Chapter 10 * Situation Room, the White House, Washington, D.C. * 12 Noon (GMT-5)
I would just like to know how much CNN knows about IFF, a disgruntled National Security Advisor moaned to the Presidential Press Secretary as they sat together at the large conference table that dominated the room. It would not be a good thing for them to know more than they have been mentioning on their minute-by-minute coverage of the kidnapping.
Pardon me, sir, but I think there are much more important things to worry about than the revelation of a super-secret intelligence organization – like half a million Israelis and a quarter million Palestinians in the Tel Aviv area, the Press Secretary rebutted.
Eh, this too shall pass', I'm sure. I doubt more than ten people will even get sick by the time this is all over, said the NSA. He turned around toward the communications desk just beyond the side door of the room. What's the latest from Dr. Forest and his bodyguards?
A young Navy lieutenant brought him the transcript of Forest's brief update, sent ten minutes before. The officer saluted crisply and was dismissed with a lazy wave of the NSA's hand as the senior administration official read through the details. Oh, no. This is bad.
The Press Secretary chortled sarcastically. Really? Do you think so? Whatever gave you the idea that nerve gas and fatally toxic bacteria might be bad in combination with a city the size of metropolitan Boston?
It's a really good thing -
Gentlemen, what do you have for the President? The Chief of Staff announced his presence behind them with the pointed question.
All animosity aside, at least momentarily, the two men shared what they knew about the situation. Closing their report after three minutes, the NSA gave the other men the update from Israel. Dr. Forest isn't optimistic that they can stop all the casualties. There are nine confirmed deaths thus far and six more definite exposures found within the last twenty minutes. He also got word that there was an aerial attack on a village somewhere in the West Bank, but no one knows what it was or exactly who did it. Apparently the Israeli Air Force has forced the planes down and an Army Reserve unit is on its way to the village.
The Chief of Staff meditated on this for a moment. I'll get 6th Fleet to do a transponder trace and radar replay for the entire area, see if we can supplement that report. What about the kidnapping?
Well, linking the King boy to a high-profile agent like Lee Stetson is probably going to complicate matters. Stetson and his wife are on their way to Israel now; apparently Mrs. Stetson is also Mr. Stetson's partner.
Austin Smyth allowed a husband and wife team to stay together in the field? Either he's losing it or they are absolutely the best in the field, the President's most trusted friend and advisor mused.
The latter, I'm sure. And, by the way, Joanna Marley is his niece by marriage.
The Press Secretary squirmed. Just how many more people can possibly be related to – wait, don't tell me. Dr. Levi Marley is her father, isn't he? Which would make Dr. Sarah Marley her mother...
Take a breath, Scoop. The doctors Marley are safely locked away somewhere other than New Mexico and we've already worked out a scenario if demands are made for their knowledge in exchange for her life or that of either of the children. We just have to hope that no one figures out that Marlena Marley's father is the man who died when another group tried to take Dr. Forest two summers ago. He killed one of the terrorists before he went down and I'd just bet there's someone out there ready to take revenge.
Somewhere in Rural Lebanon * 7:10 p.m. (GMT+2)
Ali, my friend! It is good to see you after so long, Jikar Qitani, aka Aran Birol, greeted his newest guest warmly. I trust your escape was easy?
Yes, yes, indeed, Jikar. The Israelis are so besotted with their stupid little parties that it was nothing to fly out without notice – and the other planes escaped, as well. There will be many unhappy farmers in Israel tomorrow.
The men laughed heartily as they made their way into Jikar's well-appointed study. Is your satellite dish working yet?
No. Shalor had to go into Beirut for a part in the rotator mechanism. He should be back within the hour.
Good. I want to make sure that we have another tape' ready to transmit at 9:45. Ali looked at his fellow freedom fighter. Have you given any thought to what you'll do with young Mr. King?
Quitani/Birol grinned malevolently. I'm going to make him watch what I do to the two misses Marley. He is quite attached to them. And when I have his mother and his step-father, I'm going to make them watch what I do to him.
And which of the parents will watch...?
