'Look, I am the U.K. liaison in a contact group set up by the CIA. It's called the Counter-terrorism Center, and we're based at Langley. Our general remit is to disrupt terrorist--' 'Sarah, I told you, shut the fuck--' Her voice got a bit louder. '--to disrupt terrorist operations; my particular cell is coordinating a U.S. effort with European and African nations to roll up Osama Bin Laden's networks.'
'Bin Laden? What the fuck .. .'
She looked at me, waiting for me to continue. I didn't, but she knew I was now starting to take an interest. She drew a breath and continued.
'Yes, Bin Laden. We had a common cause while he was fighting in Afghanistan, that's true. But the problems began after the 'eighty-nine Russian withdrawal and his return to Saudi. As far as he was concerned, Nick, Afghanistan wasn't destroyed by the Russians, but by Afghans who had turned their backs on their religion and their country for money and power. Once he returned home, he saw the same corruption in all the Arab nations that had adopted Western values--above all, in Saudi, the land of the two most holy places, Mecca and Medina.'
I looked at her blankly, wondering if she would be saying all this if she knew her life depended on it.
'The whole situation was made worse by the Gulf War. To him, the presence of hundreds of thousands of American and other foreign troops on Saudi soil was a desecration of Islam, the return of barbarian Crusaders to defile Islam's holy places. He vowed to wage war against their presence in Saudi and against the Saudi leaders who had brought them into the country. As far as he was concerned it had become an American colony. He wanted to strike back at the West--in fact, at anyone who was non-Muslim and in Saudi.
'The thought that former mujahedin would one day come to the United States and conduct operations didn't enter anyone's head at the time.' She allowed herself a small smile.
'The CIA has a word for it: blowback--a poisonous fallout, carried on political winds, drifting back home from a distant battlefield.' The corners of her mouth went serious again as she added, 'Bin Laden has become, over the last several years, the international terrorist posing the most serious threat to Western interests. He has an incredibly effective infrastructure and, of course, he has lots of money to fund it all himself. The ASU at the lake was funded by him.
That's why I was there.'
I shrugged.
'Listen, if there's shit on, call Washington, London, whatever.
Let them sort it out. There's the phone, call them.'
She looked across at the bedside cabinet, but made no movement toward it. Her eyes stayed fixed on mine. I wasn't too sure if she was actually listening, or just waiting for me to say more.
I got up and went over to the vanity unit outside the bathroom. It had a sink, mirror, shaving plug, soap and hand towels; it was time to clean up my arm. If she were telling the truth, all she had to do was pick up the phone.
I took off my jacket, pulled up the shirtsleeve, and surveyed the damage:
two rows of nice clean puncture wounds that any German Shepherd would be proud of. If I collected any more scarring I'd start to look like the Cabbage Patch doll Kelly said I was. I turned on the taps and Sarah remained silent for a few seconds as I rinsed the dried blood and mud off my arm. The puncture wounds were deep, but less jagged than I'd expected.
'Nick, don't you imagine that I've already thought of that?'
I glanced in the mirror and saw her sitting on the bed.
'Making contact with anyone is not an option, because it's not a solution.'
I washed the wound slowly with soap and waited for that first horrible stinging to die down, trying to work out if what she'd said was any more than her usual cocktail-party performance. The room heater was working overtime and making my eyes sting.
'Nick, how do you think the ASU was going to get close to their target here in the U.S.? Just walk up and give him a little tap on the shoulder?'
I shrugged. It didn't matter if I knew or not, she was going to tell me.
It came at me in a flood.
'Nick, Bin Laden has a highly placed source.
We think it's possibly as high as the National Security Council. Think about what that means: the group that blew up the World Trade Center ... and Khobar Towers in Saudi, remember? Nineteen American servicemen dead. They also did the 'ninety-five bomb in Saudi. Another five Americans killed.
'Those are the people who have someone within the administration.
That's why I can't just pick up the phone and get inside help: the source would find out, then close down for a few years and never be found. He is the key to stopping Bin Laden.'
I could see the passion in her eyes as she continued.
'Nick, the source has access to Intelink. Not only does that mean he would know before virtually anyone else of any contact I made, but just think about what information is being passed on to Bin Laden and anyone else he then decides to sell or give it to. Don't you think I would love to call this in?'
Well, if all this was true, that was the phone call question taken care of.
Intelink is a top secret network, through which all the U.S. and some Allied intelligence agencies share information, very much like their own private Internet. Within it, all agencies also have their own intra nets separated by fire walls from the main system. There are about a hundred sites that need top secret security clearance to get access to. Whoever the source was, if he or she had access to it, then they must be big time.
I washed, thought and said nothing. If she was telling the truth and Netanyahu was killed and the source did exist, it would be a drama, but it wouldn't make much of a dent in my life. Come to think of it, would it affect anyone else's very much?
I could still see her reflection in the mirror.
'Hey, kill one Israeli prime minister,' I said, 'another pops up. So what?'
It seemed that something I'd said had amused her, because her nose twitched and a big smile lit up her face.
'They're not going to kill just Netanyahu, Nick. The main target is Arafat. Bin Laden hates him hates him even more than Netanyahu, for reining in Hamas and other Islamic fundamentalists and supporting the peace process.'
I looked down at my arm, trying to hide my smile.
'He's not too keen on making friends, old Bin boy, is he?'
My joke wasn't appreciated; she just carried on as if she were Elizabeth giving me a brief.
'For Bin Laden, the important thing about this attack is what it will say to the world. When CNN asked him about his plans, he said, 'You'll see them and hear them in the media, God willing.' Since then, the Islamic Jihad group has sent the United States a warning: that they would soon deliver a message to Americans 'which we hope they read with care, because we will write it, with God's help, in a language they will understand.'
'His message is that nowhere is safe for United States citizens and their friends. It's the logical extension of the bombing of American interests overseas. The one place that should be safe here in the U.S. isn't. Think about it, Nick. Two world leaders killed while guests of the most powerful nation in the world. A perfect demonstration that Allah's avenger can strike wherever and whenever he wants. Just think what a boost that would be for the fundamentalists. As you would say, there'd be shit on. And the source is there, Nick, every step of the way.'
She stood up and started to walk toward me. I concentrated on dealing with my arm. I said, 'And what about the guy we were sent in to lift in Syria? Where does that fit in?' I hoped I wasn't sounding too interested.
'And you changed the data. London told me everything.'
She was now standing next to me.
'Ah, London again. I killed him because I had to, Nick. He knew the real data. If he'd come back to the U.K.
the corrupt stuff I gave them wouldn't have stood up.'
'Why change it in the first place?'
She sighed.
'To try to confirm if the source really existed, and where in the NSC food chain he was. Those were early days, Nick, nothing was confirmed. At that point he was just a myth.'
She clearly felt more had to be said.
