“The boys were leaving a meeting with the laborers when the French authorities decided to move in. They were hoping to get the two laborers who were the ringleaders, but the men gave them the slip. The boys were the next best thing. The authorities pursued the teens, but we know how that ended.
“The laborers disappeared, presumably back to North Africa. The French are rumored to have retrieved some of the documents, but they never got the book-probably because they didn’t realize its significance and their focus was on the documents themselves.
“A friend of one of the teens filled in the pieces for the security services, confirming most of what they’d already learned in their investigation. A CIA operative based out of the American Embassy was having dinner with a French counterpart who filled her in on the whole case. The Frenchman thought it would be amusing to her because of the Jefferson connection. She reported back to the head of station, who briefed Langley, and the report made it to the president, who shared it with me.
“When I discovered that a rare first-edition
“He agreed to send me scans of the first couple of pages. There was an annotation and it looked to be a match for Jefferson’s handwriting. I made an appointment to see him so I could examine the book.
“When I got there, he told me he had already decided to sell the book to someone else. Nothing I could do would persuade him. Someone had offered him a lot more money for it. The president couldn’t raise that kind of money; at least not right away.”
Harvath raised an eyebrow. “The president had trouble getting funding?”
“This isn’t a government operation. He has been financing this out of his own pocket. I asked the dealer to agree to wait until close of business today before he went through with the other party. He gave me until three o’clock.
“I was leaving the meeting when I passed you and the bomb detonated.”
“When we first saw you, you were coming out of a bookstore. Does the dealer work there?”
“No, the store has a small cafe in back. He wanted a neutral place to meet. He’s very paranoid.”
“A first-edition
“Or it could be the people who have been trying to kill you,” said Harvath as he looked at Tracy. “I think we need to find out.”
CHAPTER 22
CIA HEADQUARTERS
LANGLEY, VIRGINIA
“You’re sure that’s the whole list?” asked Aydin Ozbek as he walked into his office with Steve Rasmussen and motioned for him to close the door.
Rasmussen shut the door and dropped onto the couch with three file folders and a legal pad. “Selleck gave it to me personally,” he said as he reached over and picked up Ozbek’s wooden puzzle.
Ozbek poured himself a cup of coffee and studied the printout. “He sure pulled it together fast, didn’t he?”
“Make mine black,” said Rasmussen when his colleague failed to offer him any.
Without taking his eyes off the list, Ozbek poured a second cup, walked to the sitting area, and set it down on the coffee table.
Rasmussen picked it up. “Oz, if you had a small fleet of Lamborghinis, you’d know where they were 24/7, 365 too. Selleck was able to crank that out so quickly because Transept is a tight operation.”
“So he can vouch for all of these operatives?” asked Ozbek as he sat down.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” said Rasmussen. “They’re all going to need to be interviewed. Hell, even the instructors for Transept will need to be interviewed. Anyone who has ever even been in the same room when the word Transept was uttered is going to get a knock on their door.”
“What about this one here?”
“Which one?” asked Rasmussen as he set the puzzle down and leaned across the table to see what Ozbek was looking at.
“Matthew Dodd. Status KIA/NRL.”
“I asked Selleck about that too. Killed in Action, No Remains Located.”
Ozbek’s brow furrowed. “If there were no remains, why wasn’t he marked as MIA?”
“Modern technology, that’s why. The guy was working in the northwest frontier province of Pakistan six years ago and called in an air strike. Either he was too close to the target or he fucked up the numbers. Either way the missiles landed practically on top of him and he got smoked. The Agency had a drone overhead and saw the whole thing. It stayed overhead the rest of the night but they never picked up any signs of survivors. No infrared, no nothin’. And despite how remote and hostile the area is, they eventually got a team up there the following spring, but all they found was a crater. Therefore, Killed in Action, No Remains Located.”
“So what you’re telling me is that one of the Agency’s finely tuned
Rasmussen knew where Ozbek was going. “Doesn’t make much sense, I know.”
“You and I have both called in air strikes,” replied Ozbek. “I usually make sure my math is right on the money.”
“Agreed,” replied Rasmussen as he slid one of the files from his stack and handed it to his colleague. “That’s why I thought you might want to see this. It’s the incident file along with the investigation’s findings.”
Ozbek took his time reading through it. When he was done, he closed it and handed it back. “How come our department doesn’t have a file on this guy?”
Rasmussen held up his hands. “As far as the Agency is concerned, the guy’s dead. Selleck said that if we wanted, he’d have the Predator footage pulled and we could watch it ourselves. Apparently, it’s pretty convincing.”
Ozbek shook his head. “Let me see his personnel file.”
Rasmussen handed it to him.
The first thing he looked at was Matthew Dodd’s official CIA photo. “The guy’s definitely got Ernst and Young written all over him,” he said.
Rasmussen raised a hand to his mouth and wiggled his fingers. “All the better to slip into your country undetected, my dear.”
“What’s behind door number three?” asked Ozbek as he finished leafing through Dodd’s dossier and pointed at Rasmussen’s final folder.
“Nura Khalifa’s uncle, Dr. Marwan Khalifa. Naturalized American citizen of Jordanian descent, a founder of Georgetown University’s Ph.D. program in Islamic studies, and one of the foremost experts on the textual history of the Koran. He also teaches in Georgetown’s Department of Arabic, the Center for Contemporary Arab Studies, the Prince Alwaleed bin Talal Center for Muslim-Christian Understanding, and the Departments of History, Theology, and Government,” replied Rasmussen as he handed the file over.
“That’s one hell of a resume.”
“You’re telling me.”
“Where is he now?” asked Ozbek as he flipped through the folder.
“The answer to that question might not be exactly what we want to hear.”
Ozbek looked up from the file. “Why not?”
“Salam was telling us the truth about Dr. Khalifa working on a project for the Yemeni Antiquities Authority. The
