Soraya looked up then, gave the DCI a wan smile. ―But you didn‘t call me in to hold my hand again.‖
―No, I didn‘t.‖ Hart told Soraya about the downing of the passenger jetliner in Egypt. ―Jaime Hernandez and Jon Mueller are putting together a joint NSA-DHS forensics team to fly to Cairo.‖
―Good luck with that,‖ Soraya said caustically. ―Which one of the team is going to interface with the Egyptians, speak to them in their own language, or be able to interpret their thinking by their replies?‖
―As a matter of fact, you are.‖ When she saw the look of astonishment on Soraya‘s face, she added, ―I had the same reaction to the task force you did.‖
―How much of a fight did Halliday put up?‖
―He fired off the usual objections, including slurs directed at your heritage,‖ Hart said.
―How he hates all of us,‖ Soraya said. ―He can‘t even make the distinction between Arab and Muslim, let alone Sunni and Shi‘a.‖
―Never mind,‖ Hart said. ―I presented my reasons to the president and he agreed.‖
The DCI handed over a copy of the intel they‘d all been reading when news came of the air disaster.
As Soraya looked it over, she said, ―This data‘s from Black River.‖
―Having worked for Black River, that‘s precisely my concern. Given the methods they use to gather intel it seems to me that Halliday is leaning on them a bit too heavily.‖ She tipped her head toward the file. ―What do you think of their intel on this pro-Western dissident group in Iran?‖
Soraya frowned. ―There have been rumors of its existence for years, of course, but I can tell you that no one in the Western intelligence community has met a member or has ever been contacted by the group. Frankly, it always struck me as part of the right-wing neocon fantasy of a democratic Middle East.‖ She continued to page through the file.
―Yet there is a bona fide dissident movement in Iran that has been calling for democratic elections,‖ Hart said.
―Yes, but it‘s unclear whether its leader, Akbar Ganji, would be pro-Western. My guess is probably not. For one thing, he‘s been canny enough to reject the administration‘s periodic offers of money in exchange for an armed insurrection. For another, he knows, even if our own people don‘t, that throwing American dollars at what we euphemistically call the ‗indigenous liberal forces‘ within Iran is a recipe for disaster. Not only would it endanger the already fragile movement and their aim of a velvet revolution, but it would encourage its leaders to become dependent on America for aid. It would alienate its constituency, as it did in Afghanistan, Iraq, and many other Middle Eastern countries, and turn the so-called freedom fighters into our implacable enemies. Time and again, ignorance of the culture, religion, and real aims of these groups has combined to defeat us.‖
―Which is why you‘ll be part of the forensics team,‖ Hart said. ―However, as you can see, the Black River intel doesn‘t concern Ganji or his people. We aren‘t talking here about a velvet revolution, but one steeped in blood.‖
―Ganji has said that he doesn‘t want war, but his policy has been floundering for some time. You know as well as I do that the regime wouldn‘t allow him to survive, let alone to speak out, if his power was substantial.
Ganji‘s of no use to Halliday, but this new group‘s aims would suit his purposes to a T.‖
Hart nodded. ―That‘s just what I was thinking. So while you‘re in Egypt I want you to nose around. Use Typhon‘s Egyptian contacts to find out what you can about the legitimacy of this group.‖
―That won‘t be easy,‖ Soraya said. ―I can guarantee you that the national secret police are going to be all over us—especially me.‖
―Why especially you?‖ Hart asked.
―Because the head of al Mokhabarat is Amun Chalthoum. He and I had a heated confrontation.‖
―How heated?‖
Soraya‘s memory immediately clamped down. ―Chalthoum is a complex character, difficult to read—his entire life seems wrapped up in his career in al Mokhabarat, an organization of thugs and assassins to which he‘s been given a life sentence.‖
―Lovely,‖ Hart said with no little sarcasm.
―But it would be naive to believe that‘s all there is to him.‖
―Do you think you can handle him?‖
―I don‘t see why not. I think he‘s got a thing for me,‖ Soraya said, not quite understanding why she wasn‘t telling Veronica the whole truth.
Eight years ago, on a courier mission, she‘d been captured by agents of al Mokhabarat who, unbeknownst to her, had infiltrated CI‘s local network to which she was to deliver a microdot on which was etched the network‘s new orders. She had no idea what was on the microdot, had no desire to know. She was thrown in a basement cell of al Mokhabarat‘s offices in downtown Cairo.
Three days later, with no sleep and only water and a crust of moldy bread to eat once each day, she was taken upstairs and brought before Amun Chalthoum, who took one look at her and immediately ordered her cleaned up.
She was shown to a shower, where she scrubbed every inch of her body with a soapy washcloth. When she stepped out, a set of new clothes was waiting for her. She assumed her old clothes were being ripped apart and scrutinized by an al Mokhabarat forensics team searching for the intel she was carrying.
Everything fit her perfectly. To her surprise, she was then escorted out of the building. It was night. It occurred to her that she‘d had no idea of time passing. In the boiling street a car was waiting at the curb, its headlights illuminating plainclothes guards watching her with studied attention. When she climbed in she had another shock: Amun Chalthoum sat behind the wheel. He was all alone.
He drove very hard and very fast across the city, heading west into the desert. He said nothing, but from time to time when traffic allowed, he watched her with his avid hawk‘s gaze. She was famished but was determined to keep her hunger to herself.
He took her to Wadi AlRayan. He stopped the car, told her to get out.
They stood facing each other in the blue moonlight. Wadi AlRayan was so desolate, they could have been the last two humans on earth.
―Whatever you‘re looking for,‖ she said, ―I don‘t have it.‖
―Yes, you do.‖
―It‘s already been delivered.‖
―My sources tell me otherwise.‖
―You don‘t pay your sources nearly enough. Besides, you‘ve checked my clothes and everything else.‖
He didn‘t laugh, nor would he ever during the time she was with him.
―It‘s in your head. Give it to me.‖ When she didn‘t respond, he added, ―We‘ll stay out here until you give me the intel.‖