by Ethan Jones
“No, he called me. Checking up on you.”
“Do you think it was SAS?”
“I don’t know what to think. But it makes sense if it was SAS. Fox is MI6, so it’s easy to connect the dots. He has a lot of clout with SAS, as we both know.”
Claudia nodded. “How did they find out about us?”
“Many ways. Erkan or Ajaz gave them our location.”
“But they were both dead before the helo dropped the assault team.”
“Right. It wouldn’t have been difficult for them to locate us. Plus, and this is my greatest fear, the flash drive could have betrayed our whereabouts.”
“The flash drive? How?”
“Remember what Erkan said, about the flash drive files having software that transmitted our location.”
“I do, but the DGSE removed the tracking device back in Istanbul.”
“They did. Or so they told us.”
“You’re doubting Louis?”
Javin nodded. “At some point, I was doubting everyone.”
Claudia’s frown creased her forehead. “Surely not me, Javin?”
He looked down at his folded hands. “I’m . . . I’m not going to lie to you, Claudia.”
“Javin? Really? You were suspicious of me?”
Javin shook his head. “I’m . . . I’m sorry, Claudia. I didn’t know what to think. When Fox said there was a traitor in my team, I . . . I just lost it for a moment.”
“But we’ve been through so much, Javin. How can you think that? I’ll never betray you or our country.”
“Never say never, Claudia.”
“No, I can say that, because I mean it. Never a traitor, Javin, never.”
“I’m sorry, again. And on the topic of distrust, I . . .” His voice trailed off.
“What is it, Javin? Let it out.”
Javin shrugged, struggling to find the right words. “I . . . before we started this op, I met with Martin. He . . . he told me about how you and I were going to work together.”
“Yeah, the boss told me you and he had a chat.”
“We did, yes. But . . . I had some doubts about whether you were ready to return to field operations.”
Claudia nodded slowly, then winced. The gesture must have caused some pain. “I thought you might. And frankly, I did too. You know, we think we’re strong, that we can deal with anything that life throws at us. Sometimes we do, and sometimes we don’t.”
“I no longer have those doubts, Claudia. And I know something for certain: I’ll never have them again.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Javin.”
She stretched her right arm toward him.
Javin held her hand, then leaned over her bed. He hesitated for a split second, then gave her a gentle embrace.
Chapter Forty-two
Ramtha Hospital, Ramtha
Jordan
No matter how hard Claudia insisted, the doctors were unyielding: she was not going anywhere until seven days had passed. The time would allow her to regain her strength, recover from her wounds, and reduce the chances for the development of infections or other complications.
Javin spent most of the first day in Claudia’s room. They drafted the after-action report, double-checked the course of the events, and included all facts—and best-informed guesses, when facts could not be determined with a high level of certainty. They talked to Martin a few times, but neither he nor Muath had anything concrete about a possible SAS operation in Deraa City. Their involvement remained in the realm of speculation and rumors. Fox had refused any connection, calling such claims “pure guesswork, and very bad as such.” Both Martin and Muath had promised to get to the bottom of this matter.
Martin had sent a two-person team from the Cyprus CIS station to pick up the flash drive. Javin had not worked with them before, but the team’s reputation preceded them. They were among the toughest in the business. No one would be able to pry the flash drive out of them, unless the assailants first eliminated the team.
So when the next day news arrived about an ambush against the team in Nicosia, the capital of Cyprus, Javin and Claudia were both amazed and shocked. The details were still sketchy, but one thing was clear: the two team members were dead, and the flash drive had disappeared.
Claudia cursed out loud. “How did this happen?”
Javin, who was sitting across from her bed, shook his head. “I’m not sure. I talked to Martin, who’s in contact with the Cyprus station. They’re looking at the usual suspects: terrorists, former opposition, other intel agencies.”
“How could they have possibly known about the team and the flash drive?”
“Someone is tracking it. There’s no other way.”
“Louis denied his team might have messed up, or that there was any funny business going on.”
“Yes.” Javin groaned. “He took offense at my even suggesting the possibility. After talking to him and his team, I’m convinced DGSE did everything right. My suspicion is that somehow Ajaz or Erkan accessed the files during the short time the drive was in their hands.”
Claudia peered deep into Javin’s eyes, then nodded. “Perhaps somehow they activated a secondary tracking bug.”
“Yes, and that would explain the SAS finding us in Syria, and whoever found the Cyprus team.”
“If those were SAS operatives.”
Javin nodded. “Yes, nothing conclusive yet, but Muath is working on an angle.”
“What is it?”
“A witness or two who saw everything.”
“And how did they conclude that the team were British special forces?”
“They heard them talk. According to Muath, one of the witnesses was forced to give up his car, which was used to transport a couple of the wounded British troops.”
“Yes, but even if this story is true, it wouldn’t be sufficient to convince Martin.”
“That’s not what I’m trying to do, Claudia.”
She held his eyes for a long moment. “No, Javin, you’re not thinking of doing—”
“I’m not going to let your blood be spilled in vain. If SAS was involved in Syria, they’re also responsible for what happened in Nicosia. And they’re not getting away with it.”
