Into The Shadows

by Michael Brady

  Patrick noticed their van exiting the hangar. As soon as the van departed the last gate at Larnaca, they would quickly move behind it and become the trail vehicle.

  Larnaca Marina was less than ten kilometers away. The duration of the trip would only take sixteen minutes.

  Moving north along route B4 and flanked by the Larnaca Salt Lake to the west and the Mediterranean to the east, Patrick’s team was ahead of schedule. The short drive was magnificent as a cool breeze flowed off the Mediterranean waters.

  Larnaca was breathtaking. Patrick had not enjoyed the pleasures of its warm and inviting people since arriving on Cyprus. This was a good place to bring his wife for the weekend, he thought to himself.

  As Patrick and his team were five minutes from the Marina, it was time to execute the next stage of the operation. First, they would move the van and secure it near the slip designated earlier in the afternoon by Rick. Second, his team would park at designated locations around the Marina to begin the tedious task of observation.

  Hours of persistent surveillance is normal for CIA intelligence officers. Though technology, aerial reconnaissance, and other capabilities are widely available, operations in crowded civilian areas restricted their use.

  Cyprus was also an ally and a peaceful country. Aerial intelligence gathering systems were not available to his team nor were they deployed there. For this operation, Patrick and his team had to do reconnaissance the old-fashioned way. They had to ‘watch’ the Marina from their vehicles and trust their instincts while they waited.

  The Sophia was approaching.

  Ankara, Turkey – November 5, 5:20 PM

  It was time for Dabria to deliver the bad news. She was unable to kill the visitor and target on Nasir’s kill list. Yazza already reported Kadir’s failure and Dabria could no longer keep Nasir waiting. A second phone call to the leader in Rukob, Yemen was in order.

  “Nasir. It’s Dabria. The man got away.”

  “I thought you were going to take care of this, Dabria?” asked Al Qaeda’s leader from his remote hideout.

  “I planned to. He must be a professional. Who is he Nasir? I used my best man.”

  Nasir was clearly disappointed with Dabria. He did not have much time, as this was Dabria’s second call in as many days. He could not allow the Americans to triangulate his location. Reports from international news agencies over the years suggested that America could target cell phones using satellites.

  Low earth orbit satellites (LEOs) were now commonplace, ever since the Soviet Union first deployed Sputnik 1 in October 1957. Dozens of countries around the world now employed the satellites found at distances ranging from one hundred miles to just over one thousand miles above the earth’s surface. With their ability to make one revolution around the earth in ninety minutes, they provided intelligence agencies with enormous data.

  LEOs permitted intelligence agencies to conduct numerous types of reconnaissance missions. Most common was the imagery exploitation of manmade structures and natural terrain features. They also acted as gateways for the transmission of sensitive data to analysts and consumers around the globe.

  “Then you will do it, Dabria. Only you. You must not fail. He has caused my organization significant damage. I want him dead. We still have the addresses, Dabria. Do not contact me until you finish the job. Am I clear?”

  “You are.”

  Nasir hung up. Recognizing Nasir’s intensity and tone, she knew the time had come. Dabria’s past was now catching up with the talented intelligence officer.

  While on assignment in Yemen in 2012, the Al Qaeda network discovered her identity. Her capture occurred while meeting with a source in Yemen’s capital of Sana’a. The source turned out to be an Al Qaeda sympathizer who was attempting to join the organization.

  Dabria’s incarceration was in Al Hudaydah, a city of four hundred thousand residents located near the capital. During her captivity, she would suffer from enhanced interrogation techniques, commonly used in the region.

  Her captors used a variety of these techniques including waterboarding, sleep deprivation, and white noise. However, Nasir, then a deputy commander of Al Qaeda, made sure his men did not beat the young woman. If he could somehow turn her, he would have an asset to exploit in the future.

  Without marks on her body, her supervisors in Yemen might think she was simply unable to communicate due to the remoteness of her location. The ploy worked.

  Dabria began talking after the fourth day of her captivity. Her abductors learned she was single but had an extended family in Istanbul, along with others in the eastern part of Turkey. They told Dabria her family was within reach and would be targeted if she failed to cooperate in the future.

  Nasir eventually told her that she could return to MIT, and would provide her with some information about the group’s finances. The amount of damage to the organization would be minimal, but it would allow Dabria to provide her supervisors valuable tactical intelligence. Nasir recognized Dabria’s professional ambitions at MIT and used this information while recruiting her.

  Nasir’s inquiry in September was unusual as he rarely contacted the MIT rising star. The queries and requests for information he did make, however, focused mostly on Turkish intelligence efforts in the region, and MIT’s cooperation with the United States.

  Immediately after Nasir’s phone went silent, Dabria began preparing for her task. Already aware of Kadir’s failure, she called her operations center.

  “Tadio, any news of our visitor at Hatay yesterday?”

  “Yes. He was captured on video surveillance in Iskenderun yesterday afternoon.”

  “Was he alone or with company?” asked Dabria.

  “He entered an apartment with a woman. She is under investigation as a possible Mossad officer, according to the file.”

