by Ethan Jones
Mustafa grinned and nodded. “Yes, damaged, but perhaps we can fix it and use it in our next attack.”
“Of course, and may you be successful. As far as I’m concerned, I’m out of here.”
Mustafa frowned. “No, not so fast.”
Justin cocked his head. “Why? I kept my part of the deal.”
“You did and exceeded my expectations. Well, everyone’s expectations, for that matter.”
Justin shrugged. “Eh, you must have had very low hopes.”
“Perhaps we did. But I’ll give you an escort to your comrades.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Justin dropped his rucksack next to his feet. “C4s and grenades still in there.” Then he laid his M4 over the rucksack.
“Well, if this is goodbye . . .” Mustafa shook Justin’s hand.
“It is. Again, I’m sorry about your fighters. Someone from my agency will be in contact with you about the compensation.”
Mustafa nodded. “You’re a man of your word.”
“And so are you. So long, Mustafa.”
Justin walked back to the tank and looked for Yekan. He was talking to a couple of Peshmergas in a very animated way. “Yekan, I’m heading out.”
“Why? Stay and celebrate.”
“Sorry, I have to go.”
“This . . . this man, he single-handedly killed all the jihadists,” Yekan shouted at the Peshmergas.
They responded with a loud, cheerful roar.
Justin smiled, “Yekan likes to exaggerate. But he’s the one who drove the tank and got us out of the village.”
Yekan gave Justin a big bear hug.
“Where’s Navdar?” Justin asked.
Yekan pointed at one of the houses. “The doctor’s attending to his wounds.”
“Say ‘goodbye’ to him, will you?”
“Sure, may God bless you and keep you.”
“Yeah, same for you. So long.”
Justin turned around and began to walk south, toward Carrie’s and Vale’s position.
Chapter Thirty-three
February 18
Three miles south of Hasoms
Western Syria
Justin fell into Carrie’s deep embrace, enjoying the much-needed warmth and comfort.
“Oh, Justin. I thought . . . I wasn’t sure I was going to see you again.”
He nodded and stroked her hair. “I know, Carrie. I’m sorry things went sideways.”
“Not your fault. But you overcame it all, and that’s what’s important.”
“Yes, but barely.”
He broke off the embrace and told Carrie and Vale about the attack on Al Zahtani. They listened carefully, shaking their heads at times in disbelief, as Justin described the course of events.
When he was finished Carrie said, “We hit the village from the other side, to divert their attention.”
“I think it worked,” Justin said, “but the air attack finished the battle.”
“You’ll have to thank Carrie for that,” Vale said with a smile.
Carrie shrugged. “No, I just pestered the US command until they caved in. Too bad it didn’t come earlier.”
Justin said, “It happened at the right time.”
“Our attack would have been much stronger and effective if we had Abner and his partner. But they had to leave and follow Moshe and the rest of the convoy.”
Justin nodded. Carrie had briefed him on the latest development with the rest of the convoy. Prince Al Khater had decided not to risk the second group falling into an ambush. So his aide had ordered the remaining drivers to return to the port in Latakia. “Talking about the convoy, we’re no closer to the prince than when we started.”
“Right, but Flavio may have some intel about Cyprus and how its main bank is involved.”
“Where did that intel come from?” Justin asked.
“SAS,” Vale replied. “The Brits have a vast network and great contacts in Cyprus.”
Carrie nodded. “Yes, according to SAS sources, Prince Al Khater is using the United Bank of Cyprus to launder his money from the illegal weapons trade. And, he’s visiting Cyprus for a private meeting with the UBC’s CEO in Nicosia, the capital.”
“When?”
“Two days from now. The prince is on his yacht, Lusail, off the coast of Larnaca. That’s on the southeast side of the island.”
“Okay, so we’re heading to Cyprus.” Justin walked toward their Nissan SUV that Carrie had secured from one of the nearby villages.
