by Ethan Jones
Liberty said nothing for a long time.
Javin hated the unsettling silence, but even more, he hated breaking her heart. He wished he would have made a decision earlier and had clearly chosen Liberty. He experienced a twinge of guilt for still feeling connected to Mila and never telling her that their relationship was over. Now, he’d have to be fully committed to loving Liberty, because she was the only one he had…
“Liberty, I’ll see you again, very soon.”
“Okay,” she said in a quiet voice.
“Did the camp get its extra funding?”
“No, not yet.”
“So, no new security?”
“No, unfortunately.”
Javin frowned. Last week, there had been an attack against a UNHCR convoy bringing food and medical supplies to the camp. Masked men at a checkpoint had stolen all the provisions. Two of the guards who had dared to fight had been severely beaten. Two others had quit. Liberty and the camp personnel had sought the support of the Iraqi provincial government, but they were too weak and powerless to fight the renegade militias. The lack of response had emboldened the pillagers, who were now threatening and extorting camp residents.
“So, what are you going to do?”
“I can’t do much, Javin, other than quitting altogether… And, to be frank, the thought has crossed my mind…”
A shiver went through Javin’s body. He didn’t know that about Liberty. In fact, he didn’t really know much about her. “What, like find something else?”
“No, I mean move to another camp, perhaps another part of the world. I’m just getting tired of all this bureaucratic nonsense. Waste of time and energy.” She sighed. “I love what I do, and I’d want to keep doing it. But these politics and inaction… it’s just killing me…”
Javin nodded. “Yes, it can get pretty bad. When can you leave?”
“My contract ends in three months, well, two months and twenty days, but who’s counting?” She let out a sad laugh. “My boss has talked about an extension, but I don’t want it. You know I’ve already applied for a transfer, but they refused it.”
Javin nodded. He understood her frustration. Liberty seemed to be in one of those situations where the people who did a good job were seldom allowed to leave. “Where would you be transferred?”
“If I don’t complete the contract, it will be hard, and I’ll have fewer options. But maybe I can find something in Africa or South America.”
“Europe?”
“That’s more difficult but not impossible.”
“Ever been to Albania?”
“Is that an invitation, Javin?” Liberty said in a cheerful tone.
“Maybe… I’ve been there. It’s a lovely place. Gorgeous scenery. Friendly but poor people. Always in a crisis, because of the lying politicians…”
“What were you doing there?”
Javin didn’t answer right away. He had called to tell Liberty the truth… well, as much as his boss had authorized him. Soon after arriving in Bahrain, Javin had called Bateaux and had explained to him the situation with Liberty and his desire to make the relationship work and become serious. Bateaux had reluctantly agreed, advising Javin to say only what was necessary.
“Javin?”
“Yes, I’m still here. I… I was running a recon op.”
“What’s that?”
“A reconnaissance operation. We were trying to gather as much intel, that’s intelligence, about… eh, something that shouldn’t have been there.”
“Was that part of your work as an advisor?”
Javin bit his lip. He had told Liberty that he worked as an advisor to the Iraqi government on security matters. He was sent on different assignments, like fact-finding missions. But if he were to come clean, he’d have to be specific. “Well… not exactly. Liberty, I’m more than an advisor. I work for the Canadian Intelligence Service.”
A moment of tense pause, then Liberty said, “Are you a spy?” Her voice was shaky and cold, with a hint of disappointment.
“An operative that—”
“Spies on other countries, gathering intelligence…”
“Sometimes. Other times, I help correct situations that have gone sideways, make sure our citizens come home safe, or that they can sleep in peace.”
“And is that all you do?”
“I do what my country asks of me.”
“I see. Have you… have you ever killed someone?”
Javin had anticipated her question, but he wasn’t sure there was a good answer to it. “I haven’t killed anyone who wasn’t a threat to me or the ones I love.”
Another pause, then Liberty said, “Why are you telling me these things?”
“Because… because I love you, Liberty. And I want to have a relationship with you, something real, based on truth and not lies.”
“And will you always tell me the truth?”
Javin had anticipated this question as well, and he had a good answer. “I will share with you as much as I can, without endangering your life, mine, or the people I serve with,” he said in a warm voice, hoping the reply didn’t come across as rehearsed.
“I… I don’t know what to say…”
“I know it’s a lot, and I don’t expect you to decide on the spot. I… I just wanted you to have all the facts when you decide…”
Another tense pause, and Liberty let out a deep sigh. “I need time to think, Javin. Figure out what I’m going to do…”
“Of course, honey. Take all the time you need. And ask me about anything you need to know.”
“Is your name really Javin?”
“Yes, I’ve told you that.”
“You’ve told me many things, and I don’t know what was true and what wasn’t…” The frustration was clear in her voice.
Javin frowned and hesitated for a second, then said, “I know, and it… it’s my fault. The agency has rules, procedures, protocols in place. I couldn’t have been as straightforward as I would have wanted to be…”
“I want to know about the money.” Liberty sounded eager to change the subject.
“What money?”
