As a result, Ginger skipped most of her tour's remaining itinerary to tag along with her personal guide. They seemed to complement one another like an old hat and a new bow. When the week was up, they made plans for Burke to meet her in Boise, her hometown. He left her at the airport that afternoon, feeling more alive and full of anticipation than he had in years. It wasn't until the next morning that he heard the news. Her plane had lost power and plowed into the Rockies thirty minutes out of Boise. There were no survivors.
"That was a tough blow," Quinn said after hearing the story. "We've both had our disappointments. This operation may be just what you need, get you out of the rut, dwell a bit among the masses.”
He took several sheets of paper out of a slim leather briefcase and spread them on the table. "Here are the transcripts of the two telephone intercepts."
The sheets had been stamped "Top Secret (Special Handling) NOFORN" in large red letters at top and bottom. The May seventh call from Singapore to Kansas City showed the pay phone number, the destination number and the time, 1:10 p.m. CDT. Burke read the conversation.
Hello.
Solomon?
Uh, yes. That you, Daniel?
Right. I told you I'd call in the morning. It's damned early here.
You still in Singapore?
Right. The Jabberwock team has been selected and they're to start training four weeks prior to D-Day. You'll have to get your stuff down to the site by then.
No problem. I've got everything about lined up already. How many people are going to be there?
Let's see, three on the team, three trainers including us, the man in charge of the operation and the cook.
The cook?
You didn't plan to stay there that long without eating, I hope. These guys are like caged tigers. We want to keep them well-fed.
Yeah. Well, I've been getting all the electronic gear together. I'll be flying in, so I’ll need to ship everything to a convenient pick-up point.
That'll work. We can bring it in the truck. See you then.
Burke looked up at Quinn. "Solomon and Daniel? Old Testament characters."
"Hawk thinks that reinforces the Israeli angle."
"You don't?"
"Hell, the Mossad wouldn't be so obvious. I worked closely with those people. I can't believe they'd be cooking up anything drastic against us."
Burke glanced down at the paper. "It does sound a bit drastic. Guys like caged tigers? I don’t even have a guess at what could be going on, though."
"Wait till you read the second call. Anything else strike you about this one?"
Burke studied the paper a moment longer, two fingers toying with the soft bristle of his beard. "The guy in Singapore says 'I told you I'd call in the morning.' It was one-ten p.m. in Kansas City."
"But with a thirteen-hour time difference, it was two-ten a.m. the next morning in Singapore."
Count on Cam to have it all reasoned out, he thought. "Makes sense. The only other thing is that comment about getting stuff down to the site. Down where?"
"Evidently somewhere south of Kansas City. That could mean Oklahoma, Texas, Mexico, South America. You name it."
Burke moved to the next page, dated May 10, which showed the locations and phone numbers and the destination time in Berlin of 9:15 a.m. He read:
Guten Morgen. Hier spricht—
This is Noah in Hong Kong. I must speak with Joshua.
Josh — ja, hold please.
Hello, Noah. This is Joshua. What news do you have for me?
All the arrangements are completed. The vehicle is to be finished this week. You should have the training camp ready by Saturday of next week. Time enough?
Sure. I've got it blocked off. Just need to set things in motion.
What about your device? Is it ready?
Yes, it's all squared away.
And the birds.Will there be a sufficient number available?
We have enough for a few dry runs, several for the real thing. I'll get everything down there.
Excellent. I'll report the Jabberwock is ready to fly.
Burke's face was set in a frown as he turned to Quinn. "Obviously they're being cryptic. Device… birds… dry runs… the real thing. What the hell's going on?"
"If I knew that I wouldn't have had to bring you in. Damned worrisome, though, isn't it?"
"Doesn't really make much sense to me. Sounds military, though. At least quasi-military."
"It sure doesn't have the ring of an intelligence penetration mission," Quinn said.
He explained that Hawk Elliott had interpreted the mention of electronics gear as an indication Jabberwock was some type of electronic eavesdropping operation. The "device," he reasoned, could be a listening post mounted in the vehicle that was mentioned. The "birds" might be sophisticated new microtransmitters designed to foil normal detection equipment.
“But the man in Berlin implied that the ‘birds’ were expendable, would be used up,” Quinn said.
Burke nodded in agreement. “Enough for a few dry runs, several for the real thing.”
“That sounds like an offensive operation. It would have to be fairly complex to require three trainers for three team members, not to mention four weeks of it.”
Burke checked his watch calendar. "They were talking about last Saturday. That means the training has been going on for a week. Three weeks till D-Day."
"Which means we have to get our asses moving. I'm booked on a flight to Hong Kong early in the morning. Lori will have you a ticket to Tel Aviv. I think you can get out by mid-day."
Burke's hands flew up in a halting gesture. "I'm flying to Israel tomorrow?"
This had all the earmarks of a real culture shock for a guy accustomed to the slow pace of the mountains, moving on foot or by Jeep, his travels measured in tens of miles. Now, in the space of forty-eight hours, he would be jumping from the Smoky Mountains to Washington, D. C. to Tel Aviv, Israel.
"I want you to settle my mind on this Mossad question," Quinn said. "I have an excellent source over there, very reliable. I'm sure he can give us the answer. It would compromise him if I tried to go. I'm too well known. Even if I used a disguise, they'd know I was there within hours. With you—"
"One small problem, old chum. I haven't been out of the country in years. My passport's long since expired."
"Your passport will be delivered to Lori in the morning."
"Just like that?" Burke snapped his fingers skeptically. "A legitimate passport?"
"Issued by the Department of State to one Burke Hill, photographer. That was one reason for the photo session this afternoon. Just in case you should need it, I'm having another one made — an artist is going to remove your beard. He has a photo pre-Santa Claus. What name would you like on it?"
Back through the looking glass, Burke thought. Why would he need another passport in a fake name? This was supposed to be a straightforward investigative case. Running down leads, checking out people's stories, gathering bits and pieces of evidence. Hawk Elliott made it quite clear he was no CIA agent. But he knew there was no use in arguing with Quinn. If you were going to play in their league, you had to play by their rules. Anyway, just because he had a passport in an assumed name didn't mean he'd have to use it.
"How about Douglas Bell?" he said with a shrug. "That has a nice ring to it."
"Doug Bell it is," Quinn said, ignoring the frivolous note. "Now, let’s get back to the Mossad."
"Is your man on the inside?"
"No. But he was. He still maintains intimate contacts right where we need them. All I want to know is whether Jabberwock is on their list of active operational codes. He can find that out for us."
Quinn quickly sketched out the plan. Burke would travel under his own identity as a freelance photographer. He would be on assignment from a travel magazine publisher to shoot pictures illustrating an article on Jaffa, the old Arab port city now a part of the urban sprawl known as Tel Aviv. Just in case anyone became curious, he had the documentation ready.