by Ethan Jones
The man looked away and retraced his steps back toward the hotel’s entrance.
Murphy drew in a deep breath and looked at the duffel bag. He knew what the contents were, since he had asked for what he couldn’t carry across the border. There was going to be a small pistol; a disposable phone, or perhaps two; cash, five thousand US dollars in small denominations; explosives; and other tools of the trade. I need to find my hotel and wait for the intel. What about the sniper rifle? He frowned. I will have to talk to that woman, Fakhry, again. He cursed under his breath.
He looked at the hotel door and glanced around for a taxi. Seeing none, he stepped around the corner, walking toward the north, alongside the hotel. He saw a taxi was just pulling into the area designated for guest drop-off and pickup. Murphy hurried his steps, so that he could catch that taxi.
“Hey, driver, cabbie,” Murphy called at him.
The driver was about fifty steps away. The vehicles’ honking and the ambient noise from traffic drowned out Murphy’s voice.
He dashed toward the driver, who had just helped a man with his luggage and was returning to his seat. The ex-CIA operative was almost at the taxi when he heard a familiar voice calling from behind him, from the direction of the hotel, “Tom. Hey, Tom, what are you doing here?”
It was Javin Pierce.
Chapter Nine
The Diplomat Palace
Adliya District
Manama, Bahrain
“And why do you think the Canadian operative would listen to us?” Sadegh Torabi, the colonel with the Quds Force—the elite troops of Pasdaran, or the Iranian Islamic Revolutionary Guard—leaned over the phone set on his office desk.
Rashid Salimi, the operative calling from the small room of the hotel overlooking the Grand Gulf Hotel, said, “Because they want results, and we can assist them to reach that goal.”
“Yes, yes, I get that. But why would they trust us? They’re working against us, trying to discover the steps we’re taking toward securing the nuclear weapon…”
Salimi sighed. “Sir, as I’ve explained in my report, the objective of the Canadian and the Mossad agents is to find the truth. So far, they’ve been given false information. That’s where we should put our focus: Give them the exact facts, undistorted.”
A brief tense pause, then the colonel said, “Even if they’re not working against us, my question still remains. Why would they want to work with us? Why would they consider the facts we’ll be offering them?”
Salimi sighed again. He had covered these questions and others the colonel had asked over the last ten minutes in his report. It was obvious the boss hadn’t paid attention to those answers, or they weren’t enough to convince him to authorize the operation. “Sir, Javin Pierce is tough but also fair. He’ll consider an alternative option. Once he’s reviewed the facts, he’ll draw the right conclusions.”
“How do you know that?”
It’s in the file. Salimi shook his head and along with it suppressed the thought of simply asking his boss to call him again once he had actually read the report. Instead, he said, “Because we’ve had dealings with Pierce in the past, and—”
“You, personally?”
“No, but men we can trust.”
“Who?”
“A Shia commander operating in Iraq—Mosul, to be precise. His men were instrumental during the retaking of Mosul from the ISIS butchers. Now he’s a commander with the Popular Mobilization Forces.”
“Uh-huh,” the colonel said.
“This man worked with Pierce and his partner a few weeks ago. Our man has only good words about the Canadians. They always treated him with respect, dignity. They took into account the intel he brought and his point of view.”
“Do you think Pierce will do the same in this case?”
“I’d hope that, yes.”
The colonel didn’t reply.
Salimi decided to help the colonel make a decision. “This isn’t the first time we’ve worked closely with the Canadians. Two Quds operatives have fought with another Canadian operative, Justin Hall.”
“Yes, I’ve heard his name,” the colonel said in a thoughtful voice. “But the support from the Canadians can’t be assumed.”
“Of course not.”
“Especially since they’re working with the Zionists, who want our destruction.”
Salimi clenched his jaw and cursed under his breath. He waited for his boss to continue. When he didn’t, the operative said, “She might change her mind as well, once faced with the facts, especially after she learns the source of our intelligence reports.”
