Traitor (26 page)

Friday 11
^th
July

Turner heard the sirens. He had failed. Nick Geller and his army of suicidal terrorists were attacking Washington D.C. Turner ran to the White House. He had failed to defend the country but he wasn’t going to fail to defend his president. The Army and police had their defenses in place as the hordes descended upon them. Thousands of Arabs charged towards the White House on camels, their curving swords slashing the air as they rode to their death. The sirens blared again.

Turner opened his eyes, his phone ringing. He looked at the bedside alarm clock. It was 1:00 a.m. He had barely been asleep for an hour. The phone’s ringtone must have been the siren in his dreams. He lifted the handset.

“Yes?”

“Deputy Director Turner, I’m sorry to have woken you but I think you need to see the video we’ve just received. I’ve emailed it to you,” said the night supervisor at NCTC.

“Hmm, yes, okay,” he replied.

Opening the attachment and seeing Nick Geller being held captive had him wide awake instantly. Watching him execute the two men, one of whom was supposedly an American, was one of the most chilling things he had ever seen in his life.

Turner dialed the supervisor back.

“Get everyone in now!” he demanded. “Have you sent this to Carson?”

“Yes but I’ve not been able to reach him!”

“Keep trying! Do we know who the American was?”

“No details yet but we’re looking.”

“News blackout. I don’t want this getting out until we know who it was and the family has been informed.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible, sir. This one went viral instantly. Whoever posted this knew what they were doing.”

“Shit! I’ll be there in twenty!” He hung up, grabbed some clothes, and dressed himself as he ran to the car.

Frankie’s was the first face he saw as he walked into the center. She was pacing nervously across the reception area. She looked at him in anticipation of a reaction. He rushed past her while asking, “Have you seen the video?”

Frankie nodded gloomily.

Turner pushed on towards the center’s operations floor, holding the door for Frankie, who hadn’t moved. He paused and looked back at her. She looked like a child who had just broken something and was waiting to be yelled at.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked.

“Al Zahrani?” she asked.

He shrugged.

“What I did to him?” she asked, almost irritated, not understanding why he wasn’t reacting.

“You took him to Gitmo?”

“Well yes and—”

“Good morning, people!” bellowed Carson, rushing into the middle of the conversation, grabbing Frankie by the elbow and propelling her with him towards the door being held open by Turner.

“So they found you?” asked Turner questioningly.

“At the White House, with President Mitchell,” replied Carson. “I just need five minutes with Frankie.”

Turner nodded and followed them into the operations center, taking his place in the center of the room while Carson escorted a silenced Frankie up onto the gangway and into his office.

Once again, he uncharacteristically shut the door behind him; it was becoming a habit, one he didn’t like. Open doors allowed him to hear what was happening outside his office.

“Nobody knows about,” he looked down to his crotch area, not wanting to say the words.

“Not nobody!” argued Frankie. “The CIA team, the surgeon in Gibraltar, Al Zahrani, you and me.”

“And President Mitchell.”

“Oh God! What did he say?” she asked, slumping into a seat and burying her head in her hands.

“That’s my girl.” Carson smiled. “That’s what he said, or words to that effect.”

Frankie’s head snapped up. “He’s not furious?”

“He’s amazed you left him alive. He’s not sure he would have.”

“So who
knows
about what he did to me as a child?”

“Only me and the President. I guess the CIA guys may put two and two together but they’ve not been told why you did what you did.”

“Obviously I’ll resign unless, of course, you’re firing me, which I’d completely understand.”

Carson shook his head. “You’ll do no such thing. The President wants you to stay on the investigation team.”

“That makes no sense! I’m Nick Geller’s girlfriend,” she said, adding quickly, “well,
ex
-girlfriend. And I’ve just mutilated a prisoner in our custody!”

“All true, as is the fact that you’re a damn fine agent who, through no fault of her own, fell for a man who has betrayed his country. As I told you before, Nick has fooled far more people than just you. As for Al Zahrani, nobody is talking and he certainly won’t be.”

“And if he does or people do?”

“The President personally called each of the CIA agents and the surgeon. They are not talking and if by any chance anyone ever did, Al Zahrani is a pedophile who was the head of Al Qaeda. You’ll be a national hero and the President would gain points at the polls, not lose them.”

“It still doesn’t feel right.”

“You’d rather be at home?”

She shook her head.

“Do you want to help catch Nick?”

“I want to stop him!”

“Good, well get down there and help. You know him better than anyone.”

“Well I thought I did,” she said, opening Carson’s door. “Open or closed?” she asked as she went through the doorway.

“Open, thanks.”

Frankie arrived back in the heart of the center as the video of Nick executing the two robed men was once again playing on the large screen.

“Any idea who the American was?”

“None. We’ve not had any kidnappings and as far as we’re aware, there are no Americans missing anywhere.”

“So they’re lying?” asked Frankie.

“It would appear so,” replied Turner. He turned towards the night supervisor. “So are we absolutely sure it’s not an American then?”

“We know one hundred percent that it wasn’t an embassy staffer. We’ve accounted for every one of them and all of their family members.”

“But it could still be an American?”

“We can’t say one hundred percent but we have no reports of any person missing. There’s always the chance they’ve picked up a lone backpacker but they clearly stated that the American was a member of staff from the embassy. And that is not true.”

““Alright then,” said Turner, “let’s get a statement out there that they’re lying.”

