Hannah’s eyes focused on Viper like lasers. “What did you find out about Professor Mordet?”
“After you first captured him in Syria and interrogated him, he was transferred to another facility, where he escaped within a few weeks.”
Hannah sipped her beer. “Just recently, we saw him in Turkey. Do you know where he is now?”
“America,” Viper said.
Her jaw dropped slightly, but she covered it up quickly. “How’d he get into America?”
“A year ago, he set up a dummy film production in France and ordered a silicone mask from Hollywood. He paid ten thousand American dollars for it — it came with silicone arms, too.” Viper chuckled. “Some Chinese guy used a cheaper version to fool airport authorities in Hong Kong once. The one Professor Mordet ordered makes him look like an elderly white man. Iranian intelligence is always helping out Syrian intelligence, and Iran made him one fake Canadian passport to go with the mask identity and another one that matches his picture without the mask. He didn’t know when or where he’d use it, but he wanted to be prepared when the opportunity arose. I don’t know which passport he would’ve entered America on. Maybe he snuck across the border from Mexico or used some other method.”
“Where was he headed to in America?” she asked.
Viper took a sip of his beer. “I don’t know.”
“This information is hardly worth our drinks,” she said.
“He flew off on some jihad against the US.”
Hannah rolled her eyes at the man. “I could’ve figured that much.”
“Professor Mordet works with a guy named Little Kale.”
Chris anxiously fingered the lighter in his pocket, but he tried not to show any feelings on his face.
It couldn’t be the same guy. No way.
The waitress brought their food. “Now we’re talking,” Hannah said.
After days living almost exclusively on energy gel, Chris could hardly wait for a warm meal. The waitress placed his plate before him: kibbeh, minced balls made of lamb, pine nuts, onion and bulgur wheat. The kibbeh waded with herb-roasted tomatoes and citrus in warm yogurt sauce. His mouth watered. Using his fork, he stabbed into a ball, splitting it and releasing a wisp of steam. Despite how hungry he was for a warm meal and how heady it looked, he couldn’t eat — not while something more important burned inside him.
Chris put down his fork. “Can I ask a question?”
Viper looked at Hannah, and she nodded.
Chris’s heart raced like a Formula One race car. Breathe. He tried to slow it down before he spoke. “What do you know about Little Kale?”
“He’s a thick-witted thug in the shabiha,” Viper said. “Shabiha are the ‘ghosts,’ an armed militia that work for the Al-Assad family. Little Kale started out as a smuggler for the shabiha, sneaking food and cigarettes into Lebanon to sell on the black market for insane amounts of money. The shabiha would pay a cut to the Assads. Coming back the other way, he smuggled drugs, guns, and expensive cars from Lebanon into Syria — all sanctioned by the Assad family, who, again, received a cut.”
“And then?”
Viper took another drink. “Over the years, Little Kale tried to score bigger deals, but he lacked charisma and political savvy. His talent lay elsewhere — kidnapping and killing. As he racked up more and more snatches and hits, his reputation spread, but his inability to gain followers, connect with peers, and impress superiors hurt his career. He was frequently passed over for promotion. He stayed in the shabiha like a beast harnessed to a plow.”
“Did he have a family?” Chris asked.
“His home life was worse. His only child committed suicide, and his wife wanted a divorce. He wouldn’t give it to her, so she left to live with her parents.”
Chris took a sip, trying to remember anything he could about the man. “How’d he come to work for Professor Mordet?”
“The shabiha had become too powerful,” Viper continued, “and in the 1990s, the Assad family shut them down. Professor Mordet was a mercenary who needed a thug, so he hired Little Kale to work for him. Little Kale bristled at answering to someone younger than him and detested Professor Mordet’s … culinary choices.”
“Culinary choices?” Chris already knew something about Mordet’s cannibalism, of course, but he wanted to know what intel Viper had.
“When Professor Mordet was a kid, he was in a plane wreck and ate his sister. Since then, he has continued to eat people.”
“Years ago, when I spoke to him, he told me he ate human flesh, but he said his sister left to find help and froze to death. As if he didn’t actually eat his sister. Are you sure?”
“Positive. Her name was Ha’la.”
Maybe Mordet was embarrassed that he’d eaten his sister. Such a seemingly insignificant detail could be a key to a weakness of Mordet, but they would have to find him first in order to exploit it. Chris sat forward on the edge of his seat. “Did Little Kale go to the US with Professor Mordet?
“I don’t know.”
“You got an address for him?”
Viper seemed hesitant.
“Address,” Hannah repeated sternly.
Viper tapped his cell phone screen, as if searching, before reading off the address.
The three ate their meal in virtual silence, and when they finished, Viper left the table first. After he was out of sight, Chris looked Hannah straight in the eyes. “While we’re in the neighborhood, I’d like to visit an old acquaintance.”
24
Hannah drove as they went on a vehicular recon of the two blocks surrounding Little Kale’s house. There seemed to be no danger spots in the outer area, so they drove in for a closer observation. The lights were out. “Doesn’t look like anyone is home,” Hannah said.
She parked nearby before the three of them un-assed the vehicle and walked to Little Kale’s house. Chris picked the lock on the back door, and they slipped inside. He lived like a slob with food crumbs and wrappers on the floor and a pungent odor in the air. Chris’s skin itched as if little bugs were crawling all over him.
They cleared each room and found no sign of him, so for the next ten minutes, they searched for information. They confiscated a laptop, papers, and other materials.
Back at their motel room, Hannah handed Little Kale’s laptop to Chris and said, “You’re the most fluent in Arabic.”
Chris powered up Little Kale’s laptop, but he needed a password to proceed. He typed numbers in order: 1, 2, 3… Nothing. Next he used the Arabic word for password. After trying more combinations, names, and other words and phrases, he typed killer. The image on the monitor changed from the security screen to the desktop.
Next, he clicked open the email and searched through messages. He also checked the email trash folder, where he found a user name for a jihad website: kalil9/11. Chris launched the web browser and checked the history of websites visited. There he found a travel webpage. He clicked on the login button and typed in kalil9/11 for the username and killer for the password. The screen paused while the laptop processed something. A new page appeared on the screen. “Maybe Little Kale didn’t stick around to fight us because he had a plane to catch this morning,” Chris said.
“You found his itinerary?” Hannah asked.
“He used a local agent to book his tickets online.”
Hannah peered over Chris’s shoulder. “Viper was right. This Little Kale isn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer.”