by J. C. Fields
She nodded and they both stood as Wolfe took a last look across the street inside the wine bar. His eyes narrowed as Reid glance in his direction. With a slight smile, he surmised Reid could not see out of the bright interior of the restaurant into the dimly lit sidewalk across La Rambla. As they walked back toward their hotel, a plan started to form in Wolfe’s mind. His smile widened as he followed Nadia.
Gerald Reid anticipated an evening of learning more about the young lady sitting next to him. She was on her third glass of sangria and laughing harder with each glass. After taking another sip, he glanced out the front window of the bar. He could see scores of individuals looking for the right place to party and enjoying the warm evening. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a familiar face. Putting his sangria down he squinted at a figure he thought he recognized across the street. He frowned as the apparition disappeared into the surrounding crowd.
He stood and moved closer to the window, but the phantom had disappeared. Taking a deep breath, he attributed the sighting to his consumption of Spanish sangria. Returning to the table, he once again focused his attention on the young woman sitting next to him.
She grinned, her eyes droopy and voice slurred. “What did you see?”
“Thought I saw an old acquaintance. I was wrong.”
“Good, we don’t need any interruptions tonight.”
He smiled and forgot about the image he thought he saw across La Rambla.
Chapter 33
Barcelona, Spain
B ack in their hotel room, Wolfe glanced at the clock on his cell phone and did the math. Washington was six hours behind Barcelona. It was approaching midnight in Spain, so Joseph would be either finishing his day or at his apartment with Mary. He sent a simple text message and waited for the call.
Fifteen minutes later, his phone vibrated. He answered it immediately. “Hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.”
“Nonsense. How’s your trip?”
“Interesting.”
“How so?”
“Our prospect met with his principal partner today.”
“We figured that. Any major announcements?”
“No. He seems to be waiting for a response. We need to know what our competition is talking about. You have his number. Any ideas?”
“A few. Let me see what I can do and get back to you.”
“Thank you.”
The call ended. No names, no locations, no key words were used to flag NSA interest in an international call, yet both callers understood the real meaning of their conversation.
Wolfe smiled as he watched Nadia undress and slip naked under the bed covers. He stripped off his shirt, jeans, and socks before getting in beside her. “Tomorrow will be interesting.”
She snuggled against him, enjoying his warmth. “Shhh…” She reached for him and drew his lips toward hers. “We are in Barcelona, one of my favorite cities. No more talk of Gerald Reid.”
Joseph Kincaid ended the call and sipped the single malt scotch from a crystal highball glass. Mary would not arrive for another hour, having spent the day meeting with various members of Congress along with the first lady. The time difference between Washington and Tel Aviv meant it was just after one a.m. there. After determining what needed to be done, he went to his personal laptop and opened an app. Using the VoIP program, he dialed a number only he and a few other individuals on the planet knew.
The call was answered after five rings with a cautious, “Shalom.”
“Uri, it’s Joseph. Did I call too late?”
“Ah, my friend. Unfortunately, my day is not quite over yet. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”
“I’m on a secure line. Are you?”
“Always. Why?”
“Are you still looking for Asa Gerlis?”
A lengthy silence ensued. Finally, he heard, “Maybe. Do you have news?”
“I have a phone number I want you to monitor.”
“Why us? Why not use your NSA?”
“Because, my friend, you can do it without as much red tape as it would cause me.”
“Ahh… True. Do you know where he is?”
“My conversation was with someone on an open line. We did not discuss particulars, but there is a chance the phone number I can give you will receive a call from Gerlis in the near future.”
“I see.”
“I think both of us would benefit by your listening to any calls this phone number might receive.”
“Whose number is it?”
“Gerald Reid’s.”
“Interesting. Where is he?”
“Barcelona, Spain.”
“It gave me great pleasure to hear of his departure from the agency. Did you have anything to do with it?”
“Uri, I’m shocked you would think such a thing.”
“Joseph, you are not, as you American’s say, a boy scout. Do not act like one.”
“Let’s put it this way—Mr. Reid was caught dabbling in domestic affairs. Plus, he had a foreign bank account with a sizeable sum he conveniently forgot to declare. My boss was not happy and neither were the directors of the CIA and FBI.”
“Tsk, tsk. Not too smart on Reid’s account.”
“No.”
The call went silent for a dozen seconds. “Give me the number. I will have it monitored.”
“Thank you. I owe you.”
The vibration of a cell phone brought Joseph out of a light sleep. He quickly put on his glasses and checked the number. An international call with Israel’s prefix. When he accepted the call, he heard, “We need to talk.”
“I will call you right back.”
Mary rolled over and groaned. “What time is it, Joseph?”
“A little after four. Go back to sleep.”
She did not respond as he heard her breathing change to a gentle rhythmic cycle. With a smile, he headed toward his office.
