“Correct.” The director was a man of few words unless the situation demanded more.
“I’m not worried about your agent. I’m worried about my uncle.”
“That makes two of us.”
~~~
It was almost 4a.m. when Tessa entered her hotel room. She half expected someone to be waiting for her. Her nightgown still lay crumbled on the edge of the bed. The French doors were ajar letting in the cooled air. Before removing her clothes, she moved to shut them. A hot shower, a couple of Tylenol and half a bottle of water had Tessa yawning. Wrapped in a white terry cloth robe she returned to the bedroom.
She’d been given assurances that someone would be down the hall watching. The director offered to send another agent to stay with her, but Tessa refused. Having someone so near sounded invasive when all you wanted was to be alone. With the dim light of the bedside lamp extinguished, she slipped beneath the sheets. The robe on her naked body remained until she warmed. As her eyelids grew heavy with sleep Tessa tried to force her mind to empty the events of the last few hours. Even as she drifted toward sleep, Tessa kept the image of Enigma’s director in her head.
“Director, sir, where are we?” Tessa asked as the director assisted her out of the van.
Dressed in a suit worn too long, he started removing a crooked tie. The open collar exposed a pale throat above a blue shirt. He looked around as the van moved away. His hand went suspiciously to his hip as if to reassure himself his weapon was ready. The parking lot was well lit next to a brick warehouse.
“We’ll talk here after you get into some dry clothes. I promise not to keep you long.” He opened a metal door then stepped aside for her to enter.
Nodding acceptance, she didn’t wish to prolong the encounter. Even though she wasn’t an agent, experience had taught her a year earlier the director respected her and could be trusted.
Upon entering the warehouse, Tessa noticed it had been scrubbed cleaner than the exterior indicated. Several nondescript vehicles sat idle. A workshop area, a few mismatched tables and chairs were about the extent of the lower floor. The metal stairs leading to the second floor echoed with their footsteps as they neared the sterile gray door. Once again Ben stepped aside for her to enter as he opened the door.
Someone fetched dry clothes for a quick change. The director stood with bent head as several young techie types filled him in, on what Tessa guessed, was information concerning the men who came after her. He returned to her soon enough then ordered her back to the van. Soon they were sitting at an all-night diner ordering pancakes and maple coated bacon with lots of hot coffee.
“You’ve stepped into another mess, Tessa.” Ben sat with his back against the wall in the furthest booth from the door. He reached for a mug of steaming coffee the color of crude oil. “Hope you’re hungry. This place makes the best pancakes east of the Mississippi River.” Motioning toward her plate with his fork, he waited for Tessa to begin eating before he took his first bite. “We have not located your uncle. We found where he’d been staying. It appears he packed up and left before we arrived. But we think we’re close.”
“The men after him, who were they?” Tessa tried not to like the warm syrup dripping from her fork, but the director had been correct. The pancakes tasted extraordinary.
“Chase said they spoke Egyptian Arabic, a common language in the Middle East due to Egypt’s influence in business and the cinema.” He took another sip of the black liquid and paused as he met her eyes over the rim of the cup. “There are indications that they may be part of the former secret police.”
“I thought after Arab Spring the Muslim Brotherhood disbanded them.” She felt confusion at this new information.
Her studies in grad school centered on Middle Eastern geography. It both fascinated and disturbed her at the lack of respect for human life some societies had in these countries. It was no secret that the Egyptian police under President Mubarak used whatever means necessary in order to keep dissidents in line. When President Mubarak’s government fell so did his henchmen.
“The Muslim Brotherhood would like for us to believe that. They are still active but go under the name of Homeland Security. It’s a mocking gesture toward the United States implying that our Homeland Security is as ruthless as Egypt. Their point is that we corrupt and violate the human rights of our citizens, just as they practice.”
“Why would they be after my Uncle Jake?”
“You are aware of the 1967 bombing of the USS Liberty?”
