An Act of Treason Page 9

  “Who is the real contact?” Swanson asked.

  “You don’t need to know that yet,” Hall snapped.

  “Oh, stow the bullshit, Jim. You specifically brought me in for this job, and I want to know who I am working with. You think I’ll put his name on Twitter or blog it or something?”

  “Of course not. It’s just that his father is a top-level asset, one of my own recruits that I have groomed over the years.”

  “The name?” asked Kyle. “No use continuing this conversation if you won’t tell me.”

  Selim arched an eyebrow and looked from him to Lauren and then to Jim. “That is not a real problem.” He was sure of himself, confident of his work and his ability. “My father is Muhammed Waleed.”

  “The top dog of the Taliban? We’re working with the Taliban?”

  “The very one,” said Hall. “He will trust only me, and he is a real rainmaker.”

  Kyle forced himself to keep a neutral look. Friend or not, he would not risk his life just because Jim Hall was engineering a deal with people that Swanson considered the enemy. “I’m more used to killing the Taliban than being nice to them.”

  “We are quite aware of your reputation, Gunnery Sergeant Swanson. You may return to the battlefield again someday against our fighters and perhaps not be so lucky. But the world is changing, and in Pakistan, the Taliban is a legitimate political party, and my father runs it. Unfortunately, he does not speak for all of the renegade tribal chiefs. Yet.”

  Hall laughed softly. “It’s a new world, Kyle, but it is still the old world in many ways. We are going to kill us a couple of Taliban terrorists while we are in Islamabad, and Selim is going to help us do it. If you don’t have the stomach for it, leave now.”

  “Why don’t they just kill these guys themselves and be done with it?” Swanson asked, still irritated.

  “Washington wants the word to spread that whoever messes with us is going to get squashed. This is a good target, Kyle; these boys are not a couple of suicide bombers but a highly trained team, and we need to take them out.”

  Selim was standing with his hands folded in front of him. “We already have them in the city, Gunny Swanson. They will be ready when you are.”

  Lauren finally spoke. “How will it happen, Selim? You will pick out a spot for our two snipers?”

  He laughed, and a smile creased his firm jawline. “No. I pick out the spot for the targets. Jim Hall and the reluctant Gunny Swanson will find their own positions, although I have some recommendations.”

  “You can guarantee that?”

  “Of course. You can depend on good Muslims to always be on time to pray. The people are in a private apartment with a balcony. They have been given beautiful prayer rugs and will come out and prostrate themselves to offer their maghrib prayers as the sun goes down. If you don’t mind shooting someone in the back while he is talking to God, it should be easy.”

  Lauren said, “That’s pretty cold-blooded.”

  “Please do not be shocked, Ms. Carson. In this part of the world, we have been doing this sort of thing for a thousand years. Even a prince at prayer in a mosque is not truly safe. You must remember from your studies that we coined the word hashshashin… assassin.”

  “Works for me,” said Swanson.

  “I know,” said Selim with coldness, then broke into his relaxed smile. “Now, Jim Hall, you mentioned a price in our last conversation.”

  Hall pointed to Lauren’s bag, and she pulled out the laptop, took it to a round table, opened the top, and went online through a secure satellite frequency. “A million dollars for each of them.”

  “Hell of a campaign contribution.”

  “Shut up and sit down, Kyle. Say the word, Selim, and Lauren will move the money.”

  Swanson plopped hard into an overstuffed chair, looking sullen, and exhaled loudly. The others quickly ignored him. He was not involved in the talks. Kyle made a show of crossing his legs and adjusting his coat, carefully pulling the.45 ACP out of his belt and placing it beneath his thigh, with the butt facing out. Then he put an arm on each side of the chair, looking like he was resting. The fingers of his right hand were less than eleven inches from the pistol.

  Selim leaned against the back of a long sofa. “My father appreciates that, but I believe these people are of more value. It has not been easy to separate them from their friends.”

  Hall grunted a laugh. “The other part of the payment was getting those missiles to hit that village when he needed them. Took some doing on our part. Missiles cost money, too.”

