The Book of Spies (46 page)

Read The Book of Spies Online

Authors: Gayle Lynds

BOOK: The Book of Spies
6.15Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

"Drive," the Taliban leader ordered.

"I should have killed you a long time ago," Ullah rumbled.

As the vehicle sped down the street, bouncing over potholes, Chandar laughed and gave directions. The street became a dirt road and then a trail that took them up the slopes away from Ullah's villa. When they dropped over the other side, out of sight of the town and the military base and the villa, Chandar sat up, looked around at the bare foothills, and gave more directions.

They circled back around to the rear of Ullah's property and at last lurched down into a deep canyon where a small stream fed a big stand of cypress and pine trees. Uneasiness swept through the warlord--here in this woods was where his men were to gather tonight.

Chandar ordered them to drive into the trees and stop the Toyota beside the American crates, covered with dark tarps. A half-dozen men in black turbans seemed to melt out from among the greenery, pointing assault rifles. Chandar's men.

"Kill the engine." When silence enveloped them, Chandar gestured at the mound of crates. "A gift for the Taliban?"

Ullah said nothing.

"There is a change in plans," Chandar told him. "I know what you were going to do tonight. You will not kill the villagers--some of them are Taliban. Instead your men will put on the American uniforms and arm themselves with the American weapons as they expect to do. Once they are disguised they will be able to get inside the military base. And then they will kill all of the infidels."

Ullah's throat went dry. "It cannot be done."

Chandar chuckled. "You have a greater imagination than that. Your Pakistani journalists will record it from a distance. They will think the Americans are at war with each other in a tribal blood feud as we have here. With that you will have the publicity you need to get the base closed down. That is what you want, is it not?"

Ullah silently cursed.

"These American infidels do not have Allah's blessing," Chandar continued. "We have worked with you these past few years. You have made accommodations. We have made accommodations. If word were to reach Kabul of our arrangement . . ."

He left the sentence unfinished, but Ullah immediately understood the threat. As weak as the Kabul government was, it still had teeth. If enough troops were dispatched here, he and his family could be erased from the earth.

"The Americans will investigate," Ullah argued. "Instead, I offer a compromise. I will leave unharmed any villagers you wish."

"Not good enough. We want the American soldiers dead. The order comes straight from South Waziristan." In other words, al-Qaeda.

Ullah glanced over his shoulder at Chandar's stony face. Then his gaze swept the six armed men whose rifles pointed unwaveringly at him.

The problem was, if he had killed Chandar when he'd had the chance, another would have taken his place and come to murder him. There was no way he could win this fight. Having decided that, he felt a moment of relief. Chandar's plan could actually work.

"I will do as you wish if you agree to help me later," he decided. "Americans are going to buy the military base property from me and start a business. I do not know exactly what yet. I will need you to agree to their safety."

"At a good price."

Ullah smiled. "Of course. A good price."

Their business concluded, the Taliban leader got out and joined his men in the grove. And then they vanished.

"Home," Ullah commanded.

In his mind he could smell again the sweet aroma of mutton roasting in the kitchen. He was beginning to like the new plan, which meant he would be able to enjoy a good lunch.

As they circled back toward the villa, his satellite phone rang. He answered and heard Martin Chapman's voice. He greeted him in Pashto.

"Are you on schedule?" Chapman asked.

"Of course," the warlord assured him easily, thinking of the infidels who would die. "It will be a fine night, all to Allah's glory."

63

Athens, Greece

AS A
fresh breeze blew in through the window, Judd sat with Eva and Tucker at the table in the hotel room, her laptop open before them. They were studying NSA's photos and geographical information about the unnamed island that might house the Library of Gold.

There were rocky outcroppings, wide valleys, and rolling hills. The island was ten square miles of beautiful wilderness, except for orchards and a flat-topped mesa on the south side on which stood the three buildings Robin had described.

"The library could be in the big building," Eva said. "But if there are twenty people living there year-round, where are they housed? It doesn't seem large enough."

Judd ran through the small photos on the screen until he found three pictures showing the mesa at a slant. Working quickly, he grew the images, choosing the best. The resolution was excellent, zeroing down to six inches. All had been taken just an hour earlier.

"Four stories underground," Tucker announced. "That answers one question. Too bad the glass is darkened. No way to see inside."

"Now it makes sense. I'll bet the library is down there somewhere," Eva said. "That would be optimum for keeping out sunlight and controlling for humidity, temperature, and so forth."

They had already seen armed guards patrolling in Jeeps--thirty men, two in each vehicle--on the dirt roads that ribbonned the island and gave access to remote areas. Judd focused on one pair.

"M4 assault rifles. They're not there to play games. Do you recognize anyone, Tucker?" He showed him photo after photo.

"No, all strangers," Tucker said. "Check one of the beaches. Let's see what other kinds of security the island has."

Judd clicked a photo, making it bigger and bigger. "There are your security cameras, Tucker. And look--movement- and heat-sensing monitors."

"Swell."

"We saw squirrels and birds. Wouldn't they set off the monitors' alarms?" Eva asked.

"The system can be programmed to ignore wildlife," Judd explained.

They analyzed the other beaches and the cliffs around the island, finding the same tight protection everywhere.

"It's a fortress." Eva's voice was discouraged.

Judd focused on the wharf, where a cargo ship was docked. Men were carrying boxes onto it.

"They're loading something." Eva stared. "I wonder what that means."

"Did either of you see any guard dogs?" Judd adjusted himself in his chair, pushing from his mind the aching gunshot wound in his side.

Both shook their heads.

"At least we have that. Okay, so let's focus on the cliff beneath the compound."

They studied the photos.

"Very steep," Tucker said. "At least five hundred feet high, I'd say. It'd be impossible to dodge the cameras and monitors if we tried to climb it."

