“Interesting,” Scott said as he handed the report and dossier back to Jackie. “She’s a gutsy woman.”
“She’s one of the best,” Sullivan said as the command pilot returned to the cockpit. “Like any good actress, she thoroughly prepares for the part she’s going to play.”
“Tell me again,” Scott inquired with idle curiosity, “what caused them to become suspicious of her?”
“It’s only a guess, but I think someone may have heard Maritza speaking English when she was ostensibly being interviewed by Ed Hockaday. That’s the only logical thing I can think of.”
“They probably bugged the room.”
“Well, that may be the case, but it’s academic now. The day after Eddy visited with Maritza, Shakhar told her that she wouldn’t be allowed to leave the compound until certain issues were resolved. He said it was for her own safety and protection.”
“What issues?”
“He didn’t say — still hasn’t, as far as we’ve heard.”
Scott searched Jackie’s face. “What about Hockaday?”
“What about him?”
“He could be a double agent.”
Surprised by the blunt statement, she gave him a look of skepticism. “If he is — which I don’t believe is the case — he has more guts than brains.” She gave Scott a hard look. “Before you start tossing out insinuations or accusations, you should do your homework.”
“That’s good advice,” Scott said evenly, and changed the subject. “How do you communicate with Maritza?”
“Satellite-phone.”
“You’re kidding,” he protested in mild disbelief. “She just whips out her sat-phone and calls you from a Hezbollah stronghold.”
“Not exactly. Maritza has a matchbook-size experimental phone. It slips into a recess in her clothes and rests on her right shoulder. If she’s outside, or near a window, she can push a small button, then turn her head and speak softly into the microphone.”
“Can you contact her?”
“Yes, but obviously the phone doesn’t ring.” Jackie smiled.
“Yeah, that could cause some problems.”
“It vibrates.”
“How often does she contact you?”
“Before they became suspicious of her, she would send us very short messages once or twice a week. She called at random times and left brief messages on a designated line in our office. We have some basic info about Shakhar’s plans, but the details of his assault on us were just beginning to gel a few days before Eddy’s interview with Shakhar.”
Scott’s uneasiness grew as he considered Maritza’s predicament. “If they catch her or even suspect…”
“I know,” she said with a dismissive shrug. “Since Shakhar and his followers have become suspicious, she’s only been able to contact us twice in the past three weeks. The last message — less than seven seconds long — was a clear plea for help. She has a lot of crucial information and wants out of there as quickly as possible.”
Scott didn’t underestimate the odds of rescuing Maritza. “Will you risk contacting her by voice to let her know when we’re coming to get her?”
“You bet,” she said firmly. “Once we commit ourselves, all of us have to know exactly what’s happening. We’ll make contact with Maritza twenty-four hours before we go in to get her. I’ll brief her on exactly what we’re going to be doing.”
Scott fell silent for a moment, then spoke quietly. “You realize this extraction is going to be next to impossible.”
“Well,” she said under her breath, “that depends on how you define impossible. I wouldn’t be here, and you wouldn’t either, if you didn’t think it was possible.”
Scott nodded, then changed course. “What do you know about the compound? How well is it guarded?”
“Ed Hockaday can give you more detail than I can, but the place is surrounded by a high steel fence, and it’s heavily guarded on all sides. The buildings are constructed of low-grade concrete blocks, and very crude by our standards. There isn’t any way to gain access to the compound, except from the air.”
Jackie hesitated as her mouth curved in a warm smile. ‘That’s — of course — why I asked for your help.”
Scott gazed at the clouds, then turned to Jackie. “I suppose Hartwell gave you my bio?”
“Yes.” She smiled. “And I’m not into parachuting into confined areas in the middle of the night.”
He studied her expression, sensing a bond of trust developing between them. “That’s good, because I’m not into flying helicopters.”
“That’s probably a wise decision,” Jackie said matter-of-factly, and raised an eyebrow. “How did you manage to get permission to go through the Army’s HALO School?”
The High Altitude, Low Opening School is designed to train Special Operations forces to infiltrate enemy lines by air without being detected.
“The Agency arranged it.” Scott chuckled. “You know, one of those ‘career enhancement’ opportunities.”
“Does O’Donnell fly all your drops?”
“Every one,” Scott declared with obvious pride in his voice. “When I was shot down during Desert Storm, Greg kept the Iraqis off me until a rescue helo arrived.”
“Yes, I’ve read about your exploits together.”
The look in his eyes was both serious and sincere. “He’s one of the best pilots — maybe the best — I’ve ever seen.”
“Second to you, of course,” Jackie suggested in a faint taunt.
Scott managed to keep his ego just below the surface. “Actually, you’re right.” He smiled broadly.
“I thought so,” she said, then turned toward the window to keep the smirk from showing.
With a slight reduction of power from the twin Rolls-Royce fanjets, the C-37A began a shallow descent toward DFW.
Turning back, she leaned close to Scott’s ear and spoke in a low, cultured voice. “Have you done much sailing lately?”
For a stunned second Scott was speechless while he tried in vain to hide his embarrassment. “I was hoping you’d forgotten about that,” he said with a sheepish grin.
“No,” she replied, smiling sweetly. “In fact, I remember every detail about the evening, and the invitation.”
Scott took in a slow breath. “Look, Jackie, I apologize for not calling you, but I was in the mid—”
“Let me guess,” she interrupted with a cool smile. “You lost my name and phone number, right?”
“It’s the truth,” Scott said with a straight face that involuntarily turned into a smile. “How can I convince you it’s true?”
“You can’t, so don’t even try,” she said with conviction, then abruptly changed the subject. “Do you think you can pull this off?”
“I thought this was a dual effort,” Scott challenged.
“It is,” she murmured with strained politeness. “But you’re the mission commander.”
In mock seriousness, Scott turned to Jackie. “Are you one of those Ί have to be equal to men’ types?”
“Not even close,” Jackie said evenly. “It’s been my observation that women who aspire to be equal to men,” she said with a touch of sarcasm, “lack ambition.”
“Touché.”
7
Massoud Ramazani finished his short conversation with Khaliq Farkas and placed the portable phone on his kitchen table. The reception from the Cessna Citation’s newly installed Flitefone had been exceptionally clear. Farkas was ahead of schedule and the next step in their ambitious plan to assassinate the president and bring down U.S. airliners was unfolding nicely.