“If she was ever there,” said Meg.

“She could have been lying, but I don’t think so.”

“Is Morrell going to send another team back into the camp to try and take them out?”

“From what we can tell, the camp has been abandoned.”

“Abandoned? Why?”

“I don’t think there’s a terrorist on this planet that isn’t familiar with what we did to the Al Qaeda training camps in Afghanistan. Our satellites picked up a lot of vehicles leaving, followed by several very large explosions.”

“From Avigliano?”

“No. These were explosions Adara’s people set off afterward to cover their tracks. I’m guessing that whatever sensitive equipment or information they couldn’t move out of there right away, they destroyed.”

“So what happened to the two of them?”

“Now that we’re on to them, Gadhafi won’t be much help anymore. I’ve got to imagine we’re already ramping up to teach him a lesson for harboring them. Adara and Hashim Nidal are probably going to be hotfooting it out of Libya real soon. For all we know, they’re already gone. Which begs the question, where are they going?”

“With the list of places we know Adara has already been, the answer is anywhere.”

“I know, and that’s our biggest problem. I have a source that’s been watching an old friend of the Nidal family and thinks Adara might have made contact with him. Shortly thereafter his yacht was seen leaving port.”

“Which port?”

“Puerto Banus. It’s on the Costa del Sol.”

“Near Marbella, I know it. Where was it headed?”

“That’s where it starts to get like a needle in a giant haystack. According to my source, the yacht was headed for an island somewhere off the southern coast of Italy.”

“Italy? Maybe your haystack’s not as big as you think,” said Meg as she set down her coffee cup. She walked into the living room, retrieved an atlas from the bookshelf, and brought it back to the table.

Harvath watched her flip pages until she found the one she wanted and spun the book around so he could see it. “There,” she said.

Her finger was resting on a small island west of Naples named Capri. “Why do you think this is our island?” asked Harvath.

“It’s a hunch, but so many signs point to it, it’s got to mean something.”

“What signs?”

“When Adara made us have dinner with her, she said something about being so close to you in Jerusalem that you could have smelled her perfume.”

“So?”

“Well, each time she leaned in my direction, I could smell her perfume, and I recognized it.”

“You did?”

“Not only that, but remember when you guys came into my room and I mistakenly hit Avigliano with the vase?”

“Yeah. My room was totally bare. Never in a million years would they have left something behind that I could have used as a weapon.”

“My room was bare too, but Adara brought me the flowers herself.”

“Why’d she do that?”

“I think she was trying to put me further at ease, but that’s not important. When the vase broke on Avigliano’s rifle, we were both splashed. It took a few minutes, but that’s what reminded me. I could smell the flowers on me from the water.”

Harvath reached for a croissant, and said, “I’m not following.”

“When I studied in Rome, we spent spring break on the island of Capri. There’s a story about how the prior of a local monastery created a perfume out of water from a vase filled with the island’s most beautiful flowers. When I was there, I bought some. It’s manufactured exclusively on the island from twenty-five different types of Capri flowers.”

“And that’s what Adara Nidal was wearing?”

“Yes. It’s called Caprissimo.”

“Maybe she knows someone who gets it for her. Maybe she bought it in a duty-free shop at the airport in Milan while changing planes.”

“There was also a picture of Capri in her study,” said Meg, impatient with Harvath for not following her train of thought.

“What picture?” answered Harvath, his mind racing back to one of the pictures that was still sticking with him, but for what reason, he didn’t know.

“There was a very provocative picture of her in a bathing suit on a yacht. I’m actually surprised you missed it.”

“Another picture had caught my attention. What did you see?”

“The one I saw showed Adara sunning herself on the back of a boat with the Faraglioni in the background.”

“What is the Faraglioni?”

“They’re three huge rocks jutting out of the ocean on the southern coast of the island.”

“Do you remember anything else about the picture?” asked Harvath. “Were there other people in it? Could you see the name of the boat, or anything else in the background?”

Meg was silent as she tried to remember the details of the photo.

“You saw Adara and you saw the Faraglioni,” said Harvath, trying to coax her memory. “How do you know she was on a yacht?”

“She was sitting on a long white leather banquette, and the picture was taken from out on the ocean looking back at the island.”

“What else did you notice? C’mon, Meg, think.” There had to be more. Something that could validate Schoen’s information and tell them that they were on the right track.

“I think the boat was either moving or it was windy.”

“Why?”

“There was a big red flag billowing off the back.”

“Were there other colors in it besides red?” asked Harvath.

“I don’t know. It was all red…except for a small green star.”

“Bingo. Morocco.”

“What is it? Do you know the boat?”

“I do now.”

54

The embassy’s CIA station chief found Meg Cassidy’s insights only somewhat interesting and said as much to Harvath. He reiterated that the CIA’s primary efforts were focused, exactly as they were before, on stopping Hashim Nidal, period.

When it became obvious that the station chief wasn’t going to be of any help, Harvath asked where he could find Morrell.

“He and his team left three hours ago.”

Harvath got a sinking feeling in his stomach. “Where did they go? Back to the Point?”

“Actually, we received reliable intelligence that Nidal may be headed for Syria.”

“Where’d that intelligence come from?”

“That’s classified,” replied the station chief.

“I’m part of this operation as well, so you can go ahead and fill me right in.”

“Not anymore you’re not.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You and Miss Cassidy have been officially retired from Operation Phantom.”

“By whom?”

“It came down from D.C. You’re done. You’re to stay here and review the Oxford material to try and ID Hashim Nidal’s female accomplice-”

“You mean his sister.”

“That has yet to be proven.”

“And proof is exactly why Miss Cassidy in particular was brought onboard this operation. How are Morrell and his team going to be one hundred percent sure they’ve got Hashim, even if they do find him in Syria?”

“We have a photograph.”

“From where?” said Harvath with a certain degree of amazement.

“Morrell’s team got a few still frames of video from the Robofly during the meeting at the Hijrah Oasis.”

“I didn’t hear anything about that in the debriefing.”

“It came up after you left.”

“Was asked to leave,” corrected Harvath.

“Nevertheless, based on the video stills and what the CIA has been able to gather, Mr. Morrell is confident that his team will be able to take care of Nidal. So, as you can see, they are no longer in need of your assistance.”

“You guys have no idea of the mistake you’re making.”

“Be that as it may, you’re to stay and review the Oxford material in an attempt to identify the woman in question, and then you’ll be flown back to the States via military transport.”

“First class all the way. That’s great. Fine. You guys do it your way. I need to use the bubble.”

“Again? What for this time?”