Page 104 of Red Line

“Work in progress. Our intelligence suggests that Elena’s bank needs Elena to present herself in person to access that account or that she needs to perform the commands from the phone that has been previously identified as hers.”

“So we can’t spoof that through our access?” Red asked.

“No.”

Red frowned in thought. “But you saw it drop? The money is there?”

“We see that it’s pending,” Grey assured her.

“What you’re telling me is that you need that phone.”

“Exactly.”

“But I can’t go get it now where that task is easy here in this camp because you also want pictures of the person who wants to pick her up.”

“Yes.”

“We don’t know how many people will meet her,” Nomad pointed out.

“Correct,” Grey said.

“We don’t have weapons,” Red reminded him.

“Also correct.”

Red pursed her lips. “And yet, our mission is to get the phone.”

“After you take the pictures.”

Red tried to stuff her frustration. “Okay, let me ask it a different way. Which is your priority?”

“The photos,” Grey said. “So if you get out there, it’s a guy on a camel, take his picture, take the phone. If you get out there and it’s a tactical team arriving on a helicopter brandishing AKs, take their pictures and let the phone go. If you can get the phone and not get shot, do that. I’d tell you to get the phone and plant GPS tracker to get the photos, but—”

“But there’s Gustav involved and possibly others on this tour that we haven’t identified, and we don’t want them to wave the Algerians off,” Red concluded. “Why would you risk letting the phone get away? For a few possible photos? The phone represents forty million dollars.”

“From here, we can reset the phone to factory specs like you would if you were selling the phone to someone new, “Grey said. “The money would be in the bank. And we’re not sure if anyone else has access. From the profile the targeters are developing, Elena didn’t trust anyone except her fiancé and—”

“He was in the Lebanon explosion.”

“Exactly. That plays in our favor, and the loop might be closed.”

“Okay,” Red said. “Orders received.”

“Be safe. Out.”

Red caught Nomad’s gaze. “Fabulous.”

***

Red and Nomad each perched on an ATV. It seemed like the night of research that they’d spent in their Marrakech riad developing plans and contingency plans, and contingency for the contingency plans was paying off.

The tour operator guys were young. This was their job, and they did it efficiently, but they were used to tourists who had never seen sand before. They weren’t looking for spies. And they would never think that someone was using their services to escape over the border into Algeria.

One of the greatest dangers is the failure of the imagination.

At the first dune, Red and Nomad were at the back of the pack. As soon as the last kid gunned his ATV up the side, Nomad put the plastic tube in the gas tank, sucked up enough gas to get the siphon flowing, and filled the bottle they’d brought for this specific purpose. Luckily, the gauge said that he only had a quarter tank.

Having done the calculations the night before, the full water bottle should be enough to prime the engine and get them to the closest town, which was within easy sight but a challenging walk. Nomad let the rest of the gas pour into the sand, leaving just enough in the tank, he hoped, to get them to the well. He could always drain the last while they were regrouping and counting heads.

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