by Belle Ami
She caressed his face. “A few minutes won’t matter.” She took his hand and led him to the sofa. He grabbed her about the waist and buried his face in her neck.
“I want you to know I’m fighting my desire to make love to you right now. I want you.”
She lifted his face and met his gaze. “Don’t tempt me.”
He pulled her onto his lap and kissed her. When their lips parted, he smiled. “Go make the tea, habibi.”
She returned with a tray and placed a teacup with a plate of honey biscuits in front of him. “I’ll pack.” Taking her tea with her, she disappeared into the bedroom. She kneeled and pulled a suitcase out from under the bed. She pulled clothes from the drawers and began packing. Every few minutes she paused and listened, but could hear no sound from the other room. Grabbing her satellite phone and her gun from the drawer, she slipped into the bathroom closing the door behind her. She put her toiletries and makeup into a cosmetic bag.
When finished she turned on the faucet and let the water run. She texted Aryeh: Leaving with Mustafa for the Beqaa Valley to a vineyard. He knows I’m an agent. I’ll try to tell you where I am. Things have escalated. Time is running out.
“Zara?” Mustafa was at the door.
“Coming.” She threw the phone in with her toiletries and zipped the bag closed.
The door opened, and Mustafa entered. “Are you ready?”
“Nearly.” She grabbed the toiletry bag and hurried past him. She threw it into her suitcase. He followed her and watched as she continued to pull things from her closet. Holding a pile of clothes, she managed to hide her phone charger between the folds without him noticing. She buried it beneath the pile in the suitcase.
He wrapped his arms around her and breathed in her ear. “Bring something sexy?”
She smiled. Why was she worried? He only had one thing on his mind. When she got to the vineyard, she’d find a way to inform Aryeh of her location. “What should I bring?”
“Surprise me.”
She turned in his arms and kissed him. “So you like surprises do you? Let me see if I can find something a sexy spy on the run might wear.” She slipped from his arms and went to the closet, returning with some frilly garments. She opened the suitcase and added them to the pile. Turning, she bit her lip. “Should we go?”
“Yes. Are you okay? You’re not regretting your decision are you?”
“I’m fine. The adventure continues.”
“Yes, habibi. We will share this adventure together. I will do everything in my power to make you happy.”
She smiled, but inside her stomach was churning. If she intended to destroy Mustafa why couldn’t she extinguish her dangerous attraction to him? They had no future. He represented everything she’d sworn her life to combat. She needed to get a grip on the reality of their relationship. His words meant nothing and as stimulating as their sex had been, they were unsuited and held different beliefs and opposing worldviews. She needed to separate herself from all emotional entanglements with him. He was determined to keep his promises to his father, uncle, and brother, and she was just as determined to keep hers to her murdered brother. In the end, she would kill him, walk away, and never look back.
Chapter Thirteen
Beirut, Lebanon
Shit! Aryeh read Zara’s text.
He texted back knowing she might not be able to answer. You’re putting yourself in danger. You can’t trust him. Dammit, Zara, why didn’t you put him off for a few hours? We have no way of tracking your movement. Text me as soon as you can. Be careful!
He knew going to her place would do no good. She was doing what a good agent should do. She was embedding herself with the enemy. She knew how to take care of herself, but his sixth sense warned him she was in danger.
Cyrus and the team needed to set up in the Beqaa Valley. She said they were going to a vineyard. At least the team had something to go on, a vague location.
He should have waited until nightfall, but there wasn’t any time to waste. He needed to get to the safe house and inform Cyrus of what was going on with Zara. They needed to confer with the Ramsad. It was time to kick the operation into high gear. They’d been working outside the grid because of the mole at Mossad, but now the traitor mole was dead, and the operation would not be compromised. The team needed Mossad and the IDF’s backup. Intelligence and military cooperation would be instrumental to their success in stopping an EMP explosion.
