by Ethan Jones
Justin filled the pot and started the coffee maker. “Still haven’t heard anything from Baeshen, so I’m going to give him a call.” He flipped through his phone and first looked at his emails. “Oh, wait, he did send something about . . . an hour ago. How come we missed it?”
Carrie shrugged. “You’ve muted your phone, maybe?”
“Yeah, I must have.”
“What does the message say?” Vale asked.
“It has a link to a secure server to download the files. I’m forwarding the email to both of you.”
A few moments later, the team had downloaded a trove of documents. As expected, the majority were in Arabic, but there were the occasional company communications or business deals translated into English. Justin thought it was for the benefit of non-Arabic-speaking partners. Some of the deals involved intermediaries from the United Kingdom and Switzerland. Others had Iraqi and Syrian government officials’ names and seals.
A couple of hours into the analysis of the documents, and the picture of the Qatari prince’s weapons trade was becoming clearer. Prince Al Khater’s companies were routinely awarded contracts to equip the Syrian and Iraqi armies with weapons, ammunition, vehicles, and other military equipment. The contracts seemed to be all legitimate, and there was nothing in the files to indicate any of the prince’s involvement with terrorists. All shipments were delivered to military bases, except for a few lost in ambushes, a couple of accidents, and a small number of routing errors. One could easily and logically conclude that these were cases in which weapons ended up in the hands of terrorists. However, there was no solid evidence to directly tie Prince Al Khater to arming, funding, or otherwise supporting terrorists in Syria or Iraq.
Justin let out a deep sigh and leaned back in his seat. He glanced at his wristwatch. It was almost two in the morning. He stifled a yawn, then said, “There’s nothing here.”
“Maybe we’re missing something,” Carrie said.
Vale shrugged. “We’ve looked at this from all angles. I agree these aren’t helpful.”
Justin nodded. “Yes, either the Saudi prince didn’t give us everything, or these documents were sanitized to remove any incriminating evidence.”
“But why would the prince hide any evidence?” Carrie asked.
“To cover his own involvement, if he is involved. The Saudi prince is known to have extremist views. His nephew was supporting ISIS in Iraq. Perhaps there’s more to his relationship to the ongoing wars in Iraq and Syria.”
Carrie nodded. “You may be right, or perhaps we’re missing something. Why don’t we call it a night now? We can come at this with fresh eyes tomorrow morning.”
“I’m not really tired. The coffee buzzed me up,” Justin said. “But you folks go on.”
Carrie stood up. “I need my beauty sleep. We’ll meet up for breakfast at 7:00?”
“Yes. The café across from the hotel.”
“Lambros Café, yes.”
“All right, guys, see you tomorrow—well, today, in a few hours.”
“Sleep well.”
Vale stood up as well. “I thought I could stay up, and I probably can, but I’ll be more useful if I hit the sack.”
“Sure thing.”
Justin walked Carrie and Vale to the door, and they went to their rooms down the hall. Justin returned to the kitchen and made a new pot of coffee. Maybe Carrie’s right. Maybe we missed something. I’ll go over the files one more time. Perhaps I’ll find what we’re looking for.
* * *
Carrie was the first one to arrive at Lambros Café at quarter to seven. There were very few patrons at that early hour. February was not the tourist season, plus a cold wind and a drizzle had kept the few early risers in their hotels or homes. She found a table near the back that overlooked both entrances to the café and was beyond earshot of the old man reading the paper and enjoying his coffee two tables away.
Carrie ordered a cup of black tea, then looked out the window at the grayish skies and empty street. She wondered how her day would be if she came to this beautiful city to enjoy its gorgeous beaches. I would probably start early with a cup of tea. But I wouldn’t be plotting how to take out a Qatari prince. Rather, I’d think about the color of my bikini, or the UV of my sunscreen. She smiled and shrugged. Who am I kidding? I was never that type of woman. Probably never will be.