“Sure, but how are we getting close to the prince?” Carrie asked as she followed Justin. “We have no assets in Cyprus. Even if we did, we’re short on time.”
“What about Mossad?” Vale asked.
“Yes, Eli said Mossad is monitoring the prince’s communications. If we could tap his phone or hack into his servers to access his emails, then we may get what we need.”
“It’s worth a try,” Carrie said. “Although Eli wasn’t that forthcoming.”
Justin shrugged and opened the driver’s door. “Do you mind if I drive?”
“Not at all, but . . . shouldn’t you rest?” Carrie said.
“Ladies first?” Justin replied with a smile.
Carrie shook her head. “Age before beauty.”
Justin laughed. “Are you calling me ‘old’? She just called me ‘old,’ Vale.”
Vale shrugged. “I’m not getting into this.”
“Smart man.” Carrie walked around to the front passenger seat.
When everyone was inside, Justin said, “Eli may not want to share intel, but Mossad wants to get Prince Al Khater as badly as we do. If they still want us to work on a joint op, Mossad will have to give us what they know or find out what we need to know.”
Carrie nodded.
Justin put the Nissan in gear and drove onto the narrow dirt trail.
Vale said, “I’ll contact Eli and make our request. They may be willing to cooperate, now that we’ve hit a dead end here.”
“Yes, this was too bad. We were so close,” Carrie said.
“Yeah, and all because of a hothead,” Justin said.
They drove in silence for a few minutes. Justin wondered about their next steps if the attempt to spy on the prince’s meeting failed. After the Moscow fiasco, where all witnesses were killed or made to disappear, they needed some strong, irrefutable evidence against the prince, to put him away for good. If Prince Al Khater could not be caught red-handed, then a witness or two would be essential to corroborating the charges against the prince.
Carrie said, “What are you thinking about, Justin?”
“What if we could get Egorov to testify against the prince?”
“You said she absolutely refused to do that.”
“That’s what she told me, but perhaps she can be convinced to change her mind.”
Carrie shrugged. “I don’t know. If we have no other evidence, we may consider that as an option. But do you think Egorov is a strong witness, considering her background and current pursuits?”
Justin thought about his answer for a moment, then shook his head. “You’re right. Even if Egorov agrees to testify against the prince, her testimony will be weak. No, we’ll have to get more evidence, and Mossad will have to deliver.”
“I hope so, Justin,” Carrie said.
“They will. We haven’t come so far only to quit now. No, Mossad will see it our way.”
Chapter Thirty-four
February 19
Larnaca, Cyprus
“No, Justin, we’ve looked into it, and it’s not doable,” Eli said in a loud, frustrated voice. “I don’t know all the right network security terms, and frankly, it doesn’t matter. That bank is an impregnable castle.”
“Your hackers can’t break into the system?” Justin’s voice was full of disappointment.
“No, and trust me, it’s extremely difficult for me to admit that. Contrary to popular belief, we can’t do everything.”
Justin nodded and glanced at the phone on the
table. Then his eyes went to Carrie and Vale sitting across from him in the small coast-side café. It was early in the afternoon, and the café had only a handful of patrons. “So we’re going to let this opportunity slide?”
A moment of tense pause, then Eli said, “Unfortunately, Justin, the answer is ‘yes.’ But not all is lost. We’re exploring other options.”
“Such as?”
“Well, it’s still too early in the game, but we might have someone from the Iraqi Army step forward. He’ll tell us all about the scheme, how the weapons are ‘lost’ and unaccounted for.”
“Might?”
“Yes, you know how these things play out or not,” Eli said impatiently. “But we haven’t given up; we won’t give up.”
“Well, that’s good to know,” Justin said.
“Anything you can do to get us closer to the prince?” Eli asked.
“I’m not sure. Like Mossad, we’re also widening the net. We’re looking at Prince Al Khater’s business partners, to see if we can find a way in.”
