Kerry swallowed and said, “It appears so. And that’s not the worst. He’s an American citizen.”

The room broke into a buzz, cut short by President Warren waving his hand for silence. He said, “Lose the crypt. You’re not protecting a source anymore. Tell us the story.”

Kerry took a deep breath and said, “We had no penetration of ISIS. No way to determine what was going on inside the organization. At the same time we were scouring the Middle East and finding BOBCAT and COUGAR, someone came up with the idea of inserting an American. I mean, we’ve had plenty of US citizens go over and join the fight, so we decided to cloak an asset in that mantle. We conducted research and found LEOPARD in Florida. His real name is Ali Jaafar Hussein, and he’s basically a hood. His father is Jordanian and his mother is a crack addict. The father left the family when Hussein was only four, going back to Jordan, then his mother went to jail. He’s been in and out of foster homes and reform schools ever since. He was perfect. No familial ties and he had handed us leverage in the form of some charges he was facing for shoplifting. We offered to get them dropped and he accepted.”

Jonathan Billings, the secretary of state, said, “And you thought this was a good idea?”

Kerry bristled. “It was a good idea. Actually, a great idea. Intelligence work is never perfect. We couldn’t predict this.”

“Couldn’t predict it? You sprung a guy from jail and expected him to become James Bond? Really?”

Kerry said, “We knew the risk of him fleeing once he was in Turkey, and we were comfortable with that. Worst case, we figured he’d just disappear, but best case, he reported, and that far outweighed turning free a small-time hood in Europe. We never expected him to join the fight. He had no jihadist background. He knows more about Christianity than Islam. We conducted a thorough background on him. He was vetted. He had not a shred of anti-American sentiment.”

“Or he hid it well, playing you much better than you played him. Did you hear what was said before he started carving?”

“Yes.”

The secretary of defense said, “I didn’t catch it. What was it?”

Kurt pulled out a transcript from a folder and said, “The man known as LEOPARD appears to hesitate, and the man on the right says, “For the White House. Do it for the White House.”

Kerry said nothing, knowing the evidence was damning. President Warren said, “Is he the leak? The reason that BOBCAT was exposed?”

“No. The two were completely separate. LEOPARD had no knowledge of BOBCAT. None.”

“Well, with that statement, we have to assume he’s doing the killing because of the US government. And so is the man who spoke on the right. Any idea about him?”

Kurt said, “All we know is he’s Caucasian. He’s not an Arab.”

Billings said, “And that he hates the United States. Great. The CIA just trained a terrorist to come back home and blow up the White House.”

Kerry said, “LEOPARD won’t get one foot into the United States. As soon as I leave here, his passport information will be out to every government in the region.”

President Warren said, “Okay, okay, this isn’t Taskforce business. We’ll deal with the fallout later. Kerry, get ready for a blistering from the intelligence committees.”

Easton Beau Clute, the chair of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence, said, “Yeah. I’ll do what I can, but it’s not going to be pretty.”

President Warren said, “Continue, Kurt. You were saying something about ISIS oil?”

“Yes, sir. We have enough evidence on Panda to convince anyone in the royal family that he’s doing things antithetical to their interests. We pass it to the Saudis and he’s a goner. Unfortunately, Panda wasn’t just a financial facilitator. He was in Nairobi coordinating for actual expertise. Manpower for ISIS in the form of technical experts in the oil industry.”

“He was smuggling men?”

“Yes. ISIS has captured several oil fields in both Syria and Iraq, but they don’t have the expertise to make them operate at full capacity, so they’re losing money. They already sell the oil at a steep discount on the black market, and they need the income to maintain their hold on the terrain.”

“So we stopped that as well?”

“Yes and no. We have a name on the far end. A guy in ISIS called Adnan al-Tayyib. We think he’s some finance minister and the man coordinating for the technical skill. Panda’s going to be gone, but not soon enough. He’s arranged for the passage of five Nigerian Muslims who worked the oil fields near Lagos. They’re set to travel in three days, and the Saudis won’t do anything to Panda until he returns to the kingdom. They aren’t going to arrest him in Kenya. Which means the men are going to make it into Syria.”

“So what do you recommend?”

“Take them off the board. All five. We can’t remove Panda because of the repercussions it will cause, but these guys are nobodies.”

“How can you do that? We’ve never executed a problem set that large.”

“Pike’s working the issue now. All he needs is the authority.”

11

Jacob heard Ringo’s familiar voice and thought, Great. They had to bring that asshole here as well?

“Looky here. The little Lost Boys. They must need you to carry my luggage on this mission.”

Hussein gave a weak smile. Carlos and Devon hooted, as if it were the funniest joke in the world, not even understanding that they were the butt of it. Jacob said nothing.

Ringo sidled up to Jacob and said, “Do you really think they’re going to use a ‘Jacob’ on this mission? This is the Islamic State. The caliphate.”

Jacob bit back his words, remembering the warning the Chechen had given. Not so much the words, but the way they were delivered. Omar was not a man to trifle with. Unlike Ringo.

But not here. Not now.

After the killing of the snitches, the Lost Boys had been pulled out and loaded on a truck, Ringo laughing at their fate. They’d driven for hours in a convoy of four trucks, out of Raqqa and into the desert. Jacob knew they were heading east. Toward Iraq.

They’d passed the town of al-Mayadin and had veered south, the rest of the convoy heading to al-Qa’im and the Iraq border.

Now on their own, the dust and wind growing tiresome in the bed of the Toyota HiLux, Jacob had recognized the terrain. They were going back to the training camp where they’d learned to fight. Where they’d also had to prove their fealty to the Islamic State. He questioned if it was more punishment or more training. They still had their weapons, so he was hopeful it was the latter.

He saw Hussein trembling against the cab, and began to wonder about the man. On some makeshift parole for good behavior, Hussein had been freed from the school and the punishment of the white house, and had—according to him—traveled to Syria, then spent six weeks in the embrace of the Islamic State. When he’d come home, he’d visited Jacob, Devon, and Carlos, still inside. He’d told wonderful stories about Syria and life in the Islamic State. He’d begged them to return with him, and looking back, Jacob wondered if he just didn’t want to go alone. If he had been afraid to go alone.

Jacob had listened, and had liked the idea. After Hussein’s visit, he’d researched the Islamic State, and seen what they were. Carlos and Devon had begun watching YouTube videos, consumed by the violence and the absolute law of the sword. In short order they’d converted to Islam, reading everything they found on jihadist websites, falling headlong into the siren call of the biggest gang on the planet. Forget about the Crips and Bloods. The Islamic State was taking the concept and making it span the globe. And they were doing it for a greater purpose than just money or drugs.