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

JTTF, because we have gained some experience with the Quds Force team commander, General Yosemani, who is also the Commanding General of the Quds Force.”

“Yosemani,” Holm said, “that name is not unknown to me. I get intelligence briefings at least once a week about him. Wasn’t he in Europe? Wasn’t it Brussels, recently, connected to the V.A. Dalton suicide? So, the Commanding General of the Quds Force is on American soil to lead a commando team? Doesn’t he trust his field officers? That is totally off the hook!”

“Yes sir, that is unusual, but the fact is he’s here,” Hunter said. “You’re right. Brussels is where we came up against him. This time, we’re on our own turf, and we’re going to get him. We understand you’re prohibited from committing your men on U.S. soil but what we need is equipment.”

“Is there a Rent-A-Tank sign on my door?”

“No sir,” McCabe said, grinning. “But you are authorized to lend us equipment. There is a precedent. Do you remember the siege at Waco? The Army provided armored personnel carriers to the FBI without breaking any laws.”

“We don’t need tanks or APCs,” Hunter said. “The potential target we are trying to protect is the Golden Gate Bridge. In Iraq, I saw the Marines using the Skylark, a mini UAV. And, since most of the IEDs in Iraq were of Iranian manufacture, we could use your Ultra Band High Powered Electro Magnetics Technology system.

“The guy you need to see is Al Costantini, former helicopter pilot with the Night Stalkers.”

“I know that outfit, the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment, aka Task Force One Sixty,” McCabe said. “Night infiltration and exfiltration of special ops teams from hot areas. Popular guys, especially when they came to get us out.”

“Al is now a civilian,” Holm said. “He can help you with the Skylarks as well as with the counter-IED stuff. Since he’s no longer in uniform, you can even take him with you.”

45. Beirut

“Okay guys,” said Monty Rogers, the CIA station chief. “I just got a secure-line call from Nortsen. He wants us to get somebody to Paris yesterday, highest priority, highest urgency, highest sensitivity.”

Wearing his signature open-necked khaki shirt with epaulets, he ran his hand through his wavy blond hair and moved from behind his desk, motioning to the two men who had just come into his office to sit at a small round table, where he joined them.

The office overlooked the hustle-bustle of Hamra Street in the more upscale section of Beirut. The city had been called the Paris of the Middle East for its luxury stores, its five-star hotels, and its world-class nightlife. It had then been called the Geneva of the Middle East for its commercial activity, and the acumen of Lebanese businessmen. But its stellar reputation had been shredded by years of civil war, car bombs, political assassinations, and kidnappings. Two of Monty Rogers’ predecessors had been murdered by groups acting on Iran’s behalf: the PLO and the Islamic Jihad.

“Are we talking unilateral,” asked John Callahan, the chief of operations, a man in his forties with more academic degrees than a case officer is usually allowed to have and the Blarney Stone in his pocket. “Or do you want to do this with liaison?”

“Highest sensitivity means unilateral,” Rogers said. “This would be best handled by SCRIBE/1. He’s been on board for several years and is a proven quantity. Besides, he’s older, and it will be easier for him to establish trust with the subject.”

“Who’s the subject?” asked Carl Keller, tall and heavy set, who handled working level contacts with the Lebanese Service. “If we hand it over to liaison, there will be no problem with passports or other bureaucratic issues. I take it this will be a surprise to the individual? They will also be more convincing than SCRIBE/1.”

“The subject’s daughter is SCONE/1. She’s a double. Started out with Hizballah. Now she’s in direct contact with Iranian Intel in New York. Turns out the Iranians are holding her mother hostage against SCONE/1’s cooperation. Nortsen couldn’t give me the whole story, but it sounds like the agent is on the edge of a major operation, and she’s asking that we get her mother to safety. The mother lives in South Beirut. She has cancer, and it’s up to us to get her to Paris, where we have a bed reserved for her at the American Hospital.”

“What are the odds the Iranians will know what we’re doing before we get her to the airport if we work through liaison?” Callahan asked. “The bad news is SCRIBE/1 is in Damascus right now. He won’t be back for another week. He has contacts with Assad’s personal bodyguards through his wife’s brother. He should have the mother lode of intelligence when he gets back.”

“In that case the best solution is to ask XIMITAR/32. He’s a captain with liaison, but I’ve been working on him for six months. He hates his boss and loves us because we give him recognition. Plus, I put him on salary last month. He’s now unilateral. He will do everything liaison could do officially, but he will act unilaterally. His service won’t know what he’s doing and neither will the Iranians.”

“Nortsen said ‘immediately,’” Rogers said. “So when can you get in touch with XIMITAR/32 to make this happen?”

“I’ll call him out tonight. If SCONE /1 calls her mother to tell her what’s going on, she should be on a plane out tomorrow.”

“Oh, by the way,” Rogers said, “the Iranians have promised, or threatened, they would bring her to a hospital in Tehran. So tell XIMITAR/32 to bring a couple of friends.”

46. The Knolls, San Rafael, California

“Elise and Didier are going to have a lot of questions from their neighbors,” Kella said to the group as she stood in the honeymoon condo by sliding glass doors giving access to a common area