Two Steps Forward

by Luana Ehrlich

  I figured he’d asked me this because of the lecture I’d given him in Marrakesh, or maybe because Jennifer was within hearing distance of his conversation, and he was trying to impress her by having me, the primary for the mission, serve as his backup.

  Whatever the reason, I said, “Oh, you bet. Thanks for asking.”

  “I’ll text him now and see if he can meet me tomorrow. By the time you get here, I may already know something.”

  “Do you want some suggestions about meeting sites? I’ve had to contact assets in Baghdad before, so I know several places to meet.”

  “No, that won’t be necessary. When I told Jennifer about it a few minutes ago, she gave me some suggestions.”

  “Oh, she did? Well, uh . . . okay. I guess you’re good to go.”

  * * * *

  The smell of pizza hit me as soon as I walked into Control Room B back at the Comms Center, reminding me I hadn’t eaten all day—the half-eaten almond pastry at the teahouse hardly counted.

  I grabbed a slice of pepperoni out of one of the boxes. “Who brought the pizza?”

  Jennifer gestured over at a redheaded guy wearing a Chicago Cubs t-shirt who was seated at one of the consoles. “I had Scotty pick it up before he reported for his shift.”

  Scotty gave me a wave.

  I saluted him with a slice of pizza. “Thanks, man.”

  After I’d eaten a few slices and washed them down with some bottled water, I said, “I could probably eat the rest of this, but right now, I need to update Douglas on Yousef Bakir’s status.”

  Mitchell pointed over to a large console where Liz was seated in front of a video screen. “Jennifer’s got everything set up for us to contact the Ops Center over there.”

  “I’ve already shown Liz how to bring the call online for you,” Jennifer said. “Ordinarily, I’d do it, but I’m waiting for the feed from Yousef’s apartment. As soon as I get it, I’ll let you know.”

  “Has Yousef returned to his apartment yet?” I asked.

  Jennifer glanced up at a blank video screen above her head. “Not yet, but as soon as he does, that’s the monitor where we’ll see it. This other monitor over here is from the drone feed and shows Yousef’s location right now.”

  She grabbed a laser mouse and pointed it up at a separate monitor.

  “This is Yousef here. Do you recognize him? He’s walking toward the apartments. When the drone’s view isn’t obstructed, we’ve been able to watch his movements whenever he leaves his apartment.”

  She was right. Even though it was an aerial shot, I could easily make out the figure of Bakir walking toward his apartment building.

  I could also tell he was carrying a couple of white plastic bags in each hand.

  “Were you able to see him earlier when he entered Shalar’s Teahouse?” I asked.

  Mitchell spoke up. “We sure did, and we saw you follow him in there a few minutes later. I’m guessing that’s when you got your up-close-and-personal look at him.”

  “It wasn’t that personal,” I said, “but you can hear all about it when I tell Douglas.”

  Mitchell followed me over to the console and sat down next to Liz. “I’d be interested to hear what happened after Yousef came out of the teahouse,” he said. “There was a delivery truck parked on the street, so the drone’s cameras weren’t able to show us what happened after you left there.”

  “So you didn’t see Rex entering the repair shop or me following Yousef?” I asked.

  “No, the last thing we saw before the truck pulled up was when you came out of the teahouse. Yousef was just ahead of you, and it looked like he was headed toward the repair shop. The delivery truck stayed in the street for at least twenty minutes, and by the time it left, I suppose you were already inside the surveillance van.”

  “Well, you didn’t miss that much,” I said. “Yousef and Rex had a confrontation inside the shop, and when all was said and done, Rex ended up with a bloody nose.”

  “Where were you when all this was happening?”

  I turned and looked at Liz. “You can go ahead and initiate the call to the Ops Center now. Uh . . . you asked me where I was. Let’s see. When Rex was inside the repair shop harassing the girl, I was providing him with backup.”

