Deception

by Ethan Jones

  “Okay.” He walked into the house through the back entrance and whispered to Yael, “Claudia’s there, talking to them already…”

  Yael nodded and walked upstairs in front of him. One of Haram’s partners was already on the terrace, inspecting the area. He was taking a closer look at the sniper rifle, a Russian-made Dragunov SVU, turning it around in his hands and inspecting the sights. He turned to Javin and asked, “How did this happen?”

  Javin ran him through the story that he and Claudia had concocted.

  Haram’s partner didn’t seem convinced. “You caught him by surprise?”

  “Not exactly. He returned fire, as you can see…” Javin waved his arms around, then pointed at the shattered windows.

  “But he saw you coming in the RAV4 and didn’t take a shot?”

  Javin shrugged and offered a confused look. “Not sure if he did or he didn’t.”

  “No marks on the Toyota.”

  “I guess he missed.”

  “And he stayed here, waiting for you?”

  “Yes, that’s what happened. I was here, and I saw it happening.” Javin’s voice took on a tone of nervousness.

  “What’s with all the questions?” Yael said.

  The man didn’t answer. He spat on the terrace and shook his head. Then he stormed away, carrying the sniper rifle.

  Javin wanted to stop him, since the weapon could have been useful to prove Murphy’s involvement in the sniper attack. But Haram’s partner had already rubbed his hands over the weapon’s grip and barrel. Any fingerprints Murphy might have left were probably long gone.

  Yael stepped closer to Javin. She looked around, then whispered, “I agree with him. Your story isn’t very convincing…”

  Javin nodded. “I know. There’s more to this, but I can’t talk about it right now.”

  Yael held Javin’s gaze. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Not here, not now.”

  Yael shook her head. “Give me the gist of it.”

  Javin looked over her shoulders. When he was certain Haram’s partner had disappeared, he said, “There was another team here. Two men. They killed Tom.”

  “What? Who are they?”

  “Iranians.”

  Yael cursed out loud.

  “Keep it down,” Javin said.

  “Iranians? It can’t be…”

  “That’s how they identified themselves.”

  “And you let them go?”

  “I had to. I’m having trouble explaining this to you, let alone them.” He cocked his head in the direction of the Bahraini vehicles.

  “Why would they—”

  “What is it?” Javin interrupted Yael as two of Haram’s partners stepped into the terrace.

  The men glanced at Javin and one of them said, “We need to collect the American and his things…”

  Javin looked at the AK rifle that Salimi had said was his favorite gun. Javin walked and picked it up. “This is mine now. But you can take the other rifle and the case.”

  The men shrugged and got to it.

  Javin and Yael went downstairs. Claudia was listening to the conversation among the house owners and Haram’s partners. The two brothers were sticking to the story they had told her earlier. Murphy had knocked on their door, claiming he was lost and in need of directions. He had asked to use their phone, and, when they had allowed him to come in, he had turned his gun on them.

  Javin was itching to leave the house as soon as possible and return to Manama. They had learned everything they could, and his mind was already occupied with the Iranian angle. Were they telling the truth? Was Tom an accomplice? What did they really want?

  He wouldn’t find the answers to those questions until he had met face to face with the Iranians.

  Javin could barely wait.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Blue Nile Restaurant

  Manama, Bahrain

  Yael just couldn’t believe that the Quds Force had intervened and had saved Javin’s life. “This makes no sense, absolutely no sense. That’s not how they operate, especially when Mossad is involved,” she said more than once during their trip back to Bahrain’s capital.

  Javin didn’t try to convince her, since in a matter of hours they were going to meet with Salimi and his partner. The CIS operative would allow them to make their case and convince Yael, if that was even possible.

  When they reached Manama, Javin called the number Salimi had given him. The Iranian replied right away, and they arranged to meet at the Blue Nile. It was an Ethiopian restaurant located a few blocks away from Bani Otbah Avenue, north of the Ramada by Wyndham Bahrain. Javin picked the place and the time, 4:00 in the afternoon, and his team arrived twenty minutes early for reconnaissance, as per protocol. Javin and Yael covered the back streets and the avenue, looking for suspicious vehicles or people, while Claudia studied a dozen or so patrons inside the restaurant.

