Two Steps Forward

by Luana Ehrlich

  After taking a quick look at his watch, he said, “Bakir usually heads toward the market at this time of day. It’s that building there on the corner.”

  He gestured at a grocery store on the other side of the street.

  “And where’s the watch repair shop located?” I asked.

  Quinn handed me a set of binoculars, and then he pointed up the street at a small building in the middle of the block.

  “My partner Rex is hanging out at the newspaper kiosk next to the shop. You can pick him out pretty easily. He’s the American-looking dude with the bald head. As soon as I let him know Bakir’s on his way, he’ll slip inside the watch shop and start an argument with the girl.”

  I identified Rex, who appeared to be perusing the newspapers, and then I trained the binoculars on the watch repair shop.

  I had no trouble spotting the girl; she was leaning against the door looking out toward the street. “She’s standing in the doorway now. Do you think she might be looking for Bakir?”

  “That’s pretty much her normal posture. Maybe that’s why Bakir spoke to her in the first place. We’ve been able to pick up most of their conversations with the parabolic mic, but as far as I can tell, it sounds like two people just flirting with each other.”

  “So you haven’t seen Bakir give her anything? There’s been no sign he could be passing her information?”

  “No, although yesterday he did go inside for a few minutes, so I couldn’t say for sure.”

  “After he’s bought his groceries, does he stop by the shop again?”

  “No, he appears to be in a hurry to get back to the apartment, but he’s carrying his groceries with him, so I guess that’s not surprising.”

  I asked Quinn a few other questions about what he’d observed about Bakir’s behavior, and when I ran out of questions, we sat there in silence for several minutes watching the pedestrians on the sidewalk.

  When I noticed some teenagers talking on their cell phones, I asked, “Have you ever seen Bakir using a cell phone?”

  “Sometimes. He’s only on it for a few minutes, but if he should ever decide to stop at one of the restaurants around here, we may be able to capture his cell phone number.”

  “How so?”

  Quinn picked up a plastic box about the size of a paperback novel. When he pushed a button on the side, the front panel lit up.

  “I’m guessing you haven’t ever seen one of these little gadgets before. We just got it a few weeks ago. It’s called the SMS Interceptor.”

  “No, I don’t recognize it.”

  He took an ordinary-looking cell phone out of a box and held it up.

  “If I want to capture someone’s cell phone number, all I have to do is place this Interceptor cell phone next to it, hit the home button, and within twenty seconds, I’ve captured the other person’s phone number.”

  He pointed at the front panel on the Interceptor’s black box. “The phone number is immediately displayed here.”

  “You can capture any cell phone number that way?”

  He smiled. “Incredible, isn’t it?”

  “But you haven’t been able to use it on Bakir’s phone yet?”

  His smile faded. “No, his phone has to be in close proximity to the Interceptor phone for at least twenty seconds, but since we’ve been keeping tabs on him, that hasn’t happened. Ideally, if Bakir would decide to have a meal in one of the restaurants around here, then I could send Rex in there and get it done in a few minutes.”

  “If they can get his apartment wired today, then maybe it won’t matter all that much. The intel we get from there may be enough for us to figure out what Bakir’s plans are.”

  “Have you received any new intel on his target?”

  “Nothing specific. It could be several—”

  I stopped in mid-sentence when Quinn’s cell vibrated. After he listened for a few seconds, he said, “Go for it,” and then he hung up.

  “Bakir just walked out of his apartment. He’s headed our way, so I gave my guys the green light to go in and get ̕er done.”

  He was grinning from ear to ear.

  Quinn seemed pretty excited, but I knew the feeling. After days of sitting around doing nothing, any action was better than no action.

  After sending Rex an alert about Bakir, he picked up one of the video cameras and aimed it toward the other end of Nabil Street in anticipation of Bakir’s appearance.

  In the meantime, I grabbed the binoculars and focused them on the same location. Even though I hadn’t been sitting around doing nothing for several days, I realized I was a little excited myself.