  “Okay, so you watched him go in, and then where were you—”

  Mitchell suddenly stopped in mid-sentence when the large computer screen in front of us came to life, and we were viewing the inside of RTM Center A at the Agency’s headquarters at Langley.

  In the foreground were three consoles. Carlton was seated at the center console, Veronica was seated at the console on his right, and the console on Carlton’s left was vacant.

  When Carlton saw we were online, he asked me to log on before I began the update, which in Agency’s jargon was called the OFU or Operational Field Update.

  I said, “Titus Alan Ray, Level 1 Covert Intelligence Officer, initiating the OFU on Operation Invisible Target, Code 64389.”

  When I finished, Carlton said, “Well done, Titus. I’m not sure how you did it, but I understand you managed to get Yousef Bakir’s cell phone number.”

  “Everything just sorta came together to make that happen.”

  “I suspected as much, but because of what Ben had told me, I thought you’d only gone over to the al-Dura neighborhood so you could have an eyes-on view of Bakir.”

  “That was the original plan, but things went down a little differently.”

  “How far down did they go?”

  * * * *

  I understood why I heard concern in Carlton’s voice. As one of the Agency’s operational division heads, it was his job to make sure his operatives maintained their cover throughout an assignment.

  More than likely, he was afraid I’d blown mine.

  After all, I was supposedly the leader of an APT unit who was in Baghdad to prepare the way for members of the White House chief of staff’s office to visit the country.

  A man in my position wouldn’t ordinarily venture outside the Green Zone, especially not in the al-Dura neighborhood, and if I’d been seen by someone from Prime Minister Madi’s staff hanging out there, the validity of my credentials might have been questioned.

  Fortunately, that was a moot point.

  It hadn’t happened.

  Sure, Yousef Bakir had seen me in the Red Zone, but he didn’t have a clue who I was or even who I was supposed to be.

  To assure Carlton I hadn’t tarnished my cover when I’d gone into the al-Dura neighborhood, I immediately told him I hadn’t run into any trouble while I was in the van doing surveillance with Sean Quinn.

  Then, I proceeded to give him the full details of the events that led up to when I exited the van and followed Yousef into Shalar’s Teahouse.

  As soon as I began describing the conversation I’d overheard between Yousef and his brother, Carlton suddenly seemed more interested in what had happened between the brothers than he was in whether or not I’d blown my cover.

  By the time I was finished, I felt confident Carlton thought the risks I’d taken were well worth it, or at least that’s how I interpreted the expression I saw on his face.

  “It was fortunate you were able to witness Ammar’s meeting with Yousef,” Carlton said, “otherwise we might not have known he and his brother were partners.”

  “I’m not sure that’s the best word to describe their relationship,” I said.

  “How would you describe it?”

  “Ammar appeared intimidated by Yousef. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised to find out he’s only helping him because he’s being forced to do so. I definitely didn’t see any brotherly love going on there.”

  Veronica spoke up. “I agree. It’s never a good idea to put labels on people. Ammar has a good reputation as a fair and honest legislator, so perhaps we should see how this plays out before we decide to condemn him.”

  “I hardly think Douglas was condemning him, Veronica,” Mitchell said. “He was only making an observation.”
<
br />   I heard Douglas clear his throat. However, I seriously doubted it was a sign he was about to address Veronica’s comment.

  I figured he was about to address a different matter—the matter of The Rule. It wasn’t an Agency rule; it was Carlton’s rule.

  Mitchell and Veronica had just broken it.

  It went like this; whenever an update was being recorded for the official record, secondary participants were not allowed to speak unless information was requested of them.

  “I’d like to remind everyone this session is being recorded,” Carlton said. “Unless you’re asked to comment on Invisible Target, only the primary officer and I should be discussing the mission.”

  “Oh, sorry about that, Douglas,” Mitchell said. “I guess I forgot.”

  Veronica said nothing.

  I said, “Well, the bottom line is, we have a lot more intel than we did a few hours ago.”

  Carlton nodded. “Yes, that’s the bottom line, but having Yousef’s cell number may be the best piece of intel we have right now.”