He took the stairwell instead of the elevator and exited a side door at the hotel. He hopped a fence and cut through the back entrance of a restaurant. He walked through the restaurant, exited and crossed the street. For a few blocks, he meandered window shopping as if he had no destination in mind. When he was sure he wasn’t being followed he hailed a cab.
»»•««
Amir had followed Mustafa to Zara’s office building and then to her residence. His car was parked several blocks away. He positioned himself at a bus stop close enough to observe but far enough away not to be seen. When the lovers began loading the car with luggage, he’d made the call to Nasrallah reporting what was suspected. Mustafa was deeply involved with the journalist spy, and his trustworthiness might be compromised.
“I do not believe Mustafa’s behavior is treasonous,” Nasrallah said. “Mistresses outside of marriage are normal.” He sighed. “However, I am deeply disappointed and share your concern.”
Amir knew Nasrallah was unable to give the order to eliminate, but the years of working with the secretary general had taught Amir well how to manipulate Nasrallah. “I think you are right, Sayyid. I cannot imagine Mustafa being disloyal.”
“I’m relieved you see it that way, Amir.”
“However, Sayyid, if I should discover he is, I would suggest you allow me to take things into my hands and deal with the situation. My desire is only to do what is best for the brotherhood.”
“Your loyalty and advice are always appreciated. With great confidence, I entrust you to do what is necessary. Use your best judgment.”
Amir resumed his surveillance of Zara’s home. He studied the jean-clad journalist as she made her way to the Mercedes. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He envisioned wrenching her head back by that tail and fucking her. He felt his blood settle in his dick and he shifted in his seat. The thought of taking her had made him rock hard, and the thought of strangling her when she orgasmed made his balls ache for satisfaction. Shura was beautiful, like a child, wanting to please. She was a child addicted to sadism. But knowing she enjoyed the pain had lessened his pleasure. Zara, on the other hand, would fight tooth and nail and would buck like a horse, which made subduing her ever more erotic.
He stood feeling the press of his cock against his trousers. He needed to radio his tag team to pick up and follow the Mercedes. There was no time to waste. The drive to Baalbek in the Beqaa Valley was just under two hours, which he suspected was where Mustafa would take her.
»»•««
Aryeh made sure he was clean of a tail before going to the safe house. He had the taxi drop him several blocks away and walked the remaining distance. The bolts on the door’s locks slid back, and he entered the safe house. He found a beehive of activity at the hub of the operation in the tech center. “Elon, everything tight?”
“Totally. You’re in a virtual fortress, no breach is possible.”
Ash sat in front of a screen, switching from camera to camera observing the video feed that monitored the exterior of the house. “Street’s clear. I don’t see anything suspicious.”
Cyrus shook hands with his counterpart. “What brings you here, Aryeh?”
“We need to relocate immediately to the Beqaa Valley to the farm Ash purchased. It’s near Baalbek, isn’t it?”
“Right under Hezbollah’s nose. It’s stockpiled and ready. Everything but the tech stuff is ready to go.” Ash puffed out his chest.
“What’s up, Aryeh? Why the urgency?” Cyrus asked.
Aryeh quickly briefed everyone on Zara�
�s sudden departure with Mustafa. “Without the tracking device, we can’t pinpoint her location. But her text to me gave us a good starting point, and I know she’ll find a way to communicate. We need to be ready.”
Cyrus turned to his team. “How soon can we leave?”
“l need a little more than an hour,” Elon said.
Cyrus looked around. “I’m sure the rest of you can be ready in less than an hour.” He looked at his watch. “We leave here at twelve-hundred-hours. Get to work. I want this place thoroughly wiped down. Nothing remains that can ID us.”
Everyone except Elon and Aryeh left to prepare. “Are you coming with us?” Cyrus asked.
Aryeh shook his head. “Not yet. I’ll join you once you’re set up. I need to facilitate the prisoner exchange.”
“Okay.” He turned to the tech guru. “Before you break everything down Elon put through a video satellite call to the Ramsad. We need to bring him up to speed.”
