Lethal Trajectories - Michael Conley [125]
Winthrop Taylor had stood many watches before but could not recall a time when the scope, volume, and velocity of incoming intelligence information had been as intense. While the intelligence puzzle was far from complete, the picture it was starting to paint was dire.
46
Geneva, Switzerland
11 October 2017
On an overcast, drizzly Geneva morning, the unmarked plane inched its way into a hangar, then shut down its engines as the giant doors were hastily closed.
Through his window, Jack McCarty glimpsed three identical limousines, each with smoked glass windows, waiting inside the hangar. He didn’t know why there were three cars, but thus far this had been strictly a CIA-directed operation, and he deferred to the pair of husky CIA bodyguards assigned to him.
His four-member delegation was whisked into one limo that, he learned, would take them to their hotel. The second car was an empty decoy that would depart in the opposite direction. He boarded the third car along with his two bodyguards and CIA driver. All three cars left at the same time. Anyone who had somehow managed to learn about the flight and its destination would have to gamble on which car to follow.
Jack’s car took a zigzag route through the city, with the driver apparently taking directions from someone by cell phone. After about twenty minutes on what seemed like a random route, they pulled into a small residential area and parked. After carefully surveying the area, Jack’s bodyguards showed him into another black-windowed car, this one driven by an Arab with a bodyguard of his own in the front passenger seat. They departed again, and the new car made a number of speedy turns that sent Jack bouncing between his two guards before they arrived at an underground parking facility.
They followed the driver and bodyguard through elegantly decorated hallways to a third-floor office suite. Jack’s two bodyguards reluctantly agreed to wait outside the door after giving their charge a handheld beeper to sound in the event of an emergency. The Arab bodyguard opened the door for Jack and then joined Jack’s bodyguards in the waiting room outside. Jack stepped into a large and richly furnished office, where a tall, handsome Arab gentleman rose from a small couch and inclined his head in greeting.
“Good morning, Mr. McCarty. I am Prince Khalid ibn Saud, and I am pleased to meet you. Thank you so much for coming.”
Uncertain of the proper decorum, Jack made an awkward half bow. “Good morning, Prince Khalid. I have heard many good things about you. I, too, have looked forward to our meeting.”
Prince Khalid motioned Jack to a comfortable-looking chair directly across from his couch; the low table between them held an elegant coffee service and what looked like a selection of fruit and pastries. The prince said, graciously, “Please, help yourself to coffee or any other refreshments. I have spent a great deal of time in the United States, and I know how much you Americans like your morning coffee. You must be tired after your long flight.”
“I thank you for your hospitality, Prince Khalid. It was a good flight, but overnight travel is indeed tiring.”
“As you probably know, Mr. McCarty, I am a wanted man. As such, I don’t like to remain in the same place for any length of time. Please forgive me for foregoing the pleasantries, but I would like to get down to business so that we can both return to safer quarters as quickly as possible.”
“I understand, Prince Khalid, and I agree with your concerns. I would also like to compliment you on your forthright interview on Al Jazeera the other day. I can only imagine the backlash it must have stirred up in certain quarters.”
“You are absolutely right. There are people who want me out of the way, and I have been told there is a one-hundred-million-dollar reward for my head. I didn’t know I was worth that much.”
Jack grinned and nodded.
“We both have something in common, and that is our fervent desire