Harcourt nodded. “I’ll bet any money that his ultimate destination will be the hills on the Pakistani/Afghan border. Once he’s there, the UN will never get their hands on him again. He can hide for years.”
“Has Interpol been notified?” Russell said.
Harcourt nodded again. “They’re working on issuing a red notice.” A red notice was the Interpol equivalent of a “Most Wanted” poster. It informed member countries that an individual was wanted for extradition to the country issuing the request. Execution was left to the police force of whatever member country found the fugitive. Some would be quick to apprehend Dattar, but many, not wanting to be involved, would steer clear.
“How do we think he’ll get home? The Pakistani border is a long way from The Hague,” Cromwell said.
Harcourt walked to a computer terminal located on a credenza pushed against the side wall and punched in a code. Within seconds the flat panel lit up with a map of the world. He placed a small arrow pointer on The Hague.
“He’ll want to connect with a country friendly to him, which might include Russia to the northeast,” he put a pointer there, “and Cyprus to the south. He’s right on the North Sea, but I don’t think he’ll go all the way by boat. It’s a long haul up and over to Russia, and even longer going south to Cyprus. I think he’ll fly. All he needs to do is charter a flight under an assumed name. Or, better yet, get a friend to charter one for him.”
Russell analyzed the map on the screen. She agreed with Harcourt that a boat north to Russia would be a crazy idea. The logistics were a nightmare. But she didn’t agree with his assessment that Dattar would fly.
“I agree that he won’t try to sail north, but I don’t think he’ll fly,” she said. “Too risky. The authorities will be expecting that. Plus, we just had a report of a blast in a cargo area by the freight terminals at Schiphol airport. They’re on high alert.”
“That leaves car or train,” Cromwell said. “Both are excellent options. He gets a train ticket, joins the hordes of people commuting every day, and disembarks at a town one or two stops from the border. From there he either picks the busiest checkpoint to drive through, or gets on a second train to cross the border during peak hours.”
Harcourt put an arrow pointer on the main train station. “This shouldn’t be too hard to monitor. In fact, I’m certain that the Dutch have a contingency plan for security at the train station.”
Russell kept her gaze on the map of the region while she tried to put herself in Dattar’s shoes. In her years undercover she’d learned a lot about getting from point A to point B undetected. With Belgium to the south and Germany to the north, Dattar had the disadvantage of being in the heart of a cluster of United Nations member countries that had the will to arrest him should they find him. His face would soon be on every television screen in the developed world, along with the details of his escape. His chances of slipping past layer after layer of security on a land journey covering several countries and their border guards seemed remote.
“I think he’ll want to leave the continent the minute he can. The quickest way to do that is by boat.”
Harcourt frowned. “I thought you agreed that a boat north to Russia was out.”
Russell nodded. “I do, but that doesn’t mean he won’t head south. He’s ten miles from one of the largest industrial seaports in the world.” Russell walked to the flat screen and reached up to point at Rotterdam. “He’d be nuts to hang around waiting for a train when Rotterdam is so close. The sheer volume of cargo throughput makes it difficult for customs to monitor every single vessel. He gets the added advantage that many freighters head straight toward Cyprus, where we all know he’d find any number of organizations eager to help him.” She put her finger on the small island off the coasts of Turkey and Syria. “If I were him, I’d pay a willing ship’s captain to take me. Within hours he could be far from the mainland and into international waters.”
“I think you’re onto something,” Cromwell said.
Harcourt, though, looked less than convinced. “Rotterdam’s large, I’ll grant you that, but he still has to arrange for a freight captain to let him stow away, and then he has to stay put for at least thirty-six hours while the ship sails south. With a train he has the advantage of mobility. If things begin to look like they’re headed in the wrong direction, all he has to do is hop off.”
“But he hops off into hostile territory.”
“Still. If he can blend in, he has the possibility to keep moving, make a run for it.”
Cromwell pushed off the edge of the table and looked at Russell. “Can you put agents in both places? Cover the train station and the Rotterdam port?”
Russell hesitated. She’d been to Rotterdam port and didn’t think Cromwell understood the sheer impossibility of what he was suggesting. She stepped to the computer keyboard that Harcourt had used and navigated to the Rotterdam seaport web page. From there she highlighted an integrative map with a sidebar listing the port’s statistics. They were staggering, even to her, who had seen it in person.
“Four hundred million gross metric tons of throughput per year, 30,000 freighters, and 10,500 hectares stretching 40 kilometers. That’s 26,000 acres of land over 24 miles long. I don’t have the manpower to cover that effectively.”
“Which I think leads us to the conclusion that we should use our available resources in the most efficient manner,” Harcourt said. “Let’s blanket the train station and leave the port alone. One or two extra men there won’t make a dent, but they have a fighting chance to help at the train station.”
Cromwell looked over. “Russell?”
A look of slight irritation washed over Harcourt’s face. Russell noted the reaction and decided to tread carefully. It was appropriate that Cromwell consult her because tracking terrorists was what she’d done to great effect in the field, but she couldn’t blame Harcourt for being slightly put out. Most decisions at Langley came from headquarters to the field, not the other way around. But Russell knew how it felt to be hunted, Harcourt didn’t. Until Dattar was caught, he’d be hunted, and Russell knew every trick there was to move undercover. The whole point of the new initiative was to get field experience back into the offices.
“Beckmann’s located Smith and they’re headed to the airport. I’ll divert them and they can watch for anything unusual.”
“I know Beckmann, but who’s Smith?” Harcourt said.
“He’s a doctor with the US Army who was attending the World Health Organization conference.”
“What do we know about this guy? Has he been cleared to receive orders from the CIA?” Now Harcourt was frowning, his mouth set in a thin line. Russell saw the objection coming to Smith’s acting in any way that might appear to be managed by the CIA, and she strove to head it off.
“I’ve worked with Smith before on missions where army and agency interests collide. I’m positive that he’s had high-level clearance at one time or another, so I don’t believe we’re taking any risks or breaching any security in bringing him into the loop. As a microbiologist he’s there on other business, clearly, but his military skills are excellent and he’s already in position. It might be worthwhile to ask the army to loan him out for this emergency.”
Harcourt shook his head. “We don’t need a microbiologist.”
“But we might. It’s highly suspect that the attacks occurred during the WHO conference. We think the terrorists may have located some biomaterial on the premises,” Russell said.
“I’ll defer to your judgment on this Smith character, but then he’s your asset to manage. If he screws up, you’re going to have to go to the mat for him. ” Harcourt gave Russell a slight smile.
“I’ll be in the situation room,” Cromwell said. “Whatever you need to do, do it.” He swung back out the door.