by Ethan Jones
Hezan grunted but said nothing. His foot got caught on the small step near the gate, and he almost fell. Justin held him up by the arm.
Vale said, “You got us a ride?”
“Yes. How are you?”
“Unharmed. Good to go.”
“Let’s roll.”
“I’ve got the rear.”
Justin carried Hezan to the Nissan, while Azade was the vanguard. Once they were all inside, Vale bolted toward them and slid in the backseat. Tori threw the Nissan in reverse, and soon they were out of the alley.
“Where to?” Tori asked when they reached Gulan Street.
Justin glanced at Hezan squeezed in the middle of the backseat, then at Vale. “Did he squeal?”
“No, not yet.”
“Tori, you have anything on ME?”
It took Tori a moment to realize those were the initials of Mehmet Efendi. “Oh, yes, my friend called when you were gone. They have him.”
“Where?”
Tori looked down the street. “Not very far from here.”
“Okay, take us there.”
“Do I know ME?” Vale asked.
Justin shook his head. “No, but perhaps he can tell us what we need.”
“If not, we’ll pry it from him.” Vale tapped Hezan’s arm.
Hezan shook his large head. He looked worn out, but he said, “No, never.”
“We’ll see about that,” Justin said.
Chapter Nineteen
January 14
Erbil, Northern Iraq
Tori’s friends’ house was on the northern outskirts of Erbil. It was a small, nondescript house, and two rundown Toyota trucks were parked outside. One of them had a cracked windshield and a few bullet holes in the side. A man with an AK slung over his shoulder was pacing outside the entrance.
Justin asked, “Who’s that?”
Tori replied, “A friend. It’s good. We can get out.”
Justin nodded and stepped out of the Nissan. But he kept his rifle in the low ready position and followed Tori. Azade walked beside Justin, and Vale towed Hezan behind.
Tori’s friend unlocked the gate and led everyone in. He cast a menacing glance at Hezan, but did not say a word. When they came to the main entrance, Tori’s friend rapped gently the three-knock signal at the door. Then he returned to his post.
A tall, bearded man opened the door. He smiled at Tori and gave him a big bear hug. “This is Osman,” Tori said and made introductions.
“Do you have ME?” Justin said.
Osman peered at Justin.
“He means Mehmet Efendi,” Tori said.
Osman nodded his large head. “We do. And he’s ready to talk. Barely, but ready.” He laughed out loud.
Justin frowned. He followed closely behind Osman, who led him into the nearest room. A man with a bloodied face and a broken nose—whom Justin assumed was Mehmet Efendi—lay against the wall. His left eye was swollen shut, and his hands were cuffed behind his back. Two men were towering above him. One of them was holding a thick club and passing it from one hand to the other. “What . . . what did I tell you?” Justin turned to Tori, who had just stepped in the room.
Osman said, “We got him ready, as ordered.”
Justin shook his head. “This . . . I didn’t order this.”
Osman shrugged. “He’s ready to talk.”
Justin sighed. “Fine, give me the handcuffs’ keys and leave us. All of you.”
Osman cursed Mehmet and spat in his direction. Then Osman handed Justin the keys and shuffled outside, along with everyone else. Justin closed the door behind them, then crouched down, so he could be at Mehmet’s eye level. “Mehmet, can you hear me?” he said in a warm voice.
Mehmet turned his head toward Justin and tried to open the good eye. Both took a lot of effort, and the man sighed and wheezed as if he were moving a ton of bricks. “Eh, eh . . . who . . . who are you?”
“I can make all this pain go away, and let you go free. You want that, right?” Justin reached slowly behind Mehmet and uncuffed his hands.
Mehmet brought his hands slowly to the front. Then his bloodshot, blurry eye looked at Justin with deep sadness. “No, I’m as good as dead.”
“No, Mehmet, don’t give up. It’s not over. I . . . I need some intel, then you’re free to go. You’ve got my word.”