She sipped her tea and glanced at Vale braving the rain and walking at leisure across the street. She called to the waiter and ordered coffee for Vale and Justin. They both liked their coffee black.
When Vale came near the table, he said, “Morning, Carrie. How did you sleep?”
Carrie shrugged. “Eh, I slept. You?”
“Barely. There was some constant rattle; I think it was the central air conditioner. I almost got up a few times to yell at the front desk.”
“That wouldn’t have solved the problem.”
“No, but it would have made me feel better. Where’s the boss?”
“Not up yet. Knowing Justin, he probably didn’t sleep either. Not because of the rattle, though.”
Vale nodded. “Yes, he re-examined everything, to find something we overlooked. But I don’t think there’s anything there.”
Carrie drew in a deep breath, enjoying the delicious aroma of bacon. She felt her stomach growl in protest, but she did not want to order breakfast until Justin had arrived. She glanced around the café, then leaned forward. “So, what do you think is our next move?”
Vale opened his mouth to reply, but at that exact moment the waiter brought his and Justin’s drinks. Vale inhaled the coffee’s strong aroma. “Thanks,” he said to the waiter, then turned to Carrie. “Thanks for getting this. And if our boss doesn’t show up soon, I’m wolfing down his as well.”
“Not so fast, he’s coming right now.” Carrie gestured with her hand.
Vale turned his head to see Justin exit the hotel. “He looks tired, but maybe the coffee will perk him up. To answer your question, I think we’ll have a meeting with the Qatari prince, and as we know, it’s not going to end well.”
“For the prince, I assume?” Carrie grinned.
“But of course.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Carrie sipped her tea.
Vale also took a swig. Then he glanced at the door as Justin walked in. He brushed the rain from his hair, then made his way to their table. “Good morning, Carrie. Vale. How are you doing today?”
“Great, but you don’t look too good,” Carrie said.
Justin held back a yawn. “Thanks for the coffee.” He brought the cup to his mouth for a long sip. “I got an hour or two of sleep. Trying to find out what we had missed in the files.”
“And?”
Justin shrugged. “We hadn’t missed a thing. The files don’t give us what we need.”
“So we’ll have to go and take it from the prince himself?”
Justin nodded. “Yes, it seems that way. Unless we get more intel from the Saudi prince, Mossad, or Flavio, we have no other option.”
“I doubt we’ll hear from anyone,” Carrie said.
“If Flavio had anything, he would have given it to us,” Vale said.
Justin nodded again and sipped his coffee. “Yes, but let’s have breakfast before we make a decision. Our brains run smoother when our stomachs are full.”
Chapter Thirty-six
February 20
Larnaca, Cyprus
Justin could tell from Eli’s tone of voice how frustrated he was, although the Israeli agent was doing his best to sound calm and collected. “No, Justin, we have no updates, but we’re still hoping the Iraqi Army colonel will come through.”
“How certain is this hope?” Justin asked.
Eli sighed. “It’s fifty-fifty. Like most things in this op, it may or may not happen.”
Carrie, who was sitting across the table, scribbled something in her notepad, then held it up for Justin to see. It read: When?
Justin nodded at her. “Do you have a timeline in min
d?”
“No, I don’t. It could be today; it could be a month from now.”
“We don’t have a month, Eli. We’re so close to the prince; we need to grab him now.”
“I wish it were so, Justin, but we don’t have enough intel. And Mossad isn’t willing to engage in a snatch and grab mission.”
“Eli, I find your reluctance to take charge disturbing. What’s going on? Is Mossad going soft?”
“No, far from it, Justin.” Eli’s voice took on a firm tone and grew louder. “But we’ve got to pick our battles and choose our priorities. Perhaps it’s time you and your team do the same.”
“We are, and this is currently our top priority. We don’t like to leave things unfinished. They have a tendency to come back and bite you in the—”
“I get your point, Justin, but Prince Al Khater is no longer our priority, at least not at this time. Having said that, all the best with your next steps, whatever they may be.”