  Less than a minute later, I spotted Yousef Bakir.

  * * * *

  From the moment I’d seen the video of Bakir having a conversation with Baran Asan at the outdoor café in Ashkelon, I’d been troubled by the man’s demeanor. It had only increased when Katherine had shown us the photograph of him standing over a dead body on a sidewalk in Beirut.

  In both instances, the man had appeared indifferent, unfeeling.

  Now, as I was able to observe him in person, I could see the callousness in him firsthand.

  He looked hardened—both physically and emotionally.

  From a physical standpoint, he appeared to be extremely fit, as hard as a rock. I knew he couldn’t be a gym rat, so I figured pushups, or some other form of exercise might be part of his daily routine.

  Emotionally, he seemed incapable of registering any kind of facial expression. As I watched him studying the people coming toward him, his eyes appeared cold, as black as the night itself; his facial muscles rigid, unmoving.

  On the other hand, his gait seemed purposeful, even a little hurried, as if he might be late for an appointment.

  “Does he always walk that fast?” I asked Quinn.

  “More or less.”

  “More? Less? Which is it?”

  “He’s a fast walker, but I’d say his pace is a little faster today. Maybe he’s eager to see the girl.”

  “Or maybe he’s meeting someone in that teahouse.”

  I put the binoculars down and pointed across the street. “He just went in Shalar’s Teahouse.”

  “I swear he’s never done that before.”

  “Well, one thing’s for sure, if he’s meeting someone, your guys should have plenty of time to wire his apartment now.”

  “What are you doing?” he asked, when he saw me grab the Interceptor phone.

  “I’m going over to Shalar’s Teahouse.”

  “I could get Rex to do that.”

  “No, tell Rex to stay in position. Bakir might still be headed his way. We don’t know for sure he’s meeting someone.”

  “You’re right. He could just need to use the facilities.”

  As I started to open the door, I said, “If Bakir comes out of the teahouse alone, and you don’t see me following him, you might want to come inside and check on me.”

  He chuckled. “Sure thing, and if I see you come out of the teahouse alone, I’ll have the engine running.”

  * * * *

  Shalar’s Teahouse was a typical Iraqi teahouse. Its walls were completely covered in old photographs, mostly portraits of Iraqi military heroes, although Saddam Hussein’s face was among them. Other celebrities were also on display, including famous Iraqi writers and poets.

  The clientele in the teahouse were all men. Some were playing dominoes at wooden tables while others sat on long benches along the walls. Waiters moved among them carrying trays of tall teacups filled with hot sugary tea with the ever-present tiny spoon in them.

  At the back of the teahouse was an area reserved for those who wanted to order pastries with their tea. Customers seated at the small round tables there looked like businessmen trying to woo their clients by appealing to their sweet tooth.

  The back of the teahouse was where I found Yousef Bakir.

  He was seated at a table across from a man dressed in a suit, no tie, open collar. I immediately recognized the man as Amma
r, Bakir’s brother and a member of the Iraqi Parliament.

  I sat down at a table next to them. Bakir had his back to me and Ammar was facing me. However, both of them were in my sightline.

  The moment I sat down, I pulled the Interceptor phone out of my pocket and placed it as close to the edge of the table as possible.

  However, Bakir’s phone wasn’t on the table, only Ammar’s.

  He’d been texting on it when I sat down, but when the waiter brought their tea, Ammar had placed the phone down on the table beside him. Even though I had a feeling Ammar’s phone was too far away to capture his number, I pressed the home button on the Interceptor phone anyway.

  Both men were speaking Arabic, but amid the sounds of dominoes being slapped together, laughter, loud arguments, and Arabic music playing in the background, hearing the men proved difficult.

  I tried my best though.

  Every now and then I was able to pick up a few words.

  Keys. Visit. Mother. Green Zone.

  While all of them got my attention, I listened carefully when I heard Green Zone. After hearing it, I thought I also heard the word building, but I wasn’t sure.

