The Red Cell André Gallo (essential reading .txt) 📖

“You understand that, while I can help you in many ways, I cannot participate in a shootout,” Vanness said, smiling nervously, as he put the car in gear and drove slowly through the residential area. “This is not an American movie.

“The outside guard,” Vanness continued as he looked nervously in the rearview mirror, “is probably one of DuChemin’s men. I assume someone else is watching the back, and the two Iranian guards are probably inside.”

Steve and McCabe nodded to each other, and McCabe asked Vanness to let him out of the car at one end of the street. He and Steve would approach the house on foot from opposite ends. But after turning the corner to look toward the house McCabe ran back quietly. “There’s a black car in front of the house with three guys getting out,” he said. “I say we go back to plan A and stick with the hostage exchange. It will be a lot safer for Kella. Besides, this is Brussels not Fallujah. With our three to their seven, we still outnumber them, but I don’t want to be responsible for a Belgian bloodbath.”

McCabe got back in, and Vanness drove away. When they were back on the highway, Vanness lit a cigarette and Steve followed suit. He understood the wisdom of the decision, but he was reluctant to distance himself from Kella. What if they moved her during the night? Shouldn’t they jump on this opportunity, odds or no odds? His thoughts were interrupted when his cell began ringing.

It was Nigel Barnes, his father’s friend. “I’m sure you do not remember me. You were just a small boy. My wife and I had dinner at your house on the northern edge of Tehran. Anyway, your father gave me your number. He would not say anything, of course. But I spoke to Kate also, and she told me about your father’s diagnosis. I am very sorry.”

“Yes, my father said you would call. I’m in the middle of something. I wonder if we could talk later.”

“It will only take a minute. I have vital information for your government. And I thought your father would be the best one to handle it. However, I fully understand he cannot travel to Europe. He told me of your position, and I think you will know what to do with it.”

“I am now in Brussels and I cannot travel. I understand you’re in France. So I wonder if you could come here.”

“I’m calling from Beaune. My wife and I had been looking forward to a trip to the Burgundy wine region, and that’s where we are now. We could get to Brussels in a matter of hours, and we could finish our wine tasting tour on the way back home. I’ll call you and we will have a chin wag. Good luck with whatever you’re doing.”

Vanness let them off in front of Kristen’s building when he received a phone call and motioned for Steve to wait. “The general has gone back to the same building where he spent the night last night,” Vanness said. “If only we knew which apartment he was visiting, we would have him.”

Having a sudden brainstorm, Steve told him to park the car and come upstairs. As soon as he reached the apartment, he called, “Kristen. Are you here?”

She came walking out of the kitchen wearing slacks and a sweater and eating a carrot stick. “I’m here. I’m here. What is it?”

“Where is Dalton staying?”

Colonel Vanness walked in as she answered, “Rue Victor Hugo, the address is 222, third floor. Why?”

“Does that sound familiar?” Steve asked Vanness.

“Yes, that’s the address of the building where Yosemani spent the last two nights.”

Sensing they had just heard information that could be a game-changer, McCabe and Hunter simultaneously looked up from the dining room table where they each had begun taking their weapons apart to clean them. “Well, that gives us another choice, right?” Hunter said.

“I’m not sure. Just who’s in cahoots with whom?”

“What about the unthinkable?” Kristen asked.

“You mean…?” said McCabe.

“What, that V.A. Dalton, the president’s trusted adviser, is sleeping with the enemy?” Steve said, completing the thought.

“Does that make any sense?” McCabe asked.

“I don’t know,” Steve said. “But until it does, we’re sticking with plan A.”

21. Svetlana’s House

The next day, McCabe, wearing a chauffeur’s cap, and Kristen pulled up in the sort-of limo and stopped in front of Svetlana and Karim’s house. A round faced man in his fifties wearing a black leather jacket was sitting on the steps, looking bored and smoking a cigarette, but he stood when Kristen got out of the car. She glanced down the street to confirm Hunter had parked about three houses away and walked up the steps, where the man seemed undecided whether to stop her.

“Who are you?” He asked in French.

“I’m a friend of Svetlana’s.”

He allowed her to ring the bell and Svetlana emerged in a blue and white warm up outfit and wearing new running shoes. “Oh, I did not expect you. I thought you had a conflict,” she said.

“I do. My conflict is I was invited this morning to preview an Iranian movie, and it occurred to me on the way that Karim might enjoy it. Is he here?”

“Kristen, wait,” Svetlana said as she zipped up her jacket. “I have heard about you American women. We just met and you are already trying to steal my boyfriend.” She smiled uncertainly.

Kristen laughed. “A date! You think this is a date! No, no, no. This is purely professional. Frankly, I really need him. I don’t know very much about the movie, but I think it’s going to be in Farsi. I’ll even pay him a translator fee.” She hoped her nervousness was not showing and Svetlana could not hear the loud thumping of her