I don't know yet. Whichever one shows weakness first, possibly. Or perhaps I'll alternate. The grin spread in a savage impression of a lifeless skull. Or I might keep them all alive to see each other suffer. That is what has happened to Adi, after all. He had not mentioned his other son to Ali. That particular revenge would be his alone for the Gardener.
The CBW Task Force Command Vehicle, Tel Aviv, Israel * 7:35 p.m. (GMT+2)
Andy, that was team 11. They've got one confirmed casualty and six exposures in a flat on Benjamin Street. Francine's information management skills had come in handy in the hour the CBW teams had been prowling the streets; she talked to the teams while Ian plotted their reports on a large map and Andy spoke with medical and emergency personnel who needed to know how to handle the people they were starting to see.
That makes the total dead 21 so far and rising, Ian added. Nothing since their initial report from the team at the Holy Land Hotel.
Andy Forest turned unsteadily in his moonsuit. I don't think they'll have an answer for us for a while. The sampling test I devised is only accurate 75% of the time, so no matter what it shows for toxins, we still have to run the lab tests before it's conclusive. Please tell me they got there before anybody ate anything, though.
It was odd to see Francine's head move behind the immobile face shield when she shook her head. Several early birds had nibbled and noshed' on the appetizers, apparently. The Prime Minister was running late and was diverted from the hotel as soon as Steinmetz met the on-site team.
That's a relief.
The next half hour brought reports from the remaining eight teams; 37 people – just about evenly divided among men, women, and children – were dead. The number injured due to exposure to Tabun was over 100; teams at two large sites reported VX-2 exposure symptoms in over 250 people at those sites alone. The only question remained the party at the hotel, where the toxin tests were inconclusive and about 3 dozen people admitted to sampling the food. When Andy reminded the team that aerosol delivery could mean people were exposed without eating, the number of possible exposures jumped to 112, including all the guests and the catering staff.
Ian sighed behind his hood. And now, once again, we wait.
An hour and 45 minutes, Andy said, looking at the digital display above his head.
Francine and Ian knew exactly what he meant.
Over the Atlantic Coast of Africa * 6:05 p.m. (GMT)
Billy had made both Amanda and Lee take sedatives to help them rest for the duration of their flight. In five hours, they had to be ready to move at the peak of their game, both as a team and individually, he reasoned. Finally he pulled rank and made it an order; since the discussion an hour ago, the couple had drifted off to a somewhat peaceful semi-sleep that might not be ideal but was better than frantic spurts of thumb-twiddling between crazed data analysis sessions. Unfortunately for the senior agent, their repose left him to stay awake, although the Air Force Staff Sergent who served as their cabin steward had assured him that no one would know if Mr. Melrose took 10 or 15 winks.
Resisting the urge to take the man up on his offer of a blind eye, Billy sat rereading the pages of faxes and briefs that painted a dismal picture of events in Israel, hoping to find something that might clue them in to the location of Joanna Marley and the kids. After the third time through the immense stack, he was disgusted, frustrated, and dejected. In an hour and forty minutes, either three innocent people would die at the hands of kidnapping terrorists, or some evil reprieve would be issued to further torture the hostages and their friends and families. Since he was more family than friend to all three, it hurt that he, Section Chief of the Agency and instrument of the United States government, could do nothing more than wait with the rest of the world. He glowered more, muttering blue curses under his breath as he began the process all over again.
Mr. Melrose, sir? the Staff Sergent interrupted.
Sir, there's a call for you over the radio encryption line from Sixth Fleet Command. They say it's urgent at the direction of the White House.
Can you patch it down here?
Yes, sir. Just a moment.
Sixth Fleet Command? Billy asked himself. This ought to be interesting. He got up and stretched, moved to the phone at the communication console just as it buzzed. William Melrose, he said into the receiver.
Mr. Melrose, this is Captain Marcus Cole of the Sixth Fleet Eastern Air Traffic Control and Monitoring Center in Riyadh, Saudia Arabia. I was told to call you with information regarding air activity in Israel.
