Rajiv suddenly felt a pang of sympathy for Erin, and for the tiny baby growing inside her womb. She couldn’t really blame Jon for not wanting to drag his sick, pregnant wife all the way to Asia. Yet the more she thought about it, the more adamant Rajiv became. There was no other way to do this. It had to be in person.
She picked up her phone, scrolled through her contact list, and dialed a contact in Amman. It took six rings, but he finally picked up.
“Hello, Jamal?”
“Who is this?” said a suspicious voice at the other end.
Rajiv gave him her alias, the one she’d used for years at Langley, and he relaxed.
“What do you need, my old friend?” he asked.
“How’d you like to make some fast money?” Rajiv said.
“How much?”
“A million,” she said.
“Dinars?”
“No, dollars.”
“You must be joking?”
“I’m not,” Rajiv said. “I’ll wire you half now, half on delivery.”
“What am I delivering?”
“People.”
“What kind of people?”
Rajiv explained who Jon and Erin Bennett were. She told him they would soon be traveling to Amman.
“They cannot be allowed to get to the airport,” Rajiv insisted. “You must intercept them; take them to the old landing strip we used to use.”
“The one near Madaba?”
“Yes, that’s the one. Bring them here to me. I will have people meet you at the private airfield. You’ll get the rest of your money then.”
Rajiv had just one stipulation: the Bennetts could not be harmed in any way.
38
Bennett had no time to argue.
He needed to be at the airport in Amman by noon, and it was already rapidly approaching eleven. But Dr. Kwamee didn’t like the situation one bit.
“I’m telling you as plainly as I can, Mr. Bennett,” he insisted. “I don’t think it’s wise to move your wife yet. I understand you have an urgent appointment overseas. That’s fine. Go on without her. But don’t put her life in jeopardy. I’ll take care of Miss Erin for a few more days — no more than a week. When she’s ready, I promise, I’ll send her to you by medevac, wherever you are. In the meantime, I will personally see to it that she is safe and well cared for. You have my word.”
Bennett wouldn’t hear of it. He wasn’t going to leave Erin behind. Transporting her now was a risk, he knew, but he had no choice. Erin was still sleeping. He didn’t want to wake her or tell her what was happening. Not yet. It would devastate her, and she needed all the rest she could get. So he was moving forward by faith, if not by sight.
“Erin’s coming with me,” he said firmly, worried he was about to lose his patience. “With all due respect, Dr. Kwamee — and I appreciate all you’ve done for her, and for me; I really do — I’m not asking for your permission. I’m asking for your help.”
“I understand,” the doctor said. “I just think it’s a terrible risk.”
“I fully understand the risk.”
“I don’t think you do,” the doctor replied.
“Nevertheless,” Bennett said, his impatience growing, “I need to move quickly.”
Bennett stared into the doctor’s eyes, and the man finally relented.
“You need to get her to Amman?” Dr. Kwamee asked.
“Right.”
“And you’ll have transportation waiting for you there?”
“Yes,” Bennett said. “It’s all being taken care of.”
“Will there be a doctor on board that flight?”
“Absolutely,” Bennett replied. “I’ve explained her situation to my contacts. I’ve been assured they’re making all the arrangements.”
“You realize we have no helicopters here at the camp right now.”
Bennett nodded.
“We’ll have to drive her by ambulance,” Dr. Kwamee explained.
“Of course.”
“It’s about eighty kilometers — almost fifty miles — and, as you know, the roads are very bad. They were bad before all this destruction. They’re much worse now.”
“I understand,” Bennett said. “Now please, we need to move fast.”
There was no way he was going to tell this man what he was really up to, not even a man who had saved his wife’s life. But the plan that was now in motion had very specific time elements built in, and Bennett knew there was no time to spare.
The NSA had, in fact, been able to trace the satphone call to an office building in the center of Bangkok. U.S. special forces were being sent to the Thai capital at that very moment to raid the office building and hunt down the caller and his cronies. To buy time, the secretary of defense had personally authorized a wire transfer of $25 million into the account of Bennett’s mystery caller. What’s more, he had sent a message through the bank to the recipient that the other $25 million would be paid as soon as Bennett received an e-mail detailing the conspiracy, the players, and the details of the forthcoming attacks, and the information could be “verified” and “canceled.”
But Trainor’s message via Bennett to “the voice” had also made clear that the U.S. government wasn’t offering a blank check. It wouldn’t keep paying for more information. This was one-stop shopping. Trainor had a list of precise questions that he needed answered before the rest of the payment was wired.
On reflection, Bennett had told the SecDef that he was now willing to go to Bangkok, despite Erin’s condition, if they needed him. He didn’t want to, of course, but if the president needed him, he wouldn’t say no. Trainor wouldn’t hear of it. The president needed Bennett’s counsel, not his sacrifice, and Trainor dared not put him in harm’s way. The last thing he wanted was a repeat of the disaster in Moscow when Jon and Erin had been held by Yuri Gogolov and his thugs, and Erin had been tortured to within an inch of her life.
So the Bennetts were ordered back to the United States, to Crystal Palace deep inside Cheyenne Mountain. That’s where the president wanted them. That’s where Secretary Trainor wanted them. And that’s the way it was going to be.
Meanwhile, to continue buying time and keep anyone connected with “the voice” off guard, a first-class ticket from Jordan to Rome to Bangkok was purchased in Jon Bennett’s name with Jon Bennett’s American Express number. A CIA field agent working out of Europe and fitting Bennett’s basic description would be given Bennett’s passport and would take the flight from Rome to Bangkok, in case anyone was watching or tracking Bennett’s movements. Hopefully, by the time the flight landed in the Thai capital, several Delta teams would have already converged on the location the satphone calls had originated from, and the U.S. military would be that much closer to stopping all future attacks.
It was a long shot, they all knew, but it appeared to be their only shot.
Every part of the operation was highly classified. Bennett couldn’t breathe a word of it to anyone, least of all to a U.N. doctor he barely knew. All Dr. Kwamee needed to know was how urgently the Bennetts needed to get to the Jordanian capital. What he and Erin did from there was their own business, not his.
“Very well,” the doctor said finally. “I will go along with you, and I will bring two of my best nurses, to make sure she has proper treatment.”
“No,” Bennett said. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“Please, Mr. Bennett, I feel an obligation to help you,” Dr. Kwamee insisted. “Your country has suffered so much. So have you and your dear wife. If I can do anything to ease your suffering, even a little, then I must. Please, just to Amman, then I will say my good-byes.”