Ryan pushed off the desk. “My job here is done. I’ll meet up with Marcus and give him a piss break. We’ll keep an eye on al-Abadi until time to strike. Give us a call beforehand so we can gear up.” He waved absently as he left.
Bridger watched him leave then turned to Jay. “What if we’re wrong?”
“About?”
“About al-Abadi being the target. What if the CIA or NSA isn’t targeting this asshole?”
Jay leaned against the desk and shook his head. “Gregg’s the best. He’s a one man Google. If he says that the odds are highest that al-Abadi is the target, then I’m willing to put my money on it.”
“You’re not hearing me. What if we’re wrong?”
Jay sighed heavily and avoided eye contact. “Then we’re all screwed. We’re in this as much as you are now.”
“Not quite.” Bridger ground his teeth in frustration. “They aren’t doctoring photos of you entering and exiting the country. They aren’t giving you fake itineraries flying all over the damned country. They aren’t—”
Jay placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’re in this together now. This isn’t just about you. Whatever they’re doing, it’s no good. And they picked the wrong mother fucker to set up. Period.”
Bridger nodded and turned back to the schematics. “I hope you’re right.”
Langley, VA
DEREK CHESTERFIELD WENT through the company records for the men at Baba Yaga International. He felt a knot form in his stomach as he read the exploits of the men and the operations they had accomplished over the past years. Not all of their contracts were with the US government. Some of the hairiest conflicts were while they were in the employ of foreign nations.
He closed the folders and slipped them quietly into his desk. He sat in silence a moment before logging back onto his computer and checking the status of the strike teams. They were in place and in a holding pattern until the demonstrations began.
Should I call it off? Is Nelson right? Should he allow the strikes to continue and put a team together to set up another fall guy? The questions stacked on his already weary mind and he considered the possibilities.
He glanced at his watch and tried to calculate the time difference. He knew he could get the strike teams to stand down and ex-filed before the project went any further, but could they stand to lose such a diversion? Would they ever get another chance to remove so many high value targets in one operation?
He pounded his desk in frustration and squeezed his eyes shut. There has to be another way.
He suddenly sat up and reached for the phone. He punched the number for the Assistant Director at the NSA. Robert Ingram planted the seeds for this operation months ago. Surely he could direct him to the correct path.
Langley, VA
“HELL NO WE’RE not canceling the op!” Ingram’s voice echoed across the receiver. “I don’t think you’re seeing the bigger picture here, agent Chesterfield.”
Darren swallowed hard and nodded into the phone. “I’m sure there are other—”
“You’re not sure of anything, son. Director Jameson and myself worked on this for months before we came to you.”
“D-Director Jameson?”
“You didn’t hear that.” Ingram’s voice turned into a growl. “Just realize that there is a lot more going on here than simply sending a few flag burning demonstrators to meet their dear and fuzzy prophets.”
“Of course, sir, I realize that. I was just thinking that maybe if we leaked the information to the Israelis, they could bomb the primary target and—”
“What did I tell you about thinking, Chesterfield?” Ingram gave him a moment to reflect. “There are things in play here that are above your paygrade.”
“No, I understand sir. I just thought that since these contractors are involved that we should—”
“Dammit son, there ya go thinking again. Do I need to spell it out for you? I don’t give two shits if the Pope himself is taking a tour of downtown Karachi and decides to join in the BBQ, this op stays on track, do you read me?”
“Y-Yes, sir.” Darren swallowed hard. “You do realize who the contractors are, don’t you sir? Colonel Nelson informed me—”
“Chesterfield, there’s a reason that Colonel Nelson is behind a desk. It’s because he has no balls. He’s connected, so they can’t force him out, but he’ll never see a star.” Ingram took a deep breath. “You just keep this op on track. There are a lot of other factors involved here.”
Ingram listened to the silence on the other end of the line then decided he’d better throw the man a bone. “Look. You know what the primary target is. You also know that the diversion is perfectly placed to feed civil unrest with the moderates. We can’t have anybody else come in and blow shit up, especially the damned Israelis. Imagine how that would look to the populace. They’d blame it all on Israel and the secondary reason for this operation will have failed.”
“But, sir—”
“No buts. We need the people of Pakistan to think that the whole thing was the insurgent’s fault. At first, they’ll try to blame the West for the casualties, and if they do, we have the perfect patsy. But once that primary target goes up, we have a reporter standing by with Al-Jazeera who is ready to spill the entire pot of beans on that primary location. Once the people of Pakistan put two and two together, it won’t matter who you set up for the flag burning incident, they’ll tie it to the primary target and with just an ounce of luck, there will be enough unrest that the moderates will finally rise up and drive the extremists out.”
Chesterfield sighed heavily into the phone. “Perhaps we should drop the whole set up on this Bridger guy. Find another to take the fall—”
“Who?” The irritation in Ingram’s voice wasn’t lost.
“The guy we chose to