Elon’s eyes darted back and forth between Aryeh and Cyrus. “You got it, boss.”
Aryeh knew it must be strange to be answering to the present boss in the presence of his past boss. It didn’t bother Aryeh in the least. He was happy not to be shouldering the burden of the operation for once. He had total confidence in Cyrus’s skills.
In seconds the feed was up, and the Ramsad’s face lit the screen. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in weeks, which he probably hadn’t. “Az, where are we?” He listened while Cyrus and Aryeh took turns filling him in.
“I’ll have the Orfek satellite’s orbit altered to fly directly over the Beqaa. We’ll need those eyes in the sky. I’ve put the IDF on high alert to be ready for retaliatory actions. If they launch that missile, there will be nothing left of Lebanon but a wasteland. The Iron Dome, of course, is always ready, but they tell me it’s useless against an EMP attack. An EMP rocket carrying a nuclear payload cannot be stopped once the booster disengages. The team must do whatever it takes to stop it on the ground. You are our best and last line of defense.”
“We’ll stop them, Noam,” Cyrus assured.
“I know you will, son. In the meantime, Aryeh, the prisoner exchange is approved and ready. Let’s get our soldiers out of there before the shit hits the fan. Then you can join the team in the Beqaa.”
“How do you want this to unfold?” Aryeh asked.
“Contact Nasrallah, tell him we want this done ASAP or else it isn’t happening. We’ll release the prisoners at the Shebaa Farms and take possession of Gideon there.”
“They’ll expect me to return with Gideon to Tel Aviv. All part of my new designation as their deep cover mole.”
“We’ll use a body double for you. The double will board the plane with Gideon. Everything will appear to be what they wanted. They will see you leave, but you won’t.”
“Where the Hell are you going to find another me?”
“Don’t worry we’ve already got one. Could be your twin. A little younger, but what are we going to do?”
Cyrus laughed at the Ramsad’s attempt at humor.
“Thanks for the knife in the gut, old man,” Aryeh said.
The Ramsad joined Cyrus’s laughter. “Cyrus, remember that double of yours who took your place at the Sorbonne?”
“Of course. No one in Iran ever suspected I was shuttling back and forth to Israel and training with the IDF and Mossad.”
“Your double gained thirty pounds. He sits at a desk now. You look the same as you did then, he’s gone to seed, but still smart as a tack. Okay, Aryeh, you have your work cut out, and Cyrus I need to hear from you as soon as you’re set up in the Beqaa. Aryeh, as soon as you hear from Zara, I want to know. We need to get Mustafa in our sights. It’s time for Samson to bring down the temple.”
Chapter Fourteen
Outskirts of Beqaa Valley
“How much longer?” Zara stared out the window of the Mercedes Benz as it ascended a steep, rugged, grade over the Great Lebanon Mountain range. She was anxious to check her phone and see Aryeh’s answer to her text. She’d never enjoyed extended road trips, even as a child. Mustafa had released his driver in Beirut for some reason and had decided to drive himself. The road, rutted and slushy, was poorly maintained. Every time the Mercedes hit a rut or skidded she expected a flat tire or a broken axle. It was nerve-racking and her nerves were already frayed. He’d also told her they were taking an alternate route which was longer but safer.
“Don’t worry, habibi,” he took her hand and kissed it, “soon we will be out of the mountains.” His eyes strayed to the rear view mirror regularly, and she knew he was checking to make sure they weren’t being followed.
“Is that Mount Hermon?” She nodded to a majestic peak towering over the range in the distance.
“Lebanon is the most beautiful country in the Middle East. Much like your France, don’t you think?”
She nodded. “The views are spectacular, but I’m not overly fond of driving on second-rate roads in the snow.”
Zara resigned herself to not being in control. She focused on the beauty of the landscape. Snow flurries hit the windshield melting on impact. She ignored the squeak of windshield wipers that kept rhythm with the classical Arab belly dance folk music Mustafa had tuned in on the radio. She didn’t mind keeping their conversation to a minimum. It allowed her time to gather her thoughts.
