Free indeed, Thomas snorted, not recognizing the quotation. Held in bondage by violence and terror was more like it.
The view was amazing. From where he stood he could look down upon the entire Old City, along with much of the rest of Jerusalem. Looking to the south, he saw the Tower of David upon the wall of old Jerusalem, its stone construction having weathered the tempest of well-nigh three thousand years. Off to the west, the double sky-blue domes of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. To the north, far in the distance rose the heights of Mt. Scopus and the new skyscrapers that were being built around Jerusalem. A city of commerce and life. Peace? Anything but.
Lying prone upon the balcony, his body half-concealed in the shadow of the tower, Thomas turned his attention to the east, toward the Dome of the Rock and the surrounding enclosure. Sweeping the area with the massive 14x scope, he quickly picked out the details pointed out by Hamid and Tex. There. He focused in on a face, recognizable from the photos he had been shown. Harun Larijani.
The proprietary BORS software system on the scope was turned on, feeding him targeting data. He settled the cross-hairs just above Harun’s right shoulder and keyed his mike. “LONGBOW to FULLBACK, I have eyes on the target.”
“No!” President Hancock shouted, turning from the window to glare at his chief of staff. “I have made my orders clear and I want them to be followed.”
Ian Cahill shook his head. “I don’t understand your opposition to this, Mr. President. The CIA has laid out the case clearly. Once the meeting with Tahir Husayni was authorized, we tipped our hand. There’s no going back.”
Hancock swore softly, passing a hand over his forehead. “There is no such thing as a singular course, Ian. There are always choices, and I have made mine. Here — now, a month before the election, this administration must not be tied to a crisis in the Middle East.”
“We’re already tied to it!” Cahill exclaimed. “Mr. President, I warned you when you first took office not to play these type of games with the Agency. David Lay is an old hand. Trust me, try to pull the rug out from under him, and he will retaliate.”
“He needs to be taken down a peg or two,” Hancock nodded.
Cahill snorted. “That has been tried in the past, and on the whole, I wouldn’t advise it as a strategy.”
“Well, if you’re doing such a great job of strategy, why are we trailing in the polls?”
“As a wise man once said, ‘It’s the economy, stupid’,” the chief of staff retorted. “Until oil prices normalize, you’re in trouble.”
“The price of oil can be handled,” Hancock replied forcefully.
“How?”
The President looked up, as though jarred from his thoughts. Rattled. “I don’t know. Release oil from the Strategic Reserve or something. Just do me a favor and get the CIA out of Jerusalem!”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Cahill sighed. “Let me place another call to Langley.”
“Subject is heading toward the Islamic Museum.” Harry stared at the surveillance screens as Hamid continued to speak. “Body language is nervous, EAGLE SIX, he’s checking his back every few seconds. Closing the following distance without him bolting is going to be difficult.”
“Then hold where you are,” Harry replied, glancing over at Farshid Hossein. The major sat a few feet away, leaning back in an office chair. His posture was relaxed, the look on his face one of peace, if not complete boredom.
“LONGBOW to EAGLE SIX, the target is sweating profusely,” Thomas announced. Harry couldn’t suppress a chuckle.
“You can see that?”
“Listen, a 14x Leupold and I can count the drops for you. Interested?”
“The child is not up to this,” Hossein interjected quietly.
“What do you mean?” Harry demanded, swiveling toward the major.
Hossein cleared his throat. “Harun and I have a history. We have worked together in the past, before my-my untimely death.”
Anger flashed in Harry’s eyes. “And you didn’t tell us?”
The major shrugged. “I was under the impression that I was your prisoner. If you want a spirit of mutual cooperation, then you will have to treat me accordingly.”
“We had a deal,” Harry hissed, leaning forward in his chair.
“Your deal,” Hossein began, “was with the Ayatollah Isfahani — not with me. In the end, we are focused on a shared objective.”
“I doubt that.”
Hossein snorted. “My objective is to prevent the release of this toxin — without sacrificing my own life on the altar of the ‘greater good’, if at all possible. I need assurances that I will not spend the rest of my life rotting in an American prison after all this is over.”
For a moment, Harry seemed to consider his words. “We could use your help. I will contact my superiors at Langley.”
“So, our prodigal’s TACSAT is working once more?” David Lay asked with an ironic smile.
Ron Carter cocked his head to the side, staring hard at the DCIA. “I understood Nichols to be following your orders to the letter.”
“He is,” Lay acknowledged with a frown. “I’m sure you understand the necessity of this being deniable. What does Hossein want in exchange for his cooperation?”
“Amnesty, from the looks of it. He’s been on the internal Agency ‘Most Wanted’ list since 2006 and I think he would appreciate losing the distinction.”
“I’m sure. What ‘cooperation’ is he offering, precisely?”
“That is undetermined. The team currently has eyes on Harun Larijani, who seems to be doing a recon of the Temple Mount. The major has a history with Harun and apparently he believes he can offer some insight into this operation.”
“That’s all? Insight? What do you think, Barney?”
The weary DCS glanced up from his seat on the couch across the room. “I say take him up on it.”
“You think it’s worth it?”
Kranemeyer massaged the stump of his knee and leaned back against the pillows. His prosthesis lay beside the couch. “For what he’s offering right now? No. But what if we turn him?”
“It would never work,” Lay shot back. “He’s too closely tied to Isfahani, now. He’d be executed the moment he returned to Tehran.”
“I’m not talking Tehran. For the last year, the Clandestine Service has been trying to get an operative underground in Somalia, to infiltrate the pirate groups there. We’ve lost three people trying to get a man inside. Who better than a former IRGC major with terrorist ties?”
He should have had a spotter. That was protocol, would have been the way they’d have done things — except for Davood’s betrayal.
He’d been on the gun for twenty minutes already. Thomas took his eye off the scope for a moment, closing his eyes to rest them. They hurt, red from lack of sleep and stress.
He felt something move behind him, and the next moment the bells began to ring, striking the hour as they had for over a century.