Satan's Spy (The Steve Church saga Book 2) André Gallo (top 100 books of all time checklist TXT) 📖

her right. The top branches of the trees below moved in a turbulent dance to a gusty wind that presaged rain. Deuel’s desk was slightly elevated, which forced his interlocutors to look up. He closed the file he had been studying and got up.

“Come sit over there. We can have some coffee. I could use an extra cup,” he said moving to the informal seating area. “Where are we on the SENTINEL case? What about the cyber war project? Any progress that we can pass on to the White House?”

They both moved to a corner where a silver carafe and cups were set out on a low glass table. She sat down on a dark brown leather sofa, and he took the easy chair next to a green secure telephone.

Thérèse said, “Steve and Kella are on the run. According to their last message, they were about to leave Tehran with SENTINEL’s help. They’re heading for Yazd where the Zoroastrian ‘railroad’ is supposed to hide them and help them get to the coast.”

Deuel interrupted, “This time, you may have kept them in-country too long.”

“We did order them out a few days ago. They ignored the message.”

“I did warn you about his stubborn independent streak. He’s like a pit bull, not the best qualification for survival.”

“Remember that we had him tested before we sent him to North Africa a year ago?” Thérèse asked. “The shrinks said that he had the best personality to assess risk objectively.”

“Shrinks! Smoke and mirrors!”

Eager to move on, she said, “Steve thinks there’s a possibility of recruiting a dual national, an American-Iranian, who’s working in the cyber project. He used to work in Silicon Valley. Getting SENTINEL to elicit information from this source, his nephew by the way, is proving to be difficult. The source is talking, but it’s a highly technical subject. SENTINEL is not really savvy in that area, and neither is Steve. The information is going through two opaque screens. By the time we get it, we suspect that much of the value has been left behind.”

Deuel sat forward, “And Steve thinks the nephew is recruitable? How is that going to work if Steve is not in Tehran and the source is? Why can’t the source get on a plane and fly to Dulles Airport? We can arrange a nice reception for him.”

“He’s not a recruited source yet. Steve right now has his hands full trying to stay out of Mousavi’s clutches. His nephew has no passport. His American passport was confiscated when he arrived. Iran doesn’t recognize dual nationality. His computer skills have confirmed his Iranian citizenship. Permanently it would appear.” She frowned.

“We need to produce information on this cyber threat quickly,” Deuel said. “I’m not even sure that it’s not too late. Do we have a date?”

“Not yet, sir. We have a communications issue with Steve. As you know, Kella is his communicator, among other things.” Deuel looked up sharply, but Thérèse’s expression remained inscrutable.

“In a nutshell, it’s safe to transmit to them. The satellite footprint is large enough that anyone with the proper equipment and codes could receive our signal within a thousand mile diameter. Receive but not read.” She amended.

“However, their signal originates from a very specific point, which, again with the proper equipment and time, can be located. That’s the reason Steve and Kella were forced to leave Tehran. All the publicity has made this the worst kept secret in the history of clandestine operations. We’re talking to the Office of Communications right now to find a solution. For the moment, we have told Steve and Kella to transmit only if they can move their location afterward.”

“We have a possibly crippling threat to the nation,” the Director interjected, “we have a source in the middle of the enemy’s weapons center who could provide capabilities and intention intelligence, but we can’t get the information out?”

Deuel started waving his cigar at her and raising his voice. “We are also the most technologically able country in the world. That’s not the kind of information I want to hear. Get it fixed. Have you spoken to Tottenmeyer?”

“We’re speaking to the people in the Office of Communications, yes. I don’t think we’ve been in direct contact with Jim yet.”

Deuel pushed the intercom button next to the telephone and said, “Mary, get me Jim Tottenmeyer on the phone right away.”

A few second later, the connection was established and Deuel, with the phone to his ear, said, “Jim this is Wally. You know you owe me twenty bucks, right? 14-6, Cornell lacrosse over Army.”

He listened for a few seconds and said, “Listen, this may not have reached you yet, but Thérèse LaFont is in my office. We have an urgent issue, Iran-related. We have a case officer there, a NOC, he has intelligence that the President’s national security team is screaming for, and we can’t get it out of Iran. Talk to your guys. Give it your highest priority. Thérèse will call you. Thanks. Greetings to Carol.”

“I’m sure there’s a solution,” Deuel said after he hung up.

Thérèse took a sip of her coffee and put her cup back on the small table. “I’m sure you’re right. You know about the Crossleys? He was recalled by the Department but, at the same time, his wife disappeared. SENTINEL told Steve that he had run into the Crossleys’ driver Jafar, who also happens to work for Mousavi—counter espionage. Jafar told him that he has been running Elizabeth Crossley, that she had given him the name that Steve was using in Tehran. She knew it from her husband.”

Deuel’s head snapped up in disbelief, but he waited for Thérèse to continue.

“At first, we handled the information routinely,” Thérèse said, “we passed it on to State’s Near East Bureau Director, Colchester, who is turning into a reluctant dragon, not especially friendly. He refused to believe it and just