“Am I going to work alone on this one?” Mark asked somewhat anxiously. He couldn’t see himself tackling a terrorist cell.
“No, you’re not. We’ve been asked for you to work with Jack Lypsick.”
“Who’s Jack Lypsick?”
“The shrewdest agent in the CIA. He’s dealt with terrorists even before it became a household word.”
“What does he look like?”
“Get yourself a new cell phone and I’ll send you his photo along with that of Sadir as soon as you’re on line.”
“What about Talya? How is she doing? Does she know about all this?”
Mark heard the chief chuckle. “One question at the time, boy.”
“Sorry, sir.”
“Okay. She is fine. Actually I phoned James Flaubert this morning to let him know you were back in town and to get the low down on her condition, since Khalid came here, in Ottawa, you remember?”
“Yes, and then?”
“Well, he told me that she’ll be staying on Bowen Island off the Vancouver coast for a while. There is a physiotherapist with her and if the surgeons agree, she might have an operation on her spine and she might recover the use of her legs after that.”
“Wow, that’s great. But why staying on Bowen?”
“Because that physio guy is staying at the same B&B and there’s no hassle to have their physio sessions, when they’d live at the same place.”
“What does the doctor think about it, or do you know?”
“Apparently, he’s all for it. It’s the best way for her to regain strength in her legs for when she’ll walk again.”
“Okay... Is Sadir in town already?”
“Yes—according to the report I got this morning. Anyway, Lypsick will give you the intel you’ll need when you show up tomorrow morning for breakfast at the restaurant of the hotel…”
“What, or who am I supposed to be this time then?”
“A vacationing billionaire. You’re waiting for Prince Khalid…”
Mark nearly dropped the phone. “Say what?”
“You heard me.”
“What is he gonna do here? I don’t think that’s a good idea, Chief.”
“Let Lypsick explain why, Mark.” Fred paused, and since he heard no reaction come out of Mark, he went on, “Okay…, any more questions?”
“No, no, Chief, I don’t think so. I just think Khalid shouldn’t be here…”
“And I think you’ll change your mind once you heard Lypsick... Okay, I’ve got to get some work done... Anything else?”
“No, I don’t think so. I’ll call you as soon as I’ve got the cell.”
“Good.”
“Thanks, Chief.”
Chapter 41
Sadir went through the hassle of several stopovers between D.C. and Seattle, which took him down to Denver where he had to spend the best part of the night waiting for his connecting flight to SeaTac in Washington State.
When Sadir finally reached his room, slid his electronic key in the lock, opened the door and switched on the lights, he saw Lypsick. He was sitting in a chair near the window.
“Welcome to Vancouver, Mr. Sadir,” Lypsick uttered, joining the tips of his fingers in front of him.
Sadir stood in the hallway, glaring at the man. “What are you doing in my room?” The aggressiveness in his voice was undisguised. He took a few steps into the room and glanced at the two suitcases lying on the side of the desk.
Lypsick observed him walk in. “As you can see, we’ve got your luggage as promised.”
“Yeah, but what I’d like to know is what you’re doing here” Sadir dropped the key card on the dresser, and went to plop himself down on the bed.
Lypsick looked at him and sniggered. “This is probably the last time you’ll see me, Mr. Sadir. I was waiting for you to let you know that from now on end, I’ll be your shadow.”
“What for? I haven’t done anything wrong!”
“That’s what they all say, Mr. Sadir. You know that better than most.” Lypsick lowered his hands onto the armrests of the chair, extended his legs in front of him, and crossed them at the ankles. He looked uncomfortable. “In any case, we’re not here to talk about others but about you. You are the one who wanted to come here. And we want to know what you have planned.”
“I just wanted to go to Seattle. I never meant to come here…”
“I see. And you renting an apartment for the summer on English Bay a month ago was just a coincidence then? Was the apartment for someone else maybe?”