Confused, Billy replied,
I don't know, sir, the captain responded honestly. And I was told not to ask, just to pass this information along to you.
Okay. What is it?
Mr. Melrose, just before 6 p.m. local time, about two hours ago, we tracked a flight of seven small planes from an area outside Tel Aviv as they moved south into the West Bank. At the same time, a single aircraft left the same general area heading north toward the border with Lebanon.
Billy processed this information carefully, thankful that Captain Cole was silent on the other end of the connection. The flight of seven had to be the one the Israeli Air Force chased. The single plane... Did that single aircraft enter Lebanese airspace?
Yes, sir, and we tracked it to a rural area about 30 miles southeast of Beirut before we lost his radar signature. None of these planes displayed IFF transponder signals, by the way.
IFF? It took the intelligence agent a few second to remember that in this context it meant something to the effect of International Friendship Frequency or Identify Friend or Foe, not International Federal Film. I guess that means they didn't want to be noticed, right?
Yes, sir. Although the flight of seven attracted enough attention to call out the army, from what I understand.
I heard something similar. Okay, thank you very much, Captain Cole. I have no idea what to do with this information, but it's good to have.
You're welcome, sir. Good luck with whatever it is you're trying to do. The connection ended abruptly.
Billy returned to his seat across from his sleeping friends. As he sat down, Amanda stirred and mumbled something about masterminds escaping and villages in Lebanon. It took him ten minutes to understand that Amanda might have put his conversation with Cole together with her nightmares about Jamie and come up with a new lead, but less than five to get Ariel Steinmetz on the line from Tel Aviv.
Mossad Division Office, Tel Aviv, Israel * 8:30 p.m. (GMT+2)
Ariel Steinmetz ended his brief conversation with Billy Melrose with even more questions than he had before. These questions, however, were ones to which the answers could be found with a little bit of good detective work, and, in fact, ones that might already be partially answered.
For instance, how many kibbutzim in the area around Tel Aviv had airstrips? Who owned the ones that did if they were privately held? Any connections to the company or companies that provided the helium tanks? What did those seven planes drop over the village in the West Bank? Who was in the single plane?
With three phone calls, Steinmetz had a dozen people working on the answers to those questions and those to any that might arise as the answers came. It was the best he could do; in his heart of hearts, he knew that Haman had won this round and would probably win the next one in an hour and fifteen minutes.
The Holy Land Hotel, Tel Aviv, Israel * 9:10 p.m. (GMT+2)
Dr. Forest! We found four air tanks in the air conditioning ducts over the function room – it looks like they were set on a timer to open, but there's no telling how long ago. This news came as Andy, Ian, and Francine arrived at the main entrance, brought by a member of the American task force that had been working at the hotel since a little before 7.
Get them down. I want those tanks dissected ASAP, Andy snapped, in command as though he rather than Ian had attended Marine Corps Officer Candidate School.
We're already working on it. It's tough, though. The maintenance crew is gone and we're having to jury rig equipment to get into the ducts to get them out.
Whatever it takes. This whole area is secure?
Yes, Dr. Forest. HAZMAT exposure suits only.
Good. Get me a television with CNN access and an area to set up the command center.
The team member scurried off. Ian clapped Andy on the back through their heavy-duty protective clothing. You'd have made a good Marine, Doc.
Andy turned to the Marine with an unexpected smile behind his clear faceplate. Thanks, Colonel. That means a lot, coming from you. He followed his man inside the hotel.
Somebody please wake me up from this nightmare, Francine murmured to Ian as she watched the activity around her. I want a hot shower, clean clothes, and everything the way it was on Sunday afternoon at 2:30.
Ian raised an eyebrow at her, an expression that looked unbelievably odd inside the helmet. Why 2:30 Sunday in particular?
Francine smiled and his heart skipped a beat. Because we were kissing.
He flushed under the hood and tucked her hand under his arm. Shall we go do our part to make this nightmare disappear?