  Javin didn’t think the restaurant would be so busy, considering it wasn’t going to be suppertime for a few more hours. But he had picked the place because of its access to at least three escape routes, if a swift exit became necessary.

  Once they were certain no one was setting up an ambush, Javin and Yael entered through the large brown wooden door. The restaurant’s walls were painted a buttery yellow, with paintings that Javin supposed were Ethiopian landscapes hanging on the walls. The ceiling lamps were made of thatched-looking material that resembled a mud hut roof, which he thought was a creative touch.

  Claudia had secured a table near the back of the restaurant, across from the hall leading to the kitchen and the back exit. The nearest patrons, a couple of elderly men dressed in brown thobes, were sitting two tables away, at a distance of about three meters. Javin sat next to Claudia, while Yael took the chair across from him. Their eyes covered all entrances and exits to the restaurant.

  “I ordered coffee for all of us.” Claudia handed them each a copy of the menu. “And the waiter recommended the lamb curry, although he said it was quite spicy.”

  “I can handle spicy,” Javin said.

  “A little heat never killed anyone.” Yael placed her elbows on the table. “But these Iranians, they might kill us all.”

  Javin shook his head. “Don’t… don’t start again…”

  Yael put her hands up. “Just warning you, us, Javin. We’re playing with fire, serious fire, and we could end up scorched…”

  Javin nodded. “Yes, yes, of course, I’ve thought about it. But so far, I haven’t seen anything to make me suspicious of the Iranians.”

  “Their entire narrative is suspicious. How they showed up, how they acted, everything.”

  Javin sighed. “Everything will be cleared up in a few minutes.”

  Yael drew in a deep breath. “Fine, but I’m taking no chances.”

  She looked around the restaurant inconspicuously and pulled out her Jericho II 9mm pistol. She wrapped it with one of the black cloth napkins laid on the table.

  “Do you think that’s necessary?” Claudia said as she arched an eyebrow.

  “Definitely.”

  Javin shook his head. “I don’t think so. It might give the wrong message—”

  “They’re double-dealing Iranians. That already sends the wrong message…”

  He opened his mouth to reply, but the waiter was coming toward them. He smiled and said, “Have you decided what you want for supper?”

  Javin shook his head as he looked at the waiter. “Haven’t had a chance to look at the menu. Give us five minutes.”

  The waiter smiled, then gave them a small bow.

  He had barely turned around when Salimi and another man stepped through the restaurant’s door. Javin straightened up in his seat.

  Claudia said, “That’s the man from the truck.”

  “Naderi,” Yael said. She slid slightly on her seat, so that her Jericho pistol was pointed at the Iranians.

  Claudia nodded. “Yes.”

  Javin glanced at Yael and tipped his hea
d toward the pistol as he stood up. “Put that thing away before they see it…”

  Yael frowned. She took the napkin-covered pistol away from the table and put it in her lap. She returned the pistol into the holster at the small of her back, and lowered the edge of her shirt, which covered the weapon.

  The two men stopped when they were a few steps away from the table. Salimi was dressed in a dark blue pinstriped suit and a white shirt. Naderi, who was taller and slimmer, was wearing a gray suit and a light blue shirt, and stood right behind Salimi. Neither wore a tie. Naderi was clean-shaven and with a receding hairline, even though he looked younger than Salimi, who had to be in his forties.

  “Salām, hāl-e shomā chetore?” Javin said as he shook hands with Salimi. It meant, Hello, how are you? Javin then turned to Naderi and said, “I’m Javin Pierce.”

  Naderi smiled. “You speak good Persian. I’m Vahid Naderi.” The man’s handshake was as firm as Javin had expected.

  Javin returned the smile. “I know a few words, enough to get myself in trouble.”

  Both Salimi and Naderi gave small nods to Claudia and Yael, who returned the nods but didn’t shake hands.