Sadir stood up. He looked like a trapped bear, about to stretch his big arms and throttle his assailant. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sadir growled as he took a step toward Lypsick.
The CIA man grabbed his gun out of its holster in a swift move, sat up and pointed it to Sadir’s chest. “That, too, is a comment we’ve both heard. Sit down!” Lypsick shouted.
Sadir backtracked to the bed and sat down again, carefully this time, his eyes riveted on the barrel of the gun.
“Consider this, Mr. Sadir; I could eliminate you right now—no questions asked. I would even get a bonus for getting rid of one more terrorist, but I won’t do that.”
“Why don’t you, and be done with it?” Sadir blurted, not leaving his eyes from the gun. “You’re going to do it anyway, aren’t you?”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Sadir. What we have in mind is not as quick and as painless as a bullet through your brain would be. Remember, how long it took for Ms Kartz to get from her hospital bed onto a wheelchair? Do you?” Sadir’s eyes grew wide. “Yes, Mr. Sadir, three long months before she could stop screaming from the pain.”
“But I wasn’t the one who shot her…”
“You’re right; you were not, but that’s not my point. It took months for her to stop screaming and that’s how long it will take for you to see any relief in our pursuit of the truth.”
“What do you mean?”
“Simply this, Sadir; we’re going to find out what makes you do the things you do, what makes you tick, and who’s the puppeteer. And once we’ve find that out, we’re going to try you in open court for every one of your crimes along with your cohorts. Ultimately, and unlike Ms Kartz, you will not find relief and walk free, but you’ll only stare at a needle before you close your eyes forever.”
“What if I were to give you what you want right now…?”
“Oh no, you don’t... Besides, we would be spending months chasing our tails, again, verifying your allegations, and in the end, we would be back here wondering why we believed you. NO! Sadir, your game stops right here. Now, I’m the dealer, and the hand I’m dealing you is made up of only face cards. You play your hand, and we’ll see how many chips you win, that’s all.”
A roar of laughter escaped the fat man’s mouth. “And you think I’m going to dig my own grave and give up the names of my collaborators, just because you’re dealing me a hand of face cards?”
“That’s exactly what you’re going to do, Mr. Sadir.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. What makes you think I would do that?”
“Ah! Very good question. I think your lovely wife and your two girls would prefer to see you rot in prison than being subjected to an accidental death, don’t you think?”
Sadir shuddered. His big frame seemed to crumple into a heap of fear in front of Lypsick’s eyes. “You wouldn’t…!” he groaned.
“Well then, you just watch and listen to CNN while you’re here. Lie to us, make one false move, and you’ll hear of their demise. You got that?”
“That’s blackmail! The CIA would never agree to do that...”
“Who’s talking about the CIA? Don’t forget our counterpart. They’re really waiting to exact Moses Law on you and your family right now. Remember, “An eye for an eye”? You’ve got so many deaths on your conscience as far as they are concerned; they wouldn’t mind giving you a taste of the same—any time now, actually.”
Lypsick replaced the
gun in its shoulder holster, stood up, made his way down the hallway, and shut the door behind him as he walked out.
Chapter 42
Mark had to get himself equipped, shall we say, for his grand entrance as a billionaire the next morning at the hotel’s restaurant. He was glad the meeting had not been scheduled for the night of his arrival. The way he felt (and looked) at the moment could be compared to an overdosed junky in quest of his next fix. His greasy hair, red eyes, and the sweaty smell emanating from his tired body, didn’t make it easy for him to walk into the most expensive clothier in town and asked to be shown a couple of their best suits. Since he didn’t have time to have the trousers altered and the jacket taken in, he chose whatever was on offer and fitted him. The sales clerk, who looked more like a personal valet than a store’s assistant, frowned several times, but as etiquette demanded, didn’t say a word when Mark asked to try on some of the ready-to-wear garments. He bought all of the necessary accessories, down to driving gloves and even a cane to take on his morning stroll. He thought he could give it to Talya once she would be out of her wheelchair. The thought of the cane becoming a gift drove him to choose it with superfluous care, to the gentlemen’s gentleman ultimate surprise.