The task force members had a moment of levity when the couple entered the main function room, arm-in-arm as though on a mid-evening stroll. Soon, however, it was all business again, performed to the intermittent hum of CNN anchors giving the latest updates on the terrorist action in Israel, the kidnapping of Joanna and Marlena Marley and Jamie King, and the box office statistics for the newly announced Academy of Motion Pictures Award nominees.
Andy paid scant attention to the television until the anchor announced that it was 9:30 in Jerusalem. He stopped his careful arranging of lab equipment and looked up at the set. Francine saw him and moved behind him just as he collapsed; she caught him and eased him into a chair Ian dragged under him.
she shouted.
I'm okay, Francine. Andy shook his head under the suit. I just heard what time it is.
Francine and Ian exchanged worried looks over the chemist's head, but before either could say anything to him, he continued. Don't bother placating me with false hope. Either they carry through with their threat or they don't, and we can't do a damn thing about it. He made no move to get up, so Ian brought two more chairs over and he and Francine sat down to watch with the doctor.
Somewhere in Rural Lebanon * 9:35 p.m. (GMT+2)
Good work, Shalor, Ali dismissed the servant with a triumphantly raised fist. He turned to Qitani/Birol. CNN will get the footage in about 20 minutes. That was positively masterful staging, Jikar.
The older man nodded in acceptance. Thank you. It's my specialty, you see. I stage things all over the world.
Yes, the accident in Virginia was well done. Thus far, we've heard nothing about further investigation into the matter. And the body in Frankfurt is still well buried, according to my source in the police office there.
Dr. Palmer was very easy to deal with. Greed makes people stupid.
Ali nodded. Indeed. So, I think, does love. How soon do you think they will be here?
It will take them half a day or more to arrive in the Mid-East and likely several hours after that to arrange a meeting place. I'd say that we have another 24 hours, perhaps 36, before Scarecrow and his wife arrive. And I think that the Americans will refuse to let the Gardener come before them.
Ali mused for a long interval. I think you are right, my friend. The Americans will think twice about messing with us after they see the tape. In about... he checked his Rolex, ...thirteen minutes.
CNN Headquarters, Atlanta, Georgia * 3:04 p.m. (GMT-5)
It was actually 21 minutes before the tape of the satellite uplink from Syrian State Television was ready for broadcast. Heeding the warning at the beginning of the tape, CNN broadcast the entire six minute submission, prefacing it with a warning: What you are about to see will be disturbing to most viewers. Viewers with small children are advised to remove them from the room before watching the tape.
The Holy Land Hotel, Tel Aviv, Israel * 10:05 p.m. (GMT+2)
Andy almost broke his own rules, but stopped himself from taking off his gloves when Francine placed a supportive arm across the back of his chair and Ian stood up behind him, placing a hand on either shoulder. He watched in horrid fascination as the tape played across the miles, showing clearly that the captors had been true to their words. The only sounds on the tape were gunshots – three in rapid succession, two more a moment later, accompanied by the terrified wails of Marlena, and finally a single shot that silenced the screams.
Tears streamed down his face as 90 seconds of silent, close-up footage played; he couldn't even wipe them away angrily as he wanted to, his rubber-encased hands scrabbling at the hard plastic of his face shield ineffectively.
The Agency Safe House/Outside Silver Spring, Maryland * 3:05 p.m. (GMT-5)
Philip King, sit down! Joe King shouted at his older son from the leather couch in the den of the safe house. Pacing won't do you any good.
Dad, I can't sit still, Philip turned to his father, speaking softly as his mother often did when someone shouted at her. It hurts too much.
Joe blinked at his son, brought back to the heart of the matter by the simple confession of pain. I'm sorry, Philip, he replied gently. I know this is very hard for you, just like it is for me.
CNN doesn't make it any easier, Dotty added from her high-backed chair across the room.
Carrie took Joe's hand as they sat together; the family watched the tape in stark silence and prayed for the three people in it, but mostly for the son, grandson, and brother whose grisly death was now fodder for the world's media.
