Andrew Britton - The American

“What’s that look for?” she asked. “I’m on a diet.”

He shook his head. “You know a diet is the last thing you need,” he pointed out. “And I resent you making me say that, by the way. I’m engaged, you know.”

She grinned and pushed her plate away. Leaning forward in the chair, her long fingers moved uncomfortably close to Ryan’s as she spoke. “Listen, I apologize for last night, but only to a certain extent. I don’t think I’m getting fair treatment here. It took quite a bit of digging for me to get up to speed on information that you and the deputy director should have been willing to give me up-front.” He didn’t answer and she went on. “The whole point of this is to track down Jason March, but you haven’t told me the first thing about him. I know that you were a soldier, Ryan. I know what he did to you and your men.”

He closed his eyes and tried to contain his reaction. How did she find out? It was immediately clear to Ryan that he hadn’t given Naomi Kharmai enough credit. The only question was what to do about it now. He opted for conciliation.

“It seems like you know everything,” he said. It was a struggle to keep his voice light. “What else can I tell you?”

Naomi thought she was fairly adept at gauging mood, and sensed that now would not be a good time to mention Bosnia. Shrugging her shoulders, she reached over to steal his glass of orange juice. “Well, I’d like to know what we’re trying to accomplish. Clearly, March is associated with the Iranians and Al-Qaeda, so they’re definitely working together. We know what the Iranians want. What about Al-Qaeda — do you think they’re going after the same thing?”

Ryan shook his head and took a sip of coffee. “If they use a nuclear weapon, or even manage to acquire one, then they’re finished. They’ll lose most of their state-sponsored support due to fear of sanctions imposed by the U.N. or, even worse, American military retaliation. I’m sure these thoughts wouldn’t readily occur to Al-Qaeda’s leadership, but that’s the reality of the situation. They’ve made a lot of contradictory statements about their attempts to purchase nuclear material.”

“What about Iran?”

“Well, if we find out that Iran has a weapon, they can just claim it’s for national defense. Then they’ll make some minor concessions to make it easier to swallow. The OSCE and the U.N. won’t like it, and neither will we, but the North Koreans have already discovered that we’re willing to let a lot slide as long as you keep it on your side of the fence. That’s why Brenneman is so intent on stopping them before they get that far. Once they have a weapon, our options obviously become more limited.”

She smiled and popped a piece of muffin into her mouth. “It’s pretty clear that you’re not an expert on foreign policy,” she said.

“That’s true enough,” he replied with a grin of his own. “But the fact remains that Al-Qaeda is more likely to retain their grassroots support and the flow of small arms and money into the organization if they stay away from the biological and nuclear side of things. Otherwise, they’d be asking for more trouble than they can handle. If I had to guess, I’d say that they’re helping Iran with their nuclear ambitions.”

“In exchange for what?”

“It’s hard to tell. They might not even have come to an agreement yet,” he said. “It could be money, political asylum, arms — it might even be something as simple as safe passage through the country. For that kind of help, though, I would say that they’ll expect a lot in return.”

“That makes sense.” Naomi finished her juice and peeked at her watch. It was almost ten. “How do you think March fits in?”

Ryan didn’t answer as the waiter approached with their check. He waited until the bill was settled and they had collected their coats before picking up the thread. “You read the file, so you know what he is.” She hadn’t read the file, but didn’t stop to correct him. “His appearance and training allow him to blend in perfectly here. He might even have been able to bring some international connections to the table. For any stateside operation, March is going to be their best bet for success. Also, he has a lot to teach the young recruits. They won’t use him unless there’s a high probability that he’ll come back alive. Believe me when I say that Al-Qaeda gets stronger every day he’s involved.”

“That’s a scary thought,” she murmured.

Ryan nodded his head in agreement. “I know.”

The black Suburban was parked along the curb, a gentle mist of rain falling around them as they hurried from the hotel entrance into the warm interior of the truck. Harper was waiting in the front passenger seat. As soon as the doors were shut, the vehicle moved off into traffic. Ryan handed the deputy director a carryout cup of coffee from the hotel’s restaurant, and the older man nodded his appreciation.

“We came up big on the Natalia, Ryan,” he said. “It belongs to a man by the name of Stephen Gray. Does that ring a bell?”

Kealey scanned his memory. “Vaguely. Owns a shipping company, right? He got into some trouble when one of his boats was picked up on the way to Northern Ireland with a cargo hold full of weapons.”

The DDO tossed the file he was holding into Ryan’s lap. “One and the same. It caused a lot of problems because the weapons were high grade, a thousand 40mm automatic grenade launchers still in the packing grease, eight thousand rounds of ammunition, crates full of Vektor 7.62mm tripod-mounted machine guns. All of it was manufactured by a division of Denel Arms, in which the government holds a majority share. As you might expect, the Brits were furious. There was a lot of speculation that Gray was stockpiling weapons to sell to the highest bidder, but he beat the charges on a technicality.”

Naomi’s eyes opened wide and Ryan looked up sharply. “That’s a problem,” he said. “If any of that is true, then there’s a good chance that Al-Qaeda has access to some serious firepower.”

“I’d say it’s more than a chance,” Naomi put in. “I mean, look at the facts. Gray owns a shipping company that was used to smuggle arms. One of his ships brings explosives into the States, which in turn are used in a terrorist operation by Al-Qaeda. There must be some direct connection.”

Harper was nodding slowly. “And I’m willing to bet that Jason March is that connection.” He picked up a second file from the floor at his feet. It was a dark brown folder with no markings that Naomi could see. He handed it back to her. “It’s about time you got a look at this, Kharmai.” Kealey shot her a questioning look, but she ignored it and began to peruse the contents as the DDO explained: “That is a complete history of March… everything we know, to be more specific. There isn’t much more than a 201 file. His records were good enough to get him into the military, and once you’re in, no one looks much further.”

She looked up curiously. Ryan was staring out into the rain. “What do you mean by that?” she asked.

“I mean that he didn’t exist until he joined the army,” Harper said. Her mouth hung open as she searched his face.

“That can’t be right,” she said. “The military looks at your birth certificate, your driver’s license, even your secondary-school records, right? How could he just-”

“Every piece of documentation that he submitted was an invention.” It was Ryan speaking, and she turned to look in his direction. “Filling out the initial paperwork was the risky part, but even then they don’t look too hard — the army has always been desperate for warm bodies. Once he was in, it was all taken as fact. Airborne, Ranger School, Air Assault, Sniper School, the SERE course — that’s Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape — SF Assessment and Selection… He got into all of it by the strength of his military record, and he succeeded in everything he did. He was a model soldier. There was no reason for the generals signing off on it to doubt any of his personal history before he came into the service.”