shook my head dismissively. “We don’t make the rules on this; Saccher’s department is in charge of this. You should be talking to him.”
“Why should this be Saccher’s business? His objective is to get the translated intelligence; it doesn’t make any difference who is doing which target. I believe this will make everything easier and more efficient—”
Reaching for my headset, I repeated, “If he decides to do it, I’ll have no problem. Just go and see him to discuss this. He’s the agent in charge of this counterintelligence operation.”
Dickerson slammed her hand down on my headset. “Why are you being so difficult? I’ve discussed this with Kevin and he agrees with me; we’ve already divided the lines between the two of us. Saccher doesn’t give a shit about how we do things here; he’s not even allowed to come into the unit without us escorting him. He’s irrelevant. I don’t want you to go over these targets randomly.”
Suddenly it hit me. I grabbed the page and looked at it again, this time carefully. Based on Dickerson’s division, she would be in charge of a group that included our top two targets—our primary targets, per Saccher. Interestingly enough, both targets were among those the Dickersons had named during their visit to our house, including the colonel, her former boss and the man they visited every week and shopped for at the bakery in Alexandria. She was trying to shield them from us, from the FBI.
I stood and faced her. “I’ll go and talk with Kevin myself, alone!”
Dickerson took two steps and blocked me. “I know this is not the career you want to pursue, Sibel. Just do what I asked you to do—a simple request. Why would you want to put yourself in danger by getting in the way?”
“What?” I snapped. “What did you say?”
She stepped aside and let me pass. “I’ll take this to Mike Feghali. He’s the supervisor; he will decide.”
I took long strides to Kevin’s station. He looked up and greeted me in Turkish. I waved the paper in front of him. “Do you want to tell me what this is all about? You and Dickerson divide targets and rewrite Saccher’s rules and procedures?”
Kevin looked at the paper, then opened his drawer and pulled out a sheet identical to the one I was holding, in Dickerson’s handwriting. “Yesterday she came to me and gave me this.” He handed me the page. “She said it was your idea, that you’d already agreed this was the best way. So I said OK.”
I grabbed a chair and dragged it over. I sat and leaned to face him head on. “Kevin, you were right the other day when you said that she was a dangerous woman. I think she’s more dangerous than you think.” I told him about the Dickersons’ visit to my house and the forged signatures.
Kevin paled. “What are we going to do? What if she gives our names and contact information to the targets? I have family back in Turkey; you do too. What we know can get us killed over there. Why would they let her work here, knowing her history and associates?”
I told him I’d given everything to Feghali, that he’d reported it to the security division and Saccher’s unit, and that I hadn’t heard anything from either. “Mike instructed me not to mention the report and let him handle it.” I paused. Now we had to report this incident, Dickerson’s attempt to shield targets. I assured him I would file a report with the unit supervisor; that “someone will get to the bottom of this.”
I went back to my desk to write the memo, placed it inside a legalsize envelope with copies of Dickerson’s handwritten instructions and sealed it. Then I went to see Feghali in his office. The door was closed. Fifteen minutes later, it was still closed.
I had to leave, so I brought the package to Kevin for him to drop off. I mentioned that Feghali had been in a closed-door meeting for more than an hour.
Kevin pointed to Dickerson’s vacant station. “What do you think they’re doing in
“Why should this be Saccher’s business? His objective is to get the translated intelligence; it doesn’t make any difference who is doing which target. I believe this will make everything easier and more efficient—”
Reaching for my headset, I repeated, “If he decides to do it, I’ll have no problem. Just go and see him to discuss this. He’s the agent in charge of this counterintelligence operation.”
Dickerson slammed her hand down on my headset. “Why are you being so difficult? I’ve discussed this with Kevin and he agrees with me; we’ve already divided the lines between the two of us. Saccher doesn’t give a shit about how we do things here; he’s not even allowed to come into the unit without us escorting him. He’s irrelevant. I don’t want you to go over these targets randomly.”
Suddenly it hit me. I grabbed the page and looked at it again, this time carefully. Based on Dickerson’s division, she would be in charge of a group that included our top two targets—our primary targets, per Saccher. Interestingly enough, both targets were among those the Dickersons had named during their visit to our house, including the colonel, her former boss and the man they visited every week and shopped for at the bakery in Alexandria. She was trying to shield them from us, from the FBI.
I stood and faced her. “I’ll go and talk with Kevin myself, alone!”
Dickerson took two steps and blocked me. “I know this is not the career you want to pursue, Sibel. Just do what I asked you to do—a simple request. Why would you want to put yourself in danger by getting in the way?”
“What?” I snapped. “What did you say?”
She stepped aside and let me pass. “I’ll take this to Mike Feghali. He’s the supervisor; he will decide.”
I took long strides to Kevin’s station. He looked up and greeted me in Turkish. I waved the paper in front of him. “Do you want to tell me what this is all about? You and Dickerson divide targets and rewrite Saccher’s rules and procedures?”
Kevin looked at the paper, then opened his drawer and pulled out a sheet identical to the one I was holding, in Dickerson’s handwriting. “Yesterday she came to me and gave me this.” He handed me the page. “She said it was your idea, that you’d already agreed this was the best way. So I said OK.”
I grabbed a chair and dragged it over. I sat and leaned to face him head on. “Kevin, you were right the other day when you said that she was a dangerous woman. I think she’s more dangerous than you think.” I told him about the Dickersons’ visit to my house and the forged signatures.
Kevin paled. “What are we going to do? What if she gives our names and contact information to the targets? I have family back in Turkey; you do too. What we know can get us killed over there. Why would they let her work here, knowing her history and associates?”
I told him I’d given everything to Feghali, that he’d reported it to the security division and Saccher’s unit, and that I hadn’t heard anything from either. “Mike instructed me not to mention the report and let him handle it.” I paused. Now we had to report this incident, Dickerson’s attempt to shield targets. I assured him I would file a report with the unit supervisor; that “someone will get to the bottom of this.”
I went back to my desk to write the memo, placed it inside a legalsize envelope with copies of Dickerson’s handwritten instructions and sealed it. Then I went to see Feghali in his office. The door was closed. Fifteen minutes later, it was still closed.
I had to leave, so I brought the package to Kevin for him to drop off. I mentioned that Feghali had been in a closed-door meeting for more than an hour.
Kevin pointed to Dickerson’s vacant station. “What do you think they’re doing in
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