  “Do you know if he is still in the apartment?”

  “No, the camera feed stopped working last night.”

  “Okay. I have been feeling very tired the last few days and am going to take a couple of days off. Keep me informed of any developments.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I will.”

  Unbeknownst to Dabria and her counterintelligence unit, Elif had already disabled the surveillance camera the night before. The camera would not be operational for several days.

  Dabria soon packed some clothes, her firearm, and a few other items. The seven hour journey to the coastal city of Iskenderun had begun as she wondered what her fate would be. Would her encounter with the stranger be any different than Kadir’s? The compromised MIT officer would soon find out.

  Vogue Exclusive Club, Larnaca, Cyprus – November 5, 8:45 PM

  Jurgen sat at the bar inside the Vogue, one of the hottest dance clubs in Larnaca. Since his arrival, Jurgen began drinking heavily. For the past several months, Jurgen’s excessive drinking began to catch up with him. Tonight, he could not control himself.

  Approaching Jurgen was a beautiful woman with long auburn hair. Her white skirt and indigo blue blouse left little room for imagination.

  “Hi. I am Sonia. Have I seen you here before?” she asked smiling.

  “Well, hello Sonia, I’m Jurgen.”

  The woman and her colleague sat behind Jurgen at one of the tables just an hour earlier. He never noticed them.

  Flattered by the woman’s advances, Jurgen told her he was a pilot and had recently flown in some cargo from Berlin.

  “What did you deliver, Jurgen?” asked Sonia, while gently touching his left knee.

  “No idea. I just fly the stuff, and they move it to the marina. I do not know anything else nor do I really care. They had an SUV.”

  “What? Are you a smuggler or something?” she said jokingly.

  “Ha. No. But something like that Sonia.”

  “Sounds interesting,” she said as she moved closer to Jurgen.

  At this poin
t, she determined Jurgen was unable to control his desire to boast. She sized him up quickly and recognized the man was intoxicated and unaware of her true intention. As far as Jurgen was concerned, Sonia was just a local girl at the hottest club looking for some fun.

  “Want to tell me more, maybe at my place later?” asked Sonia.

  Jurgen was enticed by Sonia’s advance and asked if he could dance with her as the night was still young. Though quite drunk at this point, his good fortune would need to wait.

  “Maybe after a few dances, Sonia. Come on. Dance with me.”

  “Okay, but let me use the little girls’ room. I’ll be right back.”

  Turning back to the bar, Jurgen motioned for the bartender. “This is going to be a great night. I’ll have another Zivania.”

  Sonia entered the bathroom. Once inside her stall, she pulled the cell phone from her purse and texted her colleague inside the Vogue. It would be too loud for him to hear the incoming call, anyways.

  We may have something. This guy says he brought unknown cargo to the airport this afternoon. It was moved to the Marina. We are looking for a black SUV.

  Sonia and her colleague, Mory, were regular patrons at the Vogue. In fact, they had noticed Jurgen several times there over the past year. They had never approached the sociable German, until now.

  Club Vogue was a known hot spot to one of Larnaca’s most notorious crime rings, led by Spiro Kostopoulos. Among Spiro’s illegal activities, drug trafficking was the most lucrative to his family’s business. Members of the criminal organization routinely used the club to entertain their associates and colleagues. The group viciously eliminated any competitors in Larnaca upon learning of their activities.

  Larnaca was a major distribution gateway for illegal drugs shipped from Turkey. Spiro’s gang would use the port of Larnaca to receive these drug shipments and distribute to their dealers throughout Cyprus.

  Mory read the text from Sonia and quickly replied.

  Got it. Entertain him through the night. Find out what you can. Let me know where you go, and I will have someone pick you up in the morning.

  Mory motioned to one of the men near the exit of the club and whispered in his ear. Moments later, Mory was gone.

  Arsuz, Turkey – November 5, 7:00 PM

  Michael and Elif were sitting on the couch, as they did the night before. For the past hour, they spent time getting to know each other, as Elif spoke about her childhood with a gleam in her eyes.

  “I remember growing up in Tel Aviv. It is so beautiful. I recall the summers, and swimming in the Mediterranean, snow cones, festivals and all the people along the Jaffa boardwalk. I will return there soon, I hope.”

  Tel Aviv, Israel’s second-largest city, and the Middle East’s third-largest economy, was a thriving community of artists, clubs, bars and a burgeoning gay population. A more secular scene in Israel, tourists flocked to the city for their annual vacations.

  Elif continued talking of Tel Aviv.

  “My teachers taught me so many things there. Before Mossad recruited me, I thought about being a writer.”

  “What kind of writing?” Michael asked.

  “Children’s books. The idea of inspiring children was a passion of mine. It still is. I lost my parents when I was a little girl.”

  Sensing the deep wound in her voice, Michael sought to get her attention back to her writing.

  “I’m sorry Elif. That must have been hard for you. Have you written any stories?”

  “Not yet, but someday. Maybe when I have my own children. I love their innocence.”

  “Why not at least start? I can see the passion in your eyes.”

  “Too busy. My career is very important to me and my job right now is with Mossad. There will be time in the future.”

