Closure

by Ethan Jones

  “So, we’re still on with the agreed plan?”

  “Yes. I should be in Baghdad on time, or perhaps there will be a slight delay. I’ll call you if there’s a change of plans.”

  “How did it go with Bakhtiar?”

  “It went well, better than I had expected.”

  Javin explained to Muath the course of events, leaving out those details that were not necessary for Muath’s part in this operation. Javin had told his teammate that the Iranians were providing him intelligence which would help secure the release of Claudia. In exchange, Javin and Muath were going to give two Iranian agents a safe passage to Geneva, Switzerland. It seemed simple and straightforward, but both Javin and Muath knew there were no simple operations in their profession. Even a dead drop could turn deadly.

  Of course, the truth was more complicated. Javin had kept Muath in the dark about the objective of the Iranian insertion into Geneva. Martin, the man who had betrayed Javin and Claudia and had tried to eliminate them by dispatching Mossad agents, was due to arrive in Geneva in two days for an intelligence conference designed to enhance cooperation among European Union countries, Canada, the United States, and Russia. By that time, Javin would have his rogue team ready for action.

  Muath asked only a few questions of clarification, then Javin ended the call. He drew in a deep breath and glanced at the phone weighing heavy in his hand. If he contacted Mossad, there was no turning back. The Saudi security intelligence was turning the screws on him, and the Iranian operation potentially was falling apart. Javin was left with no options if he still was to save Claudia and bring deserved retribution upon Martin.

  He shrugged, then shook his head, and dialed another number.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Hayhala, fifteen miles northeast of Kuhiya

  Southern Iraq

  The man on the other end of the line replied after the third ring. He spoke in a deep firm voice in a language Javin assumed was Hebrew. He did not speak a word of the language, but he thought he recognized the man’s voice, which spoke in a tone indicating uncertainty about the identity of the caller.

  “This is Javin Pierce. Am I talking to Asher Levison?”

  “Javin? I wasn’t expecting your call. Yes, this is Asher. How’s my old friend?”

  “Eh, I’ve been better. And you, Asher?”

  “I can’t complain. I’ve been transferred to Ukraine.”

  “Kiev?”

  “Yes.”

  “Since when?”

  “Oh, six months now. You’re still a corrector?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “What’s the purpose of this call, Javin?”

  He hesitated a moment, not because he was not prepared or because he had changed his mind about bringing in Mossad. Javin had had a moment of doubt as to whether he should involve Asher. Javin trusted his old friend, with whom he had run more than one clandestine operation. It was during the days when Javin had worked as an operative specializing in assassinations, diversions, and retrieval missions, before moving into the CIS correctors’ branch a little over a year ago. Javin was not sure how Asher would respond to the request for a favor.

  Javin sighed, shook his head, then said, “How secure is this line?”

  “As secure as ever.”

  “I need a favor, Asher.”

  “Yes, I figured that out, Javin. You didn’t call so we can go out for lunch.”

  “Oh, we can sure do that.”

  “If you’re asking for a favor, I expect a lavish feast.”

  “You’ve got it, Asher.”

  “Joking aside, what is it?”

  Javin glanced around. Firuz was fumbling with a phone and seemed to pay no attention to Javin. Still, he walked a few steps away from Firuz and said, “Remember the Tel Aviv bombing seven years ago?”

  A brief pause, then Asher said, “Yes, that was the bus explosion, right?”

  “Right. Mossad and the CIA suspected it was the work of Hezbollah, but the connection was never proved.”

  “Yes, and no one was ever punished for the death of over a dozen innocent civilians.”

  “Right. Until now.”

  “You have new intel?”

  “Yes, it was not Hezbollah, although it appeared they were involved. The Quds Force was behind the planning and the execution of the bus bombing.”

  “The Iranians carried out that massacre?”

  “Yes, and I have the files to prove it. I’ll be more than happy to share them with Mossad.”

  “In exchange for ...”

  “Intel, of course, and I want someone to go away.”

