infinitesimal at best.”
“Icarus penetrated the cell assigned to assassinate Chaim Rosenzweig,” Cody said. “Thanks to Icarus, the members of that team were … dissuaded from that action.”
“How dissuaded?”
“Five of the eight men assigned to the assassination are dead,” Cody said. “The other three escaped our sweeps. They have apparently taken Icarus with them.”
Remington nodded. He hadn’t heard about an assassination team being intercepted, but he wasn’t surprised that Rosenzweig was a target. The Israeli botanist whose synthetic fertilizer had turned his country into a veritable Eden almost overnight was reviled by most of the Arab nations, although Israel’s neighbors had made their peace with Israel. In the end they’d had no choice, but peace at the end of a gun barrel was still peace.
Rosenzweig had been given the Nobel prize in chemistry for his efforts, and he’d been handed a death sentence by terrorist organizations scattered around the Middle East, who now faced a concerted Israeli effort to put them out of business.
That shift in prosperity in the Middle East, especially since it also affected the global balance of trade and power, had triggered a Russian surprise attack that had caught Israel and the world off guard fourteen months ago. When he’d heard of the attack, Remington had figured Israel’s existence would be measured in minutes.
Instead, the Russian air force had suffered a massive systems failure. Their attacking force had self-destructed, its crumpled remains raining down from the sky in flaming chunks. Military experts and analysts agreed that the Russian air force had grown lax and that the fleetwide systems failures were caused by poorly maintained, obsolete equipment. Remington wanted to be sure that such a disaster never occurred to his forces on his watch.
“If this assassination attempt is off the books,” Remington asked, “why is your covert agent still with the PKK cell?”
Cody stared at the young man’s face on the computer screen. “We haven’t been successful in exfiltrating Icarus.”
“Maybe he didn’t want to be exfiltrated.”
“We don’t feel that’s the case.”
Don’t feel, Remington knew, wasn’t a definite answer. “How long has Icarus been under?”
“A year and a half. He penetrated the PKK almost seven months ago. We were about to pull the plug on the op at that point but he managed to get inside the cell.” Cody paused. “Captain, there is no question about this man’s loyalty. That’s why I’m here talking to you today. He’s a good man in a bad situation. He gave us the assassination team when they were ready to strike, and he endangered himself by doing so.”
“He could be dead already.”
Concern creased Cody’s face for just a moment then flickered out of existence. “I refuse to believe that.”
“You’ve asked for help,” Remington pointed out. “I’m risking the lives of my men. Sell me on what you believe.”
The CIA agent nodded at the computer terminals. “I can log your computers in to the link we’ve set up for your team.”
Remington excused Lewis from the chair and Cody sat. The CIA chief’s fingers clacked against the keyboard in rapid syncopation. The monitor screen scrolled and scrolled again.
“What am I looking at?” Remington asked.
“I’m downloading a satellite feed. We have a lock on the vehicle Icarus is being transported in.”
The screen image changed, revealing a ten-year-old Subaru Legacy. Battered and pale blue, the vehicle stood out in sharp relief against the yellow sand. A billowing amber dust cloud trailed behind the Subaru.
Remington watched the station wagon jerk and bounce across the rough terrain. The road was ancient, a whisper-thin memory that probably was constructed for carts and foot traffic, or military Jeeps.
“You’re sure he’s in there?” the Ranger captain asked.
Cody tapped more keys. The feed changed to a thermal image view. The
“Icarus penetrated the cell assigned to assassinate Chaim Rosenzweig,” Cody said. “Thanks to Icarus, the members of that team were … dissuaded from that action.”
“How dissuaded?”
“Five of the eight men assigned to the assassination are dead,” Cody said. “The other three escaped our sweeps. They have apparently taken Icarus with them.”
Remington nodded. He hadn’t heard about an assassination team being intercepted, but he wasn’t surprised that Rosenzweig was a target. The Israeli botanist whose synthetic fertilizer had turned his country into a veritable Eden almost overnight was reviled by most of the Arab nations, although Israel’s neighbors had made their peace with Israel. In the end they’d had no choice, but peace at the end of a gun barrel was still peace.
Rosenzweig had been given the Nobel prize in chemistry for his efforts, and he’d been handed a death sentence by terrorist organizations scattered around the Middle East, who now faced a concerted Israeli effort to put them out of business.
That shift in prosperity in the Middle East, especially since it also affected the global balance of trade and power, had triggered a Russian surprise attack that had caught Israel and the world off guard fourteen months ago. When he’d heard of the attack, Remington had figured Israel’s existence would be measured in minutes.
Instead, the Russian air force had suffered a massive systems failure. Their attacking force had self-destructed, its crumpled remains raining down from the sky in flaming chunks. Military experts and analysts agreed that the Russian air force had grown lax and that the fleetwide systems failures were caused by poorly maintained, obsolete equipment. Remington wanted to be sure that such a disaster never occurred to his forces on his watch.
“If this assassination attempt is off the books,” Remington asked, “why is your covert agent still with the PKK cell?”
Cody stared at the young man’s face on the computer screen. “We haven’t been successful in exfiltrating Icarus.”
“Maybe he didn’t want to be exfiltrated.”
“We don’t feel that’s the case.”
Don’t feel, Remington knew, wasn’t a definite answer. “How long has Icarus been under?”
“A year and a half. He penetrated the PKK almost seven months ago. We were about to pull the plug on the op at that point but he managed to get inside the cell.” Cody paused. “Captain, there is no question about this man’s loyalty. That’s why I’m here talking to you today. He’s a good man in a bad situation. He gave us the assassination team when they were ready to strike, and he endangered himself by doing so.”
“He could be dead already.”
Concern creased Cody’s face for just a moment then flickered out of existence. “I refuse to believe that.”
“You’ve asked for help,” Remington pointed out. “I’m risking the lives of my men. Sell me on what you believe.”
The CIA agent nodded at the computer terminals. “I can log your computers in to the link we’ve set up for your team.”
Remington excused Lewis from the chair and Cody sat. The CIA chief’s fingers clacked against the keyboard in rapid syncopation. The monitor screen scrolled and scrolled again.
“What am I looking at?” Remington asked.
“I’m downloading a satellite feed. We have a lock on the vehicle Icarus is being transported in.”
The screen image changed, revealing a ten-year-old Subaru Legacy. Battered and pale blue, the vehicle stood out in sharp relief against the yellow sand. A billowing amber dust cloud trailed behind the Subaru.
Remington watched the station wagon jerk and bounce across the rough terrain. The road was ancient, a whisper-thin memory that probably was constructed for carts and foot traffic, or military Jeeps.
“You’re sure he’s in there?” the Ranger captain asked.
Cody tapped more keys. The feed changed to a thermal image view. The
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