“Perhaps you may want to look into the Saudi connection?”
“Saudi? I thought Qatar and Saudi Arabia are at each other’s throats.”
“True, the two countries may be, but that doesn’t mean all business ties have been cut off.”
“Do you have something more concrete, Eli?”
“We do. I’ll send you the files. Before the disagreement between their countries, Prince Al Khater had a number of lucrative oil and gas deals with Saudi Arabia. He owns shares in some refineries in Jeddah and elsewhere in the kingdom.”
“Okay, we’ll review those files, but we don’t have much leverage in the Saudi kingdom.”
“It’s more than Mossad has,” Eli said in a self-critical tone.
Justin nodded. Israel’s relations with Saudi Arabia and the other Gulf states were almost nonexistent. Many of the Arab states had conditioned their improvement of relations with Israel on the Jewish state’s reaching an agreement with the Palestinians. That was not going to happen in the near future. “We’ll do the best we can.”
“I expect nothing less, Justin. I’m glad we’ve been working well in this operation.”
“Because we have the same goal, and yes, this has been some of our better work.”
“We’ll keep in touch, Justin.”
“All right, Eli. Take care.” He ended the call and sighed. “Well, that could have gone worse.”
“Once we have the intel, we’ll pick it apart,” Vale said. “I’m sure we’ll find something.”
Carrie gave Justin a thoughtful glance, but did not say anything. “What is it, Carrie?” he asked.
“What if . . . what was the name of that prince, the black sheep of the Saudi family?”
“Eh, which one?” Justin grinned.
“The one you helped with his nephew the last time you were in Iraq. What was his name?”
“Oh, you mean Prince Al-Taweel—Sulaiman Hussain bin Aziz Al-Taweel?”
“Yes, him. He owes you a favor, right? Perhaps he can help us make sense of this Saudi connection?”
Justin thought about it for a moment and sipped his coffee. “Yes, it’s worth a shot. Al-Taweel might be able to get us close to Prince Al Khater. But I don’t want to miss this opportunity, since it’s a one-time deal. I don’t want to involve Al-Taweel until we have something specific we’re asking him about.”
“Good idea,” Carrie said.
“But I’ll give Al-Taweel’s aide a call, so he knows we want a favor.”
“Yes, so they can get ready.”
Justin reached for his phone. He scrolled through the list of phone numbers until he found Al-Taweel’s aide’s number. Justin dialed it, hoping the aide would pick up. The first couple of rings went unanswered, then someone said in Arabic, “Yes, this is Muhammad Baeshen.”
“Mr. Baeshen, this is Hall, Justin Hall. Do you remember me?”
A brief pause, then Baeshen said, “No, I don’t think so.” His voice carried a clear tone of displeasure.
Justin frowned. “Back in January, I saved Prince Al-Taweel’s nephew from certain death in Iraq. How’s that for refreshing your memory?”
“Eh . . . oh, yes, yes, okay, okay. I remember now. How are you, Mr. Hall?” Baeshen’s voice did not ring true, but he had lost some of his initial displeasure.
“I’m doing pretty well. How about yourself?”
“Can’t complain. Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of your call?”
Justin grinned. “When the prince’s nephew came back home safe and sound, I got your promise that Prince Al-Taweel is not one to forget favors. Do you remember that?”
“I . . . eh, vaguely, yes. I probably did say something along those lines.”
“You did say exactly those words. So, now I’d like to ask for a favor from your prince.”
“All right, and what might that favor be? You want money?”
“No, of course not. I want some intelligence about a specific person and the opportunity to meet with said person.”
“Who is that?”
“I can’t tell you that right this moment, but I wanted to give you the heads-up.”
“I can be more effective if I know the name and what exactly you are looking for.”
Justin thought about his answer for a moment. “Yes, that makes sense. The name is Prince Rashid bin Ahmad Al Khater. He’s a wealthy businessman from—”
“Yes, yes, I know who Prince Al Khater is. But you probably know about the fight between the kingdom and the rogue state of Qatar?”