  I saw no affection between the two men, no smiles, no laughter.

  I decided if I hadn’t known their situation, I probably would have guessed they were conducting some kind of business negotiations.

  After about ten minutes had gone by, the waiter came over and asked them if they wanted more tea. Ammar nodded yes, but Bakir shook his head and pushed his chair back as if he were leaving.

  When he spoke, his voice sounded angry and much louder. “Give me the keys now,” he said, and Ammar immediately reached in his pocket and slid a set of car keys across the table to him.

  Bakir picked up the keys without a word and left the teahouse.

  I quickly pulled some Iraqi dinars out of my pocket, threw them on the table, grabbed the Interceptor phone, and followed him out.

  * * * *

  I fully expected Bakir to take the set of keys his brother had given him and head directly to a vehicle. Instead, he began walking in the direction of the watch repair shop.

  Since I didn’t know where his newly acquired vehicle was located, I continued following him, hoping Quinn would let Rex know we were headed his way.

  However, there was no way for me to signal Quinn because a large delivery truck was parked in the street, and it was obscuring my view of the surveillance van.

  As we got near the shop, Bakir’s pace slowed when he pulled out his cell phone to take a call.

  I slowed my pace to match his.

  Up ahead, I saw Rex enter the repair shop, so I figured he’d spotted Bakir and was implementing the plan to harass the salesgirl.

  Suddenly, I was undecided what to do. Should I cross at the next intersection and return to the surveillance van?

  Should I stop at the newspaper kiosk and provide backup for Rex?

  Should I follow Bakir inside the shop?

  After breathing a quick prayer for guidance, I finally decided to hang around the newspaper kiosk.

  But when I saw Bakir enter the shop still holding his cell phone in his hand, I changed my mind.

  Without giving it too much thought—except that I took the Interceptor phone out of my pocket—I followed him inside.

  The shop was arranged in a U with long glass counters running along both sides and a display case at the far end. Rex and the girl were standing in front of the display case arguing over the price of a repair.

  Rex’s voice was not only loud and belligerent, he had a height advantage over the girl’s diminutive figure, which made him look extremely menacing as he towered over her.

  I saw Bakir pause a moment and assess the situation.

  It didn’t take him long.

  Seconds later, he laid his phone down on the counter and charged at Rex, throwing a punch at him that brought him to his knees.

  I immediately walked over to the counter, hit the home button on the Interceptor phone, and placed it on the counter next to Bakir’s phone while I counted off twenty seconds.

  As I counted, I also had my eye on Bakir who was pounding on Rex’s face. About the time his nose started spewing blood, twenty seconds had gone by.

  Once that happened, I quickly pocketed the Interceptor phone, and shouted, “Hey, what’s going on in here?”

  Bakir turned and looked at me.

  Rex, who could barely see because of the blood covering his eyes, used the distraction to stagger to his feet and head for the door.

  Bakir’s voice sounded threatening as he came toward me.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  I raised my hands in the universal act of surrender.

  “Nothing, man,” I said in English, while backing toward the door. “I’m good.”

  As soon as I reached the doorway, I turned and walked out of the shop. Seconds later, I heard the door shut, and when I looked around, Bakir had placed the closed sign in the window.

  Except for one small matter—Bakir had seen my face—I decided things had gone pretty well.

  Whether Carlton would consider it a small matter was debatable.

  It was a debate I was prepared to lose.

  Chapter 30

  After crossing the road, I meandered down Nabil Street for a few minutes while keeping my eye on the door of the repair shop. Eventually, I ended up back at the surveillance van.

  When I rapped on the door, it was Rex who opened it.

  He had a wad of gauze over his nose, and from what I could tell, he might need a bunch more before the bleeding stopped.

  “Thanks for the save, man,” he said as I stepped inside. “That guy packed a wicked punch.”

  I slapped him on the shoulder. “No problem.”