"You're right. Let's check the top of the mesa."

Judd enlarged more photos, showing the swimming pool, a picnic area, and a satellite dish. A gardener was watering plants on an outdoor patio, and a woman was setting out buckets of balls on the tennis courts. Two dirt roads coming from the east and west converged north of the complex and became a two-car cement driveway that ran south, passing the satellite dish and descending under the east side of the main house. There on the flat area beside the house stood a mountain of boxes and crates. Men were loading them into a van. Following the drive east, Judd saw it curved not only north but south, to the wharf.

"I don't like this," he muttered. He chose photos of the buildings' exteriors.

"No monitors," Tucker said. "They probably figured no one was ever going to get close enough to be a threat. Zero in on the ground-floor windows of the big house."

Judd did. The windows extended across and around the building, showcasing the ocean view. Tall glass panels were open to the air. They
could see two middle-age women in white skirts and blouses walking across the main room inside, carrying drinks on trays.

"No sign of Preston," Judd said. "Or Yitzhak and Roberto." Then he noticed more boxes against the back.

He enlarged the photos, homing in. The stack was so tall and wide it looked like a wall. Beside it, pieces of furniture waited, covered with sheets.

Tucker leaned close. "My God, they're packing up and moving out. Crap."

"They could be gone tomorrow," Judd agreed. "We could lose the Library of Gold."

A worried hush filled the room.

"This isn't going to be easy," Eva observed. "There are a lot more guards than Robin told us. We saw thirty in the Jeeps alone."

"She said tonight was the annual banquet," Judd reminded her. "She expected more security, but you're right--this is getting increasingly dangerous. Yitzhak and Roberto may be hostages, so we've got to save them as well as figure out who's behind Dad's murder and what the Library of Gold has to do with terrorism. Whatever it is, Dad must've felt it was imminent. And now we've got the pressure of the library's being moved. If we don't go in soon, we might never find it again."

"Can we call in Catapult for help?" Eva asked Tucker. "How about Langley?"

The spymaster drummed his fingers on the tabletop. "Hudson Canon is likely working for the other side, so we don't want him to discover where we are and what we're up to. It's safest to tell no one. But I have a partial solution: There's a small U.S. naval base at Souda Bay, on Crete. It's not far from the island. If we don't have any of our paramilitary teams stationed there now, Gloria should be able to stay out of Hudson's way long enough to pull some strings to get a couple sent over for short-term duty."

Judd nodded. "I like that. We can use some help."

Tucker took out his mobile and turned it on. Then he dialed. "Gloria isn't answering," he told them. Then into the phone: "This is Tucker. Call me as soon as you get my message."

Judd stared at his watch and frowned. "Gloria knows the operation's gone hot. Shouldn't she answer no matter what? For Chrissakes, she must be home in bed. It's the middle of the night there. Surely the call would've awakened her."

"Not if she's deactivated her mobile," Tucker reminded him. "I'm going to check my e-mail."

Judd looked for e-mail on his mobile, too. Then he checked for messages. "Nothing."

"Take a gander at this," Tucker said grimly and turned the screen so Judd and Eva could read.

Canon is hunting you. I talked to Debi, who told me he has NSA tracking Judd's and your mobiles. I'm sending this from a new Black-Berry. No encoding. I'm going to toss it. You're on your own. Get rid of those mobiles! Sorry.

Shock filled the room.

"We've got to get out of here." Judd jumped to his feet.

Eva opened the duffel and threw things inside.

"I'll be back with my stuff." Tucker ran out the door.

In minutes they were packed. As Judd opened the window and peered down, Tucker stuck his head inside the door.

"Give me your mobile."

Judd tossed it. "What are you--"

But Tucker had vanished.

Judd zipped the duffel. "I'll go first," he told Eva.

Slinging it over his shoulder, he crawled out onto the ledge. A warm wind whistled past. They were five stories above a driveway that resembled a narrow alley. On the other side stood another hotel, brick and as tall as theirs. Sunlight filtered down between, leaving half the drive in shadow.

"Come on, Eva." He reached a hand inside the window and felt her firm grip.

Her shoulder satchel hanging across her back, she gingerly crawled out onto the ledge beside him.

She looked around. "Thank God there's a fire escape. After London, I can now claim to have experience."

"I'm here," Tucker announced from inside, behind their legs.

They moved aside, and he pulled himself out onto the ledge. "My room faces the hotel's rear, and there was a bus with luggage on top getting ready to leave. It was too good an opportunity to pass up. I threw the mobiles onto it. Now they'll have a moving target to follow. Canon's probably having NSA live-tracking our mobiles."

"That could buy us some time," Judd agreed.

He swung a foot onto the metal rung and started down. He felt the fire escape wobble as Eva, then Tucker, followed him. He looked back up to check on them.

"So how are we going to get on the island?" Eva asked.

"Can you parachute?" Tucker replied.

"Who, me?"

"I thought not. The safest way is to go in at night with black parachutes and gear. I have a former colleague in town who can help with that. I'm hoping the Library of Gold banquet will be a good distraction to cover us, since it looks as if we're going into the serpent's mouth without hope of backup."

Judd felt a chill. "We can't take you with us," he told Eva. "You're not trained. Too damn dangerous."

"You're not leaving me behind." Her eyes glinted. "I'll parachute in with one of you. You may need what I know about the library."

Other books

Travel Yoga by Darrin Zeer, Frank Montagna
When Audrey Met Alice by Rebecca Behrens
Pym by Mat Johnson
He Who Whispers by John Dickson Carr
The Traveler's Companion by Chater, Christopher John
Unhallowed Ground by Heather Graham
Christmas is Murder by C. S. Challinor