“That keeps coming up.”
“Yes. President Johnson dropped the ball in calling out the Israelis on this. He accepted their story of mistaken identity because our ship wasn’t flying our flag.”
“My uncle says different.” Tessa bristled.
“Your uncle is correct. Every survivor on the Liberty swore the flag was raised. Several even waved at the Israeli pilots who flew over. The ship was clearly marked. It was an intel gathering ship.”
“They were spying in other words.” Tessa spoke as she used her finger to catch a drip of syrup at the corner of her mouth.
“For our purposes let’s say they were on a fact-finding mission in case the Russians decided to interfere with the war between Israel and Egypt. They promised to stay out of it if we did. We were merely making sure that was the case.”
“Thirty-four men lost their lives and our government never honored them because they feared offending Israel.” Tessa’s voice sounded edgy. She knew Ben’s father was an Israeli general and his brother was the prime minister. “I’m sorry, Director. I mean no disrespect.”
Ben nodded then a tired smile started to appear on his lips and just as quickly disappeared. “None taken, Tessa. I don’t approve of what President Johnson did. He let those men down. As for Israel…” His words seemed to fade as he sat his cup back down then pushed his plate away. “I’m not proud of what they did either. They should have been held accountable. The money they offered in the early eighties for the destruction of the ship hardly covered the cost. A few families received a small compensation but they would have preferred a public recognition of their service and Israel’s betrayal.”
“Yes. I believe that to be true. Director, my uncle is a kind and gentle man. I know he has complained loudly for the last forty or so years, but…”
Ben held up his hand for her to stop talking. “He’s done more than that. Jake Wakefield has sent threatening letters to every sitting president since he returned from his military obligations. The Israeli Embassy receives at least one letter a month expressing his desire for their demise as a nation. His demands of a Palestinian homeland and immediate withdrawal from Gaza, the Golan Heights and the West Bank are pretty much required reading by the Mossad. Were you aware that every year on the June anniversary he comes to Washington D.C. and stands outside the Israeli Embassy carrying a sign that calls them murderers?”
“The truth hurts,” Tessa quipped. “And no, I wasn’t aware he did that. I’m sure my father doesn’t know either. I don’t agree with my uncle’s methods, believe me. Heaven knows I’m a big supporter of Israel, but even in our own American history we’ve done despicable things. Look at the Native Americans, slavery and innocent Pakistanis we mistakenly killed several years ago in an air raid. We had to own up to that. There have been many more times when we were called on the carpet for our screw-ups. Why not Israel? You know I’m not even angry at Israel for what they did. It’s our government that let those men down.” Tessa leaned back against the warm brown leather and took a deep breath. “Those men of the USS Liberty have been made to feel like liars. And now because of my uncle’s pro-active agenda he’s been targeted by people who want him to do their dirty work.”
“What dirty work is that?” The director of Enigma leaned forward and frowned, his eyebrows meeting over his sharp nose giving him the look of a resolute bald eagle.
“Whoever these people are, they’ve kidnapped some of the USS Liberty crew and are holding them until my uncl
e kills the president and the Israeli Prime Minister.” She laid down her fork before grabbing another napkin to dab at her mouth. “He’s terrified. This wasn’t the way he wanted attention brought to the USS Liberty. If he succeeds everyone will say, ‘see they were all crazy and Jake Wakefield is proof.’” Tessa was too tired and traumatized to cry.
“Tell me what you know, Tessa. We need to get your uncle before he makes a terrible mistake. This president and prime minister are meeting this very week to decide how to resolve the USS Liberty. It was my father’s dying wish that Israel not be perceived as the monster Hitler became in slaughtering so many Israelis. I fear that Egypt is trying to derail the talks and diminish what is trying to be done.”
“Why would they do that? Considering how many innocent Egyptians died at the hands of the Israelis I would think they would love to gloat over the truth told to the world.”