Mehmet let out a low snort, then spat out blood. “Your word? I have your word, while those butchers slice me up with their knives.”
“I’m sorry, Mehmet. I can’t change what they’ve done. You can change what happens to you from this moment on. Your life is in your hands.”
Mehmet shook his head. “It’s over. I’m dead.”
“No, you can live, if you want.”
“Of course I want to live.”
“Then tell me. What business do you have with Egorov?”
Mehmet’s eye peered at Justin. “This is all about the Russian spy?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t believe this. I thought . . .” His voice trailed off.
“What did you think?”
“It doesn’t matter. You only want to know about her?”
“Yes. What did you do for her?”
“Nothing, well, not much.”
“Be specific.”
“I . . . I made some connections, introduced her to some people.”
“People like?”
Mehmet drew in a deep breath. “Businessmen, oil executives, bankers.”
“Locals or foreigners?”
“Both.”
“Give me some names.”
Mehmet nodded and looked into the distance, as if he was trying to remember. “There were so many.”
“I need the major players.”
“One of them was Hezan Kurdnasab.”
Justin frowned. The same banker we were looking for? “Hezan? Are you sure?”
“Yes. Egorov met with him at least twice.”
“Okay.”
“And there was . . . this man from Brussels. His name was Tawfiq al-Gailani.”
“What did al-Gailani do for Egorov?”
“I don’t know. But she was looking for a trusted international banker, European preferably. I knew a friend who had dealings with al-Gailani. He’s an executive manager with the Bank of Belgium.”
“Did al-Gailani come to Iraq?”
“No, Egorov went to Brussels to meet with him.”
“When?”
Mehmet shrugged. “I . . . I don’t remember the date. It was December, yes, early December, but I can’t remember the date.”
“Where’s al-Gailani now?”
“Brussels. But if not there, he could be in Moscow. His bank has a large branch there.”
“In Moscow?”
“Yes, and in other East European countries.”
“But you don’t know what Egorov wanted from al-Gailani?”
Mehmet’s face formed a small grin. “Not exactly, but I’m not a fool. I know what al-Gailani is known for.”
“And what’s that?”
Mehmet hesitated for a moment. “You said you’ll let me go free, right?”
“You have my word, Mehmet. My honor.”
Mehmet nodded. “Al-Gailani’s nickname is ‘the bagman.’ You know what that means, right?”
“Someone who pays spies and bribes authorities.”
Mehmet shrugged. “There you have it.”
“Who did he pay?”
Mehmet shook his head. “I think I’ve given you enough to earn my freedom.”
Justin frowned. “That’s pretty cocky, even for you, Mehmet.”
“You said you were a man of honor.”
“I am. But I have a few more questions.”
“I’ll answer all of them as a free man.”
“In exchange for?”
“Do I need to say it?”
“Yes, so we don’t have a misunderstanding.”
“Money—you’ll have to buy your intelligence.”
Justin n
odded. He had not thought of turning Mehmet into an asset, but the prospect looked very lucrative. “Okay, you’ve got yourself a deal. And as a goodwill gesture, one of my men will escort you—”
“That won’t be necessary. I just need to make a call and someone—”
“No, that’s not going to work. You know better than I that calls can be traced. But someone can drop you anywhere you want in Erbil.”
Mehmet thought about it for a long moment. “Sure, we’ll do that.”
“Excellent. I’m glad you chose to live.” Justin stretched his hand.
Mehmet shook it reluctantly and winced. The pain must have seared through his body.
Justin stood up. “I’ll bring someone in for a second, then my partner will come to take you.”
He opened the door, then called out at Vale. “Bring him in,” he said, referring to Hezan.
Vale and Azade shoved Hezan forward.
Justin took him by the arm and dragged him inside the room. Hezan looked at Mehmet and winced. “What have you done to him?”
“This and more will be done to you, if you don’t talk,” Justin shouted at Hezan. “Do you know this man?” he asked Mehmet.
