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“It’s Jasmine Shazaz,” Holly said.
“How do you know that?” the AIC asked.
“I can’t prove it, but I know it.”
“That’s not how we work.”
“You got the photograph yesterday,” Holly said. “When did personnel at entry points have it?”
The AIC looked at his fingernails. “It takes time,” he said. “It’s there now.”
“She probably entered the country during the past twenty-four hours,” Holly said.
“How could she plan a thing so quickly?” the commissioner asked.
“I should think it was already planned by a team here. She probably selected it from a menu of targets. They’ve already wreaked havoc in London. Be prepared for it to happen here.”
“We’re doing everything we can,” the commissioner said.
“I hope it’s enough,” Holly replied.
Jasmine had another nap, then came to dinner. Habib had ordered in. He held her chair; the food was Indian.
“Wine?” she asked.
“I’m Muslim, aren’t you?”
“Not your kind of Muslim,” she replied. “Send somebody out for it—a nice California Chardonnay will do.”
Habib gave the order, and the wine was back in ten minutes. “May we dine now?” he asked.
“Of course.” Jasmine opened the bottle, so Habib wouldn’t be sullied, and poured herself a large glass, then she helped herself to the food. “It’s good,” she said.
“I think you should leave New York,” Habib said. “There will be a very great search for you.”
“Certainly not. I have work to do here. Let’s have another look at your list.”
Habib got up and brought the list.
Jasmine took a sip of her wine and consulted the paper. “These buildings are too secure. We got lucky at the CIA place.”
“They’ll be expecting you to bomb those sorts of places,” he said.
“I want something different, but something that still hurts. Let’s go back to the CIA building.”
“We can’t do that,” Habib said.
“We can do whatever we wish,” Jasmine replied, trying not to sound too sharp. Habib was not accustomed to being bossed around by women, after all. “Send someone to the neighborhood, someone who won’t be noticed. Have him watch the people who leave at lunchtime.”
“All right. We’ve had a report that the woman from the CIA sent to London after the attack at the embassy has left London and returned to New York.”
“How do we know this?”
“A spotter at London City Airport recorded the landing from the States of a Gulfstream 450 jet which we have seen deliver CIA personnel in the past. The following morning a man and a woman boarded that aircraft, which flew to Teterboro, New Jersey, according to the flight plan filed.” Habib put a photograph of the two on the table. “She was seen leaving the Connaught Hotel an hour before it took off. We believe she boarded the airplane. The name on the manifest was H. Barker, and there’s a Holly Barker high up at the CIA.”
“So you had plenty of time to place someone at Teterboro, didn’t you?”
“Teterboro is a different basket of fish than London City. It’s the largest and busiest general aviation airport in the United States, and it has half a dozen places—they call them FBOs—where the airplane could park. We confirmed that the airplane landed, but our observer was off the field and had to guess where it parked from the direction it taxied.”