He leaned back against the torn fake leather and sighed so heavily she worried he was tiring of her questions. “We think there are two possibilities. One is that Israel would be vulnerable, thrown into chaos without my brother to lead. They could be invaded, attacked or a number of other scenarios I won’t go into right now.”
Tessa felt her heart beating rapidly. “And two?”
“Maybe the prime minister would survive. With the president dead, terrorists could implement any plans they have on standby. Now that your uncle is involved, it may be that Israel would again look like they were trying to keep atrocities that happened in the Six Day War quiet. Blame would shift to Israel for a dead American president. Any further support, financially or militarily would be suspended until a thorough investigation was completed. We both know D.C. investigations move at a snail’s pace. With a dead president, the stock market could crash; world leaders would feel we were no longer invincible and make deals with the devil. France would be at the head of the line. They have a long history of selling arms to countries we boycott or deem rogue nations. That’s just a start.”
Tessa covered her face with her hands, forcing back tears. “Uncle Jake, what have you done?” She dropped her hands to the table, rattling the dishes. “Tell me what to do. They’ve threatened him with me.” She told him about the pictures of her and Zoric. “When I told him Zoric could help he got spooked. Thought I worked for the government and was sent to trap him.” She noticed a slight change in the director’s facial expression.
“I’m glad to hear that, Tessa. Let’s hope you prove as valuable as the last time you helped us out.”
Chapter 9
F rowning, Gilad Levi looked over the front page of The Washington Post. He’d already read most of the highlights when his secretary came in with a security update from Israel. Folding the newspaper as if he were diapering a newborn, the prime minister exchanged it for the report. The male secretary stood silent, waiting for instructions while holding The Washington Post like he’d been handed a piece of used toilet paper. Even his usually impassive face developed a sneer as his unflinching eyes looked straight ahead.
“Thank you, David. Anything else I need to attend before finishing my coffee?” Without waiting, Gilad picked up his cooled cup of coffee with one hand as he passed the report back to the secretary with the other.
“Director Kempler requests you call him before meeting with the president.”
Gilad cut his hawk eyes up at his secretary. “Dov doesn’t have enough to do at Mossad? He needs me to hold his hand?”
The secretary repressed a rare smile. The Prime Minister appreciated that David kept most of his comments to himself. Displaying intelligence and resourcefulness on numerous occasions, the secretary proved to also be intuitive to the moods of his boss. This was one of those times laughter would be most inappropriate.
“I believe he is concerned about your safety, Sir.”
Gilad waved his hand in the air with contempt. David took the prime minister’s cup and refilled it before pouring himself one. Sitting it down on The Washington Post, a few drops sloshed out onto a picture of a Hollywood actor being led off to jail in handcuffs.
“How is our guest, David?” Gilad blew gently across the vapor rising from his cup. “Is he still resting? Perhaps he’d like to join me for coffee.”
“I believe he has showered and is pacing like an angry…” David seemed to search for a word as he looked up at the ceiling. “What do you call those large cats that roam in American woods?”
“Mountain lions, cougars, pumas; it really depends on what part of the country you’re from.”
“Pacing like a mountain lion.”
“Have Ari bring him down to me.” Gilad pushed back from the table and crossed his muscled legs before taking a large swallow of his coffee. “Is this the coffee my brother sent over?”
“Yes. But Prime Minister, I must advise seeing this man is political suicide. If the president should find out or even your brother…”
“Let me worry about the American president. As for my brother, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt me.” He grinned and held out his cup to be refilled. Drinking coffee all day was a habit the prime minister enjoyed. “Coffee. Guest. In that order, David.”
David rose quickly from his plush chair and moved to the buffet. “Have you eaten, Sir?”
Gilad grunted as he picked up the newspaper again. David knew a guttural sound meant he hadn’t bothered. With coffee delivered, David made the call upstairs.