When they reached the summit, Mustafa took her hand and squeezed it. “The Beqaa Valley. It won’t be much longer.”
She looked at the fertile valley below. It looked like a patchwork quilt alternating between greenery and snow covered fields. She tried not to imagine what it would look like after a nuclear explosion. She smiled. “It is beautiful. So where is your vineyard?”
“Not far from Baalbek. You’ll be safe. It’s guarded by brothers who’ve sworn their loyalty to me and my family. Once the missile launches you, and I will leave all of this behind. I will have fulfilled my oath to my father and uncle. A man only needs to leave his mark on history once.”
“I just hope there is somewhere in this world beyond the reach of those who will seek revenge.” The sickening thought of a nuclear strike only solidified her determination to stop him.
“Don’t worry love, I have planned for this my whole life.”
It was all she could do not to strike him. Planned for what? How do you plan your whole life to become a murderer?
As they neared the wine growing region near Baalbek, the soil became terracotta red and terraced slopes bearing row upon row of gnarled grapevine stocks surrounded them.
“For five-thousand-years, the Beqaa valley has produced wine. In fact, it was here in Heliopolis the Romans built their temple to Bacchus, the god of wine. Perhaps we should go to Argentina and buy a vineyard. The land speaks to me, and I would be content to be a farmer.” He raised her knuckles to his lips and kissed them. “Growing wine and raising children with you would be more than enough for me.”
Zara sucked in her breath. Was he demented? How could he imagine himself blowing up a piece of the world and then settling peacefully into anonymity? “You surprise me, Mustafa, I would never have guessed a man such as you to hold aspirations for such a quiet life.”
He held her gaze. “There is much about me you do not know, habibi.”
“Tell me. Share with me who the secret Mustafa is. All I see is a man willing to sacrifice thousands of innocent lives for some twisted vision of a different world. Really, I don’t know what I’m doing in this car with you. I’d be better off cooperating with Nasrallah.”
Mustafa swerved the wheel and pulled over to the side of the road. He grabbed her chin forcing her to look into his eyes. “I told you Nasrallah will use you and then discard you with no remorse. He’s a deadly killer.”
“It can’t be worse than placing my life in the hands of a madman who wants to destroy an entire country.”
They stared at each other as if in a Mexican standoff.
“You can’t fool me, Zara, I know you are intrigued with the
possibility of living another life with me.” He paused as if considering what to do next. “Forgive me but I must be cautious, and it’s better for you to have no idea of where we are or where we’re going.” He opened the center console and pulled a black hood out. She drew back at the insult. “I’m sorry, habibi, please forgive me.” She relented with a sigh, and he dropped the bag over her head leaving her in darkness. She rewarded him with utter silence. For her purposes, it was better to cooperate, lull him into a sense of false security, make him believe he was in control and she’d resigned herself to her predicament. All in good time he’ll learn what I’m capable of.
He prodded her to speak several times, but she refused to speak to him. The bag felt claustrophobic and disorienting. When he returned to the road and drove on she was left in limbo, a place she could never be comfortable in. She wanted to scream, but swallowed her impulse and gripped the door handle instead. She began to count the minutes, calculating time to give her a sense of distance. Anything to keep her mind off her yearning for fresh air.
“I understand, my love. I can’t blame you for being angry.”
After what seemed an interminable amount of time, he removed the sack, and she blinked rapidly in the light. They drove up a dirt road through olive and citrus groves. “Are we here?”
“We’re at our first stop?”
“First stop?”
“This is my sister Amal’s home. She and her husband Razaan live here with their three children. My mother lives with her. I want you to meet my mother.”
“Your mother? Are you insane? I’m a foreigner, and a westerner. What will she think?” This wasn’t what she expected. She didn’t understand him at all. Why would he bring her to meet his mother?
“My mother is very wise, and I need her blessing.”
“Her blessing for what? How could she, a traditional Arab woman bless you taking up with a woman with a career and a string of past lovