The Enemy Within

Thorn looked up from the investigative reports Flynn had faxed over from the terrorist safe house, slowly realising that he had been staring at them for minutes without really seeing them. His brain still seemed to be functioning at half-speed. Despite his determination to throw himself into his work, he was finding it difficult to focus on anything beyond Helen Gray. So far his hourly phone calls to Walter Reed had yielded little more than the news that she was still in critical condition and still in intensive care.

He made an effort to gather his scattered thoughts. “See what?”

“The NSA found the encryption program they were looking for on that computer Helen captured. They’re downloading the complete set of decoded E-mail from our terrorist friends into our database now.” Rossini looked almost ill. “It contains a damned ugly surprise.”

Thorn was on his feet instantly, following the older man next door into his cramped office.. “Show me.”

Rossini handed him a printout without comment. A time/date stamp at the top showed that it had been transmitted from London on October 12.

Special Operations Order MAGI Prime via MACI Link to LION Prime:

1. Activate Phase 11 of SCIMITAR.

2. Your field operations will commence on 5 November. Target selection BRAVO TWO is approved.

3. Go with God.

Message Authentication: TALEH, MAGI Prime, VXE115

Thorn stared down at the printout in his hands in shock. Taleh? Amir Taleh had organised this terror campaign? The terrorists posing as American extremists were Taleh’s creatures? His friend was the man responsible for these atrocities against innocent civilians? The man ultimately responsible for Helen’s terrible injuries? The man whose actions might cost him the one person who meant more to him than anyone else in the world?

It was insane utterly unbelievable. How could the man who had been like a brother to him all those years ago be capable of such evil? How could Taleh have changed so much?

Thorn’s face darkened. Maybe Taleh had not changed after all. Perhaps the evil had always been inside him a core of malice hidden behind a mask of honor and friendship.

He crushed the sheet in his hands without thinking, caught up in cascading images of the past months. The Iranian had conducted a brilliant and cunning masquerade to conceal his true intentions. Taleh’s attacks on the HizbAllah, his push for renewed U.S.-lranian diplomatic relations, and even his offer to help track down the missing Bosnian terrorists all had been nothing more than a gigantic deception, a blindfold pulled over American eyes while he readied his organised butchery.

Thorn tossed the crumpled printout aside in sudden, blind fury. Clearly, he had been one of the Iranian’s favorite dupes a trusting conduit of disinformation to the highest reaches of America’s counterterrorist forces. His hands curled into fists. The bastard had used him. Taleh had asked him to come to Iran to renew their friendship and to seek new ties with America all the while plotting to use his old friend’s trust as a shield for this murderous campaign.

Brought face-to-face with the magnitude of the Iranian’s treachery, Thorn’s whole view of the world wavered. He was accustomed to making fast, accurate judgments about people and then trusting those judgments with his life. Taleh’s betrayal struck at the heart of his confidence, weakening his own faith in himself.

His breathing slowed as reason returned. The anger remained, but it was now an icy, calculating enmity.

Amir Taleh was obviously a man of hidden malice, but he was not a fool. The Iranian must have realized that the United States would eventually discover his nation’s responsibility for this terrorist offensive. No sane man could hope to keep so large an operation secret forever. He had to know the kind of awful vengeance that would descend on Iran’s head once his duplicity became clear.

Peter Thorn stood motionless in Rossini’s office, staring at nothing while his mind grappled with questions that seemed to have no rational answer. Why would Taleh involve himself and his country in this slaughter? What could he possibly gain that would make the inevitable price worth paying?

DECEMBER 6

It was well past midnight.