“Our national intelligence community hasn’t always batted a thousand. Remember Benghazi? A dead ambassador and three brave Americans murdered by our ‘allies.’ Just because something isn’t in the PDB doesn’t mean it isn’t happening.”
Diele drained the last of his drink. The ice rattled in the glass. “Worst-case scenario? The terror threat turns out to be real. Then we send in the drones. But don’t even think about getting sucked up in that quicksand over there. It’s all a damn mess. The first Marine boot you put on the ground over there will be marching on your political grave.”
Greyhill frowned. Diele might be right. His instincts usually were. But Greyhill had taken note of the vice president’s grammatical shift. Suddenly, it was “your” political grave. Another irritating pronoun. He took the change as both a warning and a threat.
48
Karem Air Force Base
Niamey, Niger
11 May
The raccoon rings beneath Captain Sotero’s eyes spoke volumes to Judy. Clearly, the woman hadn’t slept in days. No doubt because of her and Pearce’s arrival four nights before.
The captain sat at the small table in Judy’s dining/living room in the spartan visiting BOQ trailer where she’d been largely confined by AF Security Forces guards since her return from Mali.
“You have everything you need here, Ms. Hopper? Any personal items you need sent over?”
“No, everything’s fine. Just a little cramped, that’s all. But I’m used to that.” Judy had grown up in even more austere environments as a missionary kid in Africa. “Wouldn’t mind being able to stretch my legs every now and then.”
“Sure, no problem. Just help me clear up a few things, will you?”
Judy smiled. “If I can. I mean, I’ve told you everything I know already.”
“You see, that’s what I’m not so sure about. I think there’s a lot more to you and this humanitarian mission you’re supposedly on. For starters, where is the American you were supposed to be evacuating?”
“Like I said before, he decided not to come.”
“And you said his name was?”
“I didn’t say.” Judy didn’t know if Mike Early was in trouble or not for being there. Her dad had raised her with the maxim “Better to keep your mouth shut and appear the fool than open your mouth and confirm it.”
Sotero’s weary eyes narrowed. “His name is Mike Early. Your friend Mr. Holliday just confirmed that for me.”
“Okay.”
“But your friend”—Sotero checked her notes on a tablet—“Pearce, he decided to stay?”
“Something like that.”
“In Mali?”
“Yes.”
“You see, that’s what’s confusing to me. Do you remember Sergeant Wolfit? The man who was with me the night we first met?”
“Vaguely.”
“Square-jawed? Broad across the chest?” She mimed his torso with her hands. “Always looks pissed off?”
“What’s your point?”
Sotero pulled up a map on her tablet, turned it around. Pointed at a winking dot. “See that? That’s an RFID chip. The one that was attached to Sergeant Wolfit’s weapon. The weapon he believes your friend Pearce stole from him that night, an M4 carbine.”
“Do you always plant RFID chips in your guns?”
“We inventory everything, especially weapons. It’s easier to chip and scan them than do the paperwork. The Air Force is pretty good at technology these days.”
“Makes sense.”
“So you know anything about that? I mean, Pearce stealing his weapon?”
“You’d have to ask Troy when you see him.”
“If you’ll look closely at the map, you’ll see the chip is now located in Algeria. What’s Pearce doing in Algeria?”
Judy shrugged. “Maybe it’s just the gun that’s in Algeria.”
“Why would the weapon be in Algeria without Pearce?”
“You’d have to ask Troy when you see him.”
“So you’re saying Pearce is not in Algeria right now?”
“I have no idea where he is exactly.”
“But he’s probably still in Mali?”
“Like I said, I have no idea.”
Sotero spun her tablet back around. “Is Pearce really on a humanitarian mission?”
“He went in to get Mike Early, yes.”
“That’s kind of strange, too. We checked with the State Department as well as with the Mali government. We have no record of Mike Early entering the country of Mali, at least not legally. What is Mike Early doing in Mali?”
“I don’t know. You’d have to ask Mike when you see him.”
“Is this Early guy still in Mali? Or is he with Pearce in Algeria?”
“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be difficult. I really don’t know.”
“Okay, let’s try another tack. Do you have any idea why my base commander has been detained in Frankfurt?”
“No.”
“Funny thing is, he was dispatched to Bonn–Bad Godesberg for what was apparently a bogus meeting the same day you arrived here, and when the meeting didn’t occur, he was flagged by the NSA as a possible terror suspect on the way back. He’s still in custody.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
“You don’t understand. Colonel Kavanagh is the most squared-away officer I ever knew, and a real straight arrow. He’s a ring knocker—academy grad, third-generation Air Force. No way he’s AQ-affiliated. I think someone’s messed with his data profile. You have any idea who that might be?”
“No.”
“Or why they would want him detained while you and your friends are operating out of this base?”
“No.”
“Of course you don’t.” Sotero took a deep breath. “Let me ask you something else. Do you know who Mossa Ag Alla is?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Never heard of him?”
“Not that I can recall.”
“He’s an AQ affiliate. A real bad-ass. Just got bumped up to number one dickhead on our extensive list of dickheads.”
“I believe you.”
Sotero sighed with frustration. “Okay, one last try. When you flew out of here on the tenth, your IFF signal stopped broadcasting when you crossed into Mali airspace, and then you dropped off the radar. What was that all about?”
Judy wasn’t a missionary anymore, but she couldn’t bring herself to lie about anything. It just wasn’t in her nature. “Security precautions.”
“Failure to broadcast an IFF signal is highly irregular and dangerous, which is why it’s also illegal.”
“Illegal in Mali, technically, since that’s where the violation occurred. I don’t suppose you have jurisdiction over there, do you?”
“And did you make any unauthorized or unscheduled stops on the return flight?”
Judy had to think about that. Technically, her flight to the Niamey civilian airfield was both authorized and scheduled, just not with the United States Air Force. “No.”
“Look, Ms. Hopper, I’m not trying to disrupt or interfere with your CIA op or whatever it is you guys are actually trying to do, but all I have to stand on is an extremely thin paper trail—basically, a one-paragraph order from this mysterious Colonel Sanders whom I still can’t reach—and nothing else to show for it. You were supposed to bop in and out and then bounce out of here in twenty-four hours with your man Early. Instead, there are now two Americans missing, presumably at least one of them is in Algeria, and he’s carrying a weapon stolen from a very pissed-off SF sergeant who’s about to be busted to corporal if that rifle doesn’t show up in the next twenty-four hours.” Sotero caught herself rambling. She rubbed her face to help her focus.