“What story?”
Carmichael said, “Come to me here. We can talk about this. I’ll put it on the books as an emergency liaison meeting between our offices. They won’t let you bring your detail to the safe house, but I can send an armored motorcade to pick you up and bring you to me.”
“I don’t know what you think we can accomplish.”
“Damage control, Kaz! We stop the bleeding on this op, and then we go back on offense.” Carmichael looked at his watch. “I have an emergency meeting with the Working Group at eight, but I’ll send the cars to pick you up now and you can wait in my office till I’m finished.”
There was a long pause. Then, “Send your very best men.”
—
Court and Zack exfiltrated the Ritz hotel and then began driving south, out of Arlington. The plan was to return to Court’s safe house, of sorts, in the woods an hour south of the District. Zack didn’t think much of the plan; he wanted to stop for celebratory pizza and beers, but Court insisted they lie low for the rest of the night.
They were most of the way down I-95 and nearing the turnoff to the little airport when Zack got a call from Matt Hanley. He put it on speaker so Court could hear.
Zack gave Hanley an after-action report on the events at the Ritz, and Hanley seemed pleased, but quickly it became clear he had something else he wanted to talk about.
“I just got some interesting news from a guy who used to be in Ground Branch. Now he is driving in the secure motor pool. I put out feelers with a few outside the division yesterday saying I was trying to find out where Denny was spending his nights, and this guy came through.”
“What did he say?” Court asked.
“The U.S. head of Saudi Arabia’s Mukhabarat in D.C. was just transported to a CIA safe house in Alexandria.”
Court asked, “Why is that significant?”
“The place he went to is a damn citadel. It’s called Alexandria Eight. It’s been around forever. It’s old, but the Agency doesn’t have a more fortified installation anywhere in the District. That’s going to be where Denny is hiding out.”
Court understood. “And this Saudi is going to be the guy I talked to on the phone. Who is he?”
“His name is Murquin al-Kazaz. Denny has known him for over a decade.”
“Do you know him?” Zack asked.
“No. I never did liaison intelligence shit. I don’t trust the House of Saud the way Denny does.”
Court said, “We need to identify al-Kazaz’s involvement with Operation BACK BLAST.”
“Easier said than done. I don’t have any access to that.”
“It doesn’t matter, Matt. We have access to him. You just have to get me into Alexandria Eight. I’ll get him to talk.”
Hanley snorted into the phone. “Did you not hear what I just said? It’s Fort Knox, Court.”
“If it’s a safe house, then you have schematics on it.”
“I do. I have blueprints, and the defensive plan from security. That’s how I know it’s impenetrable.”
“Prove it. Let me see the prints and plans.”
Hanley thought it over a minute. “All right, I’ll send them to Zack’s phone and you can look. But that’s only to prove to you that I’m right. You aren’t getting in there, and I’m not going to let you go on a suicide mission.”
—
Court spent nearly a half hour looking over the defenses at the CIA safe house while Zack drove. The facility was impressive, to say the least, but Court was motivated to find a way in.
He found himself significantly less motivated to find a way out.
While Court worked, Zack listened to country music on the radio. He sang along with Dwight Yoakam, then hummed along with Johnny Cash. When some cornball and sugary new country artist came on the radio, however, Zack just sat there and bitched about the state of the music industry till Court told him to shut the hell up so he could think.
An aircraft flying low overhead on its base leg to Stafford Regional Airport, just a mile to the south of where he sat, gave Court an idea. After a few more minutes’ work, he called Hanley back.
While Zack and Matt listened quietly, Court laid out his plan in as much detail as he could.
When he was finished, Court said, “So, Matt. What do you think?”
Hanley replied with one word. “Disallowed.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s suicide, that’s why.”
“I can do it.”
“No one can do it. Plus, you told me how you’d get in, but not how you’d get out.”
Court cocked his head. “I did tell you how I’d get out.”
Hanley said, “I . . . I thought that part was just a joke.”
“It might still be. But I’m willing to try it.”
“Are you insane?”
“No, sir. But I am in a hurry. If we do this we have to hit right now, while al-Kazaz is there.”