Once his purchases were concluded, he went to the third floor of one of the department stores and rushed into the hair-stylist’s salon. The young woman at the desk looked like the dominatrix of a late-night show. Leather corset, tight-fitting pants, spiky hair, offensive red lipstick and silver jewellery complemented her somewhat frightening, pale face.
“How can I help you, sir?” the woman asked.
Mark came to stand in front of her after he had dropped his many shopping bags into a nearby chair. “I’d like your stylist to give my hair a rinse to get rid of the colour.”
“Very well. Would next Friday at three suit you?” She scrolled down the appointment list on her computer screen.
“NO!”
She threw him a quick glance and returned her eyes to the screen. “How about Thursday at five o’clock?”
“How about right now?” Mark said with the firmness of one who couldn’t be denied.
“I’m afraid that’s impossible, sir,” she replied politely, “our stylists are busy till closing today…”
“Make it possible then. You get one of them un-busy and there is a hundred in it for you.”
She was all smiles now. “Bribery will get you everywhere...” While she let the remark hang in the air, she walked inside the salon and called out, “Alain? Would you mind…?”
Mark didn’t hear the rest and waited until an effeminate fellow showed up through the archway—the dominatrix in tow.
“Ho my! What a mess,” the stylist exclaimed, rounding Mark as if he were a side of beef on display at the butcher. “What have you done? Did you colour those locks by yourself?”
Turning to face him, Mark finally uttered, “Yes. I was in a hurry. And I’m still in a hurry.”
“Of course, my dear man, of course. Follow me. My name is Alain, by the way, and what’s yours?”
This was definitely getting too friendly for the about-to-become billionaire. “Mark,” he replied curtly. “Shall we get on with it?” He was already walking into the salon under the amused gaze of the receptionist. She should get her whip out to him, Mark thought.
An hour and a half later, Mark reappeared, paid his bill and left a hundred dollar note on the counter, which the dominatrix swiped off, quickly saying, “My name is Belinda, Mark. If you’d like to come back sometime, I’d love to show you what I can do with the rest of you!”
Mark had enough. He walked out, shopping bags in hand, without a word.
When he got back to his room, he didn’t bother unpacking. He took out the cell phone he had bought first as he got into the shopping mall, opened it, registered it with the service provider, and finally dialled Fred’s number.
Already at home, Fred looked at the call display on the phone in his den, and grunted.
“Alright! You’ve got it. Good. I’ll send you Lypsick right now.”
Surprised that the Chief didn’t let him place a word edgewise, Mark sat back and waited.
“Have you got it?” Fred asked once he got back on the line.
“Yes, thank you. What about Sadir’s?”
“Yes, that’s next, but it’s not a very good one. Anyway, he’s fat, that’s really all you need to know about him.”
Mark smiled to himself. Although the chief was not fat per se, he counted among the gigantic men of this earth—he was sure.
“Okay, Chief. I think I’ll turn in now, otherwise I’m gonna fall asleep on this sofa.”
“No problem. We’ll talk in the morning before your first meeting with Lypsick. Phone me.”
“We’ll do.”
Mark shouldn’t have been sitting down. It took him less than thirty seconds to fall asleep where he was.
Chapter 43
When Samuel reached Suva, he disembarked with the rest of the passengers and decided to spend the morning at the market. He wanted nothing, he needed even less, yet he wanted to lose himself among the people and maybe sit somewhere in front of a tall, refreshing juice. While walking down the street, he noticed a man sitting at a shaded terrace. He noticed him because of his white beard and his detached attitude. He climbed the couple of steps separating him from the terrace and approached the old fellow silently. He bent down to his ear and whispered, “May I join you?”
