Free First Strike by Ben Coes Page A

stop, but the brutality will instill fear forever.”
    Nazir nodded, then, ever so slowly, smiled. “Very good,” he said.
    Nazir removed his feet from the desk, swung them around, and stood.
    Al-Jaheishi looked right, past Nazir, to a filing cabinet. A screwdriver jutted from the top drawer, wedged in, as if someone had been trying to pry it open.
    Al-Jaheishi’s eyes moved from the screwdriver back to Nazir.
    â€œThe combination is your birthday, Tristan,” said al-Jaheishi. “All you had to do was ask.”
    â€œWhere are they?” asked Nazir.
    â€œWhere are what?”
    â€œThe records.”
    â€œWhat records?”
    â€œYou know damn well what records. Everything to do with the arms shipments from the Americans.”
    Al-Jaheishi looked into Nazir’s angry eyes. He felt his own eyes drawn like metal to a magnet, wanting to look at his briefcase. But he held Nazir’s stare.
    â€œThey’re in there,” said al-Jaheishi.
    Al-Jaheishi’s mind, in less than two seconds, ratcheted through the dilemma he now faced.
    He stepped in front of Nazir. He went to the second drawer from the top and started to turn the lock, even though he knew the records—all 158 pages of them—were inside his briefcase. But if he admitted to taking them from the office, Nazir would want to know why. And when al-Jaheishi attempted to make something up, Nazir would see through it. He would be tortured for the truth, and dead within the hour.
    The problem was, if the records weren’t in the filing cabinet, a similar fate would likely befall him. But perhaps he could create an excuse. As he dialed the combination, there was a calm look on his face, yet inside he was so scared he felt faint. He unlocked the drawer and, just as he started to pull it out, heard the monotone beeping of Nazir’s cell.
    Al-Jaheishi reached into the drawer as he listened.
    â€œYes,” said Nazir, just a foot behind him. “What?”
    Al-Jaheishi grabbed a sheaf of files that had nothing to do with the arms shipments, pulling them out and turning …
    Nazir was already at the door. He had the phone to his ear. He turned, covering the phone with one hand.
    â€œBring them to my office,” Nazir said as al-Jaheishi motioned toward him with the stack of files.
    Al-Jaheishi nodded and watched as Nazir walked quickly down the hall. He waited an extra moment, then another, and then one more. He opened the locks on his briefcase and popped it open, frantically switching the files inside with those in his hand. He shut the briefcase and bounded for the doorway.

 
    12
    RAMAT DAVID AIRBASE
    ISRAELI AIR FORCE
    JEZREEL VALLEY, ISRAEL
    Dewey was the only passenger aboard the CIA Gulfstream 150, part of the Agency’s fleet of aircraft scattered around the world, a quasi airline referred to internally as Air America.
    The cabin was dimly lit as the jet cut across the last miles of the nine-hour trip. Both sides of the cabin were filled with luxurious cream-colored leather captain’s chairs. Near the front, two large, deep built-in sofas stretched beneath the windows. Some of the Agency’s planes were stripped down and lacked creature comforts, but a few, like this one, were posh, used primarily when the Agency was escorting members of Congress into a hot zone.
    It was the kind of supremely comfortable plane where a passenger could easily fall asleep for the entire flight. But Dewey hadn’t slept at all. Now, nine hours in and less than one to go before landing in northern Israel, he realized he’d made a mistake by not trying to grab a nod or two.
    He read, for the third time, the brief Political Activities Division report on ISIS and its leader, Tristan Nazir.
    TOP SECRET TOP SECRET TOP SECRET TOP SECRET
    FLASH PROFILE: TERROR ALERT
    CONTEXT: TERRORIST ENTITY 445 ISIS
    TAG(S): Nazir, Tristan; Garotin; Muslim Brotherhood; ISIS; Beheadings
    LAST UPDATE: JULY 8
    BG RR4:
    ISIS