Chapter 39
In what was becoming a familiar Pavlovian response, the Ghost felt his adrenaline rise watching Fatima and Yassir attempt
to check in. He glanced behind him, seeing the rest of his new team standing expectantly with their luggage. Ramzi, the Pasdaran
man who was the most versed in their cover of a Lebanese news crew, smiled and said, “They’ll get our rooms, no problem. You
can tell everyone that you’re staying here like the rest of the important people, but our passports won’t be in the hotel
system.”
He nodded and said, “I understand the plan. I’m just concerned we’ll be outed as freeloaders, with the whole mission falling
apart because we didn’t bring duplicate documents.”
“Even with duplicate documents they would have your face.”
The Ghost said, “It’s a risk either way. I just prefer the risk of the cover instead of the risk of the maid learning we aren’t
paying for a room.”
It had taken close to sixteen hours to drive from Puerto Iguazú to Buenos Aires, with only two stops to refuel, and while
he’d slept part of the way, he’d still had to take his turn behind the wheel—and that had been after spending hours learning
the cover.
Sardar had left them in the Islamic center in Brazil, where they’d spent the time before transiting back to Argentina studying their new careers.
The television station they were representing was real, which presented enormous risks, but was necessary to evade Israeli detection.
A fake station would have been unraveled even before they’d obtained their press credentials, and—in the sectarian smorgasbord of Lebanon—a real one with the wrong pedigree would be just as bad.
In this case, like a parasite infecting a healthy host, they’d mimicked employment of a station owned by Orthodox Christians—one that was routinely critical of Hezbollah.
The Ghost had thought that particularly ingenious.
Because of its history, the Israelis had bought the subterfuge and had granted approval for the news station to cover the somber memorial of the Hezbollah bombing.
Ramzi, the expert on the cover, had been particularly proud of the Pasdaran’s ability to penetrate the station for correct
technical information about departments, travel histories, badges, and other accoutrements that “proved” their employment,
but while the Ghost was appreciative of the Pasdaran intelligence capability, he still saw the potential for disaster.
Like a camouflage shawl, the cover could work well when blending into the environment from a distance, but up close, it could
be exposed as nothing more than a flimsy charade hiding something underneath. Ramzi assured him that the vetting from the
Argentinian government was real, the approval was already accomplished, and that Israel would honor it for the ceremony.
They’d only been able to study for three hours before he’d been told it was time to leave. In the early morning hours, before
the sun had time to creep into life, they’d boarded a van driven by their river guide, Adnan.
He’d snaked through Foz do Iguacu, then began traversing rutted roads paralleling a large river, ultimately stopping at a
hidden cove. The Ghost saw a makeshift wooden dock and a long johnboat with an outboard motor.
They’d boarded the boat with nothing but the clothes on their back, Ramzi carrying a single briefcase with their credentials.
Adnan had pushed them out into the river, and for a terrible moment, the Ghost wondered if they were about to attempt to traverse
the falls in the tin-hulled craft.
Adnan had chuckled, telling him they were downriver, then saying they were now in Paraguay. A short time later, he said they
were in Argentina, then had beached the boat at another cove with a similar wooden dock.
Adnan had roped the boat to the dock and said, “This is where I told Sardar I would stop. Hopefully, your vehicles are waiting. Good luck on your journey.”
They’d exited and Adnan had slipped back into the river, disappearing into the darkness. Khalil had led them to the head of
a broken trail, pointing up it and saying, “About a half kilometer through the trees. Nobody use any lights, and watch your
footing. It can be steep.”
The Ghost followed Khalil, holding out one hand to protect himself from tree branches and spider webs. They’d crested the
top and the Ghost saw a single late-model Mercedes sprinter van. Omar, the Pasdaran logistics man, had used a key to open
it, checking inside. The Ghost looked over his shoulder and saw four sets of carry-on luggage in the back.
Omar said, “Cyrus never fails.”
The Ghost said, “He left this here?”
“Yes, this was his final mission. Now he gets to sit by a pool for a few days before flying home.”