“I’ve heard something about it, but I fail to see its relevance to our conversation.”
Baeshen sighed. “The prince has no dealings with countries that support terrorism or fund extremism.”
Justin tried to stifle a grunt. “Thanks for bringing that to my attention, Baeshen. But you’re not telling me the prince has no way of securing some intelligence or arranging for a meeting, right?”
“Did I say that?”
“It sounded like you did, so maybe you want to clarify it.”
“What . . . eh, what do you want to know about Prince Al Khater?”
“I want to know about his weapons deals in Iraq and Syria. Especially over the last six months. The buyers, what kind of weapons, how do they get to these countries, mediators, everything.”
“That’s a tall order, Mr. Hall.”
“It is, and that’s why I’m coming to the prince. He can pay for everything he wants, right?”
Baeshen did not answer. He drew in a deep breath, then said, “I can’t make any commitments on behalf of the prince, but I will get your message to him.”
“That’s wonderful, but I’m not finished. Depending on the intelligence I receive, I may need to meet with Prince Al Khater, so—”
“That’s not going to be possible.”
“I thought you couldn’t commit on behalf of the prince until you talked to him.”
“Right, but I know what he will or will not do.”
“That’s a pretty bold statement, even for you, Baeshen. I know you have the prince’s ear, but how about you take my message to him?”
“Hall, you’re overstepping.”
“I meant no disrespect, Baeshen, but Prince Al-Taweel may have a different opinion. I kindly ask you to present my request to the prince for his consideration.”
“I will do so, but there’s a very small likelihood he will accept it.”
“Thank you, Baeshen.”
“Anything else, Hall?” Baeshen’s voice clearly showed his desire to end the call.
“No, not at the moment, but I will have some more accurate intel about certain deals, and I’d like to know more about them.”
“All right, but again, no commitments on my part on behalf of the prince.”
“Yes, that is clear and very well understood,” Justin said in a tired voice.
“Good, now all the best, Hall.”
“Same to you, Baeshen. We’ll talk soon
.”
He sighed and placed the phone on the desk.
“Bad news?” Carrie asked.
“Baeshen, the prince’s first aide, is acting like a tough guy. At first, he claimed he didn’t even remember me. Then he was telling me the Saudi prince will not be able to arrange a meeting with Prince Al Khater.”
“Why are we meeting with the Qatari prince?”
“In case Mossad’s intel doesn’t give us what we need, and the Saudi prince is less than helpful, perhaps we can stage a ‘meeting’ with the Qatari prince. We can raid his offices, where he may have a vault with all the evidence we need.”
“Raid?” Vale asked.
Justin shrugged. “Well, maybe ‘raid’ is not the right word. But having legitimate access to the prince will allow us to look for a computer or phone or another electronic device that might have the intel we need.”
Carrie nodded. “It will be a very delicate operation, but we can make it work.”
“If things come to that point,” Vale said.
Justin reached for his coffee cup. “Yes, I’d rather we get the intel to nail the prince through Mossad and our Saudi ‘friend.’ But it’s always good to have a plan B.”
Chapter Thirty-five
February 19
Larnaca, Cyprus
Justin, Carrie, and Vale spent the rest of the day poring over the Mossad intelligence files. Most of the reports, letters, and memorandums were in Arabic, which slowed down their progress, since only Justin spoke the language. But near midnight, it was clear that the files showed an intimate relationship between Prince Al Khater and certain Saudi businessmen with strong ties to the House of Saud. However, none of the intelligence Mossad had provided discussed any weapons deals, legitimate or illicit.
Justin stood up from the table, which was covered with printouts, and walked to the small hotel room kitchen. “I’m making more coffee, since it’s gonna be a long night.”
“I’ll have a cup,” Carrie said.
“Same here,” Vale said.
