Body of Lies by David Ignatius Read Free Book Online Page B

English today, Bassam. It's too dangerous." He looked in the side mirror. A BMW with three Iraqis had pulled up behind them. "Pull over, let the car behind pass," said Ferris. Bassam obeyed silently, no chatter now. The BMW idled, and Ferris was about to tell Bassam to gun it and make a run, but at the last moment the Iraqi driver pulled out and passed them. One of the men in the BMW stared at Ferris full in the face. Shit, he thought. They know. They've made me.
    "Head south," said Ferris. "Go to the house Nizar told us about, the one he said is the local headquarters for his cell. If there's anyone there, I want to call in the Predator and take some pictures. See who's coming and going."
    "You sure?" asked Bassam. He was nervous, Ferris could tell. He thought the American was pushing his luck. He was right, but Ferris didn't care. In that moment, he was determined to finish the job. He was still angry about Nizar, the little fireplug Iraqi who had trusted Ferris and now was dead. They headed south along the banks of the Tigris, a big ugly river that seemed more mud than water.
    Bassam knew the directions--knew the house, even. In these parts, every family knew where every other family lived. Every space on the checkerboard was covered with something. They turned off the main road, past a grove of olive trees and toward a half-finished villa a mile distant. It was spooky--dead quiet in the stillness of the morning, no cars on the road, no birds in the air, even. Ferris got out his satellite phone and checked the GPS coordinates, so he could be sure of the location when he contacted Balad to call in the Predator.
    Ferris saw a little cloud of dust rise next to the villa when they were about a quarter mile off. It was a car coming or going, he couldn't tell which, but it was motion.
    "Slow down," he told Bassam. He got on the phone to his base chief in Balad and asked him to dispatch CHILI , SPECK , or NITRATE . He gave the GPS coordinates and told the chief to hurry. This was a live target; the operating base of a confirmed terrorist cell.
    Bassam had slowed the Mercedes to fifteen miles an hour. "Should I turn around now?" he asked.
    "Why?" said Ferris. "We're almost there. Let's check it out."
    "But sir, they are coming at us." There was a tremor in the Iraqi's voice Ferris had never heard before.
    Ferris studied the dust cloud in the distance. It was getting bigger, and you could make out the car now. Bassam was right. Whoever was in the car was heading their way. Ferris couldn't know whether they were coming in pursuit, but he had to make an instant decision.
    "Turn around," said Ferris, adding in English: "Gun it." Bassam threw the wheel over, swerved into a quick 180-degree turn and put the pedal to the floor. Bassam's Mercedes kicked up a plume of dust of its own, obscuring the view of the car behind.
    As they neared the main highway, Ferris realized they were in deep trouble. The chase car was still behind them, but another car, a faded yellow Chevrolet, lay in wait on the shoulder of the paved road. Ferris popped the glove compartment of the Mercedes, where Bassam kept his gun. He hefted it in his hand. It was a small-caliber automatic pistol, almost useless. They were nearing the intersection.
    "What you want, boss?" said Bassam.
    "Turn south," said Ferris. "Toward Balad."
    Bassam surged into the curve, barely missing an oncoming dump truck. The yellow Chevy parked on the shoulder roared to life and took off after them, followed by the car that had been pursuing them on the dirt road. Ferris got back on the satellite phone to Balad.
    "You got that bird up? We have a problem out on Highway One."
    "Roger that, sir," answered the duty officer. " SPECK is on the way to the coordinates you gave us. A few minutes away."
    "Listen, we are in some serious fucking trouble here. I think some bad guys have made me and one of my agents. We are in an old red Mercedes south of Samara, coming down Highway One. We are being pursued