“Yes, I still can’t believe we were able to break into the enemy’s vault.”
“It was a very successful operation, sir, and this one will be like that. We can convince Pierce and his partners about the truth.”
“What if that doesn’t happen? What if they insist on eliminating our scientists, embarrassing us at the United Nations, or heaping more sanctions on our poor people?”
Salimi shook his head and said, “I don’t think it’s going to come to that, sir. But, if it does, we’ll be prepared. Pierce and his team will find nothing, because there’s nothing to find. However, if they’re stupidly stubborn and willing to accept and present Zionist and Saudi lies as truth, then we’ll have no choice but to eliminate them.”
The colonel said, “Yes, if they make the wrong decision, we’ll make sure they suffer the consequences…”
Chapter Ten
Outside the Grand Gulf Hotel
Adliya District
Manama, Bahrain
“Huh? Javin? What… what are you doing here?” Murphy struggled to get the words out. His face twisted in what he hoped would appear as genuine surprise at running into his old friend.
“We’re here for a job.” Javin stepped up and offered Murphy his hand.
He shook it and looked at the woman standing next to Javin. She was wearing a dark brown robe with a blue headdress. She had strawberry blonde hair and a tanned face. “Is this your associate?”
“Yes, she’s, eh… Michelle Levinstein.” Javin gestured toward Yael. “And this is Tom Murphy, an old friend from my time in Iraq.”
“A pleasure,” Yael said and shook Murphy’s hand.
“Glad to meet you,” he said.
Javin said, “What brings you to Bahrain?”
Murphy had anticipated the question. “I’m here for a job too.”
“Oh, I didn’t know the CIA was running an op…”
Murphy looked at the taxi driver speeding away and shrugged. “I… I no longer work for the agency.”
“What?” Javin gave Murphy a look of concern. “What happened, man?”
Murphy shook his head and waved a dismissive hand. “A long story.”
Javin tipped his head toward the hotel. “Well, let’s have a drink, and tell us what happened…”
Murphy’s first thought was to refuse, but then he wondered if he could use this meeting to learn something about Javin’s and Yael’s next steps. “Eh, sure. I just don’t have a lot of time.”
“Where’s your hotel?”
“Farther down, I think. I… I have the address somewhere in my backpack.” He cocked his head to the left. “Something Flower Palace…”
“Jasmin Palace?” Yael said.
“Yes, that’s it.”
“It’s about five blocks that way.” She pointed toward the south, over Murphy’s shoulder.
“Yes, the cabbie went the wrong way. He started to blame me for giving him wrong directions, so I just got out. I can’t take that nonsense…”
Javin smiled. “Tom, you haven’t changed at all. Let’s go in and relax.”
Murphy nodded and walked behind them.
When they had sat in the bar and had ordered their drinks, Murphy said, “So, Javin, what is this job?”
Javin smiled. “You know I can’t tell you much. But it has to do with terrorism…”
“I understand. Similar to what we did in Iraq…”
> “Well, a bit more complicated, but the gist is the same.”
“Still trying to make the world a better place,” Murphy said with a grin.
“Yeah, maybe, but we’re not making much progress. What about you? What happened at the CIA?”
Murphy frowned. “I… my wounds from the Geneva op… They never healed well.”
“I had no idea. We lost contact after the op was over, and I assumed everything was going well…”
“Well, it didn’t. My right arm seizes up all of a sudden. Lasts for only a few seconds, and it gets back to normal. But if it happens at the wrong time…” He shook his head and a frown stretched across his face.
“And the CIA couldn’t have it,” Javin said.
“Right. I don’t blame them… Well, not too much, anyway. I wouldn’t want to be in an operation when the guy who’s supposed to have my back cramps up and can’t fire his gun,” he said with a snarl.
“What options did they give you?” Yael said.
