Full Black - Brad Thor [42]
All of the weapons and radios had been checked before the team had left their temporary apartment in Uppsala. In a sports bag in the cab of the truck was a suppressed MP7 for Harvath along with a radio and a black plate carrier vest emblazoned with the word Säkerhetspolisen across the front and back.
Schiller also handed him a blue baseball cap, since he’d already walked right past the safe house once. To sit outside in the truck, Harvath needed to do everything he could to make sure that he wasn’t recognized. The man had raised a good point. That also meant that until they were ready to launch their operation, Harvath couldn’t go anywhere near the safe house again. Someone else was going to have to look to see if Chase had raised his signal. In fact, they were probably going to have to take turns. Once again, Harvath wished that Riley was with them.
Each of the assaulters had brought a change of clothes, so Harvath put together a surveillance roster—who would go, when he would go, and what his ruse would be while passing the safe house so that none of them would draw undue attention.
They had an additional vehicle parked a block away from the truck, and Harvath decided they would use it as well, but sparingly. If any of the members of the cell saw the same vehicle go by twice, especially one that wasn’t a regular in the neighborhood, they might get spooked and do something stupid.
With all the rotations decided upon, all they could do was wait. The ball was now in Chase’s court.
CHAPTER 20
Chase had zeroed in on the cell leader the moment he’d been shown into the apartment. Mustafa Karami was a slight man who looked much older than the other members. He sported a patchy beard, a slim nose, and a pair of deeply set, dark eyes.
He radiated a controlled, simmering anger that seemed ready to erupt at any moment. He was different from most of the jihadists Chase had come across. Not unique, just different. Most of them were not very bright, and they lacked self-control. That wasn’t Karami, though. He was the picture of self-control. He was also very intelligent. Chase could tell that just from one look at his face. That’s what made him different.
As the man embraced and kissed him on both cheeks, Chase sensed something else. This was a man who would slash your throat at a moment’s notice if he felt it necessary. He would feel no remorse about it either. He’d probably sit there and drink his chai as he watched you bleed out on the floor. Between Karami and Sabah, his number two, Chase had a lot to be concerned about.
The other cell members in the apartment were like the two men who had picked him up at the soccer field and had taken him to the garage. They were either muscle or simply jihadist cannon fodder. None of them were exceptionally intelligent nor were they particularly talented. He doubted they’d be of any intelligence value whatsoever.
After welcoming him, Karami sat Chase down and asked the huge man named Sabah to fetch tea. He made small talk as was customary and when Sabah returned with a tray, he poured the tea and offered Chase a snack. There were bowls of dates, figs, and nuts. Chase thanked him and helped himself.
“Your uncle was a wonderful soldier of Allah. He is in Paradise now.”
“Masha’Allah,” Chase replied. God has willed it.
“It was your uncle’s desire that if anything happened to him, we take care of you.”
Chase shrugged and took a sip of his tea. It was important that he maintain his aloof, disinterested hacker attitude.
“When was the last time you saw him?”
Karami was testing him as Sabah had. The last time Chase had seen Aazim Aleem was when pieces of him had been blown all over a Yemeni sidewalk, but he couldn’t exactly share that. He also couldn’t exactly share how he and Aazim had first met.
Chase had spent three years infiltrating Aazim