The Lion's Game

"Correct. Boris has told us how Khalil is getting out of the country, and we're certain we can apprehend him. I don't mean the CIA-we have no arrest powers. But the FBI or the local police, acting on information from the CIA, will apprehend him, then we step into the picture, and work out a deal."

Kate was staring at Ted. I knew what she was going to say, and she said it. "Are you crazy? Are you out of your fucking mind? That man murdered over three hundred people. And if you let him go, he'll murder more people, and not necessarily the people you want murdered." She added, "This man is very dangerous. He's evil. How can you possibly want him free? I can't believe this."

Ted didn't reply for a really long time, like he was wrestling with a moral issue, but a CIA guy wrestling with a moral issue is like professional wrestling; most of it is phony.

Anyway, there was a faint light on the eastern horizon and birds were singing their little hearts out, glad the night was coming to an end. I felt like joining them.

Finally, Ted said, "Believe me when I tell you we didn't know about Flight One-Seven-Five. Boris either didn't know, or couldn't get this information to us."

"Fire Boris," I suggested.

"Actually, he may be dead. We had an arrangement to get him out of Libya, but something may have gone wrong."

I said to Ted, "Remind me never to let you pack my parachute."

Ted ignored this, and went back to his binoculars. He said, "I hope they don't kill him. Khalil, I mean. If he can get out of this area, he'll head to a rendezvous point where he thinks he'll be met by compatriots who will get him out of the country. But that won't happen."

I didn't expect an answer, but I asked, "And where is that rendezvous?"

"I don't know. The information on this case is compartmentalized."

I asked him, "If you're not hunting for Khalil, why do you need that rifle and scope?"

He put down his binoculars and replied, "You never know what you're going to need and when you're going to need it." He asked Kate and me, "Are you wearing vests?"

This question coming from a colleague was perfectly normal, but I was a little shaky about Ted at that moment.

I didn't reply, and interestingly, neither did Kate. I mean, I didn't think old Ted was going to try to whack us, but the man was obviously under some stress, though he wasn't showing it. But if you thought about what he and his company were trying to pull off, you realized that a lot depended on the next few hours. This was, for them, an extremely risky, long-range plan to eliminate Moammar Gadhafi without leaving too many CIA fingerprints, and the plan had started to unravel a few hours before Trans -Continental Flight 175 even touched down. Also, the plan might actually be construed as illegal under current U.S. law. So, old Ted was stressed. But was he going to aim that rifle at Kate and me and blow us away if we added to his problems? You never know what people with guns and problems are going to do, especially if they think their agenda is more important than your life.

It was getting a little lighter by the minute, but the fog was still hanging around, which was fine because it played tricks with night scopes. I asked Ted, "Hey, how was Frankfurt and Paris?"

"Fine. Got a little business done." He added, "If you'd gone to Frankfurt as ordered, you wouldn't be in this position."

I didn't quite know what position I was in, but I know a veiled threat when I hear one. With that in mind, I didn't want to bring up any unpleasant subjects, but I had to ask, "Why did you let Asad Khalil kill those fighter pilots and those other people?"

He looked at me, and I could see he was prepared for the question, though not happy about it. He said, "The plan was simply to take him into custody at JFK, bring him to Federal Plaza, show him incontrovertible evidence, including taped testimony by defectors, of his mother's adultery, and who killed his father, then turn him back on his own people."

Kate said, "We understand that, Ted. What we don't understand is, after he got away, why did you let him complete his mission?"

Ted replied, "We really had no idea what his specific mission was."

"Excuse me," I said. "Bullshit. You knew he'd be here at the Reagan ranch, and you knew what he was going to do before he got here."

"Well, believe what you want. We were under the impression that he was being sent here to kill Ronald Reagan. We didn't know he had the names of the pilots on that flight. That's classified information. In any case, it didn't matter what his mission was because he was supposed to be taken into custody at Ke

"Ted, Mom may have told you that when you play with fire, you get burned."

Ted didn't want to be pushed into any gaping holes in his story, and if I left him alone, he'd dig a few more holes of his own.

Ted said to us, "Well, the plan went astray, but it's not off the tracks yet. It's important that we apprehend Khalil and tell him what we know about his mother and father, then let him loose in Libya. By the way, it was a family friend who killed Karim Khalil in Paris. A man named Habib Nadir, a fellow Army captain and friend of Captain Khalil. Nadir killed his friend on direct orders from Moammar Gadhafi."

This was a tough crowd in a tough neighborhood.

Ted, who was not stupid, said, "Of course, it's possible that Asad Khalil will get out of the country and back to Libya before we have an opportunity to speak to him. So, what I was wondering is if either of you thought to pass on what you knew about Gadhafi's treachery toward the Khalil family."

I replied, "Let me think… we talked about his grudges against America, about him wanting to kill me… what else…?"

"I understand from your colleagues at the Wiggins house that you mentioned these subjects briefly at the end of your conversation with Khalil."

"Right. That was after I called him a camel-fucker."

"No wonder he wants to kill you." Ted laughed, then asked me, "And did you expand on this in your subsequent conversation with Khalil?"

"You seem to know a lot about what goes on in the FBI."

"We're on the same team, John."

"I hope not."

"Oh, don't be holier-than-thou. The halo doesn't look good on you."

I let that one go and said to Kate, "Okay, ready?" I said to Ted, "Gotta go, Ted. See you at the Senate inguest."

"Just a moment. Please answer my question. Did you speak to Asad Khalil about Gadhafi's treachery?"

"What do you think?"

"I'll guess that you did. Partly because you seemed keen about that angle during our meetings in New York and Washington. Partly because you're very bright, and you know how to piss off people." He smiled.

I smiled, too. Ted was really an okay guy. Just a little devious. I said, "Yeah, I got him all worked up about that. You should have heard that conversation when I told him his mother was a whore, and his father was a cuckold. Not to mention Gadhafi having Pop whacked. Jeez, he was pissed. He said he was going to cut my tongue out and slit my throat. I mean, I didn't fuck his mother or kill his father. Why was he so pissed off at me?"

Ted seemed to be enjoying my levity, and he was also very happy to learn that I had done his job for him.

Ted asked me, "And it was your impression that he believed you?"

"How the hell do I know? He wanted to kill me. He didn't say anything about Uncle Moammar."

Ted pondered a moment, then said, "For the Arabs, this is a matter of personal honor. Family honor, which they call ird. Almost any family dishonor has to be redeemed in blood."

"That probably works better than Family Court."

Ted looked at me and said, "I think Khalil will kill Gadhafi, and if he learns the truth about Habib Nadir, he will kill him also, and maybe others in Libya. Then our plan, which you seem to find so distasteful, will be vindicated."