Sandstorm

by Alan L. Lee

  Nora grabbed the same chair Alex had occupied and sat in front of Lipton. “Lie to me one time and I’ll hurt you so bad you’ll beg me to kill you.”

  Lipton slowly filtered a few sips of water down his throat, each swallow uncomfortable and mixed with blood. “I think you cracked my ribs,” he said holding his chest.

  “I’d be disappointed if I didn’t.”

  Alex and Duncan once again made themselves comfortable in the background. Alex took out a small notepad and pen, wearily checking his watch in the process. If there was anything to Nora’s suspicions, a major blank could be filled in here, providing, at the very least, a framework for moving forward. One didn’t fork over ten million dollars to one of the most notorious black market dealers in the world without getting some bang for the buck.

  “Now,” Nora began, “let’s try this again. From the beginning. Why did you tell those lies about Janway when she was station chief in Moscow?”

  Lipton hesitated for a moment but realized he had no other option. “They needed her out of the Russian sector. They were hesitant about proceeding with her in place because they felt she might get wind of what was going on.”

  “And what was going on?”

  “A covert operation.”

  “She was CIA and chief of station. Why run an op around her? Rather than ruin her career, why not brief her as to what was going on?”

  Lipton let go an agonized sigh. “Sure you know Janway? She didn’t do anything without proper protocol being followed. She would have wanted confirmation from the highest level. Raising that flag and running it through channels would have put the op in jeopardy. Plus, the Israelis were insistent their involvement be known only to a select few.”

  “Israelis? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “They were a part of it. A joint operation.”

  Nora was stunned for a moment. “The Mossad trusted you?” Nora chuckled. “I warned you about lying.” She was about to rise from the chair when he cut her off.

  “They didn’t talk to me! I was told that was their position.”

  “Who told you? Who did you trust to the point that you’d risk your career by bypassing protocol?”

  Nora looked at the pathetic figure as he tried to avoid eye contact. “Oh, my god,” she said, not needing to hear the answer. “Your dad is involved. Your own father has been running you. What the hell has he done?”

  “He’s a good man. He serves his country.”

  “Your father had Janway killed!”

  “I refuse to believe that. And like I said, I don’t know what you’re talking about. The last I heard, she was on desk duty at Langley, waiting for that damned lawsuit of hers to move forward.”

  “And you would have lied again.”

  “I would’ve done what was necessary to ensure the success of this operation.”

  “Good for you, Davis. You read the manual. But I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess it’s an operation that you know hardly anything about.”

  “It’s on a need-to-know basis, yes, but I’ve played my part.”

  “Well, let’s see how much you do know. What was the ten million for?”

  Lipton wiped his sweaty forehead. “I’m not totally sure.”

  “Davis, do we have to dance again?”

  “No! No! What I’m saying is, that was Baum’s final payment. There were more before this one. He was paid for purchasing materials that couldn’t be bought officially. He also arranged for transport.”

  “There’ve been other payments? For how long?”

  “This has been going on for two, maybe three years.”

  “This last payment was for what, exactly?”

  “Centrifuges.”

  The mention of the word got Duncan to sit up. He interrupted before Nora could get another question out. “How many centrifuges are we talking about and who are they for?” By Duncan’s tone, Alex could tell the man was on to something.

  “This shipment, roughly three, four hundred, I believe. I’m under the impression it’s for Iran.”

  “Iran?” said Duncan. It was more of a reaction than question. “And you’re sure there have been other shipments?”

  Lipton nodded yes.

  Duncan started mentally calculating. “This doesn’t make sense,” he mumbled to Alex.

  Alex opened his hands, wanting his friend to elaborate.

  Duncan spoke to Lipton again. “You said earlier the Israelis wanted Janway out of the sector. You sure your father was being truthful with you?”

  “He wouldn’t lie to me. I don’t know the scope of the whole operation, but I trust that part is true.”

  Duncan motioned for Nora to continue, and then he gave Alex a concerned look. “It doesn’t make sense,” he repeated. “Why in the world would Israel supply one of its biggest enemies with materials to facilitate their nuclear program? But, if what he’s saying is legit, there’s some crazy shit going on, and its way, way above our heads.”

  Nora let them contemplate the possibilities as she addressed Lipton again. “You said something about Baum arranging transport. So, what happens next?”

  Sensing this was his only chance to escape this predicament or even perhaps this room alive, Lipton played the only card he had left. “If I’m not out of here and at the delivery point within three days, a bunch of alarms go off and everything gets shut down. The entire operation. So you need me. You see, I have to give the go-ahead to one more intermediary who then takes care of the final arrangements.”

  That statement brought Nora to a critical point. Why not shut the whole thing down? Whatever the intent, it was an unsanctioned deadly operation already. She could bring Davis and his father to justice. Murdering a CIA analyst on American soil was a serious crime. But then, Nora realized the power and influence of the people involved and besides, she didn’t really have any concrete proof. Bringing charges at this point would only give all the co-conspirators time to cover their tracks and hide like roaches when the lights came on. She was convinced a thorough beating of Lipton would determine the absolute truth of his words. At the same time, gathering information in such a manner wouldn’t necessarily be easy. Lipton would eventually black out from the pain, and they’d have to wait for him to come around—and there was the added risk he might discover some hidden courage and try to hold out until his aforementioned deadline. Plus, she believed her original assumption was true. There had to be only so much Lipton knew. He was too much of a liability to be totally informed.