“I’ve just spoken with President Mitchell and Defense Secretary Hammond. We’re not putting a statement out,” said Carson loudly, joining the group.

“Why the hell would we not show them to be liars?” argued Turner to a number of nods from around him.

“Two reasons. First, they’ll deny it and suggest
we’re
lying, meaning no one will know who is telling the truth and before you know it, everyone thinks someone’s died and that we’re trying to cover it up and even our own people won’t believe us. And secondly, more importantly, if we do say they’re lying, there’s every chance every American in the Middle East will become a target to be kidnapped, killed and portrayed on TV as the person that they killed, just to prove us wrong.”

“Reason one is bullshit. We should always tell the truth!” said Turner, holding up his index finger, before raising his middle finger. “Reason two, yep, they would and as such, fuck reason one. Shit!”

“So they didn’t kill an American but we will let the world believe they did?” asked Frankie, clarifying the position to nods from both Carson and Turner.

“So was that real or a set up with Nick?” she asked.

“I think that was real,” replied Carson. “I think Nick was being tested by the group to check he was legit. The tape being broadcast material is a bonus. Nick certainly shows how ruthless and cold a killer he is on that tape and how devoted he is to their cause.”

“By killing one of their own?”

“No,” answered Turner. “You have to think like them. He has told the jihadists he has been given a mission. This video is more powerful because he cold-bloodedly killed someone he cares about. He’s showing that no one man is bigger than the cause, that sacrifices are part of that cause and he just made one to prove himself and to allow him to complete the path he laid out with the Caliph and Allah.”

“Exactly,” said Carson. “The American is immaterial. The far more powerful message is killing a man he called a brother, at least to the faithful that they’re recruiting. By disputing an American died, we’d not only
not
water down the message, but we’d likely get a few Americans killed.”

“And you think they knew that from the start?” asked Frankie.

“Who knows? But I can tell you one thing for sure, Nick would have.”

“So you think there was a chance it was staged,” surmised Frankie, grasping onto the hope that the man she had already written off was not as coldhearted as the tape showed.

“No,” replied Carson.

“Stop taping!” ordered the masked man as Nick placed the pistol back on the table.

The man who had just freed Nick from his bindings removed the gun from Nick’s reach, finding it difficult to take his eyes off the two bodies that lay on the floor to his right. The speed with which Nick had acted had surprised him. There had been no time taken to consider what the course of action should be, he had just acted. He took two lives without a second thought for who they were or whether they deserved to die. He had just simply extinguished their lives like swatting a fly.

Taking his original seat and ensuring the camera had stopped rolling, he removed his mask.

Nick stared into the man’s face. He had no idea who he was.

“I am Prince Abdullah bin Fahd Al Khaled’s nephew. My name is Walid,” he offered as a greeting. “My uncle sends his greetings.”

“Your uncle is a great man and true believer in the cause,” Nick stated. “It was his help that secured my escape from America.”

Walid nodded, indicating he knew all about it.

“He wasn’t too inconvenienced after I jumped from his plane I hope?”

“Between you and me, he loved every minute of it, although the Americans are watching him very closely now. I will be your contact now. Anything you need from him, I will arrange for you. I believe you returned the monies he sent you?”

“Just a little diversion,” smiled Nick.

Walid smiled briefly before moving the conversation on. “He apologizes for the need to test you. However, after the new Caliph was tracked and captured, suspicions were raised and it was agreed that a test of your allegiance was required.”

“Your uncle wasn’t worried I would kill you and the cameraman?”

Walid shook his head. “My uncle never doubted you. He assured me I would be safe in your presence, that you would understand the test and pass it with ease. He did not tell me just how easily, however,” he said, once again looking at the two bodies on the floor. “It was others, more powerful in the leadership, that were worried you may have led the authorities to Caliph Al Zahrani.”

Nick looked at the bodies, both were still covered in black robes but Ibrahim’s feet were clearly visible, as were the feet of the other body. “Perhaps another room would be more appropriate,” he suggested, noting how often Walid glanced down at the bodies.

Walid almost leaped out of his seat at the suggestion, keen to remove himself from the unpleasant smell that had invaded the room following the killings and the ensuing bodily fluids that had slowly leaked onto the floor around them.

“This way,” he said, leading Nick out of the room and along a series of corridors to an elevator. Arriving at the top floor of the building, they stepped out into a palatial corridor that led to an extravagant apartment overlooking the city below.

Nick moved towards the feature floor-to-ceiling windows and looked over a city he recognized. “Sana’a?”

Walid nodded, pouring Nick an Arabian coffee from an extremely ornate gold coffee jug.

“I see you have your uncle’s taste.”

Walid shook his head. “No, this is one of my uncle’s apartments. He throws his wealth a little too much in your face for my taste.”

“Yes, he does,” agreed Nick looking around at the gaudiness of the apartment, exactly as you would expect the inside of an Arabian palace to look like. The only problem was that they were in a modern apartment building.

Walid took a sip of the coffee. “I’m sorry about your friend Ibrahim.”

“He was a good man, a great warrior and a good friend,” reminisced Nick. “But he died for the cause. As pointless as his death seems, it was for the greater cause. I must complete the Caliph’s plan. That is why I am here and it is what Allah wants me to do. Whatever has to be done to achieve that is part of his greater plan. Ibrahim is with the Caliph and Allah and that was the path Allah wanted him to take.”