CHAPTER EIGHT
Five looked up from the papers in front of him. He smiled at the man who'd come in with the woman. The man turned away, scanning the room. Five watched the woman take a manuscript from a red binder and begin reading. He could tell it was the one he'd been told to watch for. It was as they had suspected might happen. Someone else sought the journal.
The tip of her tongue showed between her lips as she made notes. He looked at her brazen clothing. Her legs were visible below her knees, her arms exposed. She wore a thin scarf over her hair to make her seem acceptable. She was an affront to all that was righteous.
Whore.
His instructions had been clear. Watch. If someone showed interest in the text, eliminate them. He had been waiting patiently for a week, pretending to study a fifteenth century mathematical discourse.
Five did not find it difficult to be patient. Five was never impatient. Patience was wired into his genes. His roots went back to the days when his ancestors served the Teacher at Alamut, as he served the Teacher today. The Brotherhood still guarded the pure flame of Shia Islam. They were the true followers, the uncorrupted, a tradition passed down though the centuries.
Hours passed. He watched the woman put away her pen and close her notebook. The time for the evening prayer approached. The librarians wanted people to leave.
Five could tell she wasn't finished. It meant she'd be back. He had time to assess, to stalk. Time to kill. Her companion would pose no problem.
He smiled to himself. A whore was a whore, after all. Good for something, before she died.
CHAPTER NINE
Stephanie fretted about the truck from Sudan. Earlier she'd tracked it with a DIA satellite that could read a license plate from twenty miles up. From Khartoum it had gone through Chad and Niger, then entered Mali. The tracker kept cutting in and out.
Nick and Selena had been in Mali for two days. She called Nick to brief him.
"We've got new info from the photos Lamont took. One of the men is Jibril al-Bausari. He’s Egyptian, a key figure in the Muslim Brotherhood and high in the terrorist network. It means something big is being planned."
"Is he the one who blew up that Israeli embassy in South America?"
"No. But he’s behind several assassinations, the murder of forty-two aid workers in Afghanistan and a plot that almost succeeded in destroying the Eiffel Tower."
"I never heard about that."
"We don’t want to discourage travel and tourism, do we?" She paused. "Bausari in charge means whatever's in that truck is important."
"Where is it now?"
"Near you, in Mali, heading north."
"You think it's going to Algeria?"
"Looks like it."
"Let's hand it off to Langley."
"I already talked with Lodge. He doesn't think it's worth the trouble."
"Why am I not surprised," Nick said. "Like trying to kill our guys because they saw something being loaded isn't a clue." He thought for a moment. "How about we just take it out with a Predator or a Reaper?"
"You know better, Nick. Without confirmation it's VX the Pentagon's not going to task a multi-million dollar asset."
"You're right. I always hope, though." He paused. "Selena thinks she's on to something about that cult. Once we've got that, we could go after the truck."
"That's what I was thinking. The roads are bad. They're not breaking any speed records."
"I'll think it over and come up with something."
For a moment Stephanie felt a flash of resentment. Nick was responsible for field ops. Still, she wasn't his assistant.
"You do that," she said. She ended the call.
Steph had often been in charge when she was Elizabeth Harker's deputy. She could do it, but she didn't have Elizabeth's fine sense of touch. Steph got along with Nick, she always had. But since Nick had taken on his new role he'd been uptight and short fused. It felt like she was walking a thin line with him. She didn't like it.
Elizabeth might recover and return to her old job. Steph wouldn't mind, and she didn't think Nick would either. They'd only taken this on because the President had asked them to do it. It wasn't easy, this two director thing. Neither one of them had Harker's genius, her uncanny understanding. Between the two of them, they just about covered it. So far they hadn't made any major blunders. But they hadn't been at it for very long.
It was a good team. Elizabeth had made it a great one.
Steph knew Nick's nightmares and headaches had come back. He hadn't mentioned it but Selena had let it slip. Girl talk, really, to relieve the tense energy of the work. Steph liked Selena. She wasn't pretentious. She did her job and worked hard at improving the skills she needed.
She'd turned out to have what it took. Steph didn't know if she would have done as well in Selena's shoes. It was one thing to blast holes in targets down in the basement range. Steph was good at that. It was another to blast holes in people who were trying to do the same to you.
She thought about Nick. He had family problems on top of everything else. His mom had Alzheimer's. He'd been out in California a few weeks before and ended up in a fight with his sister about it. Nick didn't talk about his family, but Steph knew he'd grown up with an alcoholic bully for a father. It had made him hard and defended.
Maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. She was pretty good at it herself. In the Project, the only people you trusted were your own. In the Project, you spent a lot of time pretending life was normal. Like it was normal to be on the other side of the world looking for a group of assassins. Like it was normal to have no life beyond your work.
At least Nick and Selena had each other. Steph had no one. She wondered if she ever would. She wondered if she'd ever meet someone she could trust. She'd just turned thirty-six. If she was going to have another intimate relationship with someone, it would have to be soon.
She wasn't sure she wanted one. Not after the disaster of her marriage. That was in the days before Elizabeth recruited her and pulled her away from NSA.
Here she was, co-director at an unbelievably young age of a powerful secret agency that had the President's ear and his whole-hearted support. There were a lot of people in Washington who would do anything to have her job.
She wondered why it felt like something was missing.
CHAPTER TEN
Five watched the two foreigners leave the Institute. She'd found it, he was certain. The look of satisfaction on her face at the end of the day gave her away. He needed to act.
They got in a cab. Five was in no hurry. He knew they would go back to their hotel. They would eat somewhere, at the hotel or in town. Five thought they might go into town, since he'd watched them go into the hotel restaurant the night before. It made no difference. If they went into town after dark, his job would be easier. If they chose the hotel, he would wait until they were in their rooms. Either way, only a moderate challenge.
As it turned out, they decided on town. Five followed them from the hotel to a place patronized by foreigners and noted for it's spicy menu of local dishes. He watched from a doorway part way down the block. He felt the weight of the dagger under his robe. A comforting friend.
It was full dark when they emerged. There were no cabs. They began the walk back to the hotel.
The streets were deserted. A bright moon cast shadows across the pale sand. Doors and windows formed black rectangles in the mud walls of the buildings. The soft fragrance of water and flowers from a hidden garden drifted on the night air.
Five came up behind, silent as the sand. He focused on the man's neck, where the skull sat on top of the spine. He drew the dagger.