―How did he know?‖ Hererra shook his head. ―That‘s a question we‘d all like answered.‖
Book Three
21
AMERICANS!‖ Soraya said. ―God in heaven, what madness is this?‖
She half expected Amun to make an acerbic comment, but he remained mute, watching her with his large scarab eyes.
―A cadre of American military men who just happen to be on leave here in Al Ghardaqah are given a mission that begins in Khartoum two weeks or so before an Iranian Kowsar 3 missile brings down an American passenger jet in Egyptian airspace. It‘s unthinkable.‖ She raked a hand through her thick black hair. ―For God‘s sake, Amun, say something.‖
They were sitting at a seaside restaurant, eating because they knew they had to. Soraya had no appetite and, she saw, Amun apparently didn‘t have much more. Three of his men were sitting nearby, guarding Stephen, who was scarfing down a meal as if it was going to be his last. The sun was a ruddy, flattened disk near the horizon. The cloudless sky arched above them, vast and somehow desolate.
Chalthoum pushed his food around his plate. ―I still think he‘s lying to save his skin,‖ he said sourly.
―What if he‘s not? The dive shop owner corroborated his story. There were four Americans diving off the boat approximately two weeks ago. They dived for three days, paid cash, and left abruptly, without talking to anyone.‖
―Sounds like anyone and everyone.‖ Amun shot a poisonous glance over at the prisoner. ―It does make a compelling story, doesn‘t it?‖
―Amun, I don‘t think we can afford to take the chance he‘s lying. I think we should go to Khartoum.‖
―And abandon the probability that Iranian terrorists were here in Egypt?‖
He shook his head. ―Not a chance.‖
Soraya was already on her phone, punching in Veronica Hart‘s number. If she was going to go to Khartoum—with or without Amun—she had to confirm her decision with the DCI. Heading into Sudan was serious business.
She frowned as the phone continued to ring and no voice mail intervened.
At length, a male voice answered.
―Who is this?‖
―Soraya Moore. Who the hell are you?‖
―It‘s Peter, Soraya. Peter Marks.‖ Marks was the chief of CI operations, smart and reliable.
―What are you doing answering the DCI‘s private cell?‖
―Soraya, DCI Hart is dead.‖
―What?‖ The blood drained from Soraya‘s face and all at once she felt the breath rush out of her. ―Dead? How could—?‖ Her voice sounded thin, attenuated, faraway. Dimly, she realized she was in shock. ―What happened?‖
―There was an explosion—a car bomb, we think.‖
―Oh, my God!‖
―There were two individuals with her: Moira Trevor and someone by the name of Humphry Bamber, a software designer with his own boutique firm.‖
―Are they alive or dead?‖
―Alive, presumably,‖ Marks said, ―though that‘s pure speculation. We have no idea where they are. For all we know, they were responsible for the DCI‘s death.‖
―Or they fled for their lives.‖
―Another possibility,‖ Marks conceded. ―At the very least, they need to be brought in and questioned as the only witnesses to the incident.‖ He paused for a moment. ―The thing is, the Trevor woman was involved with Jason Bourne.‖
Events were moving faster than Soraya could follow in her current state.
―How is that relevant?‖ she said curtly.
―I don‘t know if it is, but she was also involved with Martin Lindros.
Some months ago, DCI Hart was investigating the connection.‖
―I was part of that investigation,‖ Soraya said. ―There was nothing to it. Moira Trevor and Martin were friends, period.‖
―And yet, both Lindros and Bourne are now dead.‖ Marks cleared his throat. ―Did you know Ms. Trevor was with Bourne when he was killed?‖
A tremor of premonition chilled her. ―I didn‘t, no.‖
―I‘ve done some digging. It turns out that Ms. Trevor used to work at Black River.‖
Soraya‘s mind was reeling. ―So did DCI Hart.‖
―Interesting, no? There‘s more: Ms. Trevor and Bamber were admitted to the ER at George Washington University Hospital less than twenty minutes after the blast. No one saw them leave, but—and here‘s the really good part—a man who flashed a government ID asked for them by name less than five minutes after they began treatment.‖
―Someone followed them.‖
―I would say so,‖ Marks said.
―What was the man‘s name and what department of the government is he with?‖
―The billion-dollar question. No one could remember, the place was a madhouse. So I checked myself. Either no one is owning up to this agent or he wasn‘t government. On the other hand, it wouldn‘t surprise me to learn that the DoD has secretly authorized some Black River ops to carry government IDs.‖
Soraya took several deep breaths both to calm herself and to allow her mind to start making connections. ―Peter, the DCI sent me to Egypt to try to find out about the indigenous Iranian freedom fighters Black River made contact with, but in my most recent conversation with her she agreed to let me explore a theory that the Iranian terrorists who shot down our jet had help transshipping the missile, possibly from the Saudis.‖
―Jesus, and…?‖
―The reason I was calling her now is that there‘s a possibility that the Iranians weren‘t involved at all.‖
―What?‖ Marks exploded. ―You‘ve got to be kidding.‖
―I wish I were. Two weeks ago, four American military men on leave were suddenly sent on a mission that began in Khartoum.‖
―So?‖
―Amun Chalthoum and I have been operating under the supposition that the Saudis helped the Iranian terrorists transport the Kowsar 3 missile through Iraq and across the Red Sea, to someplace along the east coast of Egypt. His people have been swarming the coast all day with nothing to show for it, so we‘ve been searching for alternatives. The only other access into Egypt is from the south.‖
She heard Marks‘s sharp intake of breath. ―That would be Sudan.‖
―And Khartoum would be the logical staging area, the place where the Kowsar 3 could be flown in under everyone‘s radar.‖
―I don‘t understand. What‘s the connection between our military and Iranian terrorists?‖
―That‘s just the point, there isn‘t any,‖ Soraya said. ―We‘re looking at a scenario that doesn‘t involve either Iranians or Saudis.‖
Marks laughed uneasily. ―What are you implying, that we shot down our own jet?‖