  “Javin, you’re asking for an assassination?”

  “No, a termination.”

  “A killing?”

  “No, no, I want someone to be forced into leaving Mossad.”

  “What? Clarify that for me.”

  “It’s someone who tried to kill me in Riyadh. Her name is Yael Rosenberg.”

  “I don’t know her, and I’m not familiar with the op.”

  “She reports to Solomon Horowitz, Yemen’s station chief.”

  “Okay, and why did she try to kill you?”

  “I have a theory, but I want Mossad’s official version, especially who gave the order.”

  “That’s the intel?”

  “Part of it. I also need to know everything Mossad has on the op to stop Al-Qaeda’s recent mission in Saudi Arabia. Especially how the Iranians might be involved.”

  “The assassination plot to kill one of the Saudi princes?”

  “Yes. Sounds doable?”

  Asher hesitated for a long moment. “It will take some time, but I should manage the intel trade. I’m not sure about the resignation, especially if Yael was following orders.”

  “Asher, we can’t have only half a deal.”

  “I know, Javin, but that’s not how Mossad works. We don’t fire our people on the whim of an agent from another intel service.”

  “An agent who was wounded because he trusted Mossad and worked on a joint op. Look into it, and you’ll see something is not kosher, no pun intended.”

  “Oh, you intended that, all right. Listen, it will be extremely difficult to get Yael thrown out of the agency.”

  “And that’s why I called you, Asher. I know you can make it happen.”

  “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

  “No, but the truth will. How about I send you the files? You have a look at them and decide. I trust you, and your judgment.”

  “You’d do that even without my commitment?”

  “Yes.”

  “You must be really desperate, Javin.”

  “No, Asher. This isn’t all for me. Yes, Yael is on my account, but this intel will save a partner and ... a dear friend. She’s detained, and the intel will buy her freedom.”

  “I understand, Javin. I will do everything within my power.”

  “Wonderful, Asher. I’m glad I can count on you.”

  “When can you send over the files?”

  “They’re already on a secure server. You still use the same email?”

  “Yes, that’s a good one.”

  “I’ll send you the link right away. This is very time sensitive. I need the intel within the next twenty-four hours.”

  “Javin, you’re asking for a miracle.”

  “I know, Asher, but it’s out of my hands. Twenty-four hours, or my partner dies.”

  “Is it really that serious?”

  Javin frowned. “Of course it is.” His voice rose to a shout.

  “All right, all right. As I said, I’ll do my best.”

  “Update me as soon as you can. I’ll call you, if I don’t hear from you in six hours.”

  “I should have something by then.”

  “Thanks, Asher.”

  “Have a great day, Javin.”

  “Yes, same to you, Asher.”

  He ended the call, then tapped a few buttons and emailed Asher the files he had already uploaded onto a Dropbox-like file-s
haring server. Javin had created an account that would be impossible to be linked to him. Well, until now.

  He tapped the Send button, then glanced at Firuz. He had stepped closer to Javin, but was still out of earshot. At least, Javin hoped he was.

  Firuz said, “You’re ready to go?”

  Javin nodded and put the phone away. “Yes, let’s go.”

  I hope Tehrani is simply inviting me to a meal and has no other motives.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ten miles east of Riyadh

  Saudi Arabia

  Claudia cast a suspicious glance at the cabdriver who seemed to be studying her face in the rearview mirror. “Is everything okay?” she asked in English.

  “Yes, yes, no problem,” the cabdriver replied in his slow voice with a heavy accent and turned down the radio that was broadcasting a talk show. “We stop for lunch?”

  Claudia glanced at the old man’s wrinkled face. “Maybe in an hour or so.”

  The old man nodded and drummed his fingers on the worn-out steering wheel.

  They were travelling on Highway 40, the main route that crossed the entire kingdom. Claudia was headed to Dhahran, on the east coast, a trip that was going to take about four hours and cost almost two hundred and fifty dollars. Claudia had enough money, which she had collected from the two guards she had left incapacitated in her hotel room.

