Read Online Angels of Wrath by Jim DeFelice, Larry Bond - Free Book Online
Authors: Jim DeFelice, Larry Bond
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the Who’s Who of World Scumbags,” said Rankin.
“Where did we get this?” asked Ferguson.
“Mossad. Came from the top. I think Parnelles huddled with Ms. Alston, and here we are.”
Corrigan gave them everything he knew about Khazaal, which wasn’t all that much. The Israelis either didn’t know or wouldn’t say where exactly he was going. The Agency had several indications that he had moved west from the Tikrit area—a favorite of Rankin’s—and theorized that he was near the border, though not yet across. Several groups tied to his organization had transferred funds into bank accounts used by smugglers, and Iraqi intelligence had several leads about where he was in the western desert.
“Yeah, Iraqi intelligence,” said Rankin. “Hajjis with IQs equal to their shoe sizes.”
“The assignment is to locate and apprehend,” said Corrigan, ignoring him. “Apprehend as in arrest, as in bring him back alive.”
“And what do I do when he tells me to get bent?” said Ferguson. “Rhetorical question, Jack,” he added quickly. “Mossad involved?”
“No. They’re tied up.”
“Where’s Thera?”
“I put her on a plane to Athens. We’ve asked for a liaison from the Iraqi security service. Where do you want him?”
“Paradise,” said Rankin.
“I don’t know yet,” said Ferguson. Mossad’s posture struck him as odd; if they bothered to pass something along, they almost always provided a complete dossier and at least a liaison to feed back notes. “Listen, I want to talk to Parnelles.”
“Why?”
“I’m having some trouble with my 401K.”
“We don’t have a 40IK plan.”
Guns and Rankin both started to laugh. Ferguson grinned, relaxing a little. “Get him for me, will you?”
“I can’t just snap my fingers and get him on the line.”
“Use the bat phone, Robin.”
“Come on Ferg. Parnelles is traveling. I don’t know where he is. I can leave a message.”
“Tell him I want to talk to him, not you. Say it’s important.”
“OK. Listen, Corrine wants you to meet her in Tel Aviv. She wants to talk to you. She’s pretty upset about Cairo.”
“What about it?”
“You didn’t run the operation by her. She wants you in Tel Aviv—”
“I’m not going to Tel Aviv.”
“Hey, Ferg, you can’t blow her off. She’s the boss.”
“All right. Let me talk to her.”
“She’s not here, Ferg. It’s the middle of the night over here. Like four a.m.”
“The way you’re calling her Corrine and everything, I thought you were at her apartment.”
“Ferg.”
“Go wake her up.”
“Come on.”
“Look, I’m not going to Tel Aviv. Why should we go to Tel Aviv from Cairo?” He looked at his watch. “Thera’s going to Athens?”
“Yeah.”
“Hold her there. Tell her I’ll be in tonight or maybe tomorrow.”
“What should I tell Cor— Ms. Alston?”
“Tell her I’ll be in Athens. Actually, probably Incirlik, with Van and the Ranger boys.”
“She really wants to talk to you.”
“My phone is on twenty-four/seven.”
“What about Rankin and Guns?”
“They can get their own girl.”
“Ferg, listen. Alston is going to be pissed.”
Ferguson tossed the phone on the table. The others looked at him. Ferguson folded his arms across his chest but then reached across and picked it up.
“You OK, Ferg?” asked Corrigan. “Maybe you need a rest.”
“Yeah, a nice long rest,” Ferguson said. “So Alston wants to chew my butt in person, huh?”
“Well, I don’t know that she wants to chew you out.”
“Oh, come on, Jack. But hey, who knows? Maybe some hot-looking blonde who graduated magna cum laude at daddy’s law school can run covert ops better than I can.”
“Listen, you don’t have to like it,” said Corrigan. “You just have to do your
“Where did we get this?” asked Ferguson.
“Mossad. Came from the top. I think Parnelles huddled with Ms. Alston, and here we are.”
Corrigan gave them everything he knew about Khazaal, which wasn’t all that much. The Israelis either didn’t know or wouldn’t say where exactly he was going. The Agency had several indications that he had moved west from the Tikrit area—a favorite of Rankin’s—and theorized that he was near the border, though not yet across. Several groups tied to his organization had transferred funds into bank accounts used by smugglers, and Iraqi intelligence had several leads about where he was in the western desert.
“Yeah, Iraqi intelligence,” said Rankin. “Hajjis with IQs equal to their shoe sizes.”
“The assignment is to locate and apprehend,” said Corrigan, ignoring him. “Apprehend as in arrest, as in bring him back alive.”
“And what do I do when he tells me to get bent?” said Ferguson. “Rhetorical question, Jack,” he added quickly. “Mossad involved?”
“No. They’re tied up.”
“Where’s Thera?”
“I put her on a plane to Athens. We’ve asked for a liaison from the Iraqi security service. Where do you want him?”
“Paradise,” said Rankin.
“I don’t know yet,” said Ferguson. Mossad’s posture struck him as odd; if they bothered to pass something along, they almost always provided a complete dossier and at least a liaison to feed back notes. “Listen, I want to talk to Parnelles.”
“Why?”
“I’m having some trouble with my 401K.”
“We don’t have a 40IK plan.”
Guns and Rankin both started to laugh. Ferguson grinned, relaxing a little. “Get him for me, will you?”
“I can’t just snap my fingers and get him on the line.”
“Use the bat phone, Robin.”
“Come on Ferg. Parnelles is traveling. I don’t know where he is. I can leave a message.”
“Tell him I want to talk to him, not you. Say it’s important.”
“OK. Listen, Corrine wants you to meet her in Tel Aviv. She wants to talk to you. She’s pretty upset about Cairo.”
“What about it?”
“You didn’t run the operation by her. She wants you in Tel Aviv—”
“I’m not going to Tel Aviv.”
“Hey, Ferg, you can’t blow her off. She’s the boss.”
“All right. Let me talk to her.”
“She’s not here, Ferg. It’s the middle of the night over here. Like four a.m.”
“The way you’re calling her Corrine and everything, I thought you were at her apartment.”
“Ferg.”
“Go wake her up.”
“Come on.”
“Look, I’m not going to Tel Aviv. Why should we go to Tel Aviv from Cairo?” He looked at his watch. “Thera’s going to Athens?”
“Yeah.”
“Hold her there. Tell her I’ll be in tonight or maybe tomorrow.”
“What should I tell Cor— Ms. Alston?”
“Tell her I’ll be in Athens. Actually, probably Incirlik, with Van and the Ranger boys.”
“She really wants to talk to you.”
“My phone is on twenty-four/seven.”
“What about Rankin and Guns?”
“They can get their own girl.”
“Ferg, listen. Alston is going to be pissed.”
Ferguson tossed the phone on the table. The others looked at him. Ferguson folded his arms across his chest but then reached across and picked it up.
“You OK, Ferg?” asked Corrigan. “Maybe you need a rest.”
“Yeah, a nice long rest,” Ferguson said. “So Alston wants to chew my butt in person, huh?”
“Well, I don’t know that she wants to chew you out.”
“Oh, come on, Jack. But hey, who knows? Maybe some hot-looking blonde who graduated magna cum laude at daddy’s law school can run covert ops better than I can.”
“Listen, you don’t have to like it,” said Corrigan. “You just have to do your
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