Iron Orchid (Holly Barker 5)

“I’m well. I got in with the new codes, but I had to log in as Hugh English the first time.”

“I thought that might happen,” she replied.

“If anybody notices, can you tell them that you logged on using his codes, just to be sure they were working?”

“Yes, I can do that; it might work.”

“Let’s hope nobody notices. Do you know a CIA officer based in New York with the first name of Holly?”

“No, I don’t, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one.”

“I sat next to this woman at the opera, and later, when I saw her on the street, I followed her to an address on the East Side.” He gave her the address. “Does that ring a bell?”

“Yes, it’s a new, joint CIA-FBI counterintelligence operations center. If she got past the doorman, it’s because she’s authorized to enter. Do you have a last name for the woman? I can check her out.”

“No, I can’t remember it, and even if I could, she was probably using a cover name.”

“Well, if she was that close to you, why didn’t she call in the cavalry?”

“Because she didn’t know who I was. She may have figured it out later, though.”

“Mike, if you’re in New York, maybe it’s time to go somewhere else.”

Teddy was not going to confirm this to her, so he ignored the question. “I need a new target,” he said. “What do you have?”

“Well, if you want one in New York, the U.N. embassies make for a target-rich environment.”

“Who’s running intelligence operations out of U.N. embassies besides the Iranians?”

“Who isn’t? How about the Syrians or the Israelis?”

“I’m not interested in the Israelis, but the Syrians sound good. What’s going on in their embassy?”

“They’re spying on the Israelis, of coarse, They’ve rented an apartment across the street from the Israeli embassy, and they’re doing everything they can to listen to their conversations or read their mail. So far, the Israelis’ counterintelligence has kept them at bay. But if you attack the Syrians, they’re going to blame the Israelis. Do you want that?”

“I don’t much care,” Teddy said. “Since they blame everything on the Israelis, nobody will pay any attention to what they say. I might take a look at their rented apartment.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mike,” Irene said.

“Why not?”

“Because if you start showing an interest in that particular street, the Israelis are going to notice you, and that would not be good. They might think you were casing them instead of the Syrians.”

“You have a point. Who is the head of Syrian intelligence in New York?”

“A very nasty character named Omar Said, or that’s the name he uses. We’ve been keeping an eye on him for at least a year.”

“Maybe he’s my target,” Teddy said.

“Same problem as with the Israelis: you start following him around, and our people are going to notice you.”

“Well, then,” Teddy said, “I’m just going to have to be unnoticeable. Where is the Syrian U.N. embassy?” He wrote down the address: three blocks from the Iranian house he had destroyed. “I’ve got to run, Irene; we’ll talk later.” He hung up.

Teddy went back into the Agency’s computers and did a search for Omar Said. Soon he had a photograph of a tall, balding Arab in a London bespoke suit and shirt getting out of a black Cadillac. A couple of more clicks, and he got a license plate number: a New York City diplomatic plate, SY 4.

At least the guy didn’t ride in a Lincoln Town Car, like half the other people in New York. He went carefully over the available pictures of the car. Nothing that he could see indicated that it was armored. Said’s only protection in the rear seat was blackened windows. He didn’t even appear to travel with a guard, other than his driver.

Teddy began to formulate the rough outlines of a plan for taking the Syrian. He wasn’t quite sure where, just yet, but he had a very good idea about when.