“We should let Martin and the agency handle it.”
“But of course; I’m just thinking of options if the agency concludes there isn’t sufficient evidence to take action.”
“And if that’s the case, what are you planning to do?”
Javin shrugged. “I haven’t decided yet. But we’re correctors, remember?”
“I also remember we have protocols, rules, and an agency we report to.”
“Yeah, an agency that should have our back.”
Claudia sighed. “Javin, we’re not going to start a private war with the SAS or Fox.”
“Right, we are not.”
“Come on, don’t be like that.”
Javin drew in a deep breath. “Things are getting out of hand. How about we see what the evidence is and what Martin does with it, before we get carried away?”
Claudia smiled. “What I wanted to hear, Javin.”
He smiled back and reached for his coffee cup on the nightstand. He finished the last sip and said, “More coffee?”
“Sure. A large one.”
Javin stood up and leaned on one of his crutches. The left leg had regained enough strength.
“Before you go, now that we don’t have the original flash drive, how useful do you think the copy is?”
“I’m not sure. It will depend on the contents. Martin said the cyber-analysts are still working on breaking the security encryption. Considering the difficulty, I would say the files are authentic and very damaging. But, of course, the politicians’ counterclaims will be that these are doctored files, manipulated to spread lies and half-truths.”
Claudia nodded. “I hope we can still use them, if not officially, then in private, to make sure the people benefiting from the blood of wars go away for good.”
> “Yes, otherwise all of this operation was in vain.”
Javin headed toward the door.
Out in the hall, he walked past the elevators until he found a quiet corner near the fire exit staircase. He pulled out a burner phone that Muath had provided him the previous day. Javin had made sure the phone was clean and registered to an account that would not be traceable to him. He held the phone tight in his hand, wondering whether he should place the call. It’s probably too early. Martin will do the right thing with the intel. If he doesn’t, then I’ll call.
He shrugged, but did not return the phone to his pocket. Maybe I should set things in motion, so they’re ready when the need arises, if it arises. But if I do, it would be difficult, if not impossible, to stop the avalanche.
He shook his head and put the phone away.
Chapter Forty-three
Somewhere over the Mediterranean Sea
Aboard flight 693 from Amman, Jordan to Frankfurt, Germany
The flight on Lufthansa’s Airbus A321 so far had been quiet and peaceful. The airplane was barely half full, so Javin and Claudia had sat near the back, with a few rows of seats from the nearest passengers. The doctors had finally yielded to Claudia’s demands to be released. She had compared the five days spent in the Ramtha Hospital to house arrest. Claudia felt she was ready to return to work, perhaps not to field operations right away, but to have a purpose and feel useful.
Javin shared her view. He was even more anxious to hear Martin’s decision about the Syrian witnesses and their account. Muath had located two men who had intercepted the assault team that fateful night near Deraa City. Both men swore on their family’s honor that the team was British. They had British accents and used weapons unfamiliar to the Syrians, probably L119A2 assault rifles.
Reluctantly, Martin had agreed to take that intelligence to his superiors. He had expressed his valid concerns that there did not seem to be enough for an official complaint or to press this matter any further. The investigation of the Cyprus ambush had revealed nothing new or useful. The attackers remained unidentified.
“What do you think, Javin?”
Claudia’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “Eh . . . what?”
“What’s going on in your mind?”
“Oh, Martin’s response.”
“Doesn’t look good.”
“No.” Javin shook his head. “SAS can’t just get away with this.”
“They won’t. Even if we don’t get them this time, there will always—”
Javin’s phone ringing interrupted her words. “Can you believe it?” he said, realizing it was their boss. “I’m not saying he’s the devil, but . . .”
“But he acts like one sometimes.” Claudia grinned.
Javin answered the phone. “Yes, boss, go for Javin.”
“Javin, is Claudia there?” Martin said in a cold, curt voice.
“She is, but we’re still in flight. Not exactly a private place to put you on speaker—”
“Okay, okay, then listen carefully, and you can tell her what’s going on.”
“All right.”
“I’ve got some bad news and some good news.”
Javin nodded. He was expecting as much, considering Martin’s tone. “Hit us with the bad news first.”
Martin sighed. “As expected, the director-general refused our request for an official investigation on the SAS operation in the outskirts of Deraa.”
“What?” Javin said in a voice louder than necessary.
A couple of passengers turned their heads and gave Javin and Claudia curious glances.
“Give me a moment, sir,” Javin said.
He stood up and, along with Claudia, he walked until they came to the far end of the airplane. “Yes, go ahead, now.”
“I was saying what I learned from the director-general. MI6 has apologized for Fox’s confusing remarks. Fox himself expressed deep regrets to the director-general for his less-than-helpful behavior.”
“And that’s it, sir?” Javin’s voice sounded more like a complaint rather than a question. “That’s all we’re going to do?”