  Elif then opened her laptop, and the two waited. A few minutes later, the first message from Haris arrived. Michael sat upward next to Elif but recognized she was in charge. It was her source, and she knew what Michael needed.

  Ayse. Can you get me out?

  Yes, Haris. Can you make your way to Jarabulus, along the border?

  I know it. Yes, I can be there tomorrow before midnight. How will we find each other?

  Do you have a cell phone?

  I will once I leave.

  Not now?

  No. I do not travel with one.

  How will you get one?

  Leave that to me.

  Before Elif would provide further information on the extraction, she needed intelligence for Michael. This was a joint operation, and the consequences of a bio-weapon in America would be catastrophic.

  Do you have more information on Shirazi’s intentions?

  Overheard him talking about the Kenema Mosque in Sierra Leone. Shirazi directed someone there to transport Ebola into the United States.

  Where and how? That seems farfetched Haris.

  I do not know much more Ayse. Shirazi was confident it would work. Someone is to be infected. We need to finish up quickly. I only have another minute.

  Okay. Once you start moving. Call cell 90 326 215 6007.

  Will you send me coordinates on the way?

  Yes. Do you have access to GPS?

  There was a thirty-second pause. Haris returned.

  Yes. My life is in your hands Ayse. Once they notice I am gone, they will come after me.

  I understand. I will get you out Haris.

  See you in Jarabulus. Until tomorrow Ayse.

  Yes. See you there.

  Elif turned to Michael.

  “Now all we need are the weapons.”

  “Yes, I’ll feel better when your guys pick them up in Larnaca.”

  “How about some dinner? Let us get out of here, and I will show you Arsuz. There is a gorgeous cafe along the water not far from here. Walid will let me know when he has secured the missiles and is underway to Iskenderun.”

  “I would like that. Let me shower and change into some fresh clothes.”

  Elif and Michael arrived at the Nazbalik Evi Restaurant. The lovely seafood restaurant located along Cumhuriyet Boulevard was the perfect spot for Michael to relax and learn more about the ancient coastal town.

  Arsuz, with previous names including Khabev and Rhosus, dated its history back to Roman annexation in 64 B.C. Some records indicate the town existed hundreds of years earlier in the Seleucid Empire. The Arsuz shoreline was also full of ancient ruins from the Roman and Hellenistic periods.

  Michael and Elif enjoyed their meze, also known in the region as a mix of small appetizers. Michael enjoyed the hummus and baba ghanoush the best. For their main meal, they had lightly seasoned fish grilled to perfection. Washing the food down with Raki, Michael became content.

  “There is a children’s shelter near here that I occasionally visit,” said Elif as she and Michael awaited their coffee.

  “What do you do there?”

  “Most of the time I read to them. Sometimes I help the girls brush their hair and just talk to them.”

  Elif, though a trained killer and intelligence officer for Mossad, was a compassionate woman who had tremendous empathy for the kids there. She should, he thought to himself; as she grew up without the love and support of a mother and father.

  Elif clearly loved the young homeless children in Arsuz. Michael began wondering if she became too close to them.

  “How often do you see them?” Michael asked.

  “Oh, I guess about once a week, unless I’m out of town. It was part of my cover here. They grow on you.”

  “I imagine they do,” said Michael.

  “How about you Michael? Any children?”

  “No. I am not married, but I met someone back home that may change that. We’ve only met recently, but I really like her.”

  “Tell me about her.”

  “Well, she
is an investment banker. She travels to New York City often, likes to read and is a history buff. She is also outgoing, very intelligent, and the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  Elif knew Michael was in love. He probably would not admit it, but his eyes told her the story.

  Michael realized the conversation had become personal. Nothing wrong with that as two professional spies were getting to know each other, he thought to himself. However, he remained focused on the AT-4s.

  “Any news from Larnaca?”

  “No. I imagine they are still an hour or two out.”

  “Shall we go back to your apartment soon?”

  “That’s probably a good idea. Who knows what will await us on the border.”

  A short while later Elif and Michael returned to the apartment. Elif told Michael she would wait in her bedroom for news. After Elif had excused herself, Michael sat on the couch as another update to Langley was in order. After that, he would take care of personal business.

  Thirty minutes later, Michael checked his cell phone.

  Surprise me. Laura

  Laura’s short message for Michael was expected. His response would be short as well.

  Michael remembered her vivid description of a trip to Paris on their first date and he decided on a French venue.

  French. Maybe dinner will bring back memories for you. I may be unavailable the next couple of days but will be in touch as soon as I can. Michael

  While he was anxiously waiting for news from Larnaca, Laura replied.

  Maybe dinner will make memories for BOTH OF US. Stay safe. Laura

  After Michael had read the message, Elif entered the living room with a serious look on her face.

  “What’s the news from Larnaca?”

  Ceyhan, Turkey - November 5, 10:30 PM

  Dabria’s approach to Iskenderun was ahead of schedule. In an hour, she would arrive in the city and meet a contact from the local police there. He was trusted and would be unaware of her true intentions. Time to call the young man, she thought to herself.