Five minutes later, Uri Ben-David announced through Joseph’s computer speakers, “We intercepted a call to the number you gave me.”
“When?”
“About two hours ago.”
“And?”
“Voice recognition software confirms it was Gerlis.”
“Where is he?”
“Also, Spain. But the call was too short for our technicians to pinpoint exactly where. It was somewhere in the Barcelona area.”
“What did you learn?”
“He told Reid to expect a call in the next day or so.”
“I take it Gerlis did not identify the person who would contact Reid.”
“No.”
“Where does that leave you, Uri?”
“Freidman has called an emergency meeting to discuss this turn of events. I have a feeling we will be sending a team to Spain in the morning. Plus, our technical staff will be working overtime searching our archives for any calls from the number Gerlis used.”
“Interesting.”
“Joseph, are you keeping secrets from me? You never explained how you knew Gerlis would call Reid.”
“No, you’re correct. I didn’t.”
“Care to explain?”
“Not particularly.”
Ben-David chuckled. “Very well. Secrets among friends, yes?”
“Something like that. Will you keep me informed if your people intercept another call?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”
The call ended and Joseph frowned. If the Mossad was sending agents to Spain, he would need to let Michael and Nadia know. He made the call.
Wolfe answered immediately. “Yes.”
“Do you have alternate means of communicating?”
“Yes.”
“Use it and call back.”
After retrieving one of the pre-paid cell phones purchased at a small electronics store, Wolfe dialed the number he knew went directly to Joseph’s VoIP application.
He was answered immediately.
“Michael, we might have a small problem.”
�
��Such as?”
“Former friends of Nadia are sending someone to find Gerlis.”
There was no reply from Wolfe.
Joseph continued, “The good news is you were correct—Gerlis told Reid to expect contact from someone in the next day or so.”
“I take it there were no details.”
“None.”
Wolfe glanced over at Nadia, who sat at hotel room desk working on the laptop. “Nadia is able to monitor his emails and internet activity.”
“Anything of interest?”
“A little. Nothing earth-shattering.”
“I won’t ask for details.”
“Probably best.”
“Michael, it goes without saying. Be careful. We don’t need the Mossad knowing you and Nadia are alive. No telling what they would do.”
“I agree.”
The call ended and Michael stared at the now-silent cell phone.
Nadia raised her eyebrows. “What was that about?”
“Mossad is sending a team to find Gerlis.”
“When?”
“Soon. Probably tomorrow.”
The following morning Nadia worked on the laptop while Wolfe went for coffee and pastries. He returned to the room and found her grinning.
“Reid just got an email telling him to be at a café on La Rambla at 3:30 this afternoon.”
With a smile, Wolfe placed one of the coffees next to her and sipped on his. “Which one?”
“The same one we were at two years ago.”
“Huh.”
“I do not believe he has discovered his cash and passports are missing.”
“How can you tell?”
“He has not accessed his bank accounts yet.”
“At some point he’ll have to.”
She nodded. “What about his meeting?”
“We need to find a camera store and spend some of Reid’s 20,000 Euros.”
By 2:40 p.m. Wolfe and Nadia were in a position to observe any meeting taking place at the Ristorante Ideal, the same tapas bar where Nadia had waited over two years ago. She was across the street in a second-floor hotel room with a Nikon D750 Digital SLR Camera attached to a NIKKOR 70-300mm zoom lens, her view of the sidewalk café unobscured.
Wolfe watched from a vacant apartment two buildings to the southeast equipped with binoculars. They maintained communication using a set of hand-held radios purchased at the same time as the camera.
Time crawled as they waited for the meeting to take place.
At 3:25 p.m., Gerald Reid entered the café and spoke to a waiter as he pointed to a table near the front of the designated sidewalk dining area. When the waiter nodded, Reid sat and observed the tourist milling around. Nadia snapped digital images of the entire process while Wolfe surveyed the crowd surrounding the café.
Every few seconds, for the next fifteen minutes, Reid continued to refer to his cell phone. With a frown on his face, he suddenly stood and withdrew money from his pocket. A man stepped up behind him on the sidewalk and grabbed Reid on the right arm. At the same time, the newcomer removed the cell phone from Reid’s left hand.
Wolfe recognized the move. “Nadia, make sure you get clear pictures of the man behind Reid.”
The radio crackled as he heard, “His back is to me. I have the camera on automatic. When he turns, we should get one.”
Wolfe concentrated on the encounter occurring in front of the café with his binoculars. Reid grimaced in pain as he brought his now empty left hand over to hold the spot touched by the assailant. Because of the angle of his observation post, Wolfe only saw half of the attacker’s face. He lowered the binoculars as he hissed. “Shit.” He then watched as Reid’s attacker melted into the mid-afternoon crowd on La Rambla and disappeared.
He brought the binoculars back up and saw Reid stagger slightly. A mask of horror appeared on the man’s face as he fell forward, collapsing the table with his weight.
