The Cyprus Coverup

by Ethan Jones

  Justin glanced at the phone weighing on his hand. “I don’t know what to say . . .”

  “Just tell her you love her. That’s enough for any woman. I’ll return in half an hour or so.”

  “I’m not gonna take that long.”

  “Well, take as long as you need to. I need to take care of a few things of my own.”

  “All right.”

  “See you in a bit.” Carrie walked to the door and closed it behind her.

  Justin sighed, drew in a deep breath, and dialed Karolin’s number.

  Chapter Nineteen

  February 13

  ECS Headquarters

  Vienna, Austria

  Justin swivelled in his seat and stretched his arms and neck. He had spent the last hour or so reviewing the Mossad files, along with reports and briefing notes from the Vienna section. Most of the intelligence covered developments in Syria and Iraq, but there was a short update about the suspected Reza incident. The Turkish police had not been able to identify the man who had been driving the car. The alias used by the man at the Avis office in Ankara did not match anyone in the ESC database. Flavio had expanded the search to other partner agencies, but so far there had been no results.

  Justin reached for his cup and drank the last sip of his coffee. It was lukewarm and bitter, so he decided to make a fresh pot. Carrie would probably want a cup. Her office was just around the corner beyond the kitchen.

  He stood up, but before he had a chance to leave his office, someone knocked on the door. “Justin, can I come in?” Karolin asked in her cheerful voice.

  “Sure, it’s open.”

  Karolin walked in. She was balancing three coffee cups on a cardboard tray and a large brown paper bag. The delicious aroma of chicken schnitzel filled the small office. “You ordered lunch, right?”

  “I didn’t, but I’ll gladly take it.” He moved a few folders around on the small desk in the corner so Karolin could place the food and drinks there. “Mhhhh, Lorenz’s Bistro.”

  Karolin smiled and dimples formed on her lightly tanned cheeks. “There’s a long line at lunch hour, so I went a bit early.”

  “Lorenz is my favorite.”

  “Ja, ja, I know,” Karolin said in her beautiful German accent.

  She put everything on the desk, then gave Justin a quick kiss on the lips. He held her close, feeling the warmth of her body against his. He kissed her again, more passionately.

  Karolin broke the kiss and brushed back a few strands of her golden hair. “What if someone walks in?”

  “Without knocking?”

  “Flavio’s known to do that.”

  “He’s not around.”

  “Carrie is.”

  “Yes, but she always knocks.”

  He kissed her again and looked deep into her clear blue eyes.

  “You smell like airplane.”

  “Sorry, jet engine fuel gets everywhere. I should have changed before coming to the office.”

  Karolin held onto his arms. “It’s okay. Now, should we enjoy our lunch before it gets cold?”

  “Sure, honey.”

  What Karolin had brought was almost a feast: large portions of schnitzel, creamy potato salad, and sauerkraut. She had not forgotten dessert, knowing Justin loved a slice or two of sachertorte, the world-famous Austrian chocolate cake. Since he had not had much of a breakfast, Justin dug into the golden, crispy schnitzel. “This is . . . hmmmm, this is beyond delicious,” he said after savoring a mouthful.

  Karolin nodded as she picked at her salad. “Glad you like it, sweetheart.”

  “How’s your day going?”

  “Pretty well. Just got a new assignment. We’re staking out a couple of potential terrorist locations in the Praterstern area, near the center of the city. I was reviewing the profiles, and Dolina and I will head out around two or so. Quite exciting.”

  “What’s the op’s risk level?”

  “Three out of five, but you don’t have to worry about me, Justin. I’m in good hands.”

  “Of course you are.”

  Dolina was one of the ECS’s best surveillants, and she worked closely with Karolin. Justin had run a few operations with Dolina. She was very skilled and efficient. Still, Justin could not help but feel a certain amount of unease for his girlfriend every time she was dispatched on a ground operation.

  “Yes, this will be straight-up surveillance. Two cars. Dolina and I will be in the lead one.”