Over the Mediterranean Sea * 9:06 p.m. (GMT+1)
Amanda's internal alarm had awakened her five minutes before the scheduled execution. Lee woke up just a moment or two later, missing the comfort of his wife's slender form in his arms. Billy reluctantly acknowledged the fact that they needed to know whatever there was to know as soon as possible. CNN became their focus.
They almost missed it, crying into each other's shoulders. Billy's startled laugh turned their attention back to the screen in time to see the three bodies responding to the commands of their captors.
The Holy Land Hotel, Tel Aviv, Israel * 10:07 p.m. (GMT+2)
I don't understand, Andy said, reaching out to the television as first Joanna, then Jamie, and finally Marlena arose, seemingly unhurt but blood-spattered, from the dirt floor of the execution chamber.
The Agency Safe House/Outside Silver Spring, Maryland * 3:07 p.m. (GMT-5)
Did you see that? Dotty gasped, pointing at the television screen. He's alive! Jamie is alive!
Over the Mediterranean Sea * 9:08 p.m. (GMT+1)
The same heavily accented voice that announced the time of death in the previous tape announced the stay of execution this time. We know who and what you are, Mr. and Mrs. Stetson. If you want your son and the Marleys back safely, you will come and take their places, along with Dr. Andrew Forest, the man called the Gardener. This is not a bluff. This reprieve has only been granted because we found out the true value of our captives, and it is a limited-time offer. You have 24 hours. Otherwise, this will be for real. The execution scene was replayed.
They know, Billy, Lee said, his voice shaking. They know.
The Holy Land Hotel, Tel Aviv, Israel * 10:10 p.m. (GMT+2)
Ian and Andy both cried unashamedly. Francine stood between the men, an arm awkwardly draped around Andy's shoulder while Ian's helmeted head rested on her other shoulder. She had vowed not to cry because she knew that her eyes would itch afterward; the protective gear made that thought doubly uncomfortable as tears formed in the corners of her eyes despite her resolution to the contrary. There was still hope.
Mossad Division Office, Tel Aviv, Israel * 10:12 p.m. (GMT+2)
Haman might have killed a few, but it seemed that King Ahasuerus had at least allowed Esther to step a little farther into his chamber, Steinmetz thought with minimal relief as the CNN anchor began to recount the tape for the worldwide audience. He shut the TV off with the remote and turned his attention back to a report that one of his investigators had made a few moments before the broadcast began.
He studied it for nearly five minutes, his tired mind not processing the information as efficiently as it had earlier in the evening. Then he read something that made his hair stand on end. he muttered. How did we all miss that? He picked up the phone.
Over the Mediterranean Sea * 9:21 p.m. (GMT+1)
So you think there is a direct link between the owners of the two balloon companies and the owner of the farm – sorry, kibbutz – where those planes were. Where is the parent company listed? Billy asked as Amanda, all business now, took shorthand notes of the conversation. Lee sat at the console beside his wife, drumming his fingers on the countertop furiously.
West Germany. Frankfurt. Ariel Steinmetz's voice sounded hollow over the speakerphone.
Hold on a minute. Lee, pull that last report from D.C. and see if you can find what they said about Frankfurt. Okay, Ari, go ahead.
Well, here's the kicker. The owners of the Israeli companies and the kibbutz are Palestinians – which means there's a better than 80% chance they are Muslims. One would think that in a country where 98% of the population sees pork as unclean, hog breeders would stand out.
They do what? Amanda asked, astonishment clear in her tone.
They raise pigs at the kibbutz. The pigs are sold to the parent company in Germany, which has a sausage making company and also makes some kind of synthetic sausage casing through another subsidiary, and that subsidiary also makes latex and mylar balloons...
Which are then used by the balloon companies in Israel.
Right – except that the pig farm, the rubber manufacturing plant, and the sausage shop have all been held by the same company since 1948. The balloon companies are brand new since November.
Maybe this company is involved directly? Billy posed.
All of that would be circumstantial. Here's the nail in the coffin: the same company owns a 70% share of the magazine that published the article that made helium balloons all the rage in Israel for Purim this year.
Amanda diagrammed the relationships out for Billy as he silently thought through the information. Just as she finished her picture, Lee spoke up.
