Puzzle by Nora Phoenix

12

The day after his conversation with Branson about becoming friends, Ryder still wasn’t sure if he’d done the right thing. He felt like he’d kicked a man who had already been down and that he’d only added to Branson’s stress and low emotional well-being. What else could he have done when Branson had asked him directly, however? Lie? He couldn’t do that. He sucked at it, but he also had a hard time with it emotionally. The few times he’d told a lie, the guilt had been overwhelming.

But as he noticed Branson’s pale face and the bags under his eyes as he settled in his chair for a meeting with Coulson and Seth, another kind of guilt washed over him. Should he have handled it differently? Branson looked like he hadn’t slept since they’d last talked, and all traces of his usual sparkly personality had disappeared. If Ryder had caused that, he was deeply sorry, and he would tell Branson that in no uncertain terms. After the meeting.

“We’re excited to finally have some great news to share after a long period of plodding and plugging,” Weston said, and the room grew quiet. “In my experience, it’s often like this. For months and months or even for years, we only seem to make minuscule steps forward, and then all of a sudden, we hit one big breakthrough after the other. Over the last weeks, we had some fantastic new developments, but this one beats all. Branson, will you do the honors?”

Branson sat up straight, and a little energy returned to his posture. “We’ve positively identified Hamza Bashir.”

Coulson and Seth gasped at the same time. “Seriously?” Coulson’s face broke open in a wide smile. “You’ve ID’d him?”

Branson nodded, then turned on the screen to show a picture. “Meet Yazid El Sewedy, a thirty-one-year-old natural citizen of the United Arab Emirates, born and raised in Dubai.”

“Holy shit,” Coulson said, studying the picture. “How certain are you? No offense. Is this an undisputed fact, or are we working within a margin of error?”

“One hundred percent certain. We have confirmation from several agencies who have used their resources to dig into his background, for example, from the British. It turns out El Sewedy studied at Oxford for a while, under his real name, of course. He speaks British English fluently, almost without an accent.”

“That explains the faint British accent in the videos,” Seth said.

Branson nodded. “And everything else we already discovered pans out as well, including the Yemeni angle. He speaks both San’ani Arabic, also known as Peninsular Arabic, and Gulf Arabic. That’s because his mother, Halimah Thabet, was from Yemen. She died when he was fifteen, but before then, he’d often visited her family in Yemen, so he knows his way around there.”

Ryder knew all this already, but he was amazed again at how all the details they had picked up on had been correct. Now that they had a name and an identity, every puzzle piece fit.

“Both Yazid and his father, Sameh El Sewedy, are wealthy businessmen,” Branson picked up, “and the rest of his family is affluent as well. Yazid travels extensively on multiple passports and under different names, mostly in the Middle East but on occasion also to North Africa. They’ve been involved in some shady business deals, for example, in arms and military supplies, and seem to have few morals. They’re Muslim but more out of habit and tradition than out of personal interest. We’ve found no evidence that Yazid El Sewedy is radicalized. Everything so far indicates he’s a hired gun, someone whose only goal is to make money.”

“Thirty-one?” Seth raised his eyebrows. “That meant he was only twenty-four when he started preparing for the Pride Bombing. That’s damn young.”

“He’s smart,” Branson said. “Very smart. He returned from England the year before. The British are still investigating the time he spent there, but their first reports show he was popular with his fellow students. Amicable, smart, a hard worker. He excelled academically, and his professors had nothing but praise for him. No evidence of radicalization during that time either. He frequented a local mosque, but that one is known to be liberal and well integrated into the British culture.”

“If I may ask, what’s the evidence that makes you so sure this is Hamza Bashir?” Seth asked.

“We have cross-checked dates of his travel with the periods we know Basil King and Kurt Barrow were in Oman or Qatar. They overlap. His picture matches the video we have from the Qatari mall, where he met with Muhammed Bhat. But most importantly, he spent a few months in Yemen around the time the first reports popped up about a new terrorist cell developing there…and he traveled to the Kashmir region several times. There’s no logical explanation for that from a business perspective. It’s not an affluent region and not an area he or his father has business dealings with. He went there to recruit…and he succeeded.”

Seth and Coulson looked at each other, sharing a look that made Ryder’s belly all warm. “That’s amazing work, Branson,” Coulson said.

Branson held up his hands. “Team effort, not my own accomplishment. This wouldn’t have been possible without close cooperation between a lot of intelligence agencies, foreign ones as well. Because we agreed to share information, we managed to assemble all the puzzle pieces in one place, and that’s what led me to find him.”

“Fair enough, but I know how hard you personally worked on this as well,” Coulson said.

“So what’s the next step?” Seth wanted to know.

“Digging into his background until we know everything about him,” Branson said. “We’re especially interested in how Kingmakers established contact with him. How did they know each other? One of our working theories is that they might’ve done business before, since El Sewedy was involved in military supplies, including arms.”

Weston nodded. “He’s priority number one for the entire US intelligence community. Based on this new information, the NSA will reevaluate the historical data they already have to see if they can find out more now that they know what and whom to look for. They’ll also make sure we have eyes and ears on him as much as possible. On our end, the CIA will increase our assets in the UAE and try to get closer to him.”

“But our biggest challenge is to tie El Sewedy to Kingmakers financially,” Branson smoothly took over again. “We need proof that money changed hands from Kingmakers to El Sewedy. And that’s where Ryder and Corey come in.”

Ryder cleared his throat. “I’m working on getting El Sewedy’s financial records, which is a challenge, as you can imagine. We’re making progress with the authorities in the UAE with help from the British, who have a better in with them than we do. Meanwhile, Corey is pouring over the information we have from Kingmakers to see if they had previous deals with El Sewedy, but we need more access. What’s the status on the subpoenas?”