  “That’s pretty good. Already part of the lead team.”

  Karolin had been hired last December, in a move that Flavio hoped would bring Justin back to the top of his game. The distance and constant concerns had been weighing Justin down. But now that he worked in the same field station as Karolin, his concerns were of another kind.

  “Yes, I’ve had a good mentor.” Karolin smiled, referring to Justin, who had trained her during the first few days on the job.

  “No, I think you’re talented and working really hard. You’re going places.”

  “Talking about going places, did you get Flavio’s authorization for your op?”

  Justin frowned and stopped chewing. “How did you hear about it?”

  “Relax, it’s common knowledge—well, at least amongst our team. It was in the morning briefing.”

  “I must have missed that. How much detail was there?”

  “Nothing more than what I just said. The boss was going to authorize a few ops today, and you and Carrie were mentioned.”

  “Not by name.”

  “No, of course not. But I can put two and two together.”

  Justin shrugged. “I haven’t heard anything from Flavio. But he still has half an hour or so.”

  “And where is he dispatching you?”

  “I . . . I can’t tell you that, Karolin. Sorry.”

  Karolin shrugged. “Is it Syria or Iraq? You’re usually sent to those war zones.”

  “I’d love to tell you, honey, but I shouldn’t.”

  “At least you’ll be with Carrie, so that makes it safer.”

  “It does. And I’ll be in the good company of other trusted men.”

  “I still worry about you.”

  “Of course you do. You love me. And I love you too.”

  Karolin smiled. She wiped her lips and leaned in for a kiss.

  Justin took a few more schnitzel and potato salad bites, until his plate was almost clean. He told Karolin about the operation to Istanbul and Rome, whatever he was allowed to declassify to his teammate. But his mind kept wandering to his most recent mission in Iraq and his involvement in Azade’s rescue.

  Azade was a beautiful Kurdish fighter, who had fallen in love with him during the time Justin had been operating in northern Iraq. He had kept that relationship hidden from Karolin. He had shrugged it away as unimportant, considering it had taken place at a time before he and Karolin had started dating. But the mission had left him confused about his true feelings. He still felt something about Azade.

  It was not love, since he had already given his heart to Karolin. But he could not explain why he was conflicted about Azade, and why his mind kept going back to her. Is it because she’s in a war zone and can be killed at any moment? Is it a simple infatuation? Or am I afraid of committing fully to Karolin?

  “Justin, where are you?”

  “Huh, what?” Karolin’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

  “You’re lost in thought. What’s going through your mind?”

  Justin drew in a deep breath. “How much do you know about my recent op in Iraq?”

  Karolin shrugged. “Whatever Flavio has declassified. I’m familiar with the general context of the operation. The attack on the ISIS-held village; the hostage rescue; the search for the Belgian bagman. But I don’t know specific details.”

  “Yes, okay. I . . . I’ve got to tell you something. It’s . . . eh . . . it’s classified, but you need to know.”

  Karolin put down her fork and glanced at the office door. Then she moved her chair
closer to Justin. “I’m listening.”

  Justin thought about the best way to phrase his explanation. “One of the hostages was a female Kurdish fighter with whom . . . eh, I had a relationship, well, almost a relationship. That was before you and I were together.”

  A small frown began to form on Karolin’s face. “Did you love her, Justin?”

  “Uh, no, no, I didn’t.”

  “But she did?”

  “Yes, she did love me.”

  “And this rescue mission, you led that because this woman was held as a hostage?”

  Justin nodded. “In part, yes. But I would have done that for any friend of mine.”

  “What . . . what if she wasn’t part of the picture? Then what?”

  “I’m not sure I follow . . .”

  “If your girlfriend wasn’t kidnapped, would you have risked your life?”

  “Yes, I said so—I would have done that even if she wasn’t a hostage.”

