Ari stood outside the room. Like an actor about to go on stage, he took time to find the part of himself that would convince the bomber he was at the mercy of a serious and ruthless man. It wasn't far from the truth. If Ari believed it, so would the man in the chair.
He was ready. He entered the room. He stood in front of the prisoner and addressed him in Arabic.
"You are Achmed al-Khalid. We know who you are. We know where you live." Ari's voice was flat, almost bored.
Khalid watched him.
"This man," Ari pointed to one of the interrogators, "wishes to hurt you. His sister was killed at the mall the night you set off your bomb."
It wasn't true, but Khalid didn't know that.
"I set off no bomb." Khalid looked defiant, but Ari could see the fear. Khalid gave off a faint sour odor, an almost visible mist that surrounded him like primal fog. He licked his lips.
Once Khalid's identity was known, Shin Bet had discovered the rest. He lived with his wife and sons and his extended family in the West Bank area controlled by Hamas. Khalid was also Hamas. He was dedicated to the eradication of Israel.
Khalid was more than a suicide bomber. He was one of the few with operational control over the bombers as they went about their murderous work. That made him important. He could be difficult to break, but Ari knew that family, above all else, was one of the keys that might unlock a terrorist's psyche. To gain anything of value, Ari would have to trick him.
Khalid was Palestinian. In the culture of Palestine nothing was more important than family. Along with Islam, family was the center around which life revolved.
"I set off no bomb," Khalid said again.
"Oh, but you did." Ari spat on the floor. "Your denials mean nothing to me. Let me tell you what will happen if you don't cooperate."
Ari bent low and whispered for a long time in Khalid's ear. He knew how to think like a terrorist. He knew what they were capable of doing. Color drained from Khalid's face.
"My family is innocent!"
"It doesn't matter to me if they are innocent or not. If you do not tell me what I want to know before I leave this room, they will pay for your crime."
Ari spat again. "You are not innocent. An insult in blood must be atoned for in blood. Honor must be upheld."
Honor. The ancient tribal concepts of honor had fueled thousands of years of murder and war in the Middle East. They were little different today than in the time of Abraham. Both Ari and Khalid understood them well.
"Allah will throw you into hell!"
"Perhaps, but not before your family pays the price. You will be kept alive to think about what you have done." Ari paused. "Although you will not be as — healthy — as you are at this moment."
Tears ran down Khalid's cheeks. "You cannot do this."
"I can," Ari said. He smiled a terrible smile at Khalid. "I will. This is your only chance. I will not ask again."
He waited. Khalid said nothing. Ari nodded at the men dressed in black. "Begin," he said. He turned as if to leave the room. Would Khalid break? He had his hand on the door when Khalid called out.
"Wait! Wait! I will tell you what I know."
Ari turned back, his face dark. "If you lie, your family will suffer."
"No lies, no lies, I swear by Allah!"
"Did you plant the bomb?"
"Yes! It was Jibril, who now resides in Paradise, who set it off."
"Who else is involved?"
"There are others, I don't know all of them. There is another bomb." Khalid stopped. He had said too much. Now, he was trapped.
"Another bomb?"
Khalid nodded, shame-faced at his cowardice.
Ari looked at the other men in the room, then Khalid. "Where?"
"I don't know, I swear by Allah, I don't know. I was told it would be used against the American President."
Ari's heart skipped a beat. "When?"
"My family, you must protect them."
"I will, if you tell me the truth. When?"
"Today. While he speaks. I don't know."
Ari was out of the room and on the phone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Elizabeth and Stephanie looked at an exchange of encrypted emails between Dysart and an unidentified person earlier that day.
Unidentified Sender: The key to Parsifal has been found.
Dysart: Antarctica?
Unidentified Sender: Yes.
"What's Parsifal? What does it have to do with Antarctica?" Stephanie asked.
"I've got no idea, Steph. Must be a code name."
Unidentified Sender: Status Valkyrie?
Dysart: On schedule. Minor problems.
Unidentified Sender: Resolve them.
Dysart: As you command.
"That's interesting," Elizabeth said. "Who commands Dysart?"
"Valkyrie," Stephanie said. "Parsifal. These guys are into Wagner, or some kind of operatic fantasy."
"I don't think it's a fantasy. It looks like Dysart's part of one op and running another."
Unidentified Sender: Council 9 tonite. Sec protocol 7.
Dysart: Yes.
Unidentified Sender: Prepare for transition.
Dysart: As you command.
The exchange terminated there.
"Transition? Transition to what? Director, I don't like this."
Elizabeth shook in a brief, involuntary movement that traveled from her head and shoulders to her feet. Her intuition had woken up.
"I think it's an assassination attempt. We have to find out who was on the other end of that email. It looks like there was a meeting last night. If it was a conference call we might be able to back trace."
"There's always a way," Stephanie said. "If it was a call and I can isolate it, we can find out who else was on the line. Do you think we're the 'minor problems' Dysart is talking about?"
Elizabeth was tight lipped. "Maybe."
Nick had called again, to tell her she was now under Rice's direct orders. So far there hadn't been any orders to follow. This was something outside of her experience. She'd have to let things play out while she pursued the slippery threads of conspiracy and hope they led somewhere.
"Time for Rice's speech," Stephanie said.
Elizabeth was tired. The seven and a half hour time difference from Jerusalem made for early viewing and it was after two in the morning. The team sat in front of the television and waited for Rice to begin. Ronnie and Selena had caught a couple of hours sleep, but Elizabeth and Stephanie hadn't been that lucky.
The camera panned across the Temple Mount, then switched to shots of the angry mobs below and the troops and police holding them at bay. It moved back to the stage and podium. President Rice was visible behind his shield of bodyguards, getting ready to speak.
"There's Nick!" Selena pointed at a tense figure in sunglasses and a gray suit standing in front of the stage, almost in front of the podium. The stage came up shoulder high behind him. The al-Aqsa Mosque loomed in the background of the shot, behind and to the right of the stage.
Ronnie said, "Son of a gun looks ready for trouble and he's tugging on his ear. I've seen that look before. He thinks things are about to go south."
"I hope you're wrong about that." Elizabeth pulled at her skirt. "I'm beginning to wonder if Rice knew what he was doing when he set this up."
"Sometimes things look different when it gets real. Anyway, it's set to go. Rice is ready to start."
Rice stepped up and the cameras zeroed in. He placed his hands on the sides of the podium. Behind him, the Prime Minister of Israel, the Secretary of State and the National Security Advisor sat stage center, bordered by their security guards.