CHAPTER 8
CIA HEADQUARTERS
LANGLEY
VIRGINIA
Phil Durkin leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and pressed the heels of his hands against his temples as he tried to think. “For all we know, Nafi didn’t have a single thing in that folder. Or maybe he had his wife’s grocery list or the lease for his mistress’s apartment in Amman.”
“He wasn’t bluffing, Phil,” Lydia Ryan said to her former supervisor. “If you’d been sitting across from him like I was, you would’ve seen he was dead serious.”
“Think he might give you the information if you slept with him?”
“Go fuck yourself, Phil,” Ryan responded in disgust. “Better yet, why don’t you go fuck Nafi Nasiri and see if he’ll pillow-talk the plot over to you.”
“I’m not seriously suggesting you sleep with Nasiri to get the intel, Lydia.”
“Oh, really? Because that’s exactly what it just sounded like to me. In fact I ought to take this up to the seventh floor right now and have them run your ass up a flagpole. You’re beyond sick.”
Durkin laughed as he leaned forward and focused on Ryan. “You have no idea what sick is.”
“I’m looking at you, so I’ve got a pretty good picture in my head.”
“Yeah, I’m the first guy in all of history to have too much to drink at an office Christmas party and make a pass at a coworker. I’m the devil.”
“First of all, we weren’t coworkers, you were my supervisor. And secondly, what you did wasn’t some booze-fueled pass,” she said, remembering how he had pulled her into an empty office, forced his hand under her dress, and tried to pull her panties off. “It bordered on charges being filed and you know it.”
“It’s not healthy to live in the past, Lydia. You’ve got to let it go.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you. In fact, I bet you’d like it if I left the Agency altogether.”
“What I’d like, is if you didn’t run your mouth so much. It’s not like I skated. I got suspended without pay and my wife left me.”
“Brenda left you because you’re an asshole and drinking only made you worse. The Agency should have cut you loose, but you manipulated the crap out of them and blamed all of your bad behavior on being an alcoholic so they sent you to rehab instead. Speaking of which, do you even bother going to AA meetings anymore?”
“That’s none of your damn business.”
“Fair enough,” Ryan replied with a shrug. “I can only imagine how much they get in the way of drinking.”
“Can we get to the point? I’ve got a lot of other work to do.”
“Get to the point? What do I have to do? Draw you a picture? The Jordanians aren’t going to share until we give them something.”
Durkin shrugged and looked at her. “None of the guys they’re asking about work here anymore. The Eclipse program was disassembled. What do you want me to do?”
“Let me see,” she replied. “This is the Central Intelligence Agency. We have assets and liaison relationships around the world. Hmmmmm. Maybe try to find them?”
“You seem to have forgotten that the Eclipse program technically didn’t exist. I can’t now just unilaterally launch an operation to hunt down a group of American citizens who were photographed having lunch on Cyprus.”
“Who were also placed in Egypt and Libya before the turmoil there.”
“I hate to break it to you, Lydia, but visiting any of those countries isn’t a crime.”
Ryan couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “How about lunching with two high-ranking Jordanian Muslim Brotherhood officials?”
“Also not a crime.”
“This is serious, Phil. This isn’t the kind of thing the Agency should be playing chicken over.”
“I’m not saying it isn’t serious.”
Ryan locked eyes with her former boss. “Maybe you don’t know Nafi Nasiri very well, but I do. Trust me, he doesn’t bluff.”
“I know Nafi Nasiri better than you think.”
“If you did, then you’d know that he doesn’t walk out on limbs without knowing exactly how strong they are and what he can grab if necessary on the way down.”
“Things are changing,” Durkin pontificated. “And if there’s one thing the Arabs don’t like, besides the Jews and the rest of us, it’s change.”
“I’m telling you, Phil, this is a survival issue for the Jordanians. They think they could be the next country to collapse and that we might be behind it. They’re an ally. We shouldn’t mess with them. Let’s help them.”
Again, the man shrugged. “What else do you want me to do? I told you that I’ll personally hand the terrorism plot allegation over to our Jordanian and Syrian desks. We’ll see what they come up with.”
Despite their relationship, Ryan had expected more buy-in from him. “Why not horse-trade with Nafi a little? Aren’t you even the slightest bit interested in what our old team might be up to? Let’s at least open a file on them.”
“The only jobs they’d ever be able to find are in the private contracting world. That whole team was made up of cowboys and more than a couple of bullshit artists, which means they’re probably selling some hybrid package of intel gathering and personal security services. They never liked discipline and they didn’t like rules, which means no reputable American company would ever hire them. They’ve either bamboozled some loosey-goosey foreign outfit to take them on, or they’ve hung their own shingle. Either way, they are persona non grata at this agency and I don’t give a rat’s ass what they’re up to. They’re simply not even worth thinking about.”
While she hated to admit it, there was a lot of logic to what Durkin was saying. “Let’s assume that you’re right; that they’re out there selling their services as private contractors. What’s the harm in quietly looking around, compiling a case file, and passing it off to the Jordanians?”
Durkin adopted a more sympathetic tone, but it was still patronizing. “Lydia, I want to help. Believe me. But you’re talking about private U.S. citizens. You know how the director feels about this kind of thing. We can’t investigate them without some sort of a justification.”
“So you’re saying no.”
The man nodded. “That’s what I’m saying. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too,” said Ryan as she stood up from the couch and walked to the door.
“Tell Nasiri you’re trying. In the meantime, let’s see if our people can run down this ‘plot’ he’s uncovered.”
“And if we can’t run it down?”
“Then hopefully, he’ll do the right thing and come clean with you.”
“I’m not going to hold my breath.”
“You never know,” Durkin said. “He may surprise you.”
Ryan was halfway out the door when she turned around and asked, “Why wasn’t I let go with the rest of the team when they were fired?”
“Why do you think?”
She shrugged. “I certainly broke my fair share of rules, just like the rest of them.”
“That’s the way the team was set up. You were expected to color outside the lines in order to get results.”
“But why keep me and not the others?”
“Because unlike the others, you didn’t ask for that assignment. You got put there as a babysitter. We knew you’d have to break a few rules, but we also knew where your loyalties were.”
“We?” she asked, “Or you?”
“What are you saying?”
“Did I get some sort of special treatment that the others didn’t get? Is that why you thought you could come on to me the way you did?”
“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “That was me being stupid. You’re still here because both the CIA and I value your talent. Nothing more. Now stop letting Nafi Nasiri mess with your head. You’re too smart to be manipulated like that.”