  In Dhahran, she hoped to meet a contact who would give her a safe passage across the Gulf of Bahrain and out of Saudi Arabia. The contact was expected to have called her to confirm about half an hour ago, before she got into the taxi, but she was still waiting. She fumbled with her phone and wondered whether she should call him again. No, I’ll wait another thirty minutes or so. He’s never on time, but also never this late.

  “You worry,” the cabdriver said in broken English. “Why you worry?”

  Claudia leaned forward in her seat. “You’re curious. Why are you curious?”

  The cabdriver shrugged. “Making chat-chit.”

  Claudia smiled. “Chit-chat, it’s chit-chat.”

  “Same idea, same thing.”

  Claudia nodded, then glanced out the window. The desert stretched on both sides of the highway as far as her eye could see. A couple of mosque minarets pierced the clear light-blue sky far ahead in the distance.

  “So, why you worry?”

  “A friend. He’s in deep trouble.”

  “What happen?”

  Claudia winced. “A lot of things happened. I need to find him right away.”

  “Where is friend?”

  “Good question. I have no idea.”

  She had often thought about Javin’s location. She was sure he had left Riyadh and Saudi Arabia as soon as he had the chance. But where did he go? I doubt he’d go back to Yemen. Not after what happened there and with Mossad on his tracks. The Emirates are probably out of the question. Too hot even for Javin. Oman?

  Claudia shook her head. Oman’s too far. That leaves Jordan or Iraq. Javin has a few trusted contacts in Jordan. But Martin knows that. So, if I were to bet, Javin is inside Iraq. But where, and who’s his contact? We don’t have many assets in Iraq, and Martin has all their names. It has to be a personal contact, a friend of Javin’s.

  She nodded to herself. Iraq might be a dangerous place for a common man, but the Saudi-Iraqi border was quite porous. Smugglers crossed back and forth on a daily basis. And Javin was far from a common man.

  “So how are you going to find him?” the cabdriver asked.

  Before Claudia could answer, her phone rang. She did not need to check the screen to know it was her contact. The phone was clean, as she had purchased it shortly after leaving the Ritz Carlton in Riyadh. There was only one person who had this number: Wissam.

  Claudia said to the cabdriver, “Stop the car. I have to take this call.”

  He nodded and pulled onto the side of the highway.

  The phone rang several times.

  Claudia stepped outside the taxi and answered the phone, “Wissam, you’re late.”

  “Yes, yes, I know. There’s a problem, a big problem.”

  Claudia frowned. “What is it?”

  “The boatman. He has changed his mind.” Wissam’s voice rang with frustration and disappointment.

  “Why? Money wasn’t enough?”

  “No, he said security has doubled. The boatman has never seen so many coastguard patrols.”

  “What can we do to convince him?”

  “I’m afraid nothing.”

  “We can’t offer him something he wants?”

  Wissam sighed. “I’ll have to check, but I don’t think so. He’s a simple old man, content with what he already has.”

  “Perhaps a new boat.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “I’m willing to pay up to ten grand to get to Bahrain.”

  “I’ll do that. Now, where are you?”

  “On my way to Dhahran, on Highway 40.”

  “Get off the highway as soon as you can. You might run into police patrols.”

  “You know that for certain?”

  “No, nothing is for certain. My friend has been monitoring police coms. They’re looking all over Riyadh for someone matching your description.”

  “And on the highway?”

  A moment of hesitation, then Wissam said, “If they haven’t already, it’s not going to be long. Just give the cabdriver a good reason to take the backroads.”

  “All right. Anything else?”

  “I got us an apartment in Dhahran, in case the plan to cross into Bahrain tonight will not work.”

  “Good, thanks, Wissam. Call me once you hear from the boatman.”

  “What if he still refuses?”

  Claudia thought about her options for a long moment. “How difficult is it to take the causeway?”

  The coastal city of Khobar in Saudi Arabia was connected to Um Al Naasan and then Al Jasra in Bahrain by a sixteen-mile-long causeway.