  Karolin pushed her black-framed glasses up the bridge of her small narrow nose then folded her hands across her chest. “Do you love her, Justin?” Her voice was cold, and Justin thought he noticed a tinge of disappointment.

  “Uh, no, Karolin. I don’t love her, I never did. You’re the only woman in my life; the only one I love.”

  “But you still care about her?”

  “As a friend, yes. She lives and fights on a daily basis. She can lose her life or be seriously wounded at any moment. We fought many battles together when I had gone rogue in Iraq. We developed a close bond.”

  “I understand, Justin. So, to be absolutely clear, there’s nothing now between you and this woman?”

  “No, nothing.” Justin gave her a firm headshake.

  “Okay, I trust you,” Karolin said in a low uneven voice. “But next time, tell me what’s going on immediately. Don’t keep things from me.”

  “Yes, considering this was classified—”

  “But you declassified it for me. And our relationship is much more important than work, right?”

  “Right, of course it is.”

  Karolin offered Justin a small smile. “Okay, so let’s keep it that way.”

  “Good.” Justin smiled back. He reached for her hand, and Karolin curled her fingers tightly around his. “We have something good going on. I . . . I don’t want to wreck it. I won’t wreck it.”

  “Same here.”

  He stood up and gave her a gentle hug.

  Karolin laid her head on his chest. “I love you, Justin.”

  “I love you too, Karolin.”

  Chapter Twenty

  February 15

  Neuen See Café, Tiergarten Park

  Berlin, Germany

  Carrie warmed her hands on her coffee cup as she brought it to her mouth. She was inside the café, but it was still cold, especially near the window, which afforded her a clear view of the pier and the pond. The water had frozen, since the temperature had dipped below zero, and a blanket of snow had covered most of the surface. A couple of small birds huddled on one of the tree branches, shaking off snowflakes. No one was on the pier or anywhere near the pond.

  There had been no change of plans, and Reza was expected to meet with Justin at half past eleven. It was now eleven twenty, and Justin and Carrie had spent the last fifteen minutes scouting the area for suspects. There were very few people braving the chilly weather and sharp wind. Justin had noticed a couple of joggers along the trail. They were young men wearing loose-fitting jackets, with plenty of room to hide weapons underneath them. Near the pier, a mother and two children were attempting to build a snowman, although there was not sufficient snow, and it was not sticky enough. An older man—Carrie supposed he was the father—was sitting a few steps away, fiddling with his phone. Once in a while, he would talk to the woman and take pictures of the children. The woman, or the man, or both, could be covert operatives.

  Inside the café, there were two men and a woman enjoying a late breakfast or an early lunch. Carrie did not speak German, so it was difficult for her to determine their relationship. One of the men seemed closer to the woman, considering the way he stole glances at her, but Carrie could not be certain. Any one of these people could also be covert agents.

  Justin was pacing near the edge of the pond close to a large area that in the summer served as the beer garden. It was now covered by a few inches of snow. Justin held his phone close to his ear, feigning that he was having a serious conversation. But his eyes were taking in everything around him. Once in a while, he would turn around and look in the direction of the café.

  Carrie sipped her coffee, then whispered into her throat mike, hidden by her brown scarf, “Justin, what’s the joggers’ status?”

  “They’re coming back.”

  “They finished the loop already?”

  “No, turned around. What’s the sit in the café?”

  “Quiet. The trio’s still here.”

  “Any sign of Reza?”

  “Negative.”

  “And the happy family?”

  “As determined as ever to build the snowman.”

  Justin smiled. “I remember how stubborn I used to be as a child.”

  “Used to be?”

  “I’ve gotten better, haven’t I?”

  “Eh, it depends. Now you’re not stubborn; you’re determined.”

  “You know they mean the same thing, right?”

  Carrie laughed. “No, they don’t.”

  “Wait, we’ve got some movement.”

  He glanced up toward the east. A slender man in a black coat and black pants was walking toward the pier. “That’s Reza,” Justin whispered into his throat mike.

  “Copy that. Coming out.”

