The Panther

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE


Mrs. Corey and Mr. Brenner were sitting at the table chatting, and two commo people were manning the electronics on the other side of the glass wall. I was sure there was a lot of traffic today between here and Washington.

We sat, and Brenner told us, “The recording devices are off.”

Now I’d never know what Paul and Kate were talking about. Actually, I’d never know anyway.

Buck asked us, “So did you all have a good day in Sana’a?”

I replied, “How could anyone have a bad day in Sana’a?”

Buck smiled, then urged us to tell him about our day.

So we did, and Buck listened without comment, except to ask us how the food was at Old Sana’a, and to ask Brenner if he was sure he’d gotten me the best jambiyah for the best price. He also asked Kate if she’d been successful at Hope in Their Hands.

This was Buck’s schtick, of course, putting life-and-death topics on the back burner and asking us about lunch and shopping. This is a good interrogation technique, but an annoying debriefing technique.

Buck moved on, asking us, “And you’re sure you weren’t followed?”

I’d already said we weren’t, so I got a little pissy and said, “Buck, I’m a cop. I know if I’m being followed.”

Buck pointed out, “This is not New York.”

“A*sholes are the same everywhere.”

Buck smiled, then said, “Well, I’m sure that someone, somewhere today saw you and made a phone call, which is actually what we want.” He added, “It’s good, though, that no one acted on that information while you were in an exposed situation.” He said to Brenner, “Maybe you should have had DSS backup.”

Brenner replied, a bit testily, “I felt it was safe enough to go out without backup.”

Well, it wasn’t. But safety wasn’t the point. Backup is easily spotted and scares off the bad guys, and that’s not what Paul Brenner or John Corey wanted to do.

Buck said, “All right. All’s well that ends well. So… oh, by the way, Mr. Corey, that was good of you to give the lady in the shop an extra twenty dollars. We like to support them.”

Had I mentioned that? No, I had not. So probably one of those Westerners in the shop was his snitch, or more likely he’d just called the shop and chatted in Arabic with the manager. In any case, in the world of spooks and spies, it’s all illusion, and nothing is as it seems. Old Buck had been at this game a lot longer than anyone in this room, and he wanted everyone to know it.

Point made, Buck said to me and Brenner, “Tell me and Kate what happened at Ghumdan.”

So we did. And as former cops, we got right into sync and gave Buck and Kate a clear, concise, and accurate report of our Ghumdan experience.

Buck listened intently, as did Kate, and neither of them interrupted.

When we were finished, Buck stayed silent awhile, then said, “You seem to have gotten more information than we usually do at these interrogations.” He said to me, “I suppose your past experience in Aden was helpful.”

I replied, “To the extent that I knew what to expect.” I informed him, “The prisoner was more cooperative than our ally, Colonel Hakim.”

Buck said to us, “I’ll ask Howard to put in a formal request with the Ministry of Justice to get the transcript of this prisoner’s interrogation by the PSO.” He let us know, “They won’t honor that request, but then we have something new to complain about.”

I asked Buck, “Is the PSO more cooperative with the CIA?”

He looked at me and said, “Good question. The short answer is yes.” He smiled. “Birds of a feather.” Then he added quickly, “I’m not suggesting the PSO and the CIA have anything in common.”

I thought he just said birds of a feather.

Buck informed us, “They have their own understanding between themselves. Very much quid pro quo.”

That was a little scary.

Kate, who I was certain was the only person here who had once slept with and shot a CIA officer, said, “I’m assuming our fifth team member can fill in some of our information gaps.”

Buck replied, “That is our expectation.”

Right. The CIA is happy to fill you in. Unfortunately, they lie.

Mr. Brenner had no comment on this topic, and he returned to the subject by reminding us, “The Panther could know from his fighters that one of them was taken prisoner—but he might also think Rahim was killed. So we don’t know if The Panther is worried about a prisoner talking about his location.” He added, “I hope this prisoner wasn’t mentioned in the government press release.”