  Wissam did not reply right away.

  Claudia could tell he was making some mental calculations.

  Wissam said, “I’d say it’s next to impossible. Too many border guards and customs officials. The boatman is our best bet.”

  “Well, let’s hope we can convince him.”

  “I’ll do my best, Claudia.”

  “I know you will, Wissam. Be safe.”

  “Yes, yes, you too,” he said and ended the call.

  Claudia sighed and returned the phone to her abaya’s pocket. She glanced at the cabdriver, who was standing near the taxi’s hood and drinking from a water bottle. We need to get off the highway. Yes, because up ahead, there’s an accident.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Hayhala, fifteen miles northeast of Kuhiya

  Southern Iraq

  Tehrani was friendly throughout the meal and did not bring up Javin’s or Danyal’s operations. The three of them, along with Firuz and a handful of gunmen, talked about Iraq’s future, a new potential Kurdish state to the north, the hostility between Iran and Saudi Arabia, and covered all the geopolitics of the region. Javin was glad to steer the conversation away from himself and his objective.

  However, near the end of the meal, Tehrani glanced at Javin sitting cross-legged across the round table, which was set on a large sheet of plastic on the carpeted floor. Tehrani held Javin’s eye for a moment, then said, “With Danyal wounded, Firuz will go with the two of you to Baghdad.” His voice was firm, and the words came out as an order.

  Javin could not help a deep crease forming on his forehead. That’s why Tehrani did not talk about our mission. He knows everything. How much has Danyal told him? Everything probably. He turned his head to Danyal, but he avoided Javin’s look. Instead, Danyal reached for a scoop of rice from the almost-empty large bowl in the middle of the table.

  Javin sighed, then said, “I already have Danyal, who fights like a lion. We will be safe—”

  Tehrani cut him off. “I insist. The road to Baghdad is filled with danger. Europe is
no safer either.” Tehrani’s voice had risen, and his face was locked in a menacing grin.

  Javin nodded. He had no choice but to accept Tehrani’s order. “Of course, yes, yes. We want to reach Baghdad in one piece.” He omitted mentioning Europe on purpose. After the turn of events, Javin had no intention of taking Firuz, a next-to-complete stranger, to Europe. Whatever little trust Javin had in Danyal was shattered after he seemingly had told Tehrani everything.

  “Good, very good.” Tehrani nodded. “When are you planning to leave?”

  “As soon as we can. I’d like to be in Baghdad before evening falls.”

  “Yes, that’s doable. We’ll give you a new vehicle, something that will blend in.”

  “Very grateful for your help.”

  Tehrani made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Danyal told me you saved his life.”

  Among other things, Javin thought. “He would have done the same for me,” Javin said without any pretense.

  “Yes, but few people would risk their lives for someone they had just met, even when fighting on the same side.” Tehrani’s voice had taken on an almost somber tone. “Especially in this odd pairing, Iranians and Canadians.”

  Javin nodded. It was certainly a strange alliance dictated by the ever-changing rules of engagement and allegiances among terrorist groups and extremists of all flags and creeds. It was clear to Javin that international coalition forces operating in Syria and Iraq were not going to win the war on terror if they fought isolated battles or worse, quarreled among themselves. Terrorists as far as Azerbaijan or Uzbekistan banded with local jihadists. It was necessary for the powerful Western countries to do the same. No alliance could ignore powerful players in the region like Russia or Iran. It’s better to have them fighting along with us, rather than against us. We may not agree on many things, but we’re united in the fight against terrorism, our common enemy.

  Javin said, “You’re right, you don’t see this every day.”

  Tehrani nodded. “It’s necessary, though.” He glanced at his phone, then added, “I have to take care of a few urgent matters.” He stood up.

  Javin did the same. He shook hands with Tehrani, then Javin waited for Danyal. He had to use a cane and the help of one of Tehrani’s men to get to his feet. “I’ll be fine once we’re on the road,” he said, then exchanged an embrace with Tehrani.