“Did you tell him?” Bentley asked.
“No, sir.”
“Are you going to tell him?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Don’t you think he has a right to know?”
She had already thought about that question and her answer as well. The dilemma had been on the forefront of her consciousness every minute since her rescue.
“I’m sure Gregg would think he has a right to know, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s my problem. I’ll handle it alone.”
“Isabella, at some point you have to tell him.”
“No, Director, I don’t. And maybe I never will.”
CHAPTER 53
Khan was the first of the naked trio to stir as the morning sun streaked through the suite’s windows. He wasn’t a large man, average height and build and rather non-descript in his guise as a Spaniard, but he was cunning and ruthless. Whatever he wanted, whatever he desired, whatever he planned, he would take extraordinary measures to accomplish. He slipped from between the two naked women and padded in bare feet across the suite to the wet bar where he started the coffee brewing to help clear the cobwebs from his head. He would miss their sexual energy realizing he might never again find two more submissive women eager to please him the way these American women had.
All of the arrangements had been finalized the night before while the women slept. The attacks on the American soil would send shock waves across the globe. The West would soon realize their vulnerabilities. Nations would lock down their borders. Personal liberties would be stripped from the people and Al Qaeda would get the credit — an Islamic World Order would rise from the sand and dominate the world. 9/11 would pale in comparison.
He’d also activated his contingency plan after he noticed the man following him the previous day. Seeing someone once or twice in this coastal resort town might qualify as a coincidence but sighting the same man a half dozen times set off alarm bells in his head. He needed a backup plan and that was his expertise. He always had a backup plan — and a backup to the backup. The success of any plan was being prepared for the unexpected. Khan was ready.
Jake stretched, working out the kinks from sitting too long as the CIA Challenger jet descended over the Cantabrian Sea toward a spit of land along the Spanish-French border. Located along the Bidasoa River in the port town of Hondarribia, the San Sebastian airport was sixteen kilometers east of town. He’d been to Spain once before — when he was seventeen — not the northern coast but southern and central Spain. He struggled to remember what it was like but he could only conjure vague recollections of Madrid, the bull-fighting arena in Valencia where he’d met the toreadors, and the Mediterranean coastline. Even though he was only in his thirties, it was too long ago to vividly recall.
He’d spent the hours on the jet thinking about the note Wiley left him and his impending rendezvous at Peine del Viento — Comb of the Wind. He detected a tone of anger in Wiley’s words, his granddaughter harmed in the Paris attacks, and the man, who seemed to always be in control, wanted revenge.
So did Jake.
The jet landed then turned around and taxied back down the runway until it reached an exit to the ramp. Before the pilots could shut down the engines, two Spanish customs and immigration officers were walking toward the aircraft. After a cursory search of the cabin, the men left.
“That was quick.” Jake said. “I imagine Bentley ran interference since they didn’t look for squat.”
“Just checking a box.” Kaplan pointed out the open cabin door. “Here comes our ride.”
Jake and Kaplan grabbed the duffle bags and went to meet the agent Bentley sent from Madrid. As they reached the light gray sedan, a small man got out and opened the trunk. “Christopher Perez.” He stuck out his hand. “Call me Chris.”
Kaplan grabbed his hand and gave it a shake. “Gregg Kaplan. This is Jake Pendleton.”
When Kaplan released his grip, Perez rubbed his palm, opening and closing his fingers. “Quite a grip you got there, Kaplan.”
Perez slammed the trunk closed. “Let’s go. I secured three rooms in town about three blocks from the Hotel Maria Cristina, where Mr. Arlo Delgado is staying. I have a man watching the hotel right now. So far today, Delgado hasn’t left the hotel.”
“Have you seen him yet? Can you ID him as Khan?” Jake asked.
“Inside that folder you’ll find all the photos we have.” Perez accelerated the sedan away from the airport. “You can compare them yourselves. The descriptions match in every way. But, as you can see, even our best photo isn’t a full frontal.”
Jake held up two photos. “That’s our man, I'd bet my life on it. Only without the beard and the hair. Look at the eyes, that’s how you can tell. Dark and evil.”
“I don’t know, Jake.” Kaplan said. “We’ll need better confirmation before we make a move on him. Let’s get there and take a look for ourselves.”
“I’m telling you, that’s Khan.” Jake said.
Twenty minutes later the three men entered the Pension Santa Clara. Jake and Kaplan carried their duffle bags while they followed Perez to his room where he gave the two men weapons.
“There you go gentlemen.” Perez pointed toward the bed. “Glock 19, nine millimeter handguns with screw-on suppressors, three nineteen-round magazines each with hollow-point bullets. All ready to go. Bentley said if either of you need fifty-seven shots, you deserve to be dead.”
Jake checked his watch, a quarter after one. According to Wiley’s note he needed to be at Comb of the Wind by 2:30 to meet Wiley’s contact. He’d thought about it on the long flight to Spain and couldn’t imagine what Wiley could offer that Bentley and Fontaine hadn’t already briefed them on. If he’d learned anything from Wiley, it was not to underestimate the man. He was a man with unlimited resources and unlimited connections. Jake supposed being in the spy business for over fifty years brought a lot to the table.
He also suspected Bentley had told Kaplan to keep an eye on him, and make sure he didn’t do something rash — like kill Khan before the CIA could get to him.
But that’s exactly what Jake intended to do.
CHAPTER 54
Jake’s first order of business was to lose Kaplan and Perez. He had a plan he hoped would work. According to Perez’s man, room service just delivered a large meal to Arlo Delgado’s suite. Figuring it would be at least an hour before Khan showed himself, Jake made his first move.
“Let’s eat, I’m hungry.” Jake said. “I’m sure there’s a café close by.”
“More like a dozen or so within three or four blocks. This is the Old Town part of San Sebastian. It is considered a pedestrian area,” Perez explained. “Everything is within walking distance.”
“We can eat later.” Kaplan argued. “We have work do to.”
“Look Gregg.” Jake stuffed his Glock in the back of his pants and the magazines in his jacket pocket. “I’m going to get something to eat while we have a few minutes. We might not get a chance later — once Khan is on the move. You two can come with me or you can sit here and starve. Your call.”
“Fine.” Kaplan seemed reluctant to start an argument in front of Perez. “Let’s just make it fast. I want to be there when Khan comes out of the hotel.”
Perez opened the door. “I know a place where the service is fast, the food good, and the prices reasonable.”
The three men exited Pension Santa Clara to a walking street labeled San Lorenzo. Within a few minutes they stepped inside a modern and welcoming café called Sidreria Donostiarra.