“The grand jury has determined there’s probable cause to go after Kingmakers, and it’s ready to issue the first round of subpoenas,” Coulson reported. “I wanted to wait for this meeting to see if we could add anything more to the request, but I think we’ll keep this part under wraps for now. We’ll file as soon as this meeting is over.”

“Unless there’s a reason not to.” Seth looked around the room. “Will this guy go to ground if we subpoena Kingmakers? Will they contact him?”

Ryder hadn’t even thought of that, but Seth raised a valid point. What if El Sewedy disappeared after all the trouble they’d had to identify and locate him?

Weston scratched his chin. “Let me run that by Director Heeder. He may have to take that up with the president.”

From what Ryder understood, Seth and Coulson had direct access to the president, but of course the chain of command had to be respected.

Coulson nodded. “I’ll inform Legal to hold off until we have confirmation we wouldn’t be risking the investigation into El Sewedy.”

The meeting ended soon after that, and Ryder was still gathering his things when Seth walked up to Branson. “You okay?” he asked him softly. “You look like crap.”

Branson didn’t respond immediately, and much to Ryder’s surprise, Seth put a hand on his shoulder, even though Coulson was watching them from the doorway. “I’m here if you need me,” Seth said, dropping his voice even lower. If Ryder hadn’t been standing right next to them, he wouldn’t have been able to hear it.

Wait, did they know each other from outside of work? Ryder sucked at interpreting body language, but Seth seemed overly personal with Branson for someone he’d only had professional contact with. No, something else had happened between them.

“I know. I’m dealing with some personal issues. My dad…” Branson shook his head. “I can’t talk about it, but thank you.”

“I respect that, but if you need a listening ear, I’m here.”

Branson’s smile was watery. “I wouldn’t think you even had the time.”

“I make time for what’s important.”

Branson took a deep breath, and his face lost a bit of tension. “Thank you. That means a lot to me. I didn’t think you’d ever wanted to talk to me again after…” He gestured at Coulson, who was still waiting by the door.

Ryder had been correct, then. They had a history.

“He understands. Hang in there, okay?”

Seth squeezed Branson’s shoulder, then walked off, Branson’s eyes following him until he’d reached Coulson and the two of them walked out. Only then did Branson tear his eyes away, startling when he noticed Ryder. “I didn’t know you were still here.”

“I suspected as much.”

Branson stared at him, letting out a sigh. “You never do what I expect you to. It’s unnerving.”

“What should I have done, according to you?”

“Everyone else would’ve asked me about what you just witnessed. I’m sure you have questions.”

“I do, but I know that you don’t like to talk about yourself, so I won’t ask and put pressure on you to share things you may not want to.”

Branson rubbed his temples. “I keep thinking back on what you said to me yesterday.”

He wouldn’t get a more perfect segue. “I apologize if I hurt you. That was never my intention.”

“I know.”

“Did I hurt you?” He needed to know for reasons he didn’t even fully grasp himself. The idea of Branson being in pain over something Ryder had said grated.

Branson hesitated. “No. You pointed out some truths that were painful to face, but none of that is on you. In fact, I owe you an apology.”

“You do?” What on earth could Branson have to apologize for?

“Yes.” Branson met his eyes straight on. “You were right that I kept calling you Ry even after you repeatedly asked me not to. I thought it was funny, but it wasn’t. It was disrespecting your boundaries.”

“Yes.” Relief filled Ryder. If nothing else, Branson had understood that. “Thank you for acknowledging that.”

“I really am sorry, and you were correct to point it out. Few people would have. I’m… It wasn’t easy to hear everything you said, but you weren’t wrong.”

“My timing was awful. I should’ve waited until you felt better.”

“I flat out asked you. You double-checked, and I told you I wanted you to say it, so you bear no blame. Granted, I wasn’t expecting that, but still.”

“Okay.”

“I’m… Seth and I have a history,” Branson said. “He and I hooked up a few times before he met Coulson, but we didn’t know each other's name or occupation.”

Ryder winced. “That must’ve been awkward when you ran into each other and found out.”

“God, yes. We both pretended we’d never seen each other, though Seth later told Coulson the truth, of course. But I’d hoped…” He sighed again, his shoulders drooping. “Never mind.”

He’d hoped what? Not that Seth would’ve kept it hidden from Coulson. That didn’t make sense. Then what? Oh, wait. Maybe he’d meant he’d hoped Seth would’ve wanted to continue their relationship, even after they’d found out who they were. But then Seth and Coulson had gotten together, and well, that had been it. Ryder felt bad for Branson.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Sorry for what?” Branson’s tone held an edge.

“Sorry you got hurt.”

“Oh. Yeah…I did. Thank you.”

Ryder stayed silent, watching Branson as one emotion after the other flashed over his face.

“You were right about something else,” Branson finally said. “And I can’t believe I never realized it. I don’t like to talk about myself, and I don’t know why. I love chatting with people, and until you mentioned it, I’d never recognized how unbalanced those conversations have always been with me listening and asking questions, maybe talking about things the other person was interested in. But I rarely opened up about my life, and I don’t know why.”

“You’ll figure it out. And maybe now is not the best time for a lot of introspection.”

“Maybe. Anyway, thank you. I hope you’ll continue to tell me the truth.”

Ryder chuckled despite everything. “Little chance of anything else with me.”

“I look forward to it.” Branson looked at him in a way he never had before, and it made Ryder’s belly tickle.

“Me too.” God, that was stupid. He rolled his eyes at himself. One day, he’d be as socially smooth as Branson…but not today. Whatever. At least he hadn’t fucked up with Branson, and that mattered much more, though why, he wasn’t sure.