“Javin, I don’t appreciate your tone,” Martin replied tersely. “We’ve pressed MI6 hard enough on this matter. Remember that they’re a good partner, a trusted ally, and we’re not about to burn bridges.”
“But the threats, the attack, the blood—”
“MI6 and Fox admitted the miscommunication. In terms of the potential SAS involvement, we have no hard evidence. The testimony of those two Syrians is contradictory and of no use.”
“But there was an SAS operation just outside Deraa, on the same night. SAS confirmed the death of two members and that another three were wounded,” Claudia said in a voice barely above a whisper.
“Correct, but SAS and MI6 maintain that that operation is unrelated to your . . . eh . . . incident. An SAS team was in the area, hunting for a terrorist mastermind, when it engaged in a fierce battle with local jihadists.”
“So then, that’s all we’re going to do?” Javin asked in a flat tone of voice.
“That’s all we can do, Javin. I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut, just like you, but my hands are tied.”
Right, but mine are not, Javin thought.
Martin continued, “If that team was SAS—and personally I have no doubt it was—you kicked them to the curb.”
Javin sighed. “I never wanted that fight, sir. But I want people to pay for their crimes, whether they’re the ones pulling the trigger or giving the orders.”
“I agree, Javin, but in this case, we’ve reached the end of the road.” Martin’s firm voice indicated he was also reaching the end of his patience. “This matter involving MI6 and the SAS is now over.”
Javin nodded. He glanced at Claudia, who offered him a shrug. “All right, boss. Now, how are we using the flash drive?”
“I thought you’d never ask, Javin.” Martin sounded glad to turn the page and move on to discussing another issue. “Here’s where we move to good news. The British Deputy Secretary has resigned.”
“Yes.” Javin pumped his fist in the air in a victory gesture.
“Yes, before the leaked documents hit the press. He chose to go away on his own, before the scandal erupted.”
Javin’s frown returned to his face. He would have preferred the news become public and the senior politician face trial for his dirty maneuvering in politics and the alleged colossal corruption. His resignation was not an act of repentance, but jumping ship before it sank. The Deputy Secretary would perhaps land even a better deal, using his vast network of contacts to work as a high-priced consultant for businesses and foreign governments. “So no trial?”
“No, it’s not necessary now that he’s gone. While publicly, of course, he cited family reasons, the British Prime Minister and some of his closest cabinet members have been informed about the flash drive’s content. They’ve promised to review every single oil and pipeline deal struck with Turkey or in the process of being negotiated. British authorities will especially go over those agreements involving oil shipments from Syria or Iraq.”
“A small victory that came at a high price,” Javin said.
“True, and I’m disappointed too, Javin. But the origin of many of the documents cannot be verified. In the absence of the original flash drive, it would be very difficult to prove any wrongdoing. And some of the politicians’ actions are within their discretion. They’re unethical, yes, but not illegal.”
Javin clenched his teeth, but knew that Martin was right. It was extremely difficult to prosecute and reach convictions in such high-profile cases of suspected politicians. Long legal battles would drag on for years, and the results were far from certain.
Claudia leaned closer to the phone, then said, “Any other good news, sir?”
“No, that’s all for now. Have a safe rest of the flight.”
“Thanks, sir,” Javin said and hung up. He shrugged, then squeezed the phone in his hand. “I can’t believe
we risked our lives just to get a single politician fired.”
Claudia nodded. “Yes, that’s not a lot, but it’s a start. Perhaps the cabinet’s investigation will dig up more dirt, and some of these corrupt deals will be cancelled.”
“I wouldn’t hold my breath. The agency has closed this case, as Martin made clear.”
“Yes, well, we’ve come as far as we can, Javin.”
He nodded slowly and gave Claudia a smile. First Fox, and now the deputy secretary is getting away unscathed. This isn’t going to stand. The agency may be done with this case, but I’m not.
Chapter Forty-four
Frankfurt International Airport
Frankfurt, Germany
After they collected their luggage, Javin excused himself for a private phone call. He had contemplated his course of action since the conversation with Martin. Once he made the call, there would be no turning back. The consequences would be devastating, if the call and the order were traced back to him.
But he could not stand on the side and do nothing. The quote, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing,” echoed constantly in his mind. Fox was not going away. His apology resolved nothing. He would be sending MI6 and SAS operatives after CIS agents if he considered it advantageous to his position or his agency. No, after all Claudia and I have given this operation, I can’t just do nothing.
So he found the burner phone and thought of a number from memory. He dialled it quickly, his fingers typing fast on the keyboard, as if he was afraid he might change his mind. Then he drew in a deep breath as the phone rang.
“Yes, who is this?” A soft female voice asked in Russian from the other end of the call.
Javin hesitated for a moment. “Mila, this is Javin, Javin Pierce.”
“Oh, yes, Javin, dear Javin,” Mila switched to English with barely a touch of an accent. Her voice came in with a strange echo and a background humming, as if she were driving. “It’s been a long time, Javin. Oh . . . twelve, thirteen months?”
“Something like that,” he said in a low voice.