“Did you get a picture of the man?”
No response came over the radio.
“Nadia, did you get a picture?”
Still no response. He trained the binoculars on the hotel entrance. He did not see her. As his stomach muscles tightened and his face grew ashen, he vacated the room and ran down the stairs to the sidewalk exit.
With the Nikon on automatic, the camera recorded six images every second, yet the attacker failed to turn her way. Seeing her opportunity about to vanish, Nadia rushed out of the hotel room, leaving the radio behind.
She exited the hotel into the crowded street and ran in the direction the attacker had taken. The crowd seemed unaware of the drama taking place in a café across the street. Nadia used this as a cover and ran, staying close to the shops and restaurants on her side of the busy thoroughfare. She saw a break in traffic and darted across to the crowded center pedestrian lane, dodging street performers and artist kiosks. She made her way toward a man moving rapidly away from the café with his back to her.
He looked behind himself to check oncoming traffic. She realized an opportunity to get a picture was about to present itself. She stopped and started the Nikon on automatic exposure as she pointed it at him. As he crossed the street, he took a final glance behind him and disappeared down an alley.
Nadia breathed hard as she retraced her steps back to the hotel, stopping only once to see if she had a clear picture of the man. One frame showed his face—it was only three-quarters of a view, but it was a clear picture. With a smile, she sprinted back toward the hotel room and the radio.
Wolfe found the hotel room empty. As he rushed to the window, he noticed the hand-held radio sitting on the nightstand next to the bed. His eyes blinked rapidly as he froze, his mind refusing to contemplate the unthinkable thought of losing Nadia. He used the binoculars to survey the street below and saw nothing of her. A noise heard at the room’s door caused him to turn. Without a weapon, he prepared to charge the door.
Relief spread through his body as Nadia stepped into the room. Her smile immediately disappeared when she saw his distressed look. “What’s the matter, Michael?”
He swept her into his arms and embraced her tightly.
She pushed against him and looked up. “What is it? Michael, you’re scaring me.”
“Nothing.” He managed to say as he buried his face in her hair and breathed the familiar scent of her shampoo. “You just used two contractions in three sentences.”
They watched from the hotel window as paramedics tried to revive Gerald Reid. She turned to Wolfe. “Think he will survive?”
“He was dead before his body crashed into the table.”
“How do you know?”
His mouth twitched.
She looked back at the scene across the street. “Gerlis?”
“That would be my guess.”
“Now what?”
“Joseph indicated Mossad would be sending someone or several someone’s to look for Gerlis. I don’t want them to find us instead, nor does Joseph.”
“Airport?”
He nodded. “Yes. We can be back in the States by morning.”
“What about Reid?”
“What about him?”
She paused, realizing the finality of what they witnessed. “Never mind. Let’s get to the airport.”
Part Three
El Sombra
Chapter 34
Washington, DC
One Week Later
H e was assumed killed in a drone strike in 2010 just inside the Pakistani border. At least he was supposed to be in the Toyota Land Cruiser destroyed by the drone. Since it was Pakistan, no one was able to confirm his presence in the vehicle.”
Joseph Kincaid removed his glasses and subconsciously chewed on a temple tip as he listened to Uri Ben-David’s voice over the secure line.
“Whose drone?”
“CIA.”
“Why was the Mossad so interested in him?”
Ben-David took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “He was on our radar because we knew him
to be a highly trained sniper in Saddam Hussein’s Republican Guard. He disappeared right after Hussein’s execution and is suspected of being responsible for the assassination of several Mossad assets in Iran and Syria from 2007 through 2009.”
“Did the picture confirm his identity?”
“Yes. While it was only three-quarters of a view, the facial recognition software gave it a ninety percent match.”
“So, he’s been hiding for a little over a decade?”
“It would appear so. You never told me how you obtained the picture.”
“We had an asset keeping tabs on Reid during his stay in Spain.”
“You did, or the agency?”
“What do you think, Uri?”
“What I think is you have never really retired from the agency.”
“Urban legend.” Joseph paused for a moment. “What’s this man’s background?”
“You completely avoided my question.” Ben-David chuckled. “His father was an Iraqi diplomat who married a Spanish woman. As a child, he attended primary school in England and college in the United States. I’m told his English is perfect with a slight Boston twang.”
“Harvard?”
“That is what I am told.”
“So, he could slip into the United States with ease.”
“Yes. When he shaves his beard, he looks Western European.”
There was silence for several moments. Joseph broke it. “Have your teams had any luck finding Gerlis?”
“Vanished. When we arrived at the address you gave us, it appeared to have been abandoned recently. We spoke to the owner. They are on an extended holiday in Australia and were unaware someone was occupying the property. It is isolated with few neighbors. The ones we did talk to did not notice anything unusual.”
“So, he could be anywhere?”
“Yes.”