“The two and a half million that was donated to the camp. Did you send it?”
“I did, yes.”
“I knew it. But how… where did you find it?”
“One of the operations. A set of circumstances allowed me to get my hands on it. The money… it was oil money that ISIS thugs, along with corrupt Iraqi officials and scumbag European bankers, had funneled out of Iraq.”
“Yes, corruption is still a big problem, the biggest, I’d say, since it affects everything else, the economy, security…”
Javin nodded. He had thought about using some of the almost half a million dollars left in his numbered bank accounts to improve the security at Liberty’s camp. At least for the next three months, until the end of her contract. In Iraq, one could buy a lot of things with a few thousand dollars. “That’s true.”
“So, where are you now?”
“I… I can’t tell you that, since I’m in the middle of an operation.”
“Javin, will this always be the case with us?”
“What?”
“This situation where you can’t tell me where you are, or what you’re doing, or when you’re coming back, if you’re coming back…”
Javin sighed. “That will depend on the situation, Liberty, but I can’t divulge those details to anyone not part of the op. I can’t even tell Claudia, or anyone else in my agency…”
“I don’t know if I can be okay with that… not knowing, I mean.”
It was Javin’s turn to go silent. The constant distance and fear of the unknown was a burden weighing heavily on many couples. Javin had seen the devastating effects in the form of broken families, unresolved anger, and endless pain. “I know it’s a lot, honey. It can be a hefty price to pay…”
“It’s not that, it’s… If I want a relationship with you, I want to be close to you, hold you, tell you about my fears, hop
es, dreams… If you’re gone, like you are now, and this won’t, can’t change, then… I don’t know.”
Javin said nothing, as he couldn’t think of anything helpful to say.
Liberty let out a deep sigh and said, “I don’t, I just don’t know. I’ve got to think about my decision.”
“Of course,” he said in as warm a tone as he could muster.
“Anything else?”
“Yes, before you go, I’d like to help with the security aspect, if you’re okay with that?”
“What do you mean?”
“I still have some contacts in Mosul. Perhaps they can station a few men around the camp, patrol the area, serve as non-official security.”
“We don’t have any money for them.”
“That’s not a problem.”
“In that case, why would I say ‘no’?”
“Wonderful. I’ll send you a text message with a couple of names and numbers, so that you can explain to them the camp’s exact needs. But I’ll talk to them first, to make all the necessary arrangements.”
“Thank you, Javin. That’s very thoughtful of you.”
“It’s the least I can do, Liberty. I… I love you…”
A moment of hesitation, then she said, “I love you too, Javin.”
He ended the call and gazed at the phone for a long time. Liberty, I’ll do anything so you and I can be together… Anything it takes.
Chapter Twelve
The Next Day
South of Jawdurayn
Bahrain
Claudia had arrived at the rendezvous a little after 7:30 in the morning. Then the team had left for their meeting with the three men who had last seen Mohammad Shinwari, the terrorist transferred from the Guantanamo prison to the United Arab Emirates. The trio was Shinwari’s former associates who had decided to cooperate with the UAE authorities. In exchange, they had been given new identities and protection in Bahrain.
Although Javin and Claudia no longer worked as correctors—covert operatives dispatched to the field to fix other teams’ errors—they saw the value of cooperating with the local security agencies. It allowed them to move about freely in the country and provided them with much-needed weaponry, transport, and logistics. The team could get in and out of the country without problems at the borders and maintain a low profile while in the country. Bahrain would take all credit for the operation, and Javin had no problem with it.
The greatest drawback of such cooperation was the fact that a large circle of people would learn classified information. If anyone were careless, their loose lips could put the mission and the lives of all operatives in danger. The aftermath briefings would be useless, as agencies and agents would point fingers at one another.
Javin shrugged away those thoughts from his mind and looked through the window. They were in the middle of the desert. Their convoy, composed of two Toyota RAV4 SUVs, had peeled off the King Hamadi Highway just as it curved toward the south, nearing the Isa Air Base. The SUVs drove toward the west, toward Al Mamtalah. The former terrorists had been moved to a safehouse about five kilometers south of the village of Jawdurayn. This had taken place after an attack two weeks ago against their apartment building in Muharraq in the northeastern part of the island.
Javin studied the rugged terrain. Red and gold sand stretched as far as the eye could see. The area was rich with oil and natural gas. They had seen a few plants with excess gas being flared in the distance, the flames licking at the bright, blue sky.
Then Javin shifted in his front seat and turned to Haram, their NSA partner in this operation. He was driving the lead Toyota, and his two partners were following in the second vehicle. Haram caught Javin’s look and said, “What is it?”
Javin grinned. “Are we there yet?”
Haram missed the pop culture reference. His face drew back into a serious look as he glanced at his wristwatch. “Ten minutes, maybe.”
His phone beeped with an annoying ringtone that reminded Javin of some rap tune from the nineties, which seemed to be common to all the songs of that decade. Haram looked at the screen, then answered the call in Arabic, “Go ahead. Tell me what you found…”
He listened for a moment as a frown spread across his face. He looked first at Javin, then at the phone and tapped the screen, activating the speakerphone feature. He said, “You can’t find anything. No information about the American?”
