Brad Taylor - The Polaris Protocol

Pink smiled. “Perceptive, aren’t we. No. I want you to listen to something. And then I have a favor to ask.”

The Ghost was off balance, his routine shaken by this strange turn of events. He felt the redline of danger but nodded.

The Ghost watched as a digital recorder was placed on the table. Pink held up the headphones and said, “May I?”

The Ghost nodded again, and Pink placed them over his ears. He hit “play,” and the Ghost focused on a conversation in English, then in Arabic. When it was complete, he returned his eyes to Mr. Pink.

“What you heard was a Mexican drug cartel member talking to Hezbollah about selling nuclear secrets from the United States. There is an American who is bringing them down. Did you understand the Arabic?”

The Ghost said, “Yes. Someone is bringing money to pay, and the men speaking intend to kill him.”

“Yes. That’s correct. That someone is coming from Pakistan, and he’s due to arrive tomorrow. The American with the secrets arrived yesterday.”

“What does this have to do with me?”

“We cannot let Hezbollah get nuclear secrets. They’ll turn them over to Iran, helping them with their quest to build an atomic bomb.”

“So?”

“We want you to pretend you’re the man coming from Pakistan and lead us to the meeting.”

51

At first the Ghost thought he’d misunderstood. The statement was so ludicrous it defied logic. He thought his English had failed him.

Pink said, “You’ll be in no danger, and we won’t ask you to do anything overt. Just lead us to the meeting. We’ll do the rest.”

The Ghost couldn’t help but smile. The idea was preposterous. It was a trick of some kind. “So, you’re going to take me out of here, fly me to Mexico, and allow me to meet with members of Hezbollah?”

“Yes, that’s about the sum of it.”

“But I can’t do that under your watchful eye, with you handcuffed to me. If that were possible, you wouldn’t need me. You’re going to have to let me go on my own.”

“I know.”

The Ghost shook his head. “I don’t know what your little interrogators told you, but clearly you think I’m an idiot.”

“No, I don’t. Remember, I’m the one who caught you. I do not underestimate anything about you.”

The Ghost said nothing for a moment, contemplating. The idea was fantastic, and clearly a lie. There was something else at play here. Why else would this man—his sworn enemy—come begging? They were trying to set him up for something.

He said, “Pretending what you said is true, why would I help? You consider me a terrorist as well. What makes you even fantasize that I would help?”

Pink said, “Let me ask you a question: Do you hate the United States?”

“Yes.”

“Do you hate Hezbollah?”

“No.”

“Really?” Pink smiled. “Hmmm … seems to me that you have every reason. They sold your ass down the river in Lebanon and don’t care one little bit about Palestinians. They’re currently fighting against Sunni insurgents in Syria. Fighting with a Shiite dictator who hates you for daring to defy him. They’re trying to prevent the creation of a government that would help your cause.”

When the Ghost didn’t respond, Pink said, “I’ve read your file. I’ve seen the assessments of your intelligence. You should be proud to hear that they’re off the charts compared to any other detainee. What’s funny is that with all those smarts you get tripped up whenever talking about Hezbollah. We have very little for Hamas and other Palestinian groups, but quite a lot on Lebanese Hezbollah. Why is that, do you think?”

Pink leaned back in his chair, tipping onto the back legs and locking eyes with the Ghost. He rocked back and forth while the Ghost remained silent. Finally, he said, “The man coming to the meeting works for al-Qaeda, but he’s Palestinian. Is your hatred for America so great that you’ll let him die so Hezbollah can help out Iran?” Pink leaned forward on the table. “It’s really just a question of who you hate more. The enemy of my enemy and all that Arabic bullshit.”

They sat for thirty seconds without speaking, Pink content to let the silence blanket the room like a fog. Finally the Ghost said, “Let’s say I do lead you to this meeting. What’s in it for me?”

Pink said, “You’ll get to prevent the death of a countryman, and have my undying gratitude.”

The Ghost scoffed and Pink continued. “You know I can’t promise you release, but I will talk on your behalf. We’ve got everything we’re going to get out of you. Any information you have now is old and stale. Not worth our time. I’ll do what I can, maybe get you moved to some sort of house arrest where you get to see more than these four prison walls. That’s the best I can do. No way will they release you, because you’ll go right back to killing people. You and I both know the truth of that.”

Despite himself, the Ghost began considering the offer. He had no doubt that Pink was lying about something in the mission, but he hadn’t lied about what he could offer. He could have but didn’t. Reluctantly, the Ghost felt a grain of respect for the man across the table. He wouldn’t admit it, but Pink had spoken the truth about Hezbollah and Iran and had pushed the correct buttons much more adroitly than any of the interrogators before him. Pink wasn’t like the people who had questioned him this past year. He was someone more like himself than the Ghost cared to admit. Which meant he was someone to guard against.

All of that, however, was superseded by one thought: escape. His biggest issues were first getting out of prison, and second getting out of America. And this man was offering to do both for him.

As he was spinning these thoughts in his head Pink spoke again.

“I’m sure you’ve already considered the greatest benefit. You help me and you might get the chance to escape. There’s no way you can get out of this prison, and even if you could, you’ll last about thirty minutes on the street in America. I’m going to take you to a foreign country and give you a passport to get there.”

The Ghost felt his face flush and saw Pink smile. Before he could recover, Pink said, “Of course, it’ll be my job to prevent that, but hey, a man can hope.”

Despite himself, the Ghost smiled back. He’s inside your head right now. Nobody had done that in his entire existence. His slight build and unremarkable features had allowed him to earn the nickname the Ghost. Had caused him to be underestimated by every one of his enemies. His intelligence had allowed him to kill all of them. All but one.

The man across the table.

Yes, he’s someone to watch against.

But the challenge intrigued him. Worst case, he could thwart the murdering thugs of Hezbollah, something he would relish. Best case, he escaped. Then he thought of the man he was to replace.

“What of the person coming from Pakistan? If I’m to pretend I’m him, where will he be?”

Pink said, “I won’t lie to you. He’s going to be kept from the meeting. That has nothing to do with you. You come or don’t, he’s gone either way.”

The Ghost appreciated the honesty once again. “How will I pretend I’m him? They’ll know I’m not.”

“They have no idea who he is. They’ve never met him. You’ve played this game enough to pull it off. Last time we met, you were acting like a citizen of Saudi Arabia. Surely you can act like a Palestinian with a different name.”

“I know nothing of al-Qaeda.”

“Neither do they. You know enough about underground organizations to fake it. Look, I’m not saying it’s risk free. The only thing risk free is staying here in your cell. You want to do that for the rest of your life?”