Buck assured us, “The Sana’a government is not that stupid. They are, in fact, crafty, which is why they’re not all hanging from a noose. So they will report the attack, but claim four killed. Or twenty. Or whatever number they like. There will be no mention of a prisoner.”

True. But I reminded everyone, “Someone at Ghumdan could tell Al Qaeda that there’s a talking prisoner who said he saw The Panther at Marib.”

Buck replied, “That’s very possible, but let’s hope it doesn’t send The Panther running.” He reminded us again, “If there is a leak from Ghumdan to Al Qaeda, they will also mention the name of John Corey.”

Right. That’s why I was at Ghumdan.

Buck asked Kate, “Any questions for John or Paul?”

Kate asked me, “Is it possible that this prisoner was rehearsed? That what you heard was not the whole truth?”

I really don’t like being interrogated by my wife, but it was a good question and I replied, “It’s possible. But the prisoner had the appearance of truthfulness.” I looked at Brenner, who seconded that and added, “This guy was scared, hurting, and desperate.”

Kate asked Brenner, “What was Colonel Hakim’s demeanor during the interrogation?”

Brenner replied, “Not a happy guy. He really wanted us out of there, which is why I think this wasn’t rehearsed and wasn’t disinformation.”

Kate and Buck both nodded. So we kicked this around awhile, and after about ten minutes Buck said, “All right. It appears we’ve been handed an opportunity. So in the absence of any new or contradictory information, I think our first excursion into the countryside from Aden will be to Marib.”

Obviously.

He continued, “If The Panther is not there, we can at least see those magnificent pre-Islamic ruins.”

Who gives a shit? You wanna see ruins? Go to Newark. I pointed out, “We really won’t know if The Panther is still there, but if we stay there looking for him, I’m sure he will know that. Also we now know that The Panther has assets around Marib, including a tribal sheik, so even if he moved because of this attack, he’ll return to meet us on his turf.”

“Precisely,” agreed Buck. “And we can see the ruins while we’re waiting for him.”

“There you go.”

Brenner commented, “Now we know where to set and bait the trap.”

Bait? What happened to lure?

Buck said, “Assuming Colonel Hakim is thinking along the same lines, don’t be surprised if we see him there.”

Right. Could get crowded at Marib. And we could scare off The Panther. But I was betting that John Corey on The Panther’s turf would be irresistible to him.

Buck next brought up the subject of the possible Al Qaeda attack on the Sheraton in Aden and assured us, “The FBI SWAT Team, the DSS men, and the Marines at the Sheraton are on full alert, as are all American personnel in the hotel. Also, we are officially notifying the Yemeni government at the highest level about this possible attack, so they have no choice but to increase their security around the hotel.”

I, of course, remarked, “That will make us sleep better.”

Brenner assured us, “You’ll never sleep as well as the Yemeni Army.”

Funny. But not.

“The last time the Sheraton in Aden was attacked,” Buck said, “was before the Americans were there. During one of the civil wars in the eighties. A rebel group lobbed a few mortar rounds into the hotel.” He added, “The Communists ran South Yemen in those days, and they allowed alcohol—which is the best thing I can say about them. In any case, this rebel group was fundamentalist, and the cocktail lounge offended them.”

I reminisced, “When I was at the Sheraton, we made up fun names for the cocktails.” All right, I’ll tell you. “High Explosive Mojito. Martini Mortars. My favorite was the Incoming Cosmo.”

No one thought that was funny. I guess you had to be there.

Anyway, Kate asked Buck, “Is there any other place for us to stay in Aden?”

“No. The Yemeni government has given us two floors of the Sheraton, and that’s our operational base in Aden.” He assured us, “I wouldn’t worry about this too much.” He added, “Unless you start to see Arab guests checking out.”

Funny? Maybe.

Kate also asked, “Do we have an evacuation plan?”

Yes, the breaststroke.

