Nabeel had set me up for a look-see. Next time I see him, I’ll kill him.
Anyway, Chet was not getting out of his van, so he was probably watching his video monitors.
Brenner asked Buck the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. “Do you think they suspected a setup?”
“I don’t know,” replied the wise man. “But we will know soon enough.”
Brenner suggested, “If they did suspect a setup, and if The Panther still wants to meet with Sheik Musa, then it’s possible that The Panther is going to kill Musa-and us.”
That was not a happy thought, but it was a possible outcome of what just happened. Another possibility was that The Panther and Sheik Musa would work out another deal between themselves. In Yemen, any deal is possible.
Anyway, if Chet Morgan was not coming to us, then we had to go to Chet Morgan. I suggested, “Let’s get some air.”
So we put on our shoes and Kevlar vests, and we took our M4s, which we always carried when we went down to the courtyard. But this time we took extra magazines. The situation had changed, and I don’t think we fully understood how it had changed, or what the Bedouin were thinking now. Zamo stayed in the tower and covered the courtyard with his rifle.
So Buck would speak to Yasir, and we’d all speak to Chet, the mastermind of Operation Clean Sweep, and we’d decide on our next move. But I already knew what Chet was going to say: We wait. The next move belongs to The Panther.
CHAPTER SEVENTY
Buck, Kate, Brenner, and I stepped into the van.
Chet was sitting at his console, watching the three Land Cruisers on his monitors, and he glanced over his shoulder and asked, “How did it go?”
Buck replied, “Not very well.”
Chet pulled himself away from his screens, swiveled his chair, and asked, “Why not?”
Buck explained, “I think they’re suspicious.”
Chet replied, “Of course they are. They’re not stupid.”
I reminded him, “You said they were stupid.”
“Yes. But they’re also cunning and paranoid.” Chet reassured us, “If The Panther wasn’t interested in getting his hands on you, he wouldn’t have even sent that delegation.” He explained, “You don’t make an appointment to see a car you’re not interested in buying.”
True, but sometimes you go look at the car because you want to steal it.
Anyway, Buck gave Chet a quick briefing of what happened and Chet listened carefully, then again assured us, “Al Qaeda is just doing due diligence. They need to protect The Panther, and they always proceed on the assumption that a double cross is possible.” He reminded us, “This is the Middle East.”
Right. Not the Midwest. Definitely not Kansas.
Chet said to me, “So you knew this guy, Nabeel?”
I replied, “He knew me before I knew him.” I explained about the leak in the Yemeni consulate in New York, and I suggested, “The State Department should declare the whole consulate staff persona non grata.”
Buck, Mr. State Department Intelligence, said, “The leak could be in the Foreign Ministry office in Sana’a.” He informed me, “We like the Yemeni consulate staff in New York. They also sell information to us.”
Right. It’s a game. Double-Dealing for Dollars.
On a more important topic than me being pissed off about buying Nabeel a bagel in New York and him making me look silly, I said, “I think these Al Qaeda guys knew where they were taken.”
Again, Chet didn’t seem to care, and he asked rhetorically, “What are they going to do about it?”
But the question wasn’t rhetorical and I said, “They’re going to send a hundred jihadists to the Crow Fortress one night and kill everyone here.”
Chet replied, “That would be war with Sheik Musa, and they do not want war with Sheik Musa.”
Buck agreed and added, “It’s not these walls or our weapons that protect us. It’s the wrath of all the Bedouin tribes that protects us.”
Chet added, “And the Predators.”
“Okay.” But I suggested, “We could use another ten or twenty Bedouin here.”
Chet informed me and all of us, “The last thing we want here are more armed Bedouin. If things go wrong, or turn around,” he explained, “we can handle these eight guys. We can’t handle any more.”
I reminded Chet, “Sheik Musa is our trusted ally.”
“He is,” agreed Chet. “But alliances shift.” He reassured us, however, “All that I said in Aden about Sheik Musa remains true. Unfortunately, with the Bedouin, they change their minds a lot.”
Was that in the Aden briefing?
Buck, Mr. Arabian guy, said, “There are no constants in the lives of the nomadic Bedouin. Even the desert that they travel changes with the shifting dunes. Their only constant is the tribe, and they will always do what is best for the survival of the tribe.” He added, “Fortunately, what’s best for Sheik Musa’s tribe at the moment is to ally themselves with the Americans. And it’s important that he keeps believing that.”
Right up until the time we put a Hellfire up his golden shiwal.
Chet said, “The critical time is now, when Musa’s tribal council speaks to The Panther’s council to determine if The Panther wants to buy the Americans, and if he will do the deal in person.” Chet added, “That discussion could produce a variety of possibilities, not all of them favorable to us.”
“Did I miss that memo?”
Chet said to me, Kate, and Brenner, “I’m being honest with you.”
Kate responded, “Honesty that comes late is not honest or useful.”
Chet advised us, “Keep an eye on the Bedouin here. They’re simple people and if you see a change in their attitude or demeanor, let me or Buck know.”
Actually, I was more interested in a change in Chet’s demeanor.
Chet changed the subject and turned back toward the monitors, saying, “You can see the three Land Cruisers heading north, toward Marib. See them? What’s going to happen is that the Bedouin drivers will drop off the five Al Qaeda men in Marib-where the Bedouin picked them up, and where, unfortunately, they will disappear in the crowds or the buildings. Then at some point they will leave Marib, individually, by truck, bus, or SUV, driven by an Al Qaeda operative or a sympathizer, or just somebody looking to make a few rials. They will be let off near the highlands here, and make their way on foot to the Al Qaeda camp-which is actually one of Musa’s Bedouin camps, located about forty kilometers from here.” He explained, “That is an effective way to escape Predator surveillance, because the Predators will have lost them in Marib, and five men traveling individually will not look like a target of interest to the Predators because every male here carries a weapon.” He continued, “Unfortunately for Al Qaeda, we know where their camp is, so they waste a lot of time and energy trying to elude aerial surveillance.” He looked at us and smiled.
Chet, I think, was in love with his Predator drones. That’s what broke up his marriage.
Chet turned in his seat and punched in a command on his console, saying, “I’m directing Predator One to go on station above the Al Qaeda camp.”
We watched the monitor as the terrain slid by, showing the dry, rocky plateau west of here. Then the Predator began a counterclockwise turn, and on the monitor we could see tents, huts, and vehicles spread out across a flat expanse of the plateau that was surrounded by large rock formations.
Chet said, “That’s the Al Qaeda camp.”
We all moved closer to the monitor and I could now see people moving on the ground. There were also map grid coordinates on the screen, which I made a mental note of. Why? Because you never know what information you might need.
Chet twisted a dial and the image grew larger. He said, “It was-and still looks like-a Bedouin camp. But there are clues that it’s not.” He explained, “First, most of the men in the camp are not dressed in traditional Bedouin robes. Second, they’re
