Pandora's grave

Lay sighed, glancing out the window at the D.C. skyline. “What if this is the real attack? What if the plot against the Temple Mount was a red herring, misdirection?”

“It’s not,” Kranemeyer replied with a shake of the head. “There’s something real about what we were told, despite the source.”

He glanced at his watch. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, the video uplink should be ready.”

Leaving the DCIA, Bernard Kranemeyer made his way down to the op-center, swiping his keycard at the door.

“Everything ready?”

A bedraggled Carter nodded without a word and led the DCS to a nearby workstation. “Here we go.”

The analyst leaned over Kranemeyer’s shoulder, tapping a command into the keyboard. A moment later, the satellite uplink synchronized. The video quality wasn’t much above what a webcam would provide, but it was workable.

“Salaam alaikum, Hossein effendi.”

9:21 A.M. Local Time

The Haram al-Sharif

Jerusalem

Watching the screen above his head, Hossein smiled as the American director’s words came through the speaker. “Alaikum salaam. I am informed that you have a deal for me.”

“That is correct.”

“And the terms? I provide you with information for my freedom?”

On-screen, the American shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s not going to be quite that simple. To let a man of your reputation go free… We need more.”

Harry watched Hossein’s face, trying to read him. “Yes?” the Iranian asked finally.

“Simply put,” Kranemeyer continued, “we need you to come work for us. A man of your background and reputation could be very useful in certain parts of the world.”

Real alarm entered Hossein’s eyes. “You are mad if you want me to go back to Tehran. I am of no use to you dead.”

“Rest assured-we are not fools,” the DCS replied tersely.

“Then where?”

“Where has not been decided, but Somalia is on the short list.”

“Out of the frying pan, into the fire, as you Americans say. My answer is ‘no’.” A shrewd look crossed the major’s face and he glanced from Harry to the screen. “I’m not interested in being a pawn the rest of my life. I want political asylum, a new identity, and money. The deal you must have offered Asefi.”

The request had to have caught Kranemeyer by surprise, but Harry could see no signs of it on his face. No question about it, the DCS could play poker.

“And what do you have to offer that would justify such a bargain?”

Hossein smiled. “BEHDIN. The pure and faithful one. It is the codename of an Iranian sleeper agent who has penetrated your vaunted Clandestine Service.”

In that moment, Harry was glad he had sent Davood out of the room. “This man has been activated by Tehran and is currently deployed as a member of one of your strike teams,” Hossein continued. “Give me what I have requested and I will identify him for you, before he can wreak further havoc.”

Kranemeyer’s poker face cracked into a hard smile. “I’m sorry if that was your best card, major, but it’s not good enough. We were already aware of the sleeper agent. He’s on the team with you as we speak.”

A glance at the Iranian’s expression showed that the shot had struck home, confirming the FBI’s suspicions of Davood. He shrugged. “Somalia it is then.”

“I believe we have a deal,” the DCS replied, grinning like a man who had just drawn to an inside straight.

At that moment, Harry’s headset crackled with static. “FULLBACK to EAGLE SIX, we have a visual on the subject. He’s heading toward the Gate of the Chain. Advise takedown.”

Harry didn’t hesitate. “Take him, but do it quietly.”

When he turned back, the screen above them was black. Kranemeyer was gone. Harry placed a hand on the major’s shoulder and spoke, his voice cold and hard. “Time to start earning your pay.”

9:26 A.M.

Mossad Headquarters

Tel Aviv-Yafo, Israel

“What is it, Mordecai?” General Shoham asked, entering Mossad’s analysis department. “Did you find something on the bombings?”

The analyst nodded, gesturing toward his screen. “I did, and it’s not good. We have a claim of responsibility.”

“Who wants the credit now?”

A website was loaded on the Mossad screens, displaying multiple webpages in separate windows. “The Lions of Jehovah,” Mordecai responded, indicating their logo with his cursor.

“Refresh my memory. That name is familiar. Why?” Shoham asked, leaning closer to the screen.

“Because it should be. They’re a hard-right Zionist group founded during the Second Intifada. Fiercely opposed to any concept of a two-state solution, they draw most of their support from the neo-evangelical community in the U.S.”

“Any history of direct action?”

“The closest they’ve ever come was when they blew up five of the bulldozers Sharon ordered in on the Gaza settlements. No casualties, just equipment damage, but their founder, Rabbi Benjamin Arel, went to prison. He got out-two months ago.”