  Javin wondered if it was because of the Muslim custom that prohibited handshaking with the opposite sex unless it was a close member of the family. Or maybe the Iranians wanted to keep their distance and not get too friendly. Whatever it was, Javin was going to respect their wishes.

  “We haven’t ordered food yet.” Javin offered Salimi one of the menus. “Take a look.”

  “Sure.” Salimi flipped open the menu and took a moment to look through the items.

  Javin did the same with his menu. “Do you know what you want?” he asked Claudia.

  “Oh, yeah. Their specialty is lamb curry.”

  “Yael?”

  “I’m not hungry,” she said curtly.

  Salimi gave her a sideways glance. “Certainly, you can find something delicious—”

  “I just said I’m not hungry…”

  Javin held Yael’s fiery gaze. “Do as you want, but we’re all eating…”

  Yael shrugged and said nothing.

  Salimi closed the menu. “I’m having beef tibs,” he said, referring to pan-fried slices of beef.

  He passed the menu to Naderi. “I’ll have the same,” he said and slid the menu across the table to Javin.

  “Good then.” Javin closed his menu and stacked all three of them in front of him.

  “What are you getting?” Claudia asked.

  “Asa, fish. Nile perch.”

  “Excellent choice,” Salimi said. “I remember having it in Addis Ababa… When was that? Last summer?” He turned to Naderi.

  “Fall.”

  “Yes, yes, fall. It was so good you wanted to eat all the crumbs and lick your fingers. I actually wanted to try the tere siga, which is just raw meat, red meat cut in cubes. But the café didn’t look like it had the greatest hygiene, and I didn’t want salmonella or tapeworm…”

  Yael twisted her face into a scowl and opened her mouth to say something, but the waiter showed up at that exact time. He took their orders and left.

  Just as he had turned around, Yael said bluntly, “Now, can we focus on the matter at hand?”

  “Yes, yes, why not?” Salimi turned to Javin and said, “Did you find out why the American wanted to kill you?”

  “I’m still working on that, but why don’t you tell me what happened at the house in Jawdurayn?”

  Salimi nodded. “Sure, sure. I told you that we followed the American, Murphy, from the time he began to follow you, as you left your hotel. The American was an easy target, almost reckless. Never suspected he could be followed.”

  Javin nodded.

  Salimi said, “We stayed with the American after he left the King Hamadi Highway. He entered the house and appeared on the terrace, with his rifle ready. So Naderi and I decided to intervene, otherwise he would have killed you.”

  “Why did you intervene?” Yael said.

  Salimi smiled. “We couldn’t let your partner be killed. He’s more valuable to us alive than dead.”

  “The mission is,” Naderi said.

  “What mission?” Yael asked.

  Javin waved his hand. “Let’s go back to the house. How did you intervene?”

  Before Salimi could reply, Naderi said, “We got in, surprised him, killed him.”

  Salimi gave Naderi a slight headshake and a small frown, then Salimi said, “The American never saw us coming, so he wasn’t expecting any intervention. We got in as soon as we could but not soon enough. He took one shot, which, thankfully, missed you…”

  Javin nodded. “That was very close.”

  “We did our best and cut off his operation at the right time. Based on what we found on his phone, his target was you.” Salimi pointed with his hand at Javin. “The man he killed at the house, the one you were talking to, he just happened to be in the way…”

  Javin nodded again. Salimi’s explanation clarified why Murphy had targeted the Bahraini. The sniper had put Javin in his crosshairs, but because of the Iranian’s intervention, the sniper’s kill shot had struck the Bahraini.

  Taking advantage of the brief pause that followed, Claudia said, “You mentioned the mission earlier. What is it?”

  Salimi drew in a deep breath. “We know about your assignment. Spy on our country and our plans for a nuclear weapon.”

  “Not just find out, but derail them, and avoid the threat of war in the region,” Yael said.

