Greg Rucka - A gentleman_s game

Landau looked back to Crocker, shrugged.

"Tell him what you are fluent in, Tara."

"I can pass as native in French and Italian. My French is best, but the Italian is a very close second. My German and Spanish are both fluent, not native, and my Russian is passable."

"So you see we have some room to work," Crocker said.

"So I do." Landau considered, then glanced to Chace, as if begrudging her a reevaluation. "She should sit."

"Tara."

"Thank you, sir."

Landau waited until she'd taken the seat beside him, then said, "We know that Dr. Faud bin Abdullah al-Shimmari will be visiting Yemen sometime during the month of September, Miss Chace. We know that he will be in San'a', to meet with a man named Muhriz el-Sayd. Do you know this name?"

"El-Sayd's the tactical operations man for the Egyptian Islamic Jihad. Trained under Ayman Al-Zawahiri, and like Al-Zawahiri was educated as a psychiatrist, I believe. Responsible for the murder of seven German tourists in Luxor in '96, the bombing of the Beit-Shalom school in Elat in '98, and the attempted bombing of the U.S. embassy in Albania in 2000. EIJ merged with al-Qaeda in late 2001, if I remember correctly."

Landau cleared his throat. "We also have evidence tying him to a car bombing in Tel Aviv in May of 1997."

"I was not aware of that, sir."

"Not many are, Miss Chace." Landau removed his glasses, held them up to the fluorescent lights above, examining them. "We understand that you are seeking Faud. We have been seeking el-Sayd. Both men are untouchable in their native countries, and for this reason, both men avoid travel if at all possible."

He brought the glasses to his mouth, blowing on each lens, then using the corner of his jacket to wipe them clean.

"Both men are now exposing themselves by journeying to Yemen for a meeting," he continued. "While we do not wish to assume the purpose behind your recent inquiries into Faud's whereabouts, I have no such qualms sharing with you ours with regard to el-Sayd."

"They want him dead," Crocker told Chace.

Chace nodded, mostly because she couldn't think of anything to say to that.

"Faud is responsible for the attacks on the Underground," Crocker told Landau.

"Yes. So, you see, we have a common purpose, if not a shared target."

"Do you have the dates of travel?" Chace asked.

Landau shook his head. "No. Nor is it likely that we will be able to gather that information by ourselves. But you have paths not open to us. People who would ignore our inquiries will answer yours. And we do have other information that we would be willing to share, things we have learned about Faud's itinerary."

Chace looked a question at Crocker. "It's certainly very interesting, sir."

Crocker thought for a moment, then reached for the intercom on his desk, bore down on one of the keys as he got to his feet.

"Escort, please," he told the intercom, and then asked Landau, "How long will you be in town?"

"Only until tomorrow night," Landau answered. "I'm staying at the Vicarage Hotel, under the name Simon, if you wish to speak further."

"I can't guarantee an answer for you before you head back to Tel Aviv."

Landau shrugged again, as if Crocker had stated the obvious. "Time is pressing, Mr. Crocker. Delays will cost us the opportunity."

There was a rustle from the doorway behind Chace, and the discreet clearing of a throat as the escort announced his presence.

"This gentleman will escort you out," Crocker said.

Landau rose, extending his hand to Crocker, and Chace got to her feet as well, to maintain respect. He offered her his hand next, and his grip was firm, the handshake brief.

"We'll do everything we can to move quickly," Crocker said. "Thank you for coming."

They waited until they heard the door to the outer office close, then took their seats again. Crocker brought a cigarette to life, then arched an eyebrow as he watched Chace do the same. Without comment, he slid the ashtray on his desk closer to her.

"He wants us to do both?" Chace asked.

Crocker shook his head. "He's offering to have one of his people do both, provided we can get him the dates."

"Why doesn't he go to the Americans?"

"I'm not sure. The White House has been putting a lot of pressure on the Israelis to play nice, maybe because they still think that peace in the Middle East will lead to the Second Coming of Christ."

"You scare me when you say things like that, because I know you're not joking."

"Not nearly as much as they scare me. There are some very strange ideas coming out of Washington these days. God only knows what they've got cooking with the Egyptians."

Chace frowned. "El-Sayd's a terrorist, a known one. EIJ is on the list."

"You know damn well none of that matters in the face of politics. And that's precisely Landau's problem at the moment. The Mossad makes inquiries into el-Sayd's travel, the CIA will know what they're up to. We make inquiries about Faud, it avoids the problem."

"How'd he know we were after Faud?"

Crocker cracked a tired smile. "Nothing nefarious. Rayburn put the word out to all the Friends as soon as conops came down that we were looking for him."

"Well, in that case Faud definitely knows we're after him," Chace said drily. "You trust Landau to do the job?"

"Are you asking if I think his people can take out both Faud and el-Sayd?"

"Yes."

"Without question. But he won't get a chance. If we get the dates, I'm sending you."

"Not to be contrary, but why not let them have it?"

"Are you saying you don't want it?"

"Of course that's not what I'm saying. I'm trying to understand the thinking."

"Two reasons," Crocker said. "Unless Rayburn pulls a miracle out of his network, I'll have to go to Cheng to get the information. Then I'll have to pass it to Landau. At which point Landau hits both Faud and el-Sayd, and the CIA wonders how it was the Mossad knew where and when to strike. The distance between that question and us is the distance between here and Grosvenor Square. That's one.

"Two, Faud's the target, not el-Sayd. El-Sayd is a bonus, and if we pull it off, the Mossad will owe us, and by extension, the Israelis. I can use that, and I'm not about to let the opportunity pass us by."

Chace took it in, nodded her understanding. "It's mine?"

"Yes."

"I thought I was going to have to arm-wrestle Poole for it."

"It's Yemen, it's September, tail end of the holiday season," Crocker said. "I'll get on to Mission Planning, but we can place you as an Italian tourist, one of those women who take a danger tour in hopes of being kidnapped by local tribesmen."

Chace rolled her eyes, not so much at the suggested cover as at the viability of it. Perhaps it was because she already had enough adrenaline in her life, but the thought of paying money for the chance to be abducted in some Arabian Nights scenario held absolutely no appeal for her. It didn't alter the fact that Crocker was correct, however; European women, and for some reason Italian women in particular, had been making such trips exactly as described. They would be cordially abducted from tourist spots outside of San'a' by local tribes, then ransomed back to the Yemeni government in exchange for various concessions such as new wells for a village or road repairs. By all reports, the abductees were treated very well by their hosts, who knew a good game when they saw one. Chace had even heard of firms that sold tours with precisely this scenario in mind.

"I should brush up the Italian, then," Chace said. "You know that Landau will be expecting us to take the job from him."

"I'm sure of it. But he came anyway, which means he can live with that, as long as the job gets done."

"Two for the price of one," Chace mused.

"Think of it as a fire sale," Crocker said.