The Panther

CHAPTER NINETEEN


The SCIF was on the third and top floor, a windowless and soundproof room, lined with lead and kryptonite or something, impervious to directional listening devices and other types of electronic buggery.

Half of the big, dimly lit room was filled with commo and crypto, and the other half, partitioned with thick glass, was taken up with work stations and a round conference table.

A young woman was attending to the electronics, and when we entered she stood and greeted Brenner and Buck, said hello to Kate and me, then closed the glass door between us.

We’d had a similarly purposed room in the Sheraton Hotel in Aden, but that had been an emptied bedroom in which a lead-lined tent was pitched. The world of spying has come a long way since the days when gentlemen did not read each other’s mail, or when it was bad manners to listen at the keyhole or stand outside a building and literally eavesdrop. Today, even pissant countries like Yemen had access to off-the-shelf electronic listening devices and decoding equipment, and the world of secure communication had become a game. The Americans had the best equipment, but you never knew who just developed something better.

Buck Harris broke into my thoughts and assured us, “We can speak freely here.”

Right. Except, of course, every word was being recorded.

Brenner got on the intercom and made contact with the Yemenis in the kitchen, and ordered in Arabic.

Buck got down to business and said to me and Kate, “There is something else about this mission that you may not have been told.”

I didn’t reply.

“Or maybe you were told.”

Again I didn’t reply. He was fishing to see what we knew, and I was waiting to see if he’d actually tell us why we were in Yemen.

Buck glanced at Brenner, then said to Kate and me, “Well, then, I’ll fill you in.” He hesitated a second, then said, “One of the reasons you were both picked for this assignment is because the CIA has knowledge or belief that Bulus ibn al-Darwish, The Panther, would likely make you a target if he knew you were in Yemen.”

“Actually,” I replied, “it is the only reason we were picked.” I said to Kate, “The Panther is looking for payback for The Lion.” To be sure she understood, I added, “We are Panther bait.”

Kate looked at me, then Buck, then Brenner, and said, “I see.”

“Good,” I said, “and that makes us the best-qualified people for this job. Just as Tom told us.”

She thought about that, then instead of saying, “That bastard,” she asked, “Do you think Tom knew that?”

Jeez. Sweetheart, your buddy is a deceitful prick. I said, “Uh… let me think—”

Buck interrupted my sarcasm and said, “None of us knows if he did or not, and it’s really a moot point.”

Not for me, so I said to Buck and to Brenner, “It would have been nice if Tom Walsh or anybody had given us that information in New York so we could have made an informed decision about whether or not we’d like to be bait for a homicidal terrorist.” I asked, “Agreed?”

“Agreed,” agreed Buck. “But you’re here, you’ve heard why you’re here, and now all you have to decide is if you want to stay here or get on that Air Force plane and go home.”

Brenner, to help us decide, pointed out, “Does it really matter who is the hunter and who is the hunted? It doesn’t change the tactical approach that much.”

Actually, it does if you happen to be the hunted. But I understood his point and said, “Right. But we’re talking about truth in job advertising here. We’re off on the wrong foot.”

Brenner replied, “I never lied to you. And I never will.”

We looked at each other and my instincts said to believe him.

I looked at Kate, who I knew was annoyed that she was the last to know. As for me, I’ve gotten used to being lied to by the Feds, but Kate was still capable of being upset by all the bullshit and need-to-know crap.

She said to me, “Apparently you knew about all this, and yet you didn’t tell me.”

I knew that was coming and I replied, “I wanted you to hear it here. And not from me.”

She nodded, but said nothing.

Buck suggested, “We can leave you alone to discuss this.”

I reminded him, “Every word is being recorded. You may as well hear it live and not have to play the tape.”

Brenner said impatiently, “Just give us your decision, please. You already know in your guts what you want to do. So let us know.”

Well, this shouldn’t be that tough of a decision. Do we stay in this dangerous shithole and dangle ourselves from a meathook to attract The Panther? Or do we go home and have dinner in a nice restaurant?

There were career considerations, but that wasn’t too important to me, though it was for Kate.

The bottom line was really about the Cole victims, the war on terrorism, this a*shole called The Panther, and maybe a little payback for 9/11. When it’s only about you, you do what’s best for you. But when it’s about something bigger than you, you do what’s right, not what’s best.

I knew why I was here, so I said, “I’m in.”

Kate said, without hesitation, “Me, too.”

“Good,” said Buck. “You won’t regret… Well, you might, but with luck and good teamwork, it will be The Panther who regrets your decision, as well as his own bad decisions.”

Brenner added, “As I said, now that you’re here, we have a good chance of wrapping this up quickly and successfully.” He smiled. “And I can get the hell out of here.”

Buck seconded that, then looked at us and said, “I was Yale, Class of ’65, and in those days, before Vietnam got ugly, and before we lost confidence in ourselves and lost our innocence, we believed in the school motto—‘For God, for Country, for Yale.’ ” He smiled and said, “Well, Yale doesn’t give a damn, and I’m not sure about God, but we do this for our country. Not for the government, but for the people, and for the innocent victims of terrorism. There’s no other reason to be here.”

Can’t argue with that. I mean, the pay is okay, but not good enough to put your life on the line. The ego needs feeding once in a while, but my ego was already stuffed. Adventure and danger are interesting, but I did that every day. So what was left to motivate people like me? Maybe Buck had the simple but rarely spoken answer: patriotism. But also something else that is usually not said in polite American society, and I said to Buck, “Don’t forget revenge.”

He nodded and said, “With the Soviets, I never thought of revenge. But now I think about it often.”

Brenner agreed, “Revenge is good.”

Kate said, “I’ll stick to God and country.”

There was a buzz on the intercom, and Brenner said, “Breakfast. Then we can go over the plan.”

It was good to hear that there was a plan. I was sure I wasn’t going to like the plan, but the bait never does.