a bad guy?”
“Rahman has been on numerous agency lists for a number of years,” Brognola said. “He comes and goes without challenge because he has diplomatic immunity. He knows he’s on watch lists, and enjoys playing the game. The Brits, U.S., French and Spanish have all had him in their sights. Rahman is a slippery guy.
“There’s a source in Pakistan who points the finger at Rahman. Apparently, he’s close to the man’s group and picked up on conversations about the upcoming operation, passed it on, then dropped out of sight. The guy is working undercover, so there’s no way to get in touch with him. Right now there’s no knowing if he’s alive or dead.”
“So do we accept his information as genuine?” McCarter asked. The fox-faced Briton was the leader of Phoenix Force.
“This came via the President, who told me the guy can be trusted and so can his word.”
“Piecing together every hit we’ve found suggests there’s definitely something going on,” Price said. “Rahman and the names linked to him, the recent visits between these people, their allegiances and a pretty strong hint anything Western goes against their thinking all add up to something big,” the mission controller explained.
“Doesn’t stop them making money from us,” James said.
“Yeah? Well, what they make goes toward the latest atrocity,” Lyons said testily.
“Freedom of speech and beliefs,” Rafael Encizo said. “And before you jump in and bite my head off, Carl, it’s what this country is all about. We start discriminating against religious and political diversity, we end up just like them.”
Lyons took a deep breath. It seemed he was about to challenge Encizo’s comments, but then he shook his head. “Rafe, you’ve got too many smart answers for me.”
The truth was Carl Lyons knew exactly what Encizo was saying. It was one of life’s ironies. Individuals who had nothing but contempt for America were able to live and work within its borders, their freedom and right to free expression protected by law. Until they actually went ahead and committed some crime, without definite proof there was nothing that could be done except put them on a watch list. Watch being the operative word.
“Rahman has a number of dubious friends.” Carmen Delahunt, a valued member of Kurtzman’s cyber team, the vivacious redheaded former FBI agent spoke decisively. She raised a hand to Tokaido, and more images appeared on the plasma screens. “Take your pick. The skinny guy is Umer Qazi. He is under suspicion of being an arranger for various flaky organizations within the Islamic world. He has ties to al Qaeda, so the story goes. In Afghanistan he was spotted in the company of Taliban members. On the surface he’s polite, urbane. Don’t underestimate him. The man is smart. Apparently he coaches young Muslims into becoming hard-liners. Likes to visit London a lot.”
“And while he’s there,” Tokaido said, “he spends time with this guy, Samman Prem. Prem owns an export-import company based in the city, with a warehouse facility on Tilbury docks—you know the place, David?”
McCarter nodded. “Large port area. Used to be a lot bigger years ago. Still a busy place.”
“Prem ships mainly to Pakistan and India. Some in the Middle East. He uses freighters belonging to Saeeda Hussein. He’s another suspect, wealthy and not a lover of Western ideology. They’re both on a watch list because of their affiliations, but that’s as far as it goes. Prem especially has been known to express his anti-Western views privately.”
“I traced Prem’s cell phone calls,” Kurtzman said. “Discounting nonimportant stuff, that left a lot of contacts. I broke them down into blocks.” He worked his own remote, and lists appeared on a plasma screen. “Most calls were to this number. I ran it, and it came up as belonging to Khalil Amir. Originally from Pakistan. Had an import business over there until he relocated to the U.S.—Boston to be exact. Still works the import business, but now also deals in real estate.”
Akira Tokaido brought up images of the named men.
“Interesting points are that both these guys have a history of being involved with our friend Colonel Jabir Rahman. We picked this up from a sweep of friendly agencies. British intelligence have been running a dossier on Rahman for a couple of years. He’s suspected of having links with radical sympathizers based in Europe, as well as Pakistan and the U.K.”
“This sweep of friendly agencies?” Brognola queried. “How should I interpret that?”
Kurtzman cleared his throat. “Better you don’t,” he said.
Aaron “the Bear” Kurtzman and his cyber team were undisputed experts when it came to infiltration. Kurtzman had developed programs of such sophistication that they allowed covert entry into the most dedicated systems without the agencies ever having knowledge that they were being scrutinized. The details of Kurtzman’s invasive programs were known only to himself. He kept them in his head, running them only when Stony Man needed instant access to information vital to missions.
Like the one they were into right now.
Brognola nodded. “Okay. So, you checked databases and picked up what you wanted?”
“MI5 and MI6 have information on Rahman that ties in with the proposed Phoenix Force and Able missions,” Akira said. “It confirms the guy is deep into this radical culture. He basically just doesn’t like the U.S. He’s especially ticked off about our close ties with the Pakistani administration. I pulled up these.” More images appeared on the big screens. “A U.K. operative took this a few weeks ago. Rahman and Khalil Amir. They were in Lyon, France, at some antiques junket. Rahman affects an interest in antiques. They stayed at a swish hotel along with other import-export players. The U.K. agent tailing Rahman reported he returned to Pakistan after his meet with Amir.”
“The Brits kept a watch on them all,” Carmen Delahunt said as she overlaid photos of Amir arriving at London’s Heathrow Airport. “This was Khalil Amir arriving. He stayed in London for three days before returning to Boston. While he was in the U.K. he visited Prem.”
“Any significance in this U.K. visit?” David McCarter asked. The Phoenix Force commander was sipping from a frosted bottle of Classic Coke. “I’ll bet they weren’t taking in the sights.”
“Like Akira said, Amir did make contact with Prem, who’s on the U.K. watch list as a possible radical,” Delahunt stated. “Under surveillance, but he can’t be tagged with anything vital.”
“All these meetings can’t just be bloody coincidences,” McCarter said. “Too many in a short space of time.”
“I’m guessing none of the agencies can do anything in case they scare these people and drive them underground,” Calvin James said. The black Phoenix Force member had been watching and listening in silence, taking everything in and filing it away. “If they scare these guys off we could lose valuable leads.”
Brognola nodded. “Exactly. Keep all this in mind once you get into the field. If we’re right about a possible upcoming threat, we need to stay well back until we have solid evidence these people are involved.”
“Easier said than done,” Rosario “the Politician” Blancanales, of Able Team, pointed out. “We start probing, it could easily generate contact. If that happens what are we supposed to do?”
“Look, Pol,” Brognola said, “I’m not saying you have to put yourselves at risk if the situation changes. If it comes down to the wire I want you guys walking away alive. All I’m saying is try to keep things low-key until you have something we can use.”
“With the chance these idiots are serious about setting off nuclear devices, are we supposed to walk around on bloody tiptoe?” McCarter retorted. “Step back from doing anything to upset them? Hal, you presented us with this threat. Why all the pussyfooting? We should go with whatever we have, and nail these bastards. Squash them into the ground and put a stop to their harebrained scheme.”
“Son of a bitch,”