In moments footsteps approached, stopping outside the large dining room before lightly tapping on the door. David opened the door trying not to reveal too much in case it wasn’t Ari, all two hundred and seventy-five pounds of him, with the guest. Ari’s partner, another Israeli agent, was nearly as big. The guest in the middle looked more like a little hobbit between the two giants. David jerked his nose up in distaste as he stepped aside for them to enter.
The guest began looking around the room as if he might bolt. He was uneasy until his eyes fell on the man sitting at the table reading a paper. Although the guest couldn’t see his face, the secretary watched him come to an immediate realization of the importance of the man who sat before him. Everyone remained quiet until the prime minister lowered his paper and stood.
Gilad, dressed in a dark gray suit, white shirt and red tie, looked imposing as he eyed his guest. “Take off the handcuffs, Ari.” Gilad stared into the eyes of his guest and recognized he’d locked horns with an equal.
“Sir, I don’t think that is wise.” Ari pulled out the key and stood rigid.
Gilad frowned, as his booming voice vibrated the pictures hanging on the walls. “I am the Prime Minister of Israel. I’m sick and tired of people telling me what’s wise or what’s safe or,” his eyes went to David, “that my coffee is from my brother when it is not.”
David arched an eyebrow in an admission of guilt. He’d seen these tirades before. “I will fix a new pot of coffee, Sir. But this is a good example of why you should drink decaf.”
Gilad moved closer to the guest and eyed him from head to toe. He waved David away then pointed at the handcuffs on his guest. Immediately Ari released the guest before slipping both cuffs and key in the pocket of his blazer. The guard went back to standing at attention. The guest looked at Ari before measuring up the second guard.
“What are you feedin’ these boys?” The guest rubbed his wrists carefully.
Gilad laughed as he pointed toward the table. “Join me for breakfast, Mr. Wakefield. I believe we have a lot to discuss.”
~~~
Congressman Gault looked down at the flight attendant covered only with a wrinkled sheet. Confusion as to whether or not he’d satisfied her last night remained in question. Confused thoughts swirled in a foggy head. He was going to have to take it easy on the booze if these kinds of mornings continued. Pulling the Egyptian cotton sheet back, he saw that she was nude and laying on her stomach. The neck length auburn hair covered her face.
He quickly showered and shaved before going back into the bedroom where he found the bed
empty. Before he could wonder where she’d gone, the bedroom door opened and Carmen entered carrying a tray. She had slipped on the white shirt he’d laid out to wear today. No matter. He had others.
“What have you brought me? Aspirin I hope. My head is killing me.” He smiled, spreading open the unbuttoned shirt which swallowed her slim figure.
“Umm,” she purred as she handed him a Bloody Mary. “No. Drink this.” She watched him gulp it down. Then she handed him a small glass of water. “Then this.”
“Are you an expert?” he teased as he began to sip the water.
“Yes. You’d be surprised what kinds of things I learned in my training to be a flight attendant.” She took the glass from his hand and sat it on the nightstand. “The best thing for a hangover is sex. Did you know that?”
“I don’t believe it and my head hurts too bad to try,” he whined, yet managed a quick kiss on her lips.
“My head feels just fine, so I will take care of you.” Carmen opened his robe and stepped inside. “And tonight, don’t drink so much. I have plans I think you’ll like.”
“Can’t tonight,” he said pushing her at arm’s length. “I have to work. This just might be the biggest day of my life.”
“Really? Why is that? Introducing a bill or something? And besides what could be better than being the Speaker of the House?”
“Being president,” he chuckled then moaned as he rubbed his forehead. He turned her around to admire her backside before swatting her buttocks. “Get dressed and I’ll have my driver drop you at the airport. You do have a flight today.” It was more of a statement than a question.
Carmen started gathering up her scattered clothes around the room before heading to the bathroom. “To St. Louis, then Chicago then back here if I’m lucky. Since I won’t be seeing you I’ll try and pick up another route. It might be a few days before I’m back.”
The Enigma Series Boxed Set Page 46