  “Still.”

  “Oh, fine. Okay. Courtesy of the American taxpayer. A million and a half each, for three million dollars total. Will that make the old man happy?”

  “Oh yes,” Selim said. “Excellent. Exchanging favors of equality leaves neither party indebted to the other.”

  “An old Arab saying?” asked Lauren.

  “No. I just made it up.”

  “Fine.” She looked over at Jim Hall. “That’s it, then? Want me to punch the buttons on a three-million dollar transfer of funds to the assigned account?”

  “Do it,” said Jim Hall. “Let’s wrap this baby up.”

  Lauren’s fingers deftly worked the keyboard for about thirty seconds; then she stood back. “Transfer under way. Confirmation of receipt… right… now. Done.”

  Selim coughed in his fist. “Excellent. Now, Jim Hall, before we part for the day, my father wishes for me to present you with a very special gift. Please wait for one moment.” He went to a door and said something.

  They could hear some stirring on the other side; then the portal swung open and a pair of lean, hard-looking men in civilian clothes brought in Sergeant Javon Anthony and Corporal Jake Henderson. As the blindfolds were stripped away and the handcuffs removed, Selim said, “Please take these young men safely back to America.”

  Kyle was already on his feet and locked in a two-fisted combat stance.

  14

  ISLAMABAD

  “K YLE ! P UT DOWN THAT weapon!” yelled Hall, his voice filling the room.

  “Not a chance,” Swanson snapped back, training the weapon on the two men who had brought in the American soldiers, then ordering Anthony and Henderson, “You guys move behind me!”

  “Selim just gave these prisoners back to us!”

  “And we are damn straight going to keep them.” Ignoring the others, Kyle moved quickly to the guards, spun them roughly and pushed them to the wall. Holding the pistol against each man’s kidneys in turn, he gave them a quick pat-down-shoulders, hips, crotch, ankles. No weapons. He backed away. “Come on, Jim. This meeting is over and we’re out of here.”

  “You’re overreacting, Kyle.” Hall sat down and looked at Selim. “Tell your father that this came as a big surprise.”

  Selim had hardly blinked at Kyle’s protective outburst. He shrugged his shoulders. “Gunny Swanson, you really don’t need the weapon. I want those men to leave safely. We have gone through a lot to make this happen.”

  “Your men captured them in the first place, and coldly murdered one of their friends, also an American soldier, in the process. I should believe you now?” Anthony and Henderson stood rooted behind him.

  Hall put his palms out toward Kyle. “Okay, okay. Settle down. Give me a second. Keep them all covered if it makes you feel better. Lauren, while you still have that laptop online, transfer another two million to that same account, on my authority. More than worth the price.”

  She quickly ran the numbers and confirmed the transfer.

  “Now, Lauren, you are going to be the hero in all of this. Radio the driver to get our vehicle ready for a fast trip to the U.S. Embassy.”

  Kyle broke in with a shout, “Jesus Christ, Jim. You just told these people where we’re going and how we’re going to get there!” The pistol was still firmly pointing at the guards as Kyle mentally processed the security options to egress the hotel. Was someone waiting on the other side of the door? Downstairs? On the str
eets?

  “Just let me finish talking before you start shooting.” Jim Hall was having difficulty controlling his own voice because of Kyle’s stubborness. He took a deep breath. “Then, Lauren, you escort them down to our vehicle and haul ass out of here. Kyle, why don’t you go along and ride shotgun before you have a heart attack. Once they are inside the embassy gates, both of you come back here and meet me.”

  “You can’t stay here in this room alone, Jim. We may just be swapping two prisoners for one.”

  “Damn it, Kyle! Get it through your thick head that everything is fine here. Selim and I have some business to finish.”

  “That is true, Gunny Swanson. No one in the Taliban or the Bright Path Party is going to try to stop you.” Selim seemed amused.

  Lauren packed up her computer and shouldered the bag. “Let’s go,” she said.