Buck replied, “We’ll ask Doug Reynolds, who is Ed Peters’s DSS counterpart in Aden.”

Buck then said to us, “Final subject. The road trip to Aden. We haven’t notified the Yemeni authorities of our movement, so, theoretically, Al Qaeda will not be tipped off that we are taking a convoy to Aden tomorrow morning. In that respect, we aren’t advertising this trip in advance with the hope of making contact with Al Qaeda—but as soon as we leave the compound, cell phones will be ringing all over Sana’a and along our route, so our movement will then be known.”

Brenner continued Buck’s thought and said, “The longer we’re on the road, the more chance that Al Qaeda will try to set up an ambush or roadside bomb along our route.” He added, “It will be obvious that we’re headed to Aden. But if we maintain good speed, and maybe vary the route, we should be able to stay ahead of anything they try to plan.”

Buck reiterated, “It’s not as though we’re trying to get into a fight with them, but it may happen, and we are prepared—and we may be able to kill or capture a key Al Qaeda leader.”

That sounded a bit optimistic, but since we were driving to Aden anyway, I guess we might as well kill some bad guys on the way. Right?

Buck had some good news and said, “We may be crazy, but we’re not stupid. So we’ve arranged to have two Predator surveillance drones on station along our route.” He informed me and Kate, “They have infrared video cameras that can see through cloud cover if necessary, and the high-resolution cameras can operate from as high as twenty thousand feet and still see a man with a rifle.” He concluded, “We should know about an ambush long before we reach it.”

Well, that was good news. The bad news, of course, was that the surveillance drones might still miss fifty jihadists sitting in a mud hut waiting for us to come by. Or miss a roadside bomb. I asked, “And what do we do if we get this aerial surveillance information?”

Brenner, ex–combat vet, replied, “I will make the decision about how we react to an ambush warning.”

“Give me a call,” I suggested.

Kate asked a good question. “How about Hellfire missiles?”

Buck replied, “We are not authorized to use Hellfire missiles without the explicit permission of the Yemeni government.”

Kate, the lawyer, asked, “Not even as a purely defensive means to save lives?”

Buck informed us, “Unfortunately not.” He also let us know, “It takes a very long time to get this permission from the Yemeni authorities, so we can’t count on Hellfire missiles in a rapidly developing situation.”

I thought about that and said, “I assume that the Predator surveillance drones will be armed with Hellfire missiles, and that we will in fact use them if we’re ducking AK-47 rounds.”

Buck didn’t reply directly, but said, “To ask permission is to invite rejection. We do what we have to do, then apologize.”

“Right. And give the Yemenis another million.”

“Maybe two.” He smiled and said, “In Yemen, we pay to play.”

Right. Even wars have rules, but the rules here in Yemen did not favor the Americans. The good news was that we broke the rules. The better news was that the punishment was a small fine. Two million. Hell, give the Yemenis ten million and carpet bomb the whole country. Better yet, nuke ’em. Check’s in the mail for that.

Bottom line on this trip to Aden was that it was more than a method of getting from Point A to Point B; it was also trolling for sharks—fishing for Al Qaeda.

Buck announced, “That’s all I have. And if no one has anything further, this meeting is adjourned.”

Wonderful.

But Buck said, “Let me buy you all dinner at the Mövenpick. They have a new French chef.”

I said, “I’d love to, but—”

Kate interrupted, “That would be very nice.”

“Good,” said Buck. “Afterwards, if you’re game for it, we can go to the Russia Club.”

I reminded everyone, “We need to get up early.”

Buck told us, “We can sleep on the way to Aden.” He smiled and assured us, “The roadside bombs will wake us up for the ambush.”

I felt like a guy who thought he’d joined an ace fighter squadron and found out it was a kamikaze group. I mean, bravery is one thing; war psychosis is something else. I said to Buck, “You’ve been here too long.”

“I know. But we’re all going home.” He added, “One way or the other.”