  Alex could sense Nora’s frustration. “Let’s talk,” he said, motioning for her to join him in the hallway, not the slightest bit worried that Lipton would try something stupid with Duncan in the room watching over him.

  Once the door shut behind them, Nora ran her fingers through her hair. She was truly at wit’s end, her mind churning, looking for an avenue to take that would lead to somewhere promising. Alex grabbed her gently by the arm to calm her nerves, the first real overt act of concern or kindness on his part since they’d been reunited. This was difficult for him too, but he didn’t want to give in to his emotions. He had purposely kept a safe emotional distance, knowing that tension and despair could weaken one’s resolve, making it possible for old feelings to rush back in.

  “I think Duncan’s raised a pretty good point,” said Alex, making sure they made eye contact. “On the surface, the Israelis helping Iran build anything nuclear—and doing so on an accelerated basis—doesn’t have an ounce of plausibility.”

  “But, if it’s true?”

  “If it’s true, there’s a whole lot more than meets the eye. To protect an operation of this magnitude, whatever its endgame, people would go to any lengths.” He noticed her pupils dilating. “Yes, even frame and murder a former chief of station and the agent she mentored. An agent who might screw this whole thing up.”

  “What now? It seems like this thing is too big for us to stop.”

  “Well, I’m no stranger to screwing things up.”<
br />
  She nervously snickered. “Shit. We’re like pawns on a big-ass chessboard.”

  “You’re on the right track, though. We need help.”

  “Alex, if I thought there was someone else,” her eyes diverted to a faraway place for a moment, “I wouldn’t have reentered your life. I’m sorry.”

  He had no doubt her words were sincere. “We’re not beat yet. I think there’s someone I can trust.”

  CHAPTER 29

  Growing up in Southern California, Sara Garland had the opportunity to run and frolic outdoors on pretty much any day she wanted. That lifestyle started early. Her father had been the inspiration, often dragging Sara along on his many Pacific Coast Highway quests for big waves to surf. By her mid-teens, no longer afraid of the unknown, she was on par with her father’s expertise. When the waves in California got mundane, she upped the ante by tackling skydiving.

  During college, she could drink any man under the table, so if there was any taking advantage to be done, she always had the upper hand. It was obvious that with her drive, life was going to be whatever Sara Garland wanted it to be. As a college senior, there were countless well-paying corporate positions thrown her way, but on a cloudy-day whim, she sat down for an interview with the Central Intelligence Agency. During a campus recruiting push, the spy agency advertised that it was looking for the best and the brightest, which caused Sara to snicker. Since she wasn’t taking this too seriously, she remarked to her interviewer, “It’s about time, because you certainly don’t have them in ample supply at the moment.” Instead of taking offense, the recruiter agreed, admitting that mistakes had been made in the past and that America was getting shoved a shitpile of disservice in every walk of government life. Two months after graduation, Sara was an agent in training.

  For the past couple of days, the monotony had set in to the point where she found it difficult to sleep at night. To take some of the edge off, she’d gotten into the habit of exiting her Georgetown hotel around midnight for a brisk jog. Her travels would either take her down the Rock Creek Parkway and back or across the Key Bridge into Arlington. Any sane woman would have known better than to be out that late, alone, tempting fate, but she was actually hoping some misguided soul would see her as easy pickings. Either attempted rape or robbery would suffice, allowing her the opportunity to use the small handgun tucked away in a waist pouch. Ridding the world of one more worthless piece of trash would ensure a good night’s sleep. Disappointed every time, Sara was back at Langley shortly after sunrise each day to begin anew.

  On this morning, she was frustrated because she had nothing. She made herself a nuisance, albeit a pleasant one, to the group of geeks in surveillance. Adrian Jennings didn’t like to disappoint, but with no lead on a place to begin video surveillance, he reluctantly told Sara that locating Nora Mossa was like finding a needle in a haystack. It could take days, even weeks for a normal person to pop up on a video source, even given a limited radius. Take a person of Mossa’s expertise, with the world as a hiding place, and it could take months. She would know how to disguise her appearance and be savvy enough to avoid eavesdropping devices when possible, making use of crowds to shield her presence.

  Jason Bonderman also had no good news to pass along. The last time Mossa had surfaced using her own identification markers was at the Starbucks in Dupont Circle. Since then, there’d been nothing on her financials. Bonderman was sure she was moving under a false name with access to funds. Mossa obviously wasn’t stupid or desperate enough to use identification and accounts set up for her by the agency. The scenario that had unfolded at Dupont Circle proved Mossa had assistance. That realization and the importance of knowing everything about the woman had Sara scrutinizing Mossa’s file, double-checking repeatedly in case she had overlooked some minuscule clue. Mossa’s father was deceased, and her mother’s phone and house in Oregon were being monitored. Her relationships of note were being checked and dismissed at every turn. Fortunately, it wasn’t a long list. Still, a woman could have her secrets.

