Khalil didn’t feel the same way. He said, “Cyrus provided the luggage. My organization provided the van. You wouldn’t make it out of the Triple Frontier without our help. Remember that.”
Omar said, “True, true, and we appreciate it, now load up.” The Ghost did, filing away the competition between the two organizations.
They’d driven through dawn until late afternoon, stopping twice for fuel, arriving at a hotel called the Alvear Palace in Buenos Aires just as the sun was beginning to retreat. Omar had pulled into the circular drive in the front, and the Ghost had been slightly alarmed at the opulence. He saw a doorman dressed in uniform, the polished brass of the large wooden doors, and a marble foyer spilling out beyond the glass. He said, “We’re staying here? We couldn’t find something more discreet?”
Ramzi had laughed and said, “You’re with the Pasdaran now. Your days of flophouses are over.”
Omar parked and exited the driver’s seat, telling the bellman they needed no help. He walked to the rear of the van and the Ghost had followed. Omar could see he still had questions and said, “It’s part of the cover. This is where a lot of the news organizations will be saying, if not the actual delegates. If someone questions you, it wouldn’t do to say you’ve traveled from Lebanon to stay in a youth hostel.”
The Ghost watched the rest of the team sorting the luggage and asked, “How will we pay?”
“Cyrus and I were down here setting up the infrastructure while you were still trying to get out of Mexico. Don’t worry. It’s paid for. Fatima and Yassir will check in. We’ll sleep three to a room.”
He turned to Fatima and said, “Just tell them your company has already covered the charges.”
She nodded, found her bag and led them inside. Ramzi had stopped the “news crew” personnel at a cubby with couches, as Fatima and Yassir then continued past displays showing diamond-encrusted watches for sale. They reached the small front desk, a prissy-looking clerk with a pinched face waiting for them.
The Ghost realized Ramzi was correct about the check-in procedures. While the clerk was curt, he felt his anxiety begin to subside when the reservations were found. The clerk handed back Fatima’s passport and a room key, then began checking in Yassir.
The Ghost turned to Ramzi and said, “What is the credit card used for this reservation tied to?”
“You mean can it be threaded back to Iran?”
“Yes.”
“It’s good. It won’t help solidify our cover as a news crew—it’s not a bank in Lebanon—but it’s murky, trust me. The first step is a bank here, in Argentina, which then goes offshore. No one will be able to unravel it to lead back to the Pasdaran.”
The Ghost wasn’t convinced, but let it go. He’d always acted as a singletonin the past, dictating everything about his missions, but was learning he would need to trust the team to accomplish this one.
He looked at his watch and said, “We only have a few hours before we meet the boat for the transfer of the equipment, and we still need to get the rental car.”
“You and I can get the equipment. Ramzi and Yassir can get the vehicle. They can fetch it while I show you the infiltration plan.”
Once again, the Ghost didn’t like leaving the preparation to others, but he couldn’t be in two places at once, and he needed to study the plan for the smuggling of his targeting equipment. As hard as it was, he’d have to learn to delegate.
“Okay, but make sure they get one that runs on CNG.”
Omar said, “They’ll get whatever is easiest.”
The Ghost said, “No. They’ll use the rental agency I already told you about. It’s the only one I could find that has cars that run on CNG, and that’s what they’ll rent.”
Omar scrunched his brow and said, “I understand we need another vehicle besides the single van, but why the requirement that it operate on natural gas?”
“The transfer tonight will include Semtex, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Well, the Pasdaran may think this plan is perfect, but I do not. The Zionists will be looking for an attack, and I intend to give them something to find.”
Chapter 40
The room was decidedly glum as we all waited on the Oversight Council meeting to begin. We’d set up the laptop on the kitchen table of Shoshana’s little three-room safe house, and were simply staring at the screen, nobody speaking. Like before, the camera was focused on the giant VTC monitor on the wall of the Taskforce SCIF, a small section of a table visible with George Wolffe seated, studying his notes. The monitor itself showed the Oversight Council conference room, the chairs empty. Occasionally, some staffer would pass by, but the only human of any consequence on our feed right now was George Wolffe.
He was seated on the left side of the Taskforce table, and I did not envy what he was being forced to report, mainly because it was my fault. I only hoped my mistake didn’t force the Oversight Council to ignore the lead we had.
It would be somewhat of an understatement to say I was surprised when Knuckles had arrived at the linkup point with a dead man over his shoulder—and one who wasn’t the Ghost at that. He’d given me a CliffsNotes version of what had transpired, and I’d immediately started contingency planning, as we were still in the middle of a mission.
I’d released Jennifer and Shoshana from the linkup point, getting them clear of any chance of being remembered, then had directed Brett to gather a complete biometric profile of the body, to include fingerprints and photographs, while I decided our next move.