  Salimi waved a dismissive hand. “Can we dispense with politics?” he said in an annoyed voice. “We’re not politicians, and it doesn’t matter what we think. We all follow orders—”

  Javin said, “That’s what we’re doing.”

  “Yes, and we’re offering you help, so you can do them better.”

  Yael blurted, “Help?! Oh, give me a break…”

  “Why would you do that?” Javin said.

  “Because you want the truth, and we also want you to learn the truth. It helps us, our country Iran as much as it helps you.”

  “How so?” Claudia asked.

  “Because we want Israel and America to know that we are not making a nuclear bomb.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Blue Nile Restaurant

  Manama, Bahrain

  “The evidence seems to indicate otherwise,” Javin said in a low voice, choosing his words carefully. He didn’t want to insult the Iranians by calling them liars, but he also couldn’t accept their claim without further clarifications.

  Salimi shook his head and leaned closer to Javin, placing both hands on the table. “We both know that the evidence doesn’t say anything. It’s the people who interpret it, or misinterpret it, depending on their agenda.” His face formed a sad look.

  Yael butted in. “And you clearly have your agenda: the destruction of the Jewish state, my homeland.”

  Salimi shrugged. “That’s just rhetoric—”

  Javin shook his head. “It’s more than rhetoric, Salimi. Iran’s actions in Lebanon, Syria, Iraq, and elsewhere, again, indicate otherwise.”

  Salimi shrugged again. “I can’t speak about those areas, since they’re not my jurisdiction. But I can clearly tell you that we have no plans to make a nuclear bomb.”

  “Okay.” Javin raised his palms in a gesture of surrender. “That’s what you say. How come we hear a different story from the Iranian leaders?”

  Before Salimi could respond, Yael cut in and said, “And not just the leaders. We have documents that prove Iran tried to build an atomic bomb as early as 2002.”

  “Sure, sure, but one thing at a time,” Salimi said. “I didn’t want to talk politics, but let’s deal with it, since you brought it up, and get it out of the way.” He drew in a deep breath and looked around.

  No one seemed to be paying attention to their whispered conversation, so Salimi continued, “The best way to describe it is tough talk. We’ve often threatened to take ‘strong action,’ ev
en start an ‘all-out war,’ but everyone knows those are just words. Mostly for the crowds in Iran. As an example, after my glorious commander was killed in that drone strike in Baghdad, what was our weak response? A pathetic volley of missiles with eight hours of warning to the US troops. No one was killed or even injured.”

  Javin nodded. He was familiar with Iran’s reaction to the killing of Major General Qassem Soleimani, one of the top leaders of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps and the commander of its Quds Force. That was the so-called “revenge reaction” of the Iranians, allowing them to save face, and at the same time, not provoking the US to launch another attack and escalate the conflict.

  Yael said, “Still, that was a warning, a test. You were telling the US and the rest of the world that you have the capabilities to strike back anytime—”

  Salimi made a dismissive gesture. “Whatever it might have been, it wasn’t what I would have done. But my point is that leaders exaggerate things, especially when it’s to their advantage. You’ll agree that your leaders do the same, don’t they?”

  Javin shrugged.

  Yael said, “We don’t do that.”

  “Be that as it may, we’ve taken care of the political angle. Our leaders might say that we’re close to securing the nuclear bomb, but look, we’ve been close to it for over twenty years. Don’t you think we would have secured it by now, if we really wanted it?”

  “You really want it, but we’ve stopped you at every turn,” Yael said in a firm voice.

  She was louder than Javin would have liked, so he looked at her. “Keep it down.”

  Salimi said, “You give Mossad too much credit. Just because they find something doesn’t mean we didn’t want it to be found. Here’s our game: We don’t really want a nuclear bomb. What are we going to do with it? Drop it over Israel? Destroy Jerusalem, maybe Tel Aviv? The consequences would be devastating for my fatherland, because Israel, Saudi Arabia, and America would retaliate. Iran would be pulverized in a matter of hours, if not minutes. Nobody in Iran wants that, neither the leaders nor the people.”

  Javin nodded. Salimi’s angle made sense.