  On her way to George Champion’s office for a status update, she forcefully blew a few bangs off her forehead. She didn’t want to come across as inefficient, but there was virtually nothing to ascertain. As the elevator let her out on Champion’s floor, she continued to comb through Mossa’s dossier. One aspect of it proved especially maddening. How was she supposed to adequately do background checks when certain sections were blacked out, beyond her clearance grade? On several of her reexaminations, she’d caught the mention of a name that appeared only once among a number of pages. It could’ve been blacked out in subsequent references, but she had no way of knowing. Attempts to do further research on the name within agency records were met with a sharp roadblock. She casually dropped the name to Jennings and Bonderman to see if it triggered anything. Again, all she’d gotten were frustrated shakes of heads. It was probably nothing, but she wanted to totally eliminate the reference rather than to have it be a loose end.

  Mrs. Prescot was cordial as always, offering Sara something to drink before showing her into Champion’s office. Looking fresh for a man working on little sleep, Champion rose but didn’t glance away from his computer screen as he offered Sara a seat across from him.

  She wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or reasoning with himself when he spoke, settling back in his chair. “Dredging through the morning briefs. North Koreans are having some inventory problems that are troubling at the moment.”

  Champion finally looked up and noticed Sara hadn’t come into his office empty-handed. “I see you still have Mossa’s file. You’ve been carrying that thing around like a newborn. I hope it’s burped up something worthwhile.”

  Sara fidgeted in her chair. Her clothing seemed uncomfortably attached to her skin. “Sir, I’ve checked in with Bonderman and Jennings to the point where I think they’re playing darts with my picture. Ever since Dupont Circle, there’s been absolutely no trace of her.” She patted the file in her lap. “Granted, she’s talented, but she’s getting help. She definitely has documents and funds outside the ones issued by us. The money will only last so long, but if she really wants to maintain deep cover, with the proper paper she could immerse herself in the landscape, establish a credible cover, get a job, and make new acquaintances. If that happens, finding her could take…” Sara cleared her throat, “… could take some considerable time.” The speculation received a less than pleased look, but Champion knew what she was saying was true.

  “However,” Sara continued, wanting that look to dissipate, “I believe Mossa has an agenda that makes her susceptible to taking some risks. I think she’s operating under some assumptions connected to Janway. Maybe they had a way of communicating that we don’t know about.”

  “So you think she has an agenda? What the hell does she think can be accomplished out there virtually naked?”

  “At this point, without us precisely knowing what Janway was working on, Mossa’s probably the only person who might be able to shed light on who’s responsible for her death. Others might come to that conclusion as well.”

  Champion locked his hands together and glanced at his computer screen again. “I reached out to the various agencies that also showed up at Dupont Circle,” he said, seemingly referencing material. “Without giving up much detail, the Department of Defense admitted they’re on some sort of watch at the moment because a number of sensitive materials around the world have gone missing or are currently unaccounted for by various governments like North Korea. So they’re in a slight state of paranoia. And these days, when the DOD sneezes, Homeland Security grabs a tissue.”

  Champion toyed with his coffee cup, which Sara took as a subtle hint that her time was nearly over. While she was here, she might as well ask. Sara riffled through Mossa’s file to a section she had marked with a red sticky note. “Sir, in going over Mossa’s file repeatedly, I came across a name that appears only once, at least in the parts that weren’t redacted. Therefore I have no idea if it appears again be
cause I’m not cleared to read the entire file. It’s probably nothing, but I’m just trying to be thorough. I even went so far as to Google the name.”

  “So you’re asking for security clearance to read the remainder of her file?”

  “I think it would be helpful.”

  “What’s the name? At the very least, I might be able to grant you access to sections if the name appears anywhere else in her file.” Champion smiled for a moment. “You Googled the name? What did you find out?”

  “Well, the most hits pointed to an ex—” Sara was cut off because Mrs. Prescot beeped in over the phone’s intercom.

  “Mr. Champion?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Prescot?”

  “There’s a call for you on line two. It’s a bit unusual because it’s not coming through normal channels, but the caller insists you know him and will take the call. I can get a number and give it to you later.”

  “Humor me, Mrs. Prescot. Who’s on the line?”

  “The gentleman says his name is Alex Koves.”

  Champion’s eyes grew wide as he stood up. “Son of a bitch,” he mumbled.

  Sara had slowly risen from her chair as well once she’d heard the name over the speaker. Seeing Champion’s reaction, she said, “That’s the name, sir. Alex Koves. He’s an ex—”

  “Pro football player.”

  “Yes.”

  Champion gathered himself. “Well, he’s much more than that. Thank you, Mrs. Prescot. I’ll take the call.”

  Champion pressed the corresponding line, dispatching it from hold status. He took it off speaker phone and held the handset to his ear.

  “Alex?”

  “George,” Alex playfully said on the other end. “How the hell are you?”

  “It’s been a long time. Alex, do you have something that belongs to us?”