He turned to the group and said, “Your names from the press credentials will be on your bag. Fatima and Yassir, you have the
last two. Forgive me if the clothes aren’t a perfect fit. We did the best that we could.”
The Ghost could tell the apology was hollow, and that Omar was simply bragging about their clandestine skill. Even so, the
Ghost thought he had a right to brag. This was impressive.
Khalil didn’t feel the same way. He said, “Cyrus provided the luggage. My organization provided the van. You wouldn’t make
it out of the Triple Frontier without our help. Remember that.”
Omar said, “True, true, and we appreciate it, now load up.” The Ghost did, filing away the competition between the two organizations.
They’d driven through dawn until late afternoon, stopping twice for fuel, arriving at a hotel called the Alvear Palace in
Buenos Aires just as the sun was beginning to retreat. Omar had pulled into the circular drive in the front, and the Ghost
had been slightly alarmed at the opulence. He saw a doorman dressed in uniform, the polished brass of the large wooden doors,
and a marble foyer spilling out beyond the glass. He said, “We’re staying here? We couldn’t find something more discreet?”
Ramzi had laughed and said, “You’re with the Pasdaran now. Your days of flophouses are over.”
Omar parked and exited the driver’s seat, telling the bellman they needed no help. He walked to the rear of the van and the
Ghost had followed. Omar could see he still had questions and said, “It’s part of the cover. This is where a lot of the news
organizations will be saying, if not the actual delegates. If someone questions you, it wouldn’t do to say you’ve traveled
from Lebanon to stay in a youth hostel.”
The Ghost watched the rest of the team sorting the luggage and asked, “How will we pay?”
“Cyrus and I were down here setting up the infrastructure while you were still trying to get out of Mexico. Don’t worry. It’s
paid for. Fatima and Yassir will check in. We’ll sleep three to a room.”
He turned to Fatima and said, “Just tell them your company has already covered the charges.”
She nodded, found her bag and led them inside. Ramzi had stopped the “news crew” personnel at a cubby with couches, as Fatima
and Yassir then continued past displays showing diamond-encrusted watches for sale. They reached the small front desk, a prissy-looking
clerk with a pinched face waiting for them.
The Ghost realized Ramzi was correct about the check-in procedures. While the clerk was curt, he felt his anxiety begin to
subside when the reservations were found. The clerk handed back Fatima’s passport and a room key, then began checking in Yassir.
The Ghost turned to Ramzi and said, “What is the credit card used for this reservation tied to?”
“You mean can it be threaded back to Iran?”
“Yes.”
“It’s good. It won’t help solidify our cover as a news crew—it’s not a bank in Lebanon—but it’s murky, trust me. The first
step is a bank here, in Argentina, which then goes offshore. No one will be able to unravel it to lead back to the Pasdaran.”
The Ghost wasn’t convinced, but let it go. He’d always acted as a singleton in the past, dictating everything about his missions, but was learning he would need to trust the team to accomplish this one.
He looked at his watch and said, “We only have a few hours before we meet the boat for the transfer of the equipment, and
we still need to get the rental car.”
“You and I can get the equipment. Ramzi and Yassir can get the vehicle. They can fetch it while I show you the infiltration
plan.”
Once again, the Ghost didn’t like leaving the preparation to others, but he couldn’t be in two places at once, and he needed
to study the plan for the smuggling of his targeting equipment. As hard as it was, he’d have to learn to delegate.
“Okay, but make sure they get one that runs on CNG.”
Omar said, “They’ll get whatever is easiest.”
The Ghost said, “No. They’ll use the rental agency I already told you about. It’s the only one I could find that has cars
that run on CNG, and that’s what they’ll rent.”
Omar scrunched his brow and said, “I understand we need another vehicle besides the single van, but why the requirement that
it operate on natural gas?”
“The transfer tonight will include Semtex, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Well, the Pasdaran may think this plan is perfect, but I do not. The Zionists will be looking for an attack, and I intend
to give them something to find.”