Andrew Britton: The Invisible

“So they decided to auction him off to the highest bidder,” Kealey guessed.

“Exactly. Unfortunately for the rebels, however, there were no takers, at least not at first. Strangely enough, even the Algerian government didn’t seem to be in that big a rush to get their hands on him.

We never figured out why, but it was probably because they didn’t want to risk their diplomatic relationship with the Chadian government.”

“Why didn’t we step in?”

“The same reason,” Harper replied. “We were tempted to make an offer, as Saifi was already on the State Department’s list of wanted terrorists, but it never happened. After much debate, the president decided he couldn’t deal with the rebels directly, because it would undermine the Pan Sahel Initiative, which was in its infancy at the time. Especially since the initiative was specifically aimed toward curtailing terrorist activity in North Africa, and the Chadian government pretty much viewed the MDJC as a terrorist organization. Anyway, alPara was eventually remanded to Libyan custody, and from there, the Algerians finally stepped in. A trial was scheduled for June 2005, but Saifi never stepped foot in the courtroom. He was sentenced in ab- sentia to life in prison, and according to the Algerian interior ministry, that’s where he currently is.”

Kealey looked up quickly, confusion spreading over his face. Then he flipped open the folder and pulled out a number of pictures. He turned them around so the other man could see, and said, “According to the time and date stamp, these pictures were taken two weeks ago. If this is Amari Saifi, how did he get out of prison, and why are the Algerians covering it up?”

Harper nodded slowly. “Good questions. Unfortunately, we don’t have any answers at this time.”

“Are we sure this is him?” Kealey asked, tapping the face in the photograph.

“Beyond a doubt. We used an older photo for comparison and ran them through the facial recognition software at Langley. We got a hit on eighteen nodal points, and as you know, fourteen nodes are enough to make a positive match.”

Kealey leaned back in his seat and lifted his glass, thinking it through as he nursed his beer. After a couple of minutes had passed in silence, he said, “There’s one thing I still don’t understand, John. Why does this concern us?”

Harper turned his head to the right. While they’d been talking, a young woman had entered the room and taken a seat at the bar, facing away from them. After studying her dispassionately for a moment, he turned back to Kealey.

Have you been keeping up with the news?”

“No.”

“You must know about the situation in Kashmir, though.”

Kealey nodded slowly. Several months earlier, the Israeli government had announced its commitment to a large armament sale to India. The deal—reputed to be worth nearly eight hundred million dollars—included a dozen Hermes 180 unmanned aerial vehicles, fifty Raytheon battlefield surveillance radars, and twenty-five SPYDER

mobile firing units. Perhaps the most controversial part of the deal, each SPYDER unit carried four missiles capable of engaging aerial targets from a distance exceeding 15 kilometers. When news of the impending sale became public, the Pakistani president, Pervez Musharraf, had immediately launched a very vocal, public campaign condemning it. He’d implored the United States to step in and call a halt to the sale, but his pleas had fallen on deaf ears. To make matters worse, the Indians were seeking additional hardware from Israel, including submarine-launched cruise missiles, and Israel looked ready to deal. In response, the Pakistani army had begun increasing its presence on the disputed border in Jammu and Kashmir. Over the course of two short months, more than 10,000 troops had amassed on the Line of Control, and India had responded in kind. The White House had remained relatively quiet on the matter, and while many other world leaders had made remarks pleading for restraint on both sides, President Brenneman had yet to directly intervene in the Israel-India deal. Many saw this as a tacit approval of the transaction, including General Musharraf, who had recently boycotted a White House function while attending a peace symposium, of all things, in Washington, D.C.

“Secretary Fitzgerald arrived in Islamabad several hours ago,”

Harper said. Brynn Fitzgerald was the acting secretary of state. Two months earlier, her predecessor had suffered a fatal heart attack while attending a summit in Geneva, and Fitzgerald had been elevated to the top job, making her just the third woman to hold that position in U.S. history. The president, impressed with her work in the past, had immediately submitted her name to the Senate Committee on Foreign Relations, but the Senate as a whole had yet to confirm the nomination.

“She’s expected to meet with Musharraf both tonight and tomorrow,” Harper continued. “With any luck, she’ll be able to convince him that we have limited influence over whom the Israelis do business with. Needless to say, it won’t be an easy sell. Everyone knows that Brenneman could squash that deal with a single call.”

“I agree,” Kealey said. “But what does this have to do with Amari Saifi?”

Harper pointed toward the photographs spread over the table.

“These images were captured by a professional photographer named Rebeka Cˇesnik. She, along with fourteen of her fellow passengers, disappeared on the Karakoram Highway in Pakistan two weeks ago. Three other people were killed as the kidnapping took place, along with the driver of the bus. Their bodies were left behind, along with the bus itself and all the passengers’ luggage.”

“If everyone is missing or dead, how did we get these shots?”

“Apparently, the kidnappers didn’t realize that Cˇesnik had removed the film from her camera. She hid it in her pack, and they settled for taking her camera. At least, that’s the assumption, as it was never recovered.”

“Okay, but how does this figure into Fitzgerald’s visit? And why is Amari Saifi, the leader of a North African terrorist group, operating in Pakistan all of a sudden?”

“Fitzgerald is going to make a few gentle inquiries in Islamabad,”

Harper said in response to the first question. “She’ll inquire about their efforts to track down the kidnappers, but Saifi is off-limits until we have more information on what he’s doing there. When the secretary of state meets with Musharraf tomorrow morning, she won’t mention al-Para once. You may not be aware of this, Ryan, but twelve American tourists have gone missing in Pakistan over the past several months. Some disappeared individually, others in groups of two or three. A ransom demand has yet to be made, and nobody’s claimed responsibility. We’re looking at Saifi for all of it. It’s almost an exact replication of what he did in Africa, only this time he’s taken our people, which makes it our business.”

“So to summarize, the president wants the hostages released unharmed as soon as possible, and he’s asked you to get it done.”

“Exactly.”

“Why should I care?” Kealey said, looking directly into the other man’s eyes. A brief, awkward silence ensued. “I don’t work for the Agency anymore, John. I don’t want to leave you hanging, but I want to be involved even less. Besides, it sounds like you need someone who speaks the languages. Someone who knows the area. More importantly, you need a place to start. A lead of some kind.”

“We have a lead,” Harper assured him. “All we need is someone to follow it up. That is, someone with a proven track record. Someone such as yourself. Remember, Ryan, the president asked for you by name on this. What happened in New York is not exactly a distant memory. He remembers what you did there. He remembers how many lives you saved that day, and he’s grateful for it. He wants someone who knows how to get results.”