“And it doesn’t bother you that you’re going to do just that?”
“I work for the United States government and Sahmoud is the architect of the terror attacks in DC and New York. Our job is to get those ancient documents and bring Sahmoud in — dead or alive.”
Vail shook her head. “This is not going to end well. You heard what the director general just told you about tensions between the two countries. You may even be persona non grata in Israel.”
Uzi tightened his jaw and turned toward the window. “Can’t think about that. We have our orders. That’s all that matters right now.”
“Orders that were sent to us in code?”
DeSantos rolled his eyes. “Don’t start with that, Karen. I know what Knox was saying. This is what we’re supposed to do. Let’s go do it.”
64
They had gotten back to Zemro’s car outside the Old City when Uzi’s phone rang. It was Richard Prati. Zemro went to the rear hatch of the SUV while the rest of them climbed into the vehicle.
Uzi took the front passenger seat and answered the call as his buttocks hit the fabric. “Talk to me, Richard.”
“It was coming up zeroes until your colleague, Agent Rodman, broadened the algorithm and included Interpol. Then we got a hit — a big one. This Amer Madari joker is Nazir al Dosari.”
It took a second for Uzi to find his voice. “What?”
“Nazir al Dosari. He’s rumored to be a rising star in al Humat, but everything we’ve got on him is several years old—”
“Are you sure? I mean, really sure?”
Vail and DeSantos leaned forward in their seats.
“Hundred percent, Uzi. He had facial reconstruction in Germany, at that ex-Stasi facial surgery clinic. We didn’t know what he looked like but one of my guys got hold of a photo from a file the CIA bought three weeks ago. There was a meeting between Carlos Cortez and Dosari in Beirut. Money and weapons exchanged hands. The Agency had someone with a long lens snapping photos. I’ll send you what we’ve got. There’s something in the file that’s classified and encrypted, but I’ll give you what I have and let you run with it.”
“Copy Hoshi Koh in my office. And thanks for digging into this, Richard. Sorry you missed your meeting.”
“No you’re not.”
“You’re right, I’m not. Talk soon.”
He hung up as Zemro got into the SUV, his arms filled with tactical vests. “I have a feeling we’re going to be needing these.” He handed two back to Vail and DeSantos and the other to Uzi.
Uzi dialed Hoshi and secured the Kevlar with the Velcro straps while the call connected.
“Uzi. Where the heck have you been? Shepard’s been on my c—”
“Listen to me — Richard Prati at DEA is sending you a file. The person of interest has a classified file at Interpol. I need to know what’s in it.”
“Well how am I — you want me to hack Interpol?”
“Now that you mention it, yeah. Good idea. Call me on my satphone. I’ll text you the number.”
“You have a satphone? Where are you?”
“I need this info ASAP, Hoshi.” He clicked off and let his head rest against the side window.
DeSantos leaned back in his seat and waited for Uzi to explain. Finally he said, “So this is not getting any better, is it?”
Uzi sighed. “Nope. The guy Mo met with in New York is the number two in command at al Humat. Nazir al Dosari.”
“We need to find Fahad,” DeSantos said. “And bash his head in.”
“No,” Uzi said. “There’s an encrypted file. I want to know what’s in it before we jump to conclusions.”
“Jump to conclusions?” DeSantos looked at Vail, his brow raised. “Boychick, I know you don’t want to hear this, but read the writing on the goddam wall.”
“I’m reading between the lines.” Uzi’s phone rang. It was Fahad. He held up his phone for Vail and DeSantos to see the Caller ID.
“Answer it,” DeSantos said. “Tell him to meet us. We’ll bag him as soon as he shows his face.”
The phone buzzed. Uzi hesitated, then finally brought it to his face. “Mo. What’s up?”
“You done meeting with Raph’s CI?”
“Yeah, we’re good with that.”
“Was he helpful?”
“Was he helpful … not sure. We’ll probably find out very soon.” He ground his jaw. That was true in more ways than one. “Where are you?”
“Muslim Quarter. You?”
“Meet us where we parked. We just got back to the car.”
“Be right there.”
Uzi dropped the phone into his lap. “Now what?”
DeSantos snorted. “Now? We get him in here and—”
“Karen,” Uzi said firmly. “What do you suggest?”
They all faced Vail.
She thought a moment, then said, “This is a tough one. If we accept the info and background we’ve been given on Mo as accurate and complete, I’d say this doesn’t add up. He’s got legitimate motivation to do what he did to Yaseen. I’m not condoning it, but it’s understandable. I’d want to do the same thing. And if that’s the case, there’s no way he’s working with al Humat. But if there’s more to his story that we don’t know, it’s impossible for us to know what’s really going on.”
“And that’s why we need to cuff him and take him somewhere,” DeSantos said.
“Wrong,” Vail said.
“Wrong?”
“Wrong. Despite their differences, Uzi has built a rapport with Mo.” She turned to Uzi, who was still leaning against the window, staring straight ahead. “Am I right?”
“Yeah.”
“That kind of rapport takes us weeks to achieve with a prisoner, with any hostile, suspect, or known killer. And Uzi’s got it. He needs to use it, leverage it. In fact, the only person who Mo has a problem with is you, Hector. So you’re the last person who should be interrogating him. He’ll shut down. You won’t get anything.”
“You’re sure of that.”
“Yes. He’s CIA. He’s trained in the stuff you’d be doing to him — psychological or physical — he knows what’d be coming and how to resist it.”
“I’ll get more with a carrot than a stick,” Uzi said, turning around.
“Exactly. When the time’s right you need to confront him with these allegations. But gently, as if you’re just chatting and it’s no big deal. Do it at a time and a place where you can observe his facial tics and body language. It might be subtle, but you’ll know if he’s being straight with you. You with me?”
Uzi nodded.
“Eat the friggin’ carrots,” DeSantos said, turning away. “Give me a nice thick stick.”
“Not this time, Hector.”
Zemro, who had been observing the interplay, appraised Vail. “You want a job? Shin Bet, Mossad, they both use behavioral analysts.”
Vail managed a smile. “Without me, these two goons would be in serious trouble.”
Zemro laughed. “I agree.”
Uzi’s satphone vibrated. He glanced at the screen and blew some air through his lips. “Reuben came through. He’s sending us Sahmoud’s address.”
“Because of all the terror attacks,” Zemro said, “the checkpoints are active. My plates will get us in. Just let me do the talking.”
A knock on the window made them all flinch. It was Fahad. Uzi unlocked the doors and he got in next to DeSantos, who shifted to the middle seat.
Fahad chuckled. “Man, you guys are on edge.”
“Being around terrorists gets the adrenaline flowing,” DeSantos said, his gaze out the front windshield remaining steady.