“Yes, I do. He’s the man I was telling you about, Hezan Kurdnasab.”
“What about you?” He turned to Hezan.
“Yes, I’ve seen Mehmet before.”
“Well, he’s walking out of here, alive, because he talked. Vale, take Mehmet wherever he wants to go.”
Vale walked over to Mehmet and helped him to his feet. Mehmet struggled with his weight, wheezed, and coughed blood. He cast another look at Justin, then turned toward Hezan. “They’ll slit your throat if you don’t cooperate.”
Hezan’s cold look remained on his face. “I’m not weak like you,” he said.
Mehmet shrugged and shuffled outside.
Justin closed the door, then said to Hezan, “What did Egorov want from you?”
“I have no idea who that is,” Hezan replied.
“You don’t?”
“No, no idea.”
“You’re lying to me. Mehmet told me he introduced you to Egorov. You met her on at least two occasions.”
Hezan shook his head. “Mehmet was lying to you. But I don’t blame him. When they started to beat him up, he would give up his own mother to make them stop.”
Justin gave him a sideways glance. “Yes, under torture people confess to crimes they haven’t committed. But I find it very strange he would mention your name. After all, you went into hiding, and info about my account has been leaked. I bet you don’t know anything about that, do you?”
“You’re right; I don’t.”
“Why did you hide?”
Hezan shrugged. “I heard people were looking for me. Bad people.”
“What people?”
“Daesh dogs. I’m a banker. I have access to people’s bank accounts. I know how much money they have, what kind of businesses they run. People will pay, will kill to have that information.”
“And people will also sell that information.”
“Look, I haven’t sold you out.”
“How do people know about my account with the First Bank?”
Hezan shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not the only one with access to that information.”
Justin shook his head. “I don’t believe you, Hezan. Especially after what Mehmet said.”
Hezan cursed Mehmet and his mother. “Look, Justin, he was trying to save his own skin.”
“So, this was all a mistake, then. That’s what you’re telling me? You had, you have nothing to do with this leak?”
“Right.”
“And you never met Egorov?”
“Correct.”
“I’m sorry, Hezan.” Justin opened the door. “Osman, Osman, I need you for a moment.”
“What? What’s going on?” Hezan asked.
Osman strutted toward Justin. “Yes?”
“I’m having some trouble convincing this man to tell me the truth. Do you mind giving me a hand? Do what you did to Mehmet Efendi.”
Osman nodded and pulled out a large serrated knife from his waistband sheath. “I’m going to chop you to pieces, you traitor,” he roared at Hezan.
“No, no, stop, stop.”
Osman threw Hezan against the coarse, dirty wall and pressed the knife hard against Hezan’s neck. “Speak, you scumbag.”
Hezan gasped for air.
Osman’s strong hand kept him pinned against the wall. He forced the knife deeper into Hezan’s neck. A thin trickle of blood began to seep through.
Hezan screamed. He tried to move his head away from the knife.
“Speak, or I’ll cut you up, piece by piece,” Osman yelled in Hezan’s ear.
Justin glanced at Hezan’s face twisted in pain and fear, wondering when it was time to intervene. Maybe he truly doesn’t know anything. But why would Mehmet mention his name? Just so his torture would end? “Hezan, tell me what you know.”
Hezan gasped for breath, then screamed again.
The knife cut deeper into his neck, and blood oozed out.
Justin stepped closer. “Hezan, you’re willing to die for them? Tell me what you know, and you will live.”
Hezan drew in a small, shallow breath, then nodded. “Yes . . . uh, uh . . . yes, I’ll talk. I’ll tell you all I know.”
“You’re sure?” Osman shouted.
“Step back,” Justin said to Osman.
He spat on the floor and withdrew his knife. He wiped it against Hezan’s beard, then pointed the sharp tip at Hezan’s eyes. “If you lie to him, I’ll come back, and I won’t be so gentle.”
