of Jehovah wouldn’t even know they had been hacked until after Mossad showed up at their door. An archived copy of the website and the video claiming responsibility had already been sent to Al- Jazeera for dissemination across the house of Islam…
“GUNHAND, you have a policeman at your eight o’clock,” Hamid advised, keeping his voice low as he pushed his way through the crowd, toward Harun. “Recommend that I make the snatch.”
“Taking up overwatch, FULLBACK,” the Texan acknowledged.
The al-Magribah Gate was only a hundred feet away, maybe less. The window of opportunity was closing. Time to move. Hamid’s hand closed around the suppressed.45 Glock in the pocket of his jacket.
He saw Harun glance around once more, the anxious look still in his eyes. Careful, but not careful enough.
He had run out of options. In desperation, he had placed a fourth phone call to the secure line of the Ayatollah Isfahani, but someone else had answered the phone and he’d hung up in panic.
Someone was watching. Someone was always watching. Harun could feel their eyes boring into his back. Farouk would be expecting him back soon enough.
Suddenly, without warning, a hand closed over his arm and the barrel of a gun jabbed into his ribs.
“Don’t do anything foolish,” a voice admonished in perfect Farsi and Harun froze, fighting the impulse to face his stalker…
“FULLBACK to EAGLE SIX,” Hamid’s voice came over Harry’s headset, “Grab successful. I repeat, I have the subject. Proceeding to your location.”
“Good work,” Harry replied, turning to Major Hossein. “I need you to convince him that it’s in his best interests to cooperate with us. You’re sure that he’s not ideologically invested in this?”
“Harun?” Hossein shook his head. “He’s not a jihadist. He doesn’t have the stomach for it. Give me a lever, and he’ll move.”
“Good. One other thing,” Harry added, a shamefaced grin spreading across his countenance, “I don’t speak a word of Farsi, so I’ll be relying on you to communicate with him during the entire interrogation.”
It was a stately building-an Islamic school, or
It had been the second target of the Lions of Jehovah. Gideon and his men deployed through the gathering