“All the best, Eli. And keep me posted if things change.”
“By all means. As soon as there’s movement, you’ll be the first to know.”
Justin tapped the End button on his phone and sighed. “Well, that was a waste of time and money.”
Carrie said, “At least we know they won’t get in the way.”
“If he’s giving us the truth,” Vale said.
Justin nodded. “Yes, I find Mossad’s change of heart worrisome. I’m sure Eli isn’t telling us everything that’s going on in the background.”
“So we only have the meeting option?” Carrie asked.
“Yes, as we discussed. Baeshen is supposed to confirm the time, then we’ll make preps.”
“And what if the Saudi prince refuses?” Vale asked.
“I don’t think he will, but we’ll deal with that scenario when and if it happens,” Justin said in a quick tone. “Now, let’s call Baeshen and see where things are. I want this done as soon as we can, before Prince Al Khater sets sail, or gets on a private plane.”
“Our recon places him on the yacht,” Vale said. “He returned earlier this morning after partying all night.”
“Good. Keep an eye on him at all times.”
Vale nodded. “Will do.”
Justin took a small sip from his coffee, then tapped the Speakerphone button and dialled Baeshen’s number. Prince Al-Taweel’s aide answered right away. “Hall, I was just about to call you.”
“Baeshen, do we have any progress?”
“Yes, about that, the prince would like to talk to you.”
Justin frowned and looked at Carrie. “Something’s wrong?”
“No.”
“Has he made a decision?”
Baeshen hesitated for a moment. “Prince Al-Taweel will explain everything. Let me see if I can get him to call you back. Is this number good?”
“It is.”
“And this is the real number, right? It’s not scrambled or disguised or anything like that?”
“Well, there are security encryptions in place, but if you dial the number you see on your screen, I’ll get the call.”
“All right. Stand by.” Baeshen ended the call.
Justin shrugged. “Now we just stand by, I guess.”
“How long?” Carrie asked.
“You heard the man. As long as it takes for the prince to honor us with his time. It could be five minutes; it could be an hour.”
“Well, nature calls.” Vale stood up and headed to the washroom.
Carrie leaned forward. “Justin, do you think we’re perhaps pressing our luck here? Without Mossad’s support, it’s just us—well, you, since neither Vale nor I speak Arabic. Shouldn’t we wait for another opportunity?”
“This timing is perfect, Carrie. We may not have another opportunity. The prince is obviously worried about his distribution channels, especially after the Syria fiasco. He would be open to discussing working with another partner. And with the backing of Prince Al-Taweel, our cover is solid.”
Carrie nodded. “Even the most solid covers get cracks. If Al Khater or his guards suspect, you’ll be on his yacht, by yourself.” Her voice rang with true concern.
Justin shook his head. “I won’t be alone, Carrie. I’m sure Prince Al-Taweel will want to have a few of his cronies in the meeting. If he’s vouching for me, he has to back me up.”
Carrie’s face twisted in a deep surprise. “That’s . . . that’s your plan? A team of Saudi prince cronies and you?”
“No, that’s not all. I was thinking of bringing in Ali Mansour. His leg is healing up pretty well, and no driving will be necessary in this op.”
Carrie nodded slowly. “Yes, having a man you can trust to watch your back is a good move. But not sufficient.”
“I’ll also have you and Vale not far away. If the meeting takes place on his yacht—which I hope it does—then you could be close by on a motorboat.”
“We need to think this through, Justin.”
“Yes, and we will.”
“And you think the prince will go for it?”
“We’ll have to see.” Justin shrugged and pointed at the phone.
Carrie shrugged. “All right, but still I don’t think—”
The phone ring cut off her words.
Justin said, “That could be the prince.” He reached for the phone and glanced at the screen. It was a Saudi cellphone number, as the country code showed 966 followed by 5. Justin pressed the Speakerphone key and said, “Yes, this is Justin Hall.”
“Mr. Hall, this is Prince Sulaiman Hussain bin Aziz Al-Taweel.”
