The Caliphate, André Gallo [best books to read ever .TXT] 📗

     “They were right,” he said.

     The plaque was from the 51st Fighter Wing at Osan Air Force Base in South Korea, where Steve had worked on Counter Proliferation for two years.

     “I really didn’t think you could do it,” Van Diemen said. “Breaking into a new market already dominated by French companies seemed like a long shot. But you certainly did it. If you can do it there, maybe you can do it in other countries as well. Don’t unpack.”

   Steve knew he was highly thought of by his company. However, now that he was back at work, he was away from the action. He had mulled his options over several times. Joining the CIA fulltime was one. Yet he was extremely reluctant of having to depend on people like Mel. And, there were too many rules. Maybe a large organization had to dumb-down its regulations to protect itself from the lowest denominator. He hadn’t yet decided how to keep to his goal to resist the Salafists, al Khalil especially. But he had not dismissed it.

     Later, Steve’s phone rang. It was “Mel from the office,” as she identified herself. That Mel, who didn’t think he was a “real” case officer, should call meant there was a serious problem.

     “We were wondering if you could come today,” she said. “This afternoon would be all right.”

     He looked at his watch. It was already early afternoon and he had a load of things to do.

     “I could come in the morning.”

     Not wanting to go through the hassle of the security checks and badging, he asked, “How about if you came out to Salona Village? We could have coffee.”

     They met at the Seven Seas Restaurant, owned by a retired CIA officer and a favorite of Agency employees because it was only five minutes away from headquarters along Dolley Madison Boulevard. When his father was in Northern Virginia on consultation, the restaurant was a favorite venue for his ROMEOs: Retired Old Men Eating Out.

     When Steve went in, he immediately spotted Mel, this time in a different tent-dress but, as usual, one of many colors.

     Great disguise for a spy, he thought.

     Sitting with her was a young man in a dark suit: Josh, a trainee. Mel had told Steve on the phone that he would be with her. He slid onto the red-leatherette-covered bench of the booth across from the two of them, a large poster of tennis pro Pete Sampras.

     After the introductions, Mel said, “Thérèse LaFont asked me to talk to you about taking a trip back to Mali, to see CALIPH/4.”

     Mel and Josh each had already had a cup of coffee and were scanning menus. A waitress poured Steve a cup as soon as he sat down.

     “I don’t need the menu, thanks,” he said. “Go ahead and order if you want. Coffee is all I’ll have.” He looked at his watch.

     It had been three months since Steve had last seen Karim. “How is he?” he asked.

     “We had a turnover in Bamako. Rod was reassigned. The new chief of station contacted CALIPH/4 and ran him for two months. First, he said the agent really had not been properly recruited, that he was not fully responsive when he first met him.”

     Mel’s look challenged Steve to rebut her statement. Josh stirred his coffee.

     “Not responsive? He stole al Khalil’s phone for us! How much more responsive can he be?”

     His voice was a bit louder than necessary. He looked around but no one seemed to have noticed.

     “Well, Therese thinks you should go over there and try to revive the operation.”

     “How is the satellite phone I gave to al Khalil working out?” he asked. “I hope you’re getting some good info.”

     “I can’t talk about that,” Mel said.

     “Why not?”

     “Well, you’re not cleared, not anymore.”

     Steve became irritated at Mel’s narrow view of life and her mindless rigidity. He saw no sense in prolonging the discussion.

    “I’ll have to talk to my boss. I’ll let you know. I have to go back to my office.”

    They walked out together, Steve giving Mel a wide berth.

     “I’ll see you back at the office Josh,” she said. “I have to run an errand.”

     She was parked on the left while Steve and Josh walked to the right toward their cars. They reached Josh’s car, an Audi convertible.

     “How long have you been with the Agency?” Steve asked.

    “Three months, sir. I was in classes until last week. This is my first interim assignment. Then I’ll have three more months of classes and another interim with another directorate. Then more training.”

     “How do like it so far?”

     He felt sorry that Josh’s first job was under the worst manager in the Agency. Josh smiled.

     “Not exactly what I expected. But I read the CALIPHATE file. That’s how I thought it would be. What you did in Gao was amazing, just like a movie.”

     Josh took his jacket off and swung it over his shoulder.

     “What’s your take on CALIPH/4 and this new case officer, then?”

     “I haven’t met the new Bamako chief—his name is Gregory. But I heard about him, a short man with a tall ego and ambition to match, I gather. He and CALIPH/4 didn’t get along. I shouldn’t be judging, but it seemed to me he laid some over-the-top requirements on him. When CALIPH/4 couldn’t produce, Gregory terminated him.”

     “What about the money we owed him? We were putting his money aside each month.

     “I don’t know about that.”

    “Good luck to you,” Steve said abruptly. “Don’t let Mel get you down.”

     “Thanks sir. I’ll be on this end