  I was afraid he was about to start questioning me about how I’d gotten that piece of intel, so I attempted to divert his attention to another topic.

  “Just think how much information we’ll have on Yousef once we start receiving the feed from his apartment.”

  Carlton motioned behind him where the Grid was being displayed on one of the wall monitors. “That’s true but having Yousef’s cell number means we’ll be able to know his location even when he leaves his apartment.”

  Obviously, I hadn’t succeeded in taking his mind off the phone.

  Carlton stared directly at me and asked, “When exactly were you able to capture Yousef’s phone number? Was it while he was having the conversation with his brother in the teahouse?”

  I should have realized Carlton wasn’t about to allow me to log out of the OFU without hearing the details of how I’d been able to get Yousef’s phone number, and I immediately felt the neurons in my brain go into overdrive as I tried to come up with an answer.

  Of course, the easiest answer to his question was yes, especially since I’d heard there was no drone footage of me following Yousef into the repair shop.

  I was seconds away from giving him that answer, until I remembered I’d asked God for guidance before following Yousef inside the shop.

  Lying to Carlton about something I’d prayed about just felt wrong to me.

  “No, Douglas,” I said, “I never had an opportunity to use the Interceptor in the teahouse, but when I followed Bakir down the street and saw him enter the repair shop, I noticed he still had his phone in his hand, so I followed him inside and used the Interceptor on his phone while he was beating up on Rex.”

  I heard Mitchell mumble, “You’re kidding,” but I didn’t think Carlton was able to hear him, because, at that moment, Jennifer stepped over to our console and directed our attention to one of the video monitors.

  “Yousef just entered his apartment,” she said. “You can watch the feed from here, and I’ve also sent it to the RTM Center so they can view it from there.”

  No one said anything for a few minutes as we observed Yousef walk into his small kitchen and place his two plastic grocery bags down on the counter.

  After removing some fruit and a loaf of khobuz from one of the bags, he opened the other bag and pulled out what appeared to be a large textbook.

  “Is that a book?” Carlton asked.

  “It could be a textbook,” I said. “Quinn told me his surveillance crew found a couple of textbooks in his apartment.”

  Yousef Bakir took the book and walked over to his living room where he sat down on the sofa. When he opened up the book, I was able to read the title, The Basics of American Politics.

  “Now that’s strange,” Carlton said. “He’s reading a textbook about American politics.”

  Maybe not so strange.

  Chapter 31

  Saturday, May 25

  Mitchell and I were waiting outside Building D in the embassy compound when Kasim arrived to pick us up at ten o’clock on Saturday morning.

  Before he got there, I instructed Mitchell to ride in the front passenger seat, since I planned to exit the vehicle before Kasim dropped him off for his rendezvous with Abbas Alviri.

  As Mitchell’s backup for his meet-up with the Iranian diplomat, my job was to make sure no one was interested in their meeting. To do that, I needed to scout out the rendezvous site before Alviri showed up and then keep an eye on him during the meeting.

  Mitchell said he’d given Alviri a choice of three different meeting sites—all places Jennifer had suggested—and the one Alviri had chosen was located on the campus of the University of Baghdad. Specifically, Mitchell was meeting Alviri by the duck pond in front of the College of Political Science building at eleven o’clock.

  Baghdad University was in the middle of the city not far from the Green Zone. It was surrounded on three sides by the Tigris River. To get there, Kasim took the Tamuz Bridge across the Tigris and turned right on Jamia Street, entering the campus on the west side.

  After telling Kasim to drop me off at the next intersection, I handed Mitchell the messenger bag I’d placed beside me on the backseat.

  “You don’t want to forget this,” I said. “If Alviri seems reluctant to tell you what he knows, all you have to do is give him a glimpse inside.”

  Mitchell took the messenger bag from me and said, “I’ll call you as soon as I’m in place. Alviri is usually on time.” He held up the bag. “I have a feeling this is probably his incentive for punctuality.”