  Justin moved the phone to his left hand. His right hand instinctively hovered close to his side. His Sig Sauer P229 pistol was in his waistband holster, and he could pull it out with a swift gesture.

  Reza walked slowly past the man still fiddling with his phone, then nodded at the woman, who gave him a smile. He still had not made eye contact with Justin, but was hurrying toward the pier.

  Justin walked toward Reza and cast a sweeping gaze around. One of the joggers was stretching about a hundred yards away. The other one had disappeared. Justin tried to find him along the trail, then among the trees. Where did he go?

  Reza was now about fifty yards away. His eyes met Justin’s, and Reza gave a small, but firm headshake. He also seemed to mumble something indistinct.

  Justin’s trained mind interpreted the message. “Abort, abort mission,” he said into his mike and turned around.

  Reza ran toward the pier, then shouted, “Watch out, Justin.”

  Justin ducked and rolled onto the snow.

  Reza’s call saved Justin’s life.

  A barrage of bullets whizzed over his head.

  If he had been still standing, the rounds would have cut through him.

  Justin pulled out his pistol and crawled toward the nearest bench.

  Gunfire erupted behind him.

  “Covering you,” Carrie’s voice came into Justin’s earpiece.

  He glanced toward the jogger, who was no longer on the trail. Then Justin’s eyes went to the family. The woman and the two children were running toward the beer gardens, toward safety. The man was not with them.

  A couple of bullets bored holes in the snow, next to his body.

  Muzzle flashes appeared near the edge of the pier, right where the man was sitting until a moment ago. He was now stretched out on the snow, firing from behind the bench.

  Justin returned fire. He double-tapped his pistol, planting at least one bullet in the man’s chest.

  Then Justin looked around for Reza. He had fallen to the ground and was inching toward one of the nearest trees.

  A volley came from beyond the forest, across the pond.

  Justin cursed the missing jogger and squeezed off a few rounds. Uncertain he had hit the target, he tapped the trigger a couple more times. “Reza, this way, this w
ay.”

  Footsteps came from behind him, then Carrie said, “The second jogger. He’s firing from—”

  Bullets cut off her words and thumped into the bench, inches away from their faces.

  Justin returned fire.

  Carrie also fired a long burst.

  “I’m going to get him. Cover me,” Justin said.

  “Done.”

  She slammed a fresh magazine into her pistol and squeezed off a long barrage, alternating between the two positions from which they were taking fire. One of the joggers was crouched behind a tree to the left of the trail; the other was still across the pond.

  Justin reached Reza and asked, “Can you walk?”

  “Yes, yes.” He tried to put some weight on his left leg, but then collapsed onto the snow. “I . . . I can’t.”

  “I’ve got you.”

  Justin wrapped his arm around Reza’s waist and pulled him to his feet. Then Justin began to drag Reza toward the café.

  Bullets kicked up snow around their feet.

  Justin turned around to return fire. He could not aim very well—since Reza was still hanging onto his shoulder—but suppressive fire was better than nothing. Justin emptied his magazine, then pushed Reza onward.

  More bullets danced a few feet around them. But Justin and Reza were now halfway there.

  Carrie dashed toward them. She fired to the left, then swung her pistol to the right, pouring forth a torrent of bullets. She stopped for a split second to reload, then resumed her fiery wrath.

  Reza almost stumbled, but Justin held him up. He dragged him another few steps, then they both dropped behind the bench.

  Carrie kept firing at both enemies’ positions.

  Bullets stripped slivers off the bench.

  Justin reloaded and squeezed off a quick burst. Then he and Reza continued toward the café under Carrie’s ceaseless cover fire. When they reached the first trees, Justin stopped and dropped to one knee. “Carrie, retreat,” he said into his mike.

  “Copy that,” came her reply.

  He glanced at Reza, who was catching his breath and grasping at his bleeding leg. “Hold on there.”

  Reza nodded and cursed the shooters.