He waited long enough to confirm there was no tail for the American, then began the long walk to the apartment.
Most of the way back he visualized Gabrielle’s derriere just beyond arm’s reach.
30
“So who are they working for?” Lee asked.
Roosevelt consulted his notes. “Well, part of their operation is legit. At least it looks that way. They have several people doing extracurricular security work for the French embassy and some other agencies. VIP escort, that sort of thing.”
“Okay,” Lee replied. “That makes sense. Genuine work to cover the covert stuff.”
“You got it. Thing is, though, from what our people can tell, FGN’s other clients are not related to the French embassy or even the French government. They seem to have business connections all over the Middle East.”
“Like who?”
The attache flipped through his pad. “Like this guy, for instance. Mohammed al Fasari. Big import-export guy with outlets from here to there: Rome, Cyprus, Cairo, Beirut, Damascus, Baghdad. Even Tehran.”
Lee went on point. “Tehran?”
“Uh-huh. Exotic stuff. Pricey things like rugs and ancient artifacts.”
Lee removed his glasses and polished the lenses. “Could that be a cover for smuggling other things?”
“I suppose so. Why?”
Lee replaced his military-issue frames. “Just speculating, Matt. I mean, if this Fasari character is shipping things out of Iran, he could be sneaking things in as well. Know what I mean?”
Roosevelt laid down his notepad and leaned forward. “I think so. And it makes me nervous.”
“Me, too.” Lee scrawled a note to himself for passing along to David Dare’s mysterious intel shop back in Arlington. “All right, who else might interest us?”
“Let’s see… several prospects. Oh, there’s quite a bit of activity with a mid-level Chad government official. In fact, you might recognize the name: Felix Moungar.”
Lee recognized the name. “Moungar! Hey, isn’t he related to Kadabi, the defense ministry representative?”
“Affirmative. Francois Kadabi. I think you’ve met him.”
“Sure have. Two or three times.”
Roosevelt leaned back, biting his lip in concentration. “Moungar is with the natural resources ministry. I think he deals with mining contracts and things like that.”
“What would he have to do with Hurtubise?”
“Well, it’s no secret that FGN has provided security consultants to the ministry. In fact, I think it’s on the company’s Web site. But that might be a forest and trees situation.”
“How’s that?” Lee asked.
“As you know, there’s something hinky going on along the northern strip. Since the logistics are serious — it’s about six hundred miles up there — it’s not really possible to keep the lid on. Somebody would notice the traffic in and out of the area. So I think it’s possible…”
“Hiding out in the open.”
“You got it.”
Lee asked a rhetorical question. “Now, what’s the most interesting commodity that’s mined up there?”
Roosevelt’s eyes widened. “Uranium!”
“And our friend Hurtubise has contacts with the mining ministry and with one of the major exporters in the region. A legitimate businessman who has ties to Iran.”
“Ho-lee sh…”
“You said it.” Lee extended a hand. “Go Army!”
Roosevelt grinned hugely. “Beat Navy!”
Steve Lee closed the door to his small office and poured Martha Whitney two fingers of bourbon. She applied a token amount of water, swirled twice, and took an educated sip.
“Aaah,” she enthused. “At times like this I’m sho’ ‘nuff glad I’m a Baptist and not a Muslim.”
Lee’s eyes gleamed in response. “And here I thought that Baptists were mostly teetotalers.”
“Honey, they’s Baptists and then they’s
He touched Styrofoam cups with her. “And how.”
Lee set his cup down. “Okay, tell me.”
Whitney reclined as much as possible in the straight-backed chair. “Well, I gotta give the girl credit. She done real good. For a minute there I wasn’t sure.”
“You’re saying she’s a pro.”
Another long, slow sip. “Uh-huh. She’s been ‘round the block a time or two. Even at her age, poor thing.”
“But…”
Martha gave the Aunt Jemima grin again. “But… Maje honey, I done been around the world an’ Dee-troit twice. No, she’s had some experience; maybe even some training. But I made her early on.”
“How’s that?”
“Well, for one thing, she didn’t maintain eye contact like a person would’ve done in that situation. Oh, she handled bumping into me real well, but she was lookin’ over my shoulder as much as lookin’ me eye to eye. And she wasn’t nearly as flustered as somebody would be after presumably dodging a car.”
Lee played devil’s advocate. “Martha, you know people are different.”
She waved a bejeweled hand. “Oh, course I know that. But like they taught us at Langley: pay attention to your instincts. Usually they’re right.”
“Okay. For the moment let’s say you’re right. She’s working you. But why?”
“Well, honey, it sure ain’t because she wants to practice her English with me. She speaks it well enough, and in fact I suspect she speaks better than she lets on. But that’s what she said. Insisted on buying me tea so we could talk
“What
“Chitchat at first. Background, work, that sort of thing. I kept with my embassy story — temporary steno help out of Cairo. She said she’s touring with her boyfriend. When I said that not many tourists come to Chad, she hesitated just a little. Said he’s a photographer working up a portfolio.”
Lee finished his one finger of bourbon. “That shouldn’t be hard to confirm. What’s his name? I’ll run a Google search on him.”
“She just said Paul. I didn’t push it at that point. We’re gonna get together again in a couple of days.”
“Well, okay. I’ll make sure that your name is on the embassy list so the phone operators don’t ask ‘Martha who?’ if she calls.”
“Oh… I was gonna tell you. I’m not Martha Whitney. I’m Martha White.”
Lee made a point of reaching back in his lower drawer. “I think I need a drink!”
Bosco slumped into a folding chair to the side of the training compound. He watched
Bosco accepted a bottle of water from Chris Nissen and hoisted the plastic container in tacit salute. They
