Chapter Five
Tuesday, February 16, 1988
Islamabad
Joe Johnson checked his watch and glanced at the driver of his maroon Honda Accord. He had been going for two hours now on a convoluted route around the ordered streets of Islamabad and the far more chaotic ones of neighboring Rawalpindi.
Most of the time he had been in the car, but he had also spent time on foot among the crowds outside the teeming Rawalpindi railway station. Then he mingled with office workers heading into the Islamabad business district, where he bought food from a street seller and walked alongside students and diplomatic staff. Afterward, he rejoined his car at the end of an alleyway.
He had taken his time over his surveillance detection route because of the high risk of being tracked by the ISI, but now all his i