  The messenger bag was full of American dollars, courtesy of the U.S. taxpayers. Henry Garrison had brought the bag over to our apartment last night after returning from meeting his asset, Narmeen.

  He’d indicated Carlton had authorized him to give Mitchell the cash in order to entice Alviri to share information about Yousef Bakir.

  “Narmeen couldn’t tell me anything about why the Quds Force hired Yousef,” Garrison said. “Let’s hope Ben has better luck with Alviri tomorrow.”

  I asked him, “Did Douglas update you about what happened with Yousef today?”

  He nodded. “I believe I’m up to speed. I’ve already set up surveillance on his brother Ammar, and now I’m about to head over to the Comms Center and view the video of Yousef’s apartment.”

  “What’s your take on Ammar? Do you believe he’s working with his brother?”

  Garrison shook his head. “No, I don’t. I’ve actually met Ammar Bakir before. As the embassy’s senior political officer, I’ve met with many of the Iraqi legislators, and I can tell you he seems like the genuine article. He’s very pro-American and very supportive of Prime Minister Madi. If he knew Yousef was here to assassinate the Prime Minister, I believe he’d try and stop him.”

  “Did you mention this to Douglas?”

  “Yes, and he agreed with me. In fact, he said he’d bring it up with you later when he contacted you to discuss another matter.”

  Carlton hadn’t called me last night to discuss another matter.

  He hadn’t called me today either.

  It was beginning to bug me.

  * * * *

  Kasim dropped me off at Baghdad University on Jamia Street, and as I began making my way across campus over to the duck pond, I took out my sat phone and called Carlton on his personal cell phone.

  It took him a few minutes to answer. “Is this an emergency?”

  “No, it’s not an emergency. Is this a bad time for you? Oh, wait. I just realized it’s four o’clock in the morning there. I apologize.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I was getting up in an hour anyway. Aren’t you supposed to be providing Ben with backup for his meeting with Abbas Alviri this morning?”

  “I’m on campus right now and headed over to the rendezvous site. It doesn’t look too crowded, so I should be able to check out the area while we’re talking.”

  I waited a beat or two, thinking he might bring up som
ething about the other matter he’d told Garrison he was going to discuss with me.

  All I heard was silence.

  I said, “Henry mentioned the two of you had discussed Ammar’s involvement with Yousef. He said you’d both come to the same conclusion.”

  “I’m inclined to agree with him. I don’t believe Ammar knows anything about Yousef’s reason for being in Baghdad, and I have to say I’m not as sold on the idea Yousef is here to carry out a hit on the Prime Minister as I once was. What do you think?”

  While I was answering his question, I was also checking out a middle-aged man lounging on a park bench in front of the campus library. He looked out of place in the college setting, but then a young woman came up and joined him, and I decided he was harmless.

  “I keep going back and forth on Yousef’s target,” I said. “To me, it makes more sense for the Iranians to hire Yousef to take out the Saudi Prince rather than Prime Minister Madi, but now that I know Yousef has been educating himself on American politics, I’m concerned his target could be the American President.”

  “Even so, why would he need to study up on American politics?”

  “He probably doesn’t, but maybe that’s just how he thinks.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “Meaning Yousef seems a little off to me. Off might not be the best word for it, but that’s what I thought when I saw him yesterday.”

  “Let’s talk about yesterday. I’m still unclear if you had some kind of personal encounter with Yousef once you followed him into the repair shop. Could you clarify that for me?”

  “Sure, I can do that.”

  “By clarify I mean I want the specifics of what happened.”

  “The specifics. Right. I got it.”

  My walk across the campus had now taken me to a grassy area where several students were congregated. Some were stretched out on the grassy areas, while others were sitting around a small reflecting pool.

  After I sat down under a tree and began scrutinizing the students, I said, “When I followed Yousef into the shop, I saw him place his cell phone down on the counter while he was focusing his attention on Rex. That’s when I used the Interceptor to capture his phone number.”