“Wait outside,” Justin said in a stern voice.
Osman sheathed his knife and closed the door behind him.
Hezan held his neck, checking his wound and trying to stop the blood.
Justin said, “We’ll get that looked at as soon as we’re finished.”
Hezan drew in a series of quick breaths. He nodded slowly. “You’ll . . . you’ll let me go?”
Justin nodded. “As I did with Mehmet. If you tell me the truth, you’ll walk away with your life.”
Hezan nodded again. “I had to give them what they wanted, Justin. You have to understand that. They left me no choice.”
“Who was it?”
“The two Russians working for Egorov.”
“Okay, that’s a good start. Who were they?”
Hezan shook his head, still holding his hand on the neck wound. “That’s how they identified themselves. They said they were working for her.”
“Do you have a way to contact them?”
“I . . . I may have some phone numbers in my office.”
“Okay, so the two Russians. They wanted my file?”
“Yes, yes. They asked for everything I had at the bank in your name or any aliases you had ever used.”
“And you gave it to them?”
“As I said, they left me—”
“No, Hezan, you had a choice. You could have warned me.”
Hezan nodded. “I . . . I thought about it. But I would have to admit my betrayal.” His voice grew low, and he looked down at the bloodied floor.
“Did they say why they wanted that intel?”
“No, even though I asked them.”
“Okay, did the Russians demand my intel before or after you struck a deal with Egorov?”
Hezan thought about it for a moment, as if determining what was the right answer.
“Do I need to bring Osman here again?”
“No, no.”
“So don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not, I’m not.”
“Don’t hesitate. Just tell me the truth.”
“It was after.”
“And what did Egorov want from you?”
“She . . . she wanted some money transferred.”
“How much money?”
“Millions.”
“Whose money?”
“I . . . I don’t—�
��
Justin shook his head. “No, Hezan, you do know and you will remember.”
Hezan drew in a wheezing breath. “Lenkov Oil. They’re one of the greatest Russian oil companies operating in Iraq and Syria.”
“I know. And they have no problem doing business with ISIS or other terrorist groups.”
Hezan nodded. “So now you understand my dilemma and my fears. If I didn’t give you up, the Russians and Egorov were going to cut my throat.”
“Well, you gave me up and ended at the same place.” He stepped closer to Hezan. “Lenkov Oil wanted to launder their money, and transfer it through First Bank to the Bank of Belgium, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And you did that for Egorov?”
“I had to, as I—”
“Yes, yes, you’ve explained it to death. But I need more than your word. I need the bank records and—”
“I can’t—”
“No, you can and you will.”
“The Russians . . . they’ll . . . they’ll kill me, Justin.”
“It’s possible. But perhaps you can hide for a while, if not forever. I’m sure you have a stash of money hidden somewhere for a rainy day. Well, this is that day.”
Hezan shook his head. “What you’re asking me, Justin, is—”
“I’m asking you to correct your mistake. You should have never told the Russians about me and my account. But you can fix that, and you can decide to live or die.”
Hezan closed his eyes and cursed the Russians and Egorov.
Justin said, “It makes you feel better, but it doesn’t really help. And I don’t have much time. What will it be: Lenkov’s records or bleed in pain at Osman’s hands?”
Hezan shivered at the mention of the henchman’s name. He cursed Osman, then said, “Fine, fine, you win, Justin Hall. I’ll get you those records, but I don’t have many.”
“I need everything you have.”
Hezan nodded. “Okay, okay. Now, are we done?” he said in a tense voice.
“We’re done when I say so,” Justin replied in the same tone. “But yes, we’re done for now.”
Hezan drew in an easier breath and nodded.
Justin opened the door, then gestured at Hezan. “Let’s go.”
Hezan took an uneasy step, still holding his neck.
When Justin stepped in the hall, his phone rang. A glance at the screen told him it was Carrie, “Yes, Carrie. I got some great news.”