  “Leave the computer with me,” Hall said. “I may need it.” Lauren let the case slide from her shoulder.

  “Don’t walk in front of my pistol,” Kyle said. “Sergeant Anthony, are you able to function?”

  “Yeah. Who the hell are you?”

  Swanson did not look at him. “Gunnery Sergeant Kyle Swanson. U.S. Marines. You check the door and the hallway. You move first, then Lauren, then Corporal Henderson. I bring up the rear. Jim, I will be back here in no more than two hours. Selim, I wish that I could trust you, but I can’t. So I will save any thanks until I get back.”

  Selim smiled, totally at ease. “Actually, I understand your problem. I will be gone by the time you get back. I see everything I have heard about you is true.”

  Jake Henderson leaned close to Lauren and whispered, “Who are you people?”

  “Stay close,” she said. From her computer bag, she had pulled a small Heckler & Koch P7M8 pistol. Jake stared. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen was packing 9 mm heat and acting like she knew how to use it.

  Then they were out the door.

  * * *

  S WANSON JUMPED INTO THE lead and ran down the carpeted hallway to the fire exit, his eyes roaming the area for telltale signs that this could be an ambush. He kicked the door open, and they dashed down the concrete staircase, their feet echoing. He called back over his shoulder, “Lauren, change of plan. Radio the driver to pick us up at the delivery entrance. We cannot chance going through the lobby.”

  Javon Anthony had taken the trail position and kept checking over his shoulder. “Clear back here,” he shouted.

  “Why didn’t we just take the elevator?” Jake asked.

  “Keep going. Follow that dude and protect the lady,” said Anthony.

  They pounded past the third-floor landing and kept going. There was no second floor, just a mezzanine. At the final landing, Kyle made a sharp turn toward the rear of the building and went into a service corridor, pushing by a surprised maid with her cart. He slowed, and they all grouped together as the corridor opened into a large, busy area where numerous staff members were going about their jobs. Sunlight poured through the wide delivery doors, where crates were being unloaded from trucks that had backed up to the loading docks. Swanson kept his pistol tight against his waist, hiding it beneath his sport coat.

  “Here comes the car,” Lauren said softly, pointing to the right, where the CIA SUV was racing toward them. The driver hit the brakes, and the big vehicle skidded to a sideways stop. All four of them tumbled in through the unlocked doors.

  “Get us to the plane and be ready for trouble,” said Kyle, pulling his weapon free again. The driver reached into a shoulder holster, withdrew his own Glock semiautomatic pistol, and put it on the seat between them. Swanson turned around. “Sergeant Anthony, there’s an Uzi under a panel behind the rear seat. Dig it out and stay back there to watch our six. Henderson, reach beneath the front seat and get the shotgun.”

  Lauren moved aside so the soldiers could reach the weapons, but she barked at Kyle. “The airport? Hell, no, Kyle. We’re supposed to go to the embassy. Why are you acting like this? Jim said everything was okay.”

  He did not look at her but kept scanning the street and the buildings. “Jim might be wrong. We just did a deal with the Taliban, and they aren’t famous for their generosity, nor their hospitality.”

  “Their women were going to skin me alive,” said Jake Henderson, jacking a round into the pump shotgun that had been sawed off at both ends to make it short enough to fit in the vehicle. “I don’t trust them neither.”

  Swanson put on his sunglasses to cut the glare. “Never do what your enemy expects, Lauren. If they have an ambush plan, it would be set between the hotel and the embassy. Unless you want to chance having an IED explode under our asses, we ain’t going that way.”

  “So you want me to take these guys back to Bagram?” What Kyle said made sense. Jim was going to be angry, but she wasn’t really needed here any longer. Getting these boys entirely out of the Middle East and back on U.S. soil as soon as possible was the right play.

  “Nope. The ghost plane is at your disposal, and it has aerial refueling capability. You take them all the way back to Washington. While you’re flying, have the CIA meet you at Andrews Air Force Base under a full security alert.”