“Nothing I could readily accept. Desk duties, review reports, watch others run ops… I decided to get out of there while I still have my mental faculties intact.”
“Good for you,” Javin said. “So, what are you doing now?”
Murphy hesitated for a moment even though he had prepared a reply. He just wanted it to come across as unrehearsed. “I… I’m a security advisor.”
“With the government of Bahrain?”
“Yes, Ministry of Interior.”
Javin smiled. “Let me guess: Is it the NSA?”
Murphy gave a hesitant nod. “Eh, you can say that.”
The National Security Agency was the internal intelligence service, the primary agency responsible for the security in the Kingdom of Bahrain.
“What’s your assignment?”
Murphy shrugged, and a look of regret registered on his face. “I can’t really tell you that…” He had already said too much and had started to regret even making that admission.
Javin opened his mouth, but the waiter appeared tableside with their drinks.
Yael pulled up her phone, then gave Javin a knowing look and gestured at the phone, while Murphy glanced at the waiter. Javin gave a quick nod before picking up his cappuccino. He waited until the waiter had left, then said, “No worries, Tom. I understand security and all… If you ever need a hand, I might know someone in the NSA who can help…”
“I won’t need any help,” Murphy said in a firm voice that came out louder than necessary. He took a long drink from his cold beer.
Javin raised a hand and shrugged. “Sure thing.”
Yael studied Murphy’s face for a moment while sipping her karak, the sweet tea made of half black tea and half condensed milk. “How long are you staying in the country?”
“Long enough to finish my job,” Murphy said in his edgy tone. He drew in a deep breath, then added in a calmer voice, “It shouldn’t take long. A day or two, at the most.”
“Well, hopefully, we’ll see you again,” Javin said. “Perhaps we can do lunch or—”
“I doubt that,” Murphy cut in. “I’ll be out of the city. Actually, I should have left about half an hour ago. But it’s okay.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “I have a few more minutes.”
Javin sipped his cappuccino. “In any case, it’s great to run into you. Glad to see you’re all right, even though you went through some rough times…”
Murphy nodded. You have no idea, and it’s all your fault. But soon enough, you’ll pay for it. Both of you. He bit his tongue and said, “Eh, things will work out in the end. They always do.”
They talked for a few more minutes about the volatile political situation in the Gulf and the wider Middle East and the ever-shifting strategic alliances among the countries. Israel had increased its diplomatic and intelligence cooperation with Saudi Arabia and other Gulf and Middle East countries. They shared common goals when it came to fighting their regional enemy, Iran. On the other hand, Iran had improved its relationship with the United Arab Emirates and Qatar in an attempt to balance the scales.
At the twenty-minute mark, Murphy got up and said goodbye. They shook hands, and Javin walked him out. As the CIS operative stood near the taxi stand, he saw Murphy get into a taxi. Moments later, a young man dressed in gray pants and a gray sweater hailed a taxi that zipped right behind Murphy’s.
When he returned to the bar, Yael was on the phone. “Our asset has visual. He won’t lose Tom.”
Javin smiled. “It was a good idea to send him after Tom.”
Yael nodded and looked thoughtfully at Javin. “Something bothers me about your CIA friend. I can’t point the finger at what it is exactly… Perhaps a combination of things, but the most obvious, the coincidence…”
“Yes, no such thing. He must have known we’re in Bahrain, and he came here on purpose.”
“Recon?”
“Yes, but why? Why is the CIA interested in our op? More importantly, how did they find out?”
Yael shot him an angry glare. “It wasn’t Mossad, if that’s what you’re suggesting…”
“I’m not suggesting anything, just asking a question.”
“Didn’t this Murphy character say he wasn’t working for the CIA?”
“He did, if he told us the truth.”
“You’ve worked with him before. How did things go?”
“Okay. Why?”
“Perhaps this is personal…”
Javin thought about Yael’s words and racked his brains for a reason that would cause Tom Murphy to come after them. Finding none, he shrugged. “I can’t think of a motive that would drive him to chase me down to Bahrain.”
