SAD consisted of less than two hundred agents, pilots, and other specialists deployed in six-man or fewer teams, with more often than not a solo SAD operative conducting “black” and other covert operations with the assistance of a “handler” and/or “case officer” who often remained out of harm’s way. SAD operatives were extensively trained in sabotage, counterterrorism, hostage rescue, bomb damage assessment, kidnapping, and personnel and materiel recovery.
SAD owed its existence to the Office of Strategic Services (OSS), an agency during World War II that was organized under the Joint Chiefs of Staff and had direct access to President Franklin D. Roosevelt. For the most part, the OSS operated independently of military control — an idea that raised brows and drew deep skepticism at the time. MacArthur was said to have been highly reluctant to have any OSS personnel working within his theater of operations. Consequently, when the OSS was disbanded after the war, the CIA was created under the National Security Act of 1947. Missions that could not be associated with the United States went to the paramilitary group of the CIA — the Special Activities Division — a direct descendant of the OSS.
Chief of SAD David Slater, a steel-jawed black man and former Force Recon Marine with twenty years in the military, joined the morning video conference with Deputy Director O’Hara. The two men stared up at Moore from his tablet computer as he sat in the kitchen of the safe house in Saidpur Village.
“Sorry we couldn’t hook up yesterday. I was in the air en route to CONUS,” volunteered Slater.
“It’s okay, sir. Thanks for joining us.”
O’Hara wished Moore a good morning.
“With all due respect, there is absolutely nothing good about it.”
“We understand how you feel,” replied O’Hara. “We lost some great people and years of intel.”
Moore grimaced and bit his tongue. “What do you know so far?”
“Harris and Stone have been recovered from the rubble. At least what was left of them. Gallagher, who was at Khodai’s house, is still missing. They must have him in a cellar or a deep cave, because there’s no signal from his shoulder beacon. The guy you chased was obviously well trained but still just a low-level guy.”
Moore shook his head in disgust. “Do you think Khodai was wired?”
“It’s possible,” said Slater.
“I thought he was, too. I thought the checkpoint in the lobby was a fake and controlled by them. The X-ray wouldn’t pick up anything, even if he was wired. So Khodai came through without triggering the system. Maybe they threatened him, said if he didn’t blow us up, they’d kill his family, which they did anyway.”
“That’s a pretty good theory,” said O’Hara.
Moore snorted. “But that’s
“What do you got?” Slater asked him.
“Hotel security is, for the most part, pretty good. I think they used housekeepers to get the bombs in the rooms next to ours.”
“Slow down,” said Slater. “How’d they get the bombs into the hotel in the first place? They didn’t haul them through the main entrance.”
Moore shook his head. “They got into the building next door, the tech center, where the sniper was. Less security there, and maybe easier to bribe. The bombs were passed across via a line and pulley from one rooftop to the next.”
“You got to be kidding me,” said O’Hara.
“I’m not. I went up on the tech-center roof and saw where they’d strung the ropes. Then I went over to the Marriott, found the same signs on the edge of their roof. I’ll be uploading some photos I took in a few minutes.”
O’Hara’s voice lowered in frustration. “That’s ridiculously simple.”
“And maybe that was our problem: We’ve got our eyes on the complicated when these guys are using sticks and stones. If they were really daring, they would’ve tried throwing the bombs across …” Moore just shook his head again.
“So those rooms around yours were registered to guests who were never there,” O’Hara concluded.
“Exactly. Someone on the inside made sure they looked occupied in the registration system while they remained vacant. The local cops should be able to nab the one son of a bitch at the front desk who hooked them up. I’ve got Rana putting out some feelers for me.”
“That sounds good,” answered O’Hara. “But at this point, we’d like to get you out of there.”
Moore inhaled and closed his eyes. “Look, I know you’re thinking I let this whole thing go south …a lapse in security, but this whole thing was clean. I’d checked everything. I mean
“We need you back home.”
His eyes snapped open. “Home? In the States?”
Slater broke in. “Yesterday afternoon several officers in Khodai’s battalion were photographed with a man we’ve identified as Tito Llamas, a known lieutenant in the Juarez Cartel. With them were two unidentified men, possibly Taliban. You’ll have those photos momentarily.”
“So we have corrupt Pakistan Army officers meeting with a drug cartel guy from Mexico and the Taliban,” said Moore. “That’s an unholy trinity, all right.”
Slater nodded. “Max, you know a lot of the Middle Eastern players. You’ve got the expertise we need. We want you to field-supervise a new joint task force we’re putting together.”
Moore’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Is this like a promotion — after what just happened? I mean, I’m oh- for-two in two weeks …”
“We’ve been discussing this for a long time now, and your name has always been at the top of the list. That hasn’t changed,” answered Slater.
But Moore kept shaking his head. “The two guys in the hall …I thought they were a couple of ISI agents controlling access to the fifth floor. They were just making sure the bombs went off …”
“That’s right,” said O’Hara.
O’Hara leaned toward the camera. “We need to know the extent to which the Mexican drug cartels are in bed with these Afghan and Pakistani smugglers. If it’s any consolation, you’ll still be working on the same case — just from another angle.”
Moore needed a moment to process all that. “So how do the Mexicans fit in, besides being middlemen and customers?”
O’Hara drifted back into his chair. “That’s the real question, isn’t it?”
Slater cleared his throat and consulted some notes. “Your primary task will be to learn if this connection between the Taliban and the Mexicans is just to expand the opium market or if it’s meant to foster something more problematic, like the Taliban recruiting in Mexico to develop a new base of operations and easier access into the U.S.”
“You said joint task force. What other agencies are involved?”
Slater grinned. “The whole alphabet: CIA, FBI, ATF, CBP, and a half-dozen smaller and local agencies to assist.”
Moore shuddered as he considered the enormity of what they were asking. “Gentlemen, I appreciate the offer.”
“It’s not an offer,” O’Hara pointed out.
“I see. Look, just give me a couple of days to follow up on Khodai’s killers and see if I can get some intel on Gallagher. That’s all I’m asking.”
“We’ve already got another team en route,” said Slater.
“That’s fine. But let me take one more shot.”
O’Hara winced. “We all failed here. Not just you.”
“They killed the colonel and murdered his family. He was a good man. He was doing the right thing. We owe him and his nephew this much. I can’t walk away.”
O’Hara mulled that over, then raised his brows. “Two days.”
