*****
“Smith,” Jones growled into his desktop phone. He hated that damned thing when it rang while he was thinking.
“Nice talking to you, too, old buddy. Whatta they feed you geeks at Langley these days?” It was Allen.
“Stuff it you snake-eater. Where the hell are you, and how’s my Phoenix holding up?” Jones returned. Allen’s voice across the sat-phone, way out there in the middle of the action, really did nothing to improve his mood.
“Blooming, blooming,” Allen replied, catching the problem immediately and determined to make the most of if. “We’ve had the scenic drive of the world today, across half the effing desert into Arabia. Crossed into Saudi at a place called “Kaf”, like in a cow with a “K” instead of a “C”, about 1030 local this morning. Right now we’re camped about ten clicks south of the Tapline road and about a hundred fifty clicks north of Al-Ha’il. Looks like we’re gonna have quite a feast, too. Huge tents, light trucks, luxury mobile latrine, great scenery . . .Hey Jones, you ever been to a real live Saudi camp with someone filthy rich? You really gotta do this sometime!”
Jones chuckled knowing Allen was just needling him, but he had to admit it was working. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. Any worries about security there?”
“Nope, I don’t think so. The General’s got some guys that met us in the village a little way north of here, they have the equipment we need and they picked a good spot. A couple of them look like they’re pretty squared away, I can see a lookout on top of a dune about three hundred yards out that I’d have picked if I was setting up the perimeter. We’re pretty well tooled up, too, if we happen to need to be. Do you have anything new for us?”
“Nothing of immediate interest really. Oh, the French were the ones that nabbed your guy on the street last night in Amman. He seems to have sung directly, the French are telling us they’ve rounded up quite a few people around town, with the help of the Jordanians of course. They’re probably not telling us everything, but as these things go they’re being pretty free. On the AQ side, just about everyone’s phone we had on our list has gone dead quiet, so they know someone’s up to something. I’m not certain anyone’s tied our General and Colonel to the problems they’ve had in three major world capitals this week yet, but it won’t be long before they do. The guy the French took in Amman had a picture of the General on his phone, and he’d sent it onward, so sooner or later someone in AQ is gonna put it together. No photos of the Colonel, though, so that’s good for him.”
“Right. I like that guy. Kinda an amateur, but pretty squared away, you know? Hey, he just woke up, you wanna talk to him?”
“No, no need, just give him my regards. I also got an overhead of the General’s compound, or at least the area. I won’t know for sure if I’ve pegged the right place until I see your blue force tracker and can match it to these coordinates. Unless you or the general knows the coordinates off the top of your heads?”
“I asked him, but he didn’t know, so that’ll have to wait until we get there. You watching for anything special, Jones? I didn’t think we thought there was gonna be any trouble?”
“Nothing special, I just like to know what and where things are happening. No hunches either, not really, just situational awareness. It’s a big place if I’ve picked the right one, there’s several big ones there but this one’s the biggest. Gotta be half a mile deep inside the perimeter fence, eight or ten big houses along a central lane with what looks like a mosque in the middle at the end, opposite the front gate. The fence looks solid, probably concrete block, I guess eight feet high from the shadows. You should be secure there unless a big infantry unit takes an interest in our friends. Speaking of which, has either of them talked any more about how long they think you’ll stay?”
“Not much, but neither expects to be there more than a day or two, three at the most they said. Won’t take the first day to interview the nephew thoroughly I think, so we’ll probably just be doing the social thing after that. Once that’s done we’re on a plane from Jeddah connecting through Zurich, the Colonel back to Cincinnati and me to Langley. Ripley goes back to Paris direct from Jeddah. Any thoughts on that?”
“None,” said Jones. “That’ll wrap this thing up, although I expect the Boss will want to have Phoenix into Langley sometime soon to have a little chat about how things went. He’s pretty stoked about the take on all this. Look, I think I’m going to call it a day, hit the gym and get home for a nap, it’s been a long haul from Paris. Make sure you keep power on your GPS/Tracker so we know where you guys are, I’ll match you to the compound when I get in tomorrow—when you think you’ll be there by the way?”
“Colonel says late afternoon at best, it’s all dirt tracks from here for about a hundred of the hundred-thirty clicks to al Ha’il. We’ll be creeping along at ten or twenty clicks top speed for most of the day and be happy to be tucked into the compound before sundown he says. Anything else? Colonel’s signaling that the dinner bell is ringing.”
“No, that’s it. Keep in touch, don’t eat too much goat, Jones out.” He hung up. There actually was something bothering Jones, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. This was a nice, simple ending to an unusually lucky and active week he told himself, but it looked like it’d be a dull ending. That feeling was out there, though, nagging, just beyond conscious reach. He shook it off as useless worry and old age, and started to shut down. With luck he’d be home in bed by two and sleep right through to tomorrow morning.