“So, if it has nothing to do with you, it has to do with our mission. How could he have found out about us?”
Javin shrugged. “Besides our agencies, there’s Al-Attiya. I can’t see why he’d involve the CIA though…”
“The redundancy option. If we can’t deliver, there’s always a back-up team.”
“That makes sense, but shouldn’t Al-Attiya tell us about the second team?”
“He should, but I’m sure there are a lot of things he should do, but he doesn’t do.”
Javin said, “This could also have to do with Al-Attiya’s fight for survival. While he’s reached out to us as requested by the prince, Tom’s involvement could be private. Especially if he’s no longer CIA.”
Yael nodded. “I’m going to check if he’s still on the agency’s payroll. If he’s still an agent, we’ll escalate this, inquiring about the CIA’s involvement. If Murphy lied to us about that, we can’t trust anything else he said.” She pointed at her phone. “I already called the Jasmin Palace. They have a reservation for Murphy for two nights.”
“And I’ll check with my contact at the NSA, see if we can find more about his assignment.”
“I doubt you’ll get anything. The NSA is a large organization, and his assignment would be classified. Very few people would know about it.”
“True, but it’s worth a shot.”
“Sure. I’ll let my office know we might have problems with an ex or current CIA op.”
Javin said, “I’ll update my boss. Murphy’s appearance truly complicates this situation, as if it weren’t hard enough…”
Chapter Eleven
Grand Gulf Hotel
Adliya District
Manama, Bahrain
Javin sighed as he readied himself for the most difficult call of the evening. He had texted Liberty, and they had set up a time to talk. But his soul was troubled. Javin hadn’t fully come to terms with Mila’s death. It was as if he couldn’t believe it had happened, and that she was going to reappear at any time.
He had placed a few calls to his SVR contacts and counterparts, and they had all confirmed the news about the shooting in St. Petersburg. Details were scarce, since it had been a top-secret operation on the outskirts of the city, in the early hours of the morning. In short, a series of explosions had eviscerated one of the SVR vehicles, kill
ing Mila and another operative. The entire terrorist cell of seven members had been eliminated, but that offered little comfort to Javin.
He drew in a deep breath and dialed Liberty’s new number. He had instructed her to drive to Erbil—about an hour-and-a-half drive away from her house in west Mosul, Iraq—and buy a disposable cellphone from an old, trusted contact of Javin’s. He was going to have a sensitive conversation with her, and one could never be too careful.
She answered immediately after the first ring and said, “Javin, honey, how are things going?” Her voice was warm and full of anticipation.
“I’m doing well. How are things with you?”
“Eh, they can be better, but they can also be worse…”
Liberty was Deputy Manager of one of the UNHCR—the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees—refugee camps in northern Iraq, where she had first met Javin.
She said, “I… I haven’t seen you in so long… Are you doing okay?”
“I’m managing.” He thought about adding To stay alive, but that wouldn’t have been helpful at all.
“It’s… it’s so… so empty here without you.” Her voice began to tremble.
“I’m… I’m sorry, I wish I could be there with you.”
“I… I feel so lonely now. I miss having you around, feeling your arms around me, kissing me…”
Javin sighed. He wished he could be with her, especially in the wretched place where she was supposed to stay for another three months. “I miss you very much, sweetheart.”
A long pause followed, and he thought he heard Liberty snivel. She was usually a strong woman, but the distance and the length of time since they had last seen each other took its burdensome toll. They had spent four days in Italy and France, but they both knew it wasn’t going to be enough to keep their love aflame. You missed a good thing the most after you had tasted it and you knew how much you wanted it again.
Liberty said, “You said it wouldn’t be long before we see each other…”
“Yes, I… eh, I need to finish something urgent, but after that, I’m all yours.” He let out a forced laugh.