Ari, you said the parent company is registered in Frankfurt, right? Well, guess where the trail for Dr. Frank Palmer goes cold, after a hop from L.A. to Singapore?
three other voices said together.
But why pigs? asked Amand, confused. There's got to be a reason.
No one had an answer for her.
The Holy Land Hotel, Tel Aviv, Israel * 10:45 p.m. (GMT+2)
Francine, you read Arabic, right? Andy asked, motioning with a gloved hand toward one of the four air tanks now resting on the makeshift lab table in front of him. Can you tell me what the labels say?
the woman answered, glad to have something to do besides washing the walls with the caustic bleach solution protocol demanded. She hefted one of the tanks upright and bent down to study the classic Arabic script gracing the label.
After a minute, she poked Ian in the ribs and asked him for the English translation of the Hebrew label, written out for them moments ago by one of the Mossad men. She thought for several seconds after she read the short paragraph, then stood up straight and got the attention of Andy and Ian.
The Arabic doesn't say the same thing the Hebrew does, at least not entirely. It's the same basic warning information about helium, but there's an extra line in the Arabic that I almost ignored as decorative until I realized that it's written in a much older style of script.
Francine, what does it say? Ian asked impatiently, knowing that this would be important.
It translates as Kill Jewish swine before they pollute' and it comes from several Nazi propaganda posters used in Africa during World War II.
Andy blinked hard. How did you know about it?
The tired smile Francine gave him barely touched her lips, let alone her eyes. I spent four months in Tehran in 1979. Some of the Ayatollah's supporters were a little more rabid in their desire to destroy Israel than others. She thought about that briefly. There was one group in particular, led by an Iraqi, oddly enough. Anyway, the man who funded most of these groups had a taste for young, blonde Americans... Her voice faded. Some things were best left unremembered.
Ian looked at Andy, who leaned toward him and whispered something. Ian nodded, then turned his attention back to the beautiful woman at his side. Francine, honey, Ian started, you and I need to go talk, and then we need to talk with Mr. Melrose. Their plane is due to land in about half an hour. Let's take a drive.
Francine started to protest, but Andy waved her away with a thrown kiss as Ian took her arm, insistently leading her out through the lobby to the sedan that Ariel Steinmetz had left for them. The driver wore no protective clothing; with a happy sigh, Ian helped Francine take her orange suit off, then allowed her to help him do the same. She saw the expression in his eyes when he allowed a fantasy to cross his mind, and they kissed briefly after she whispered, Me, too, into his ear.
He told the driver to head for the airport, then settled Francine in his arms in the back seat and listened to her story about Tehran.
That's about all, she said after almost ten minutes. I went over there covered as a secretary with the Embassy, went with the CIA chief of station to a meet, got picked by this German-Iranian businessman to be his newest fling, and attended about a dozen meetings with these fanatical groups whose sole purpose was to make the Ayatollah look mild in comparison. In reality, of course, they spoke his rhetoric for him until they took the hostages. I left three days before that happened.
Ian looked at her with love and sympathy. That had been a traumatic experience, one he didn't think he would have had the courage to survive. Unfortunately, there was more to be brought out. Do you remember any names? he asked gently, shifting slightly to look out the rear window unobtrusively. Andy Forest had indeed followed them as he promised. A second sedan rode 50 feet behind, an obviously armed guard in the front seat beside the driver.
Yeah. The business man went by the Arabic name Samir. His first name was Gerhardt, I know that for sure, but I doubt that the surname he gave is true – Hochstein. His father was in the SS, he was head of security for the German Embassy in Tehran during the war. I doubt that he's using his father's name, given the circumstances. The Iraqi I knew only as Ali. She was silent for a long time. You know, I just now thought about this after almost ten years... don't you think it's strange that a German business man would raise pigs in Iran, first and foremost, and then import the finished pork products back into Iran?
Ian stifled a laugh at the idea. Unless the sausages were both a code and a cover...?
Maybe. A warning for the state of Israel and a way to smuggle weapons in and out...