The man didn’t reply but waived a hand to the chair opposite his.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, sir,” Samuel began as he sat down, “but you remind me of someone I knew a long time ago and I wonder if you wouldn’t mind a bit of company.”
The blue eyes met Samuel’s in a gentle but steady stare. “Why did you shave your head and beard?”
Samuel passed his hand over his scalp and smiled. “I needed to do it.”
“Ah,” the old man said, “it should have been a great need to subject yourself to such a disfigurement. Would this need be that you wanted to hide from undesired scrutiny?”
The perspicacity of the man surprised Samuel. “You’re right. I didn’t want some people to recognize me.”
“Ah, yes, of course. And your manner of dress does not match your presence. Was that part of the need to disguise yourself, too?”
“Yes.”
“Why? Why would you need to hide behind a mask that is as revealing as your eyes?”
“Yet, you do not know me. How could you tell? My appearance is all but a disguise, albeit a transparent one.”
“Because, dear boy, same as you, I have known you all my life.”
“That’s impossible!” Samuel exclaimed. “I have never been here...”
“But this is assuming that I have lived here since birth, isn’t it? And if the premise is wrong then the theorem must be false.”
“May I know your name?”
“You know it already, but your mind has yet to acknowledge its recollection.”
“Have you been to Australia?”
The old man shook his head, and when he did, the beard moved aside and let the pendant around his neck reflect the sunlight. It was the Star of David.
“You are Rabbi Joshua.”
A thin smiled crossed the old man’s lips. “Indeed I am, dear boy.”
“I guess the beard and the long hair had me fooled.”
“Unlike you at present, people do not often know who I am, or recognize my station in life.”
“I thought a balding head would be the perfect disguise...” Samuel let the words trail off when he saw the Rabbi look at him reprovingly.
“God has given you a mind to think—nothing more, nothing less. Yet, what you do with your mind and the thoughts you engender within is up to you. The consequences of your thoughts and actions are yours to bear.”
“I need to protect someone from harm, Rabbi, but before I can reach her, many men will want to stop me, that’s the reason for my disguise.�
�
“Your chivalry has rendered you blind and deaf, my son. You have expressed your wish to God in prayer, have you?”
“Yes, Rabbi, I have. And I have expressed the reason for my wish in recitations.”
“Very well then. Let me assure you that your disguise however sheer it may be will not be necessary. God has seen your way to her already.”
“How would you know this, Rabbi?”
Joshua’s eyebrows lifted slowly and his eyes peered in those of Samuel. His regard was penetrating. Indeed, Samuel felt as translucent as a veil floating before the Rabbi’s eyes.
“Do not doubt my word, child. Have the juice you wanted when you climbed those steps, when you joined me, and then go on your way. You need to be there shortly. The sooner the better, I would even say.” The Rabbi then raised a hand and a little Fijian woman appeared at his side instantly, as if by magic. “Samuel here would like a papaya and mango juice, my dear. Would you mind bring it to him?”
“Bien sûr, Rabbin, tout de suite,” she said in French.
Samuel had not listened to anything after Joshua had pronounced his name. “How did you know my name?” He had whispered the question as if afraid that his voice would attract attention.
“Would you prefer I call you Isaac,” the Rabbi replied, leaning to the back of the chair.
Samuel was stunned. “No, not really. I would prefer to erase that name from my memory forever.”
“There is only one person on this earth who can do that. I think you know who that is, don’t you?”
“Yes, Rabbi, I know. I can hardly wait to prostrate myself at her feet and ask for her forgiveness.”
“Ah, thank you, Louisa,” the Rabbi said to the little woman as she deposited the tall glass in front of Samuel.
“De rien, Rabbin, c’est mon plaisir,” she said, trotting away already.
Rabbi Joshua looked at Samuel while the latter sipped on his juice. He still looked like a child to him.
WASHINGTON DC: The Sadir Affair (The Puppets of Washington Book 1) Page 14