  I pulled the Interceptor phone out of my pocket and handed it to Quinn. “Did it work? Did we get his number?”

  He pointed at the Interceptor’s black box where a set of numbers was displayed. “Oh, yeah, we got it,” he said with a smile. “I’ve already sent it to the Ops Center. From now on, we’ll be able to monitor Yousef Bakir’s calls and have his location up on the Grid.”

  “What about his apartment? Have you heard from your team yet?”

  “No, I’m supposed to give them a call when Yousef heads their way, but they’ve been in there for almost an hour now, so they should be about finished.”

  I grabbed the binoculars and focused them on the repair shop. “Yousef has transportation now, so the game may have changed.”

  “How would you know that?” Rex asked.

  Quinn asked, “What happened in the teahouse? Was he meeting someone?”

  I nodded. “He met his brother Ammar. He gave him a set of car keys, but I can’t tell you anything about the vehicle, and I have no idea where it’s located right now.”

  Quinn said, “The Ops Center should be able to determine Yousef’s location from his cell phone, so it probably won’t matter that much.”

  “He could ditch that phone and pick up another one, though. And it’s always possible Ammar left him a new phone in the vehicle.”

  Quinn said, “I have to admit; I’m surprised to hear his brother’s working with him.”

  Rex shook his head. “He may not realize what Yousef’s doing.”

  “True. The two of them didn’t look that chummy.”

  Quinn said, “I expect Henry will put surveillance on Ammar when he hears about this.”

  “I’m sure he will, and after I see where Yousef’s headed, I need to get out of here and update the Ops Center on this new development. Now that he has a vehicle, he may—”

  “You won’t have to wait long,” Rex said, pointing across the street. “There he is now.”

  I grabbed the binoculars again and watched Yousef Bakir step out on the sidewalk and start walking toward the market. “It looks like he’s on his way to the market now.”

  Quinn’s cell phone vibrated and after listening for several seconds he said,
“Okay, thanks. Good job.”

  “That was my crew leader,” Quinn said as he hung up. “They’ve finished wiring Yousef’s apartment. The cameras they’ve installed are motion-sensitive, so the Comms Center should start receiving pictures the moment he steps in the door. The audio works the same way. It’s voice-activated.”

  “Did he say they found anything unusual in there?”

  “Not unless you consider textbooks and a gun unusual.”

  * * * *

  When we knew for sure Yousef was headed to the market, Quinn got out of the van and followed him, while Rex stayed inside the vehicle to nurse his bloody nose.

  After suggesting an ice pack might be a good idea, I told Rex goodbye and headed over to the soccer field where Kasim was waiting for me in the Suburban.

  On our way back to the embassy, I called Mitchell and let him know I needed to set up a conference call with the Ops Center and Douglas. I figured he wouldn’t mind making those arrangements with Jennifer, and from the sound of his voice, I wasn’t wrong.

  “Oh, sure,” he said, “I’ll talk to Jennifer as soon as we get off the phone. How did things go with you? Did you get your up-close-and-personal look at Yousef Bakir?”

  I wasn’t about to tell Mitchell how personal and how up close I’d gotten with Yousef, so all I said was, “I’ll tell you all about it when I get there.”

  I paused as Kasim suddenly made a sharp right turn onto a secondary road, avoiding what appeared to be a bonfire up ahead of us. More than likely, it was the aftermath of a car bombing.

  Kasim said nothing about his sudden maneuver, and I continued my conversation with Mitchell. “Did Douglas give you any new intel about the operation?”

  “Not exactly, but he received word Abbas Alviri is back in Baghdad. He arrived yesterday with some members of the Iranian President’s trade delegation, and Douglas wants me to make contact with him.”

  “Does he think Alviri might know something about why the Quds Force has hired Yousef?”

  “He thinks it’s a long shot, but he’s prepared to offer Alviri more cash if he has some viable intel. How would you feel about being my backup if I’m able to set up a meeting?”