“Nothing. No one has even heard the name.”
“Could it be that his job is very special, very secretive?”
“Yes, but how likely is that?”
“I don’t know, that’s why I asked you to look into it…”
“And I did. There’s nothing about Mr. Murphy.”
“Nothing that you can find?”
“Correct. In my position, this is what I can do.”
“All right, all right. I’m not mad at you. I was just hoping you could find something…”
A sigh of frustration, then the irritated voice said, “I found something. I told you. No one in the NSA has hired Mr. Murphy for any kind of assignment, special or not.”
“Okay, good, good.”
Haram shrugged and ended the call without another word. He put the phone back in the console between the seats, then looked at Javin. “You heard him.”
“Thanks for looking into this.”
“So, what does this mean?” Haram said.
Yael, who was sitting behind Haram, said, “It means your friend is a liar, Javin.”
Javin shifted in his seat. “Thank you, Captain Obvious.”
Yael grinned.
Claudia leaned closer to the middle of the backseat, so that she could see both Javin and Haram. “Why would Murphy lie?”
“I don’t know.” Javin shrugged and frowned. “He’s no longer with the CIA because of his injuries. He told us he’s working for the NSA on some special assignment. So, unless your man is wrong, Tom is here for me…”
Haram shook his head. “My friend is a hothead but not a liar. If he said the American doesn’t work for the NSA, that’s the truth.”
Javin thought that Murphy could be working for Al-Attiya, the prince’s aide. But why would Murphy say he worked for the NSA if he didn’t? To make himself sound more important? Or is something more sinister going on here?
Before he could open his mouth, Haram pointed with his right hand. “We’re here.”
“Already? You said ten minutes…”
“I miscalculated. Are you complaining?”
“No, just surprised.”
Haram brought the SUV as close as he could to the three-story grayish brick house. It was new and modern, with a large black metal gate and a two-car garage in the front. A terrace had been constructed above the garage, with a four-foot-high wrought iron railing on the front and brick parapets to the sides. The second and third story had small, arched windows with half-drawn beige blinds.
Javin waited until Haram and his NSA partners stepped out of the vehicles, then followed suit. Someone from inside the house must have seen or heard their arrival, because the gate rolled to the side before Haram rang the buzzer. He walked through the small courtyard covered partially by palm trees and balconies. On the right side, in the shade offered by the trees, five men were sitting around a glass-top, metal table, sipping tea and coffee.
Javin recognized the three former jihadists from file pictures, even though they had shaved their long beards. Their hair was well-kept, and they were all dressed in white thobes, the long robe that covered most of their bodies. The oldest of them was wearing a pair of black-framed glasses. Javin suspected the other two men were from the NSA or another one of Bahrain’s secret agencies. Haram had simply said “our men” and had given no further details.
Haram introduced the two men as Usman and Merza, and they shook hands with Javin. Merza offered them tea or coffee, while Usman went inside the house for extra chairs. They sat around the table and chatted like old friends, catching up on life and discussing the politics of
the day.
Javin couldn’t care less about the chitchat, but he respected the Arab cultural norms. His team were guests at this house, and he wasn’t about to embarrass Merza or Haram by refusing the hospitality or rushing into the interrogation of Shinwari’s collaborators. Javin was trying to build a relationship with his Bahraini counterparts, and he could only do so successfully if he were relaxed and personable.
About twenty minutes into the conversation, Haram began to steer the discussion toward the matter that had brought them to the safehouse. He looked at Javin, then at Claudia, sitting to Javin’s right, and said, “As we’ve told you on the phone, our partners are looking for some specifics about the times when you fought with Shinwari…”
The oldest of the three jihadists began to shake his large head. “We’ve told everything we know to your people.” He pointed at Haram. “We’ve talked to the government and the army. We were told we had done enough…”
One of his associates, who was maybe in his early twenties and had a scar underneath his left eye, rubbed his chin and said, “We have nothing new to say.”
The third man also shook his head. He was perhaps a few years older than the second man. “We live here, under surveillance, at all times. We can’t go anywhere or talk to anyone without supervision. How can we learn anything?”
Javin looked at Haram, who gestured for the CIS operative to talk. Javin nodded at the men and said in Arabic in a warm voice, “I’m grateful that you’ve agreed to meet with me and to listen to what I have to say.”
The three jihadists didn’t really have much choice in the matter, but it didn’t hurt for Javin to come across as polite and likeable, since he wanted to gain their trust. The truth was that no one ever revealed everything. These men had been in the company of Shinwari for over nine months, hearing, seeing, and doing almost everything with him and other people who knew him, knew about him, or reported to him. The three jihadists had been in custody for less than a month. There was no way they had told the Bahraini everything that they knew. There just hadn’t been enough time.
Javin continued, “I understand that you’ve cooperated with your brothers and have decided to do good from now on. This is exactly what we’re trying to accomplish. I only want a few hours of your time.”
