Page 122 of Enemy of My Enemy
“Adam. I’ve got something.”
Faisal’s fingers danced over his laptop keyboard. The flat-screen hanging on the wall in the living room winked on. A flick of his fingers, and a file snapped from his laptop to the screen.
Adam leaned forward on the couch, frowning. A freeze frame from a border crossing, a man in sunglasses and a low ball cap turning his face away from the cameras. Trying to hide.
“Noah Williams,” Faisal said. “He used a fake passport, but my programs scraped his facial recognition off the Israeli-Jordanian border patrol checkpoint.”
“When?”
“A day and a half ago.”
Doc wandered back in from Faisal’s space-age kitchen, tossing and catching an apple in one hand. He threw a water bottle and a bottle of pills to Adam. “For lover boy.”
Faisal sent Doc a flat glare over the edge of his laptop. But, he plucked the water from Adam’s hands and nodded to Doc. “Sahtein.”
Doc froze. Wide-eyed, he glanced at Adam.
“Now you sayala’albeck.” Adam gestured from Doc to Faisal.
Doc fumbled through the delivery, flustered, and then glared at the screen. “So what’s he coming south for?”
Adam folded his arms and crossed the room, peering at the image of his long-ago friend. “Paris to Jordan is a long way overland. Whatever it is, he worked hard to get there.”
Faisal tucked the water bottle into the couch. “Madigan’s base was in Somalia for some time. They took that Yemeni freighter, and after sinking of the Russian destroyer, they disappeared again. It’s possible his base is still in the region.”
“Can you find him in Jordan? His car, that license plate? Can you track it through their surveillance systems? Find his voice print on the telecom network? Use CCTV cams for facial recognition?”
Faisal grinned, already typing fast on his laptop. “I am way ahead of you… lover boy.” He winked at Doc.
“Oh. Oh, hell no.” Doc shook his head, grimacing. “He’s so not the lover boy. Have you seen him?” He shuddered, looking Adam up and down. “He’s so… broody and cavemanish. So dour and dejected.” His fingers waggled, waving Adam away. “He’s no lover boy.”
“You do not knowhabibias I do.” Faisal kept typing, folders and files and online bridges opening up in cascading windows on the flat-screen. “He is an amazing ‘lover boy’.” A final series of keystrokes, an execution string, and his scrape ran through the Jordanian networks. “Hearing him sigh as I stroke up his—”
“Whoa! Hey!” Adam whirled. “Could you not?”
“I’m totally up for hearing more.” Doc wagged his eyebrows at Adam, not even trying to smother his salacious smirk.
“Go to hell,” Adam grunted.
A ping from the computer and a flashing window on the screen drew their attention.
A fresh image capture of Noah appeared, out of the ball cap and in a ghutra and dressed for the desert in khakis and a sun shirt. He was sitting at a café, drinking coffee, and watching the street. Waiting.
“I’ve got him. Ma’an, Jordan.” A few more keystrokes. “An hour ago.”
“We need to grab him. We need to grab him and bring him back here. Put some more pieces of this puzzle together. What’s he doing, and why. What does he know about the coup? His flat was brimming with intel on Russia. What’s next?”
“A snatch and grab op?” Doc leaned over the back of the white leather couch. “The three of us?”
“Two of us.” Adam nodded to Faisal. “He’s staying here.”
“L-T,” Doc huffed. “I’m a doc, not a super-secret operative. Sure, I tag along with you to buy camels and get the shit beat out of us, but I’m not one of the big spooks.”
“Then you can drive the getaway car.” He snorted at Doc’s elaborate eye-roll and sat next to Faisal, already back to his keyboard. “Can you get us in there?”
“There is a Jordanian military airport outside of Ma’an. Rarely used anymore. Skeleton staff. I’ve just received clearance for a Saudi royal jet on official business.” Faisal smiled.
Adam hesitated. "I don't want to leave you. Your uncle's bodyguards should come up here. Stay in the main house until we're back."
