Brothers In Arms (25 page)

“Yes,” Hans said. “What about the younger one?”

“Is there anything on him?”

“Nothing, not in the files, not in the databases. We have him in there now as an associate of bin Faisal’s and as a suspected terrorist.”

“Put some people on him, too,” Dale said. “Let’s take a look at them while we have them.”

“Roger that,” Hans said.

“The quality of the intelligence was unfortunate,” bin Faisal said. “But perhaps in the future we can improve on it.”

“Improve or not, as I said, we would be inclined to say no. The target’s protection knows our profiles and it would be too difficult to launch against them again.” Isabelle let a shade of impatience into her voice. “We’ve done all that we can do, and that will just have to be enough.”

“Well then, we have nothing else to discuss,” bin Faisal said courteously. He held his hand out to Isabelle, who paused a moment before taking it. “Thank you for your efforts. May we feel free to contact you in the future if we have business other than this contract?”

“Of course,” Isabelle said. “We would be happy to work with you again on other projects.”

She stood up and glanced around her. “Then we’re through. Good-bye, and I hope you enjoy your stay in Amsterdam.” She shook Youssef’s hand. “Good-bye, Joe.”

“Good-bye, Isabelle,” Youssef said.

“The men are leaving,” Dale said.

“I have an eye on each,” Hans said. “You two stay back, let my people work.”

“I want to see their faces,” Dale said. “We’re going to do a walk-by and then drop out.”

“Wait until Isabelle is clear.”

“We’ll follow above, on the street, and see where they come up,” Dale said.

“It would be better for you to stay clear,” Hans insisted. “We don’t want them to make anyone. We have sufficient video for you to look at their faces all you want.”

“He’s right,” Charley said. “Let’s hang back, let the streetwalkers do their thing.”

Impatience and frustration crossed Dale’s face.

“All right,” he said. “We’ll stay back.”

Isabelle watched the backs of the two Arabs as they walked away, following the canal walkway. She sensed and felt, rather than saw, how the surveillance box had split. They were onto the two men now, and it was up to them with their high level of expertise to prevent the two men from spotting them. She was sure that the two would practice basic tradecraft and run a countersurveillance route back to wherever they were staying, but this team might be good enough to avoid detection. They surely seemed so.

She took out another cigarette, lit it, and drew hungrily at it. It tasted good and took some of the edge off the feeling in her belly. What was it she felt? Justified, she thought after a moment. After all, it was likely that she’d just signed a death warrant for those two men. She turned and went back the way she’d come, took the stairway up to street level, and began her walk home. There was a sweet shop along the way where she could pick something up for Ilse.

“Isabelle is on the move . . . she’s still not running any countersurveillance. What are you going to do?” Hans asked over the radio.

“We’re back to you,” Dale said. “We have lots to talk about.”

He tucked the earpiece of his radio in place more firmly, then began to walk back along the street above the canal.

“What did we just see?” Charley asked.

“It’s the link we’ve been looking for,” Dale said. “Al-Bashir is a Saudi-and-Sudanese-dominated operation . . .”

“I mean with Isabelle,” Charley said. “This is one of the top
street hitters in the world, and she just walks to a meeting with a top planner from Al-Bashir? She didn’t even look over her shoulder. No countersurveillance at all.”

“We know they rarely do business in Amsterdam . . .”

“C’mon, Dale. She knows she’s under surveillance, and she knows it’s American operators which tend to indicate the heavy hand of the Agency, and yet she doesn’t make any effort at losing the crew? It’s a message plain and simple: here’s her answer to what we wanted. She’s just given us what we wanted without having to do it our way.”

Dale thought for a moment, then said, “That’s right. So how do we deal with her now?”

“My vote is to give her the money,” Charley said. “She’s done what we wanted and she knows it, and she knows we know it now. Give her a package tomorrow at the meeting and say thank you very much, I hope never to see you again.”

“What if we don’t let on?”

“Dale, how can she not know? She knows, that’s the whole point of this exercise tonight. She’s handed over to us the people behind the contract on Uday, and it’s up to us to figure out the rest. This is all she’s got, and she’s not going to play games with us. You saw how they were out there on the street with their kid—they won’t do anything to endanger themselves and their daughter here on their home turf. She’s smart, that Isabelle. This gives them the out they need—they can say they didn’t actually give the Arab up, it was a surveillance operation. Not that anybody would know, or is going to find out about this transaction.”

Charley rubbed his jaw and the day’s collection of stubble there.

“That’s my call,” he said.

“You may be right,” Dale said. “Let’s see how good Hans’s people are at tracking those two.”

The two men hurried along the canal pathway and climbed the staircase back to the street.

Callan and Dalton shared an early morning breakfast in the cafeteria of Ray’s building. They sat well away from the other occupied tables as they discussed the activities in Amsterdam.

“It’s Al-Bashir,” Callan said. “I have all the video here.” He tapped one finger on a compact disk on the table. “We’re on both operators right now. One of them is Ahmad bin Faisal. The other one is a young guy, we don’t know who yet.”

“The Twins gave them up?” Dalton said with surprise.

“Not in so many words,” Callan said. “But Isabelle led our crew right to the meet with the Al-Bashir people. So there’re your paymasters.”

“How do we know they’re the paymasters?”

“Because Isabelle gave them up that way. There’s no other reason a top-shelf pro like her would operate like she did, except for the talk she had with Dale and Charley. It’s her way of giving them up without giving in to us.”

“So what does she want now?”

“One hundred fifty thousand dollars, which I think is a bargain.”

“Go ahead with that,” Dalton said. “I think it’s time I got on the dance card.”

“Why piss off Dale now?” Callan said in a measured voice.

“He’s doing a great job. You don’t need to step in. You’re getting all the take as soon as we get it.”

“Sooner or later, Dale and I will have to come to an understanding.”

“Concentrate on the big picture, Ray. You can worry about patching things up some other time. You and Dale, you’re not the priority now.”

Ray smiled coldly. “That’s true.” He took a pen from his pocket and twirled it in his fingers. “Ahmad bin Faisal. He would be a great catch.”

“Yes, he would,” Callan said. “But we want to see where he’ll lead us first. You’ll want a team of your door kickers ready to do a snatch on him.”

“I can have a team on-site in eight hours.”

“Do that, and have them stand off. There’s no need to duplicate our efforts.”

“Al-Bashir,” Dalton said again. “Doing the hit as an Iraqi proxy or as a favor?”

“That remains to be seen. It would be good to squeeze bin Faisal for what he’s got.”

Dalton laughed. “Yes, it would, wouldn’t it?” He grew serious. “And we’d get some answers about Sad Holiday.”

“If you pick him up for the Dhofar bombing and the hit in Yemen or for any of the other operations you’ve got his signature on, he’ll be in custody and you’re going to have to deal with the legalities,” Callan said. “If you let him run, let us work the surveillance, he may lead you to all the answers. Then you can pick him up and read him his rights.”

“I like the way you think, Mike Callan,” Dalton said lightly. “You sure you don’t want a job?”

“I gots a job, Ray, and I make more than you do.”

“But do you have as much fun?”

“Fewer headaches, that’s for sure.”

“Then let him run. Put your best people on him.”

“They already are, Ray. They already are.”