Chapter Thirty-seven
February 20
Larnaca, Cyprus
“Your Highness, I . . . I appreciate your call,” Justin said in a warm, almost solemn tone.
A brief pause, then Prince Al-Taweel said, “Yes, yes—listen, Mr. Hall, my assistant told me about your request.”
Justin waited for the prince to continue and when he did not, Justin said, “Yes, would you like me to describe it—”
“No, no, it’s very clear. But I wanted to ask some pointed questions.”
“Okay.”
“Are you planning to kill Prince Al Khater?” The Saudi prince’s voice sounded more like a warning than a simple question.
Not if I can help it, Justin wanted to say. Instead, he drew in a deep breath, then said, “Of course not, Your Highness. I want to take this opportunity to find some missing intelligence—”
“About Prince Al Khater weapons deals?”
“Correct. Those deals that threaten, among others, the peace and stability in the Middle East and the Gulf area, including your kingdom.”
“So you’ll be rummaging the yacht, if my understanding of your plan is correct?”
Justin had not given the prince’s aide any details, but Prince Al-Taweel could easily figure out at least some of the aspects of Justin’s plan. “My intention is to be swift and discreet. If I could have a face-to-face meeting with Prince Al Khater, I could try to—”
“Do you realize what you are demanding, Mr. Hall?”
Justin did not answer right away. “I understand this is a great favor, Your Highness—”
“It’s a huge, gigantic favor, that doesn’t compare to anything I’ve done or plan to do for anyone else. And before you bring my nephew into the conversation, know that this favor you’re demanding exceeds what you’ve done for me.”
Justin shook his head and bit his lip. He stifled the first thought that crossed his mind, which was to tell the prince how his beloved nephew would have been tortured and beheaded, his horrific death recorded and broadcasted all over the Internet for the enjoyment and the encouragement of all jihadists. But Justin kept his mouth shut.
“Mr. Hall, you still there?”
“Yes, I’m listening, and you’re absolutely right. I would have not come to you if I had another way, any other way. But I know you’re the only one who can make this happen.”
Prince Al-Taweel gave out a loud laugh. “Mr.
Hall, you know how to flatter.”
“Well, you know what they say about flattery . . .”
“I know, and it doesn’t work all the time. Frankly, I hate people who try to appeal to my wealth and my power. I’ve had it with them. You are different, Mr. Hall. I like your daring spirit, that you’re not afraid to overreach. My answer would have been ‘no,’ but I will make an exception in this case.”
Justin smiled and glanced at Carrie, who gave him a victory fist pump.
Vale’s head bobbed in satisfaction.
The prince continued, “But for this to take place, it will have to be under certain terms, my terms. And you will have to abide by those terms, Mr. Hall.”
Justin hesitated for a moment. “I . . . I will have to hear them first before I give you my final word.”
“Of course, of course, but these terms are not going to be troublesome. I need to have some measures in place, both for your own safety and for that of Prince Al Khater.”
Justin frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Let me explain, Mr. Hall. My greatest concern, as you can easily imagine, is with the prince finding out your true identity. That is, when you’re roaming around the yacht, someone may discover you, catch you, and then suspect all of my men. It’s my reputation at stake, you understand that?”
“I understand, yes.”
“I can’t have Prince Al Khater learn I set him up, sending a covert operative to spy on him, to sneak into his own home, and look for evidence to throw him in jail or worse. If you’re discovered, my reputation is at risk—”
“That’s not going to happ—”
“Don’t interrupt me,” Prince Al-Taweel boomed in a loud, angry voice. “I was saying, if you’re discovered, that will be your end, a terrible, painful end. But I will be in big trouble. I hate when people get me in trouble.”
Justin shook his head but said nothing.
Prince Al-Taweel continued, “So you will follow the detailed instructions given to you, if this is to work. And pray to your God the prince’s guards don’t find out about you. Once you fall into their hands, there’s nothing I or anyone else can do for you.”
