Lady Death

Fisher, she’d risen through the ranks after years in the field. A rumor around the office said she’d lost two toes after being injured in Iraq. Nobody had the guts to ask her to take off her shoes.
“This is too easy.”
Layla turned to Wilson. “Did we run this through facial recognition?”
“The Francesca Sloan name Jafari gave us checks out,” Wilson said. “British subject. Wealthy family. Met a Pakistani man in Berlin while visiting on a tourist visa. Took off with him to the Middle East.”
“Did we analyze the background?”
“We did,” Wilson said. “The green hills behind her and the partial lake over her shoulder are in the Sind Province of Pakistan. It matches information we have on an IU training camp in the region.”
“Date on the photo?”
“It’s almost twenty-four hours old.”
“Late husband’s name?”
“Tamal Alvi,” Wilson said. “One of our paramilitary teams took him out two years ago. She took over command six months later.”
Tamal Alvi, the founding commander of the Islamic Union, made the Most Wanted list of western intelligence after an attack in London’s underground, killing 150 commuters, and a bombing at a mall in Nairobi, which left over 200 dead.
Wilson added, “Everything checks out, Chris. Jafari is on the level.”
“I wish we had a little more,” Fisher said.
“She’ll give us more,” Wilson said. “This is only to prove she has something to show us. She’s not a low-level gofer. If this is a hint of what she has, we can stop guessing about the IU and put facts on paper.”
“If nothing else,” Layla said, “we have a picture for the file. We can add her to the terror deck.”
The “terror deck” playing cards became a novelty for coalition forces during the 2003 invasion of Iraq. The cards allowed troops to identify wanted members of the Hussein regime. The cards continued, updated frequently with new “most wanted” targets as old ones were captured or killed.
“Where are Jafari and Raven now?” Fisher said.
“They’ll leave at eight a.m. their time,” Wilson said. “They’ll land here about two a.m.”
“You’ll be there to meet them?”
Wilson let out a breath. “Yeah.”
Fisher continued to examine the picture. He shrugged. “Okay. I guess we’ll know more in a few hours.”
“Chris,” Wilson said, earning a look from the DDO. “What are you thinking?”
“I think this might be a penetration attempt.”
“They’re giving up a lot if it is. I’m with Layla. It doesn’t make sense for them to sacrifice this much to try and get somebody on the inside.”
“And once she’s at Blue Ridge,” Layla said, “what can she do?”
“Too much,” Fisher said. “We have six other prisoners there. She can catalog every face. She can note our security. If they find a weak spot, they can stage a rescue attempt.”
“You’re reaching so far you’re going to pull a muscle, Chris,” Layla said. “Better see your doctor.”
Wilson said, “We only have one other IU prisoner, and they know he’s in our custody already.”
“Right,” Fisher said.
“The murder attempt Raven described,” Layla said, “and the killer she named, prove they’re not sending cannon fodder to bring her back.”
“Jafari would be dead,” Wilson said, “if Raven hadn’t been there.”
“I’m aware, thank you,” Fisher said, “of Sam Raven’s abilities.”
“You’re outvoted two-to-one,” Layla said. “I say we go forward with the debrief and see what else she can tell us. She’ll for sure tell us more than what’s-his-name.”
“Omar Talman,” Wilson said.
Capturing Talman, a junior commander in the Islamic Union, had been a recent CIA success story. To learn more about the Islamic Union and its activities, including the identity of the White Widow, the Agency had placed a high priority on capturing any member of the command staff. Talman was the obvious target. He moved throughout Europe coordinating with field units.
The CIA team tasked with bringing in Talman had caught the man in Madrid, along with a two-man IU cell. The cell members had been killed in the fight while trying to cover Talman’s escape. Their effort failed. Talman was brought, in chains, to the Blue Ridge facility and currently sat in a small cell with only a toilet for company.
“Not even advanced interrogation has cracked Talman,” Layla pointed out. “If Jafari is volunteering, she’ll be a wealth of information. We’ve never determined how the Islamic Union gets its funding. Maybe Tanya can tell us, and we can close them down top to bottom.”
“It’s a nice idea,” Fisher said.
“If you don’t like this,” Wilson said, “let’s keep the picture and throw Jafari to the wolves.”
Fisher shook his head. “Stay the course for now,” he said. He picked up a remote control from the table and aimed at the TV. He pressed a button. The screen blinked out.
“What if,” Wilson offered, “Raven can get more out of her?”
“Go home and get some rest, but I want you back here as soon as they’re in the air,” Fisher said. “Call Raven on the plane.” He and Layla stood up. “Ask him to start the debrief. Maybe then my gut will tell a different story.”
“Okay,” Wilson said.
The glamorous life of a spy.
Wilson shook his head. At least he didn’t have a boring job. He hoped extra coffee kept him going when the time came to meet Raven. He wasn’t getting any younger, and his body didn’t like late nights or early mornings any longer.
The CIA was on the verge of taking a major terrorist leader off the board, and he wanted to see the operation to completion. As he followed his superiors out of the room, a surge of excitement pumped up his attitude.
Rest? Who could rest at a time like this?

7
The sleek Cessna Citation Latitude soared over the Atlantic.
The insulated cabin blocked out most of the engine noise. The low drone of the jets existed only in the background. Tanya Jafari found herself tuning out the noise as she and Raven played gin.
With leather seats on either side of the cabin, and a high ceiling, the cabin was narrow. The high ceiling allowed Raven to walk without hunching, which he appreciated. Tanya, shorter than