Bridger looked up at Scott, his face still registering the shock. “This can’t be right.”
Scott shrugged. “Bobby, you’ve always been sort of a recluse, but you’ve always made yourself available to me when I needed someone with your…expertise.” He tapped the sheet that Bridger still held. “But somebody, somewhere, thinks that you are a threat.”
“This can’t be right.” Bridger repeated. “I’ve stayed off the grid just because of shit like this.”
Scott shrugged. “As far as I know, it’s bullshit. But by federal law, we’re supposed to report any ‘suspicious behavior.’” Scott smirked at Bobby again. “How the hell do I do that when everything you do looks suspicious?”
“This isn’t funny, Scott.” Bridger slapped the paper back in the man’s chest. “You have no idea what this means.”
“Oh, I have a clue. But if you aren’t up to no good, then you have nothing to worry about.” Scott folded the paper again and shoved it back in his shirt pocket.
Bridger paced in slow circles, his mind racing. “No, you really don’t know what this means. I’ve been targeted. I dunno by who or why, but somebody out there has put me square in their sights.”
“Now Bobby, don’t go getting worked up over something like this. I really think you’re putting the cart before the horse. More than likely they went through a list of people with your…skillset, and now they’re nervous that you’re out there with nobody keeping an eye on you.”
Bridger shook his head. “Scott, you aren’t seeing the bigger picture here. There are hundreds…probably thousands of guys out there just like me. To choose me? No, this is more than just paranoia. This is…” He froze in midsentence, his eyes falling on the satellite dish atop the grassy hill that was his roof. “Oh, fuck me…”
Scott’s eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m being set up.”
Karachi, Pakistan
MAMOON-UR-RASHEED sat across from his main supplier of cloth and materials. The skinny man pushed his spectacles up his birdlike nose and shook his head. “No! No discounts for bulk purchase. You pay the same.” He crossed his skinny arms and stared at him.
Mamoon gave a slight nod. “I told Balil that this would be the case.”
“Balil is a fool.” The thin man watched as Mamoon stood and stepped away from the table.
“He is that and many other things, Abdul.” Mamoon laid down the coins to pay for the coffee the two shared. “It was a pleasure doing business with you, my friend.”
“Of course…wait. What?”
Mamoon turned sad eyes to him. “I had hoped to give you a chance to beat Khan’s bulk discount.” Mamoon knew he was playing a dangerous game. He risked losing not just Abdul’s materials as a source of fabric, but also Khan’s supply, if word got back to the man that he lied about him offering a bulk discount.
“What did Khan offer you?” Abdul stepped between Mamoon and the door, blocking his escape.
Mamoon shrugged. “Just ten percent, but prices being what they are, even ten percent is a savings worth taking.”
“Ten percent!” Abdul stared at him open mouthed. “That is absurd!”
Mamoon placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I understand. Perhaps it is old stock he is removing from his warehouse. I do not know and I do not care, if it saves me money.” He attempted to side step the thin man. “Peace be with you, Abdul.”
“Wait!” Abdul held him in place. “What if…what if I match his price?”
Mamoon scratched at his chin. “I don’t know Abdul. Khan made the offer first. If I were to ignore his offer for yours? With no savings…” He averted his eyes as his voice trailed off.
“Fine. Fifteen percent. But not a rupee less!” Abdul planted his hands on his skinny hips and looked expectantly to Mamoon. “This is the best I can offer you.”
Mamoon continued to scratch at his chin, the urge to smile almost more than he could stand. He thrust out his arms to embrace the thin man. “I accept your offer, my friend.” The two men shook hands then embraced. Mamoon clapped Abdul’s back as he pulled away. “I will prepare a rack to hold the roll of material as soon as I return.”
“Give me three days. I need to procure a truck for delivery.” Abdul shook his head as the two walked out of the café.
“This is good. It will take me at least that long to construct the rack.” Mamoon stepped out to the curb and slipped his sunglasses on. “I shall send Tariq with your payment this afternoon.”
Langley, VA
DARREN CHESTERFIELD SIFTED through the daily intelligence briefings and sighed. The electronic intelligence officers and analysts who provided the reports sent an update on the domestic targets and somebody in the chain had jumped the gun. The highest priority target had been inadvertently placed on the watch list. Alerts had been sent to local law enforcement and that meant that their best possible sacrificial lamb was now under scrutiny.
Darren reached for the phone and punched the speed dial number for his immediate supervisor. “We have a problem. Somebody either got antsy or dropped the ball.” Darren wiped his hand over his face and pinched at the bridge of his nose. “Our number one draft choice was inadvertently placed on the watch list.”
“Who did it?” Colonel Nelson wasn’t one for drawn out conversations. Get to the point and carry on.
“No idea, Colonel. I’ve gone through every one of the briefings and I can’t find the authorization, nor can I find the announcement that he was tagged.”
After a moment of silence the colonel hit Darren with an option he simply hadn’t considered. “Did your man do something that got himself placed on there by another agency?”
Darren stiffened as the possibility sunk in. Bridger outspokenly held the anti-government sentiment. If he had snapped or simply said the wrong thing at the wrong place, he would definitely be a candidate for the watch
