“Only Jack is authorized to retask the Predator.”
“Then get him,” David ordered as he drove down the dirt road.
“He’s in a meeting.”
“Pull him out.”
“He’s in a knock-down, drag-out fight with Tom.”
“Over what?”
“The president is refusing to let Roger share with the Israelis what we’ve learned about the two warheads the Iranians have in the Med.”
“We’re not talking to the Israelis about it?”
“No.”
“Why not? That’s crazy. They’re the best ally we have over here.”
“That’s Jack’s point. He’s trying to tell Tom we have a moral obligation to tell the Israelis — off the record, at least — what we know, even if the president has forbidden any official briefing, but Tom’s not buying it.”
David pulled onto Route 37 again, heading west into Khorramabad. He was infuriated with the president and with Murray, and he was fearful for the Israelis, who were in growing danger of being blindsided. But at the moment, he didn’t have time for politics. “Eva, I don’t care how you do it. I need that Predator over that hotel in the next ten minutes. Just make it happen. I’m counting on you.”
He hung up and sped back to the hotel, trying to develop a plan. His first problem was that Morteza Yaghoubi was going to be waking up soon in his trunk. The guy was a trained killer. What exactly was he supposed to do with him? If he left him in there, Yaghoubi would soon be screaming bloody murder until someone came to get him or until David put a bullet in his forehead. But he didn’t want to kill him. Not unless he had to. The man was the enemy, but David was now a follower of Jesus. Wasn’t he supposed to love his enemies? Still, he couldn’t just dump him at the side of the road. If he got to a phone and alerted anyone, David was a dead man. That said, Yaghoubi was the least of his worries.
David was about to take on three IRGC operatives who were equally vicious, each of whom was armed and incredibly dangerous. Even if he could figure out a way to isolate Khan and get him away from the others to interrogate him — something he still wasn’t sure how to do — he couldn’t figure out how to do it without killing at least one of the four operatives, and maybe all four. Again, if even one of them made a phone call to the missile base, he was a dead man. If a hotel guest overheard any of them fighting or struggling or even raising his voice, he was a dead man.
David assessed his options, but there weren’t many. He had no way to tie up any of the men or keep them quiet, and the CIA special forces team was still two hours away.
He got back to the hotel and pulled into an alley on the opposite side of the building from the parking garage. His phone rang. He took it on the Bluetooth again so there was no chance of Yaghoubi overhearing.
“It’s done,” Eva said. “I’m streaming the live feed to your phone now.”
He opened the video feature on his phone and punched in a passcode that allowed him to receive a video stream rather than send one. A moment later, he was looking at pictures directly from the Predator, three miles above them.
“Can you switch to thermal imaging?” he asked.
“Sure, one second… Okay, there — can you see it?”
“Yes — got it.”
He could now see two of the Revolutionary Guard security men in room 203. He could also see Khan and another security man in room 201, though he couldn’t tell which was which. What was the best way into 201? He could pose as a room service guy, but that had risks. He’d have to wait for them to order, and he’d have to intercept the actual hotel employee, and what would he do with him? David immediately ruled that out. Another option was posing as a maintenance man. But under what pretext could he try to do repairs in room 201 so early in the morning without raising suspicions? He ruled that out as well.
Even if he could get the men in 201 to open the door, was there a way to get Khan out without alerting the men next door? He had a silencer. But he’d have to kill the security man, and what if he screamed? What if Khan yelled? And which one was Tariq Khan? He’d never even seen a decent image of the man. True, he had photos of all the IRGC operatives, but he couldn’t take the risk that he’d kill Khan by mistake or in the cross fire.
He remembered he had Yaghoubi’s key. Maybe it was to room 201. He reached into his pocket and pulled it out. No such luck. It was stamped with the number 203. So that was that.
David turned off the engine. He took the pistol off the passenger seat and put it in his jacket pocket, got out of the car, and locked the door. Then he reentered the hotel through the side hallway, carefully stepping over the room-service tray. The lobby was empty and quiet, and the clerk was nowhere to be seen, so he ducked into the stairwell and double-timed it to the second floor, pausing at the exit door to draw his weapon and make sure again the safety was off.
48
David had never felt guilty holding a pistol before.
Now he did.
He’d had no time to think through what his newfound faith meant to his job, and there was no one to ask, at least not now. What would Birjandi tell him? What about Marseille? Then again, Charlie Harper might be the closer analogy. He’d been an NOC. He’d been trained at the Farm to kill without a moment’s hesitation. He’d surely been told again and again, “This is war, and you’re the good guy, and he’s the enemy — never confuse the two.” It was true, even wise, as far as it went. But had Charlie been a follower of Jesus when he’d served in the CIA? David seriously doubted that. His life, sadly, showed no evidence of having been changed. And he hadn’t raised Marseille to love Jesus. She certainly hadn’t been a true follower of Christ when they’d been together in Canada. Marseille seemed to have come to faith in college, or maybe late in high school, but not as a child. Maybe Charlie Harper was no help at all.
He peeked through the small window in the exit door. There was no one in the hallway. He was free to move. But when he glanced down at his phone, he noticed a new complication. As he looked at the thermal images from the Predator, it appeared as if the men in rooms 201 and 203 were passing through walls, back and forth. It took him a moment, but then he realized that the door between the two rooms, which were side by side, had to be open. Now he was even more at risk of killing Khan by accident.
“We have a problem,” he whispered.
“You don’t know which one is Khan,” Eva replied as if reading his mind.
“Right. I don’t want to go in there and pull out the wrong guy or accidentally blow him away.”
“Actually, you’ve got another problem,” Eva said.
“What?”
“I’ve got NSA covering all the phones in those two rooms. They say Khan just took a call from someone at the missile base. They need him back immediately. They’re not going to be in those rooms for long.”
Yaghoubi’s phone began to vibrate in David’s pocket. They were looking for him to get the truck and take them back to the base. David was out of time. He had to move now.
“Do you see which one is making a call right now?” he asked.
“Yes,” Eva said.
“Is that Khan’s phone?”
“No. Why?”
“Whoever it is, he’s calling Yaghoubi. They’re about to leave. This is my last chance. What should I do?”
Eva had an idea. “Call Khan,” she said.
“What? Are you crazy? He doesn’t know who I am.”
“No, use Yaghoubi’s phone. Dial him just before you enter the room. Whoever’s on the phone when you go in will be him.”
“Okay, that’s good. Now, look, can NSA jam or cut off the other mobile numbers so none of those guys can call out?”