  “I’m worried about Jim’s reaction. He’s my boss, you know.” The computations whirred in her head. Swanson did not seem tense at all, but rationally reaching decisions that made total sense.

  “No sweat. If he pulls any chain-of-command crap, tell him that I put you under temporary duty orders. Until you are in Washington, you’ve been drafted by Task Force Trident, and our authority comes from the White House.”

  “You can do that?”

  “Oh, yeah.” He flipped out a small green notebook and scribbled a telephone number on it. “And take this, Lauren. If the Agency people give you problems over this, call that number. It’s a private and secure connection directly into Trident. They will supply whatever backup you need.”

  Javon Anthony never took his eyes from the windows as the SUV sped down a wide boulevard. The lightweight submachine gun with its stock folded and a full thirty-two-round magazine in place rested easily in his hands, locked and loaded. He had listened intently to the snippets of conversation, and it was obvious that the Marine was in charge. Anthony said to Swanson, “Listen, man, we’re just a couple of Virginia boys who have been through a lot in the past week, and right now, I’m confused as hell. How about letting us in on what the hell is happening?”

  15

  ISLAMABAD

  S ELIM AND J IM H ALL were in the comfortable chairs of the hotel suite, sipping glasses of Tennessee bourbon from a flask that Hall had brought along. Both Taliban guards had been dismissed and the four Americans were racing to escape. “I think they probably went out to the airport to put those soldiers on our plane,” Hall said. “Swanson would never go to the embassy after I mentioned it to you. Which is why I did it, and he reacted just like I thought he would. I know his moves. It gives us some extra time for our private talk.

  “First, I want to thank you for giving up the prisoners. That leverage will be useful. And I want to return that favor immediately.” He emptied the glass in a final deep swallow, put it on the glass-topped table, and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “I do not know if your father has informed you of this, but I have decided to go into business on my own, Selim. You are my first customer.”

  Selim flinched in surprise. He grasped for a response. Nothing worthy of the situation came to his lips. Jim Hall turning traitor? Selim’s father had said nothing of this, but Hall and the old man had been communicating in secret ways for many years, and Selim was just one channel. They had already made some kind of deal.

  “You have been with the Central Intelligence Agency for a very long time.” Selim said it as a statement, no more than conversation between two friends. “In your capitalist system, such a lifetime of excellent service should guarantee you a good pension. Enough to see you through your old age, correct?” In the distance, there was the sudden rapid bur
p of submachine gun fire, followed by the pops of pistols. “Somebody apparently tried to run a roadblock out at the edge of the city,” Selim observed.

  Hall laughed. “Probably Kyle causing trouble. Hope nobody was hurt. Anyway, a government pension would never be enough for me. I have to give up more than money-my access, too. No more White House dinners, no more invitations from rich guys for salmon fishing trips in Alaska, no more pretty young girls furnished with my suites in Las Vegas. No more excitement. And actually retiring from the CIA is impossible. They always keep track of you and your finances and your friends. For the rest of my life, some agent will be showing up at my front door to snoop. Telephones bugged, e-mails read. The secret life does not let you just quit. I need money and lots of it to pay for the kind of golden years I have in mind.”

  Selim steepled his fingers in thought. “Just to be sure that I have heard you correctly, Jim Hall. Again, please. You are telling me that you are going to be a traitor to your country?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what is it that you are selling?”

  “Everything in the store. Twenty years, off and on, with the CIA, and another twenty-four in the Marines. You guys want secrets? I’ve got them.”

  Selim involuntarily sucked in his breath. The size of this betrayal was beyond measure. “The Americans will surely come after you with everything they’ve got.”

  “Not if they believe I am dead.”

  “So our, hmm, this situation tomorrow will mark your exit from the American government service.”

  Hall poured refills from the flask again and had a long drink, letting the bourbon sooth his nerves. He was not uncomfortable, because he had carefully thought out his position and now had everyone in the government fooled. His entire life was about to change, and there would be no going back. Of course he was nervous. Once the feeling was identified, he dealt with the emotion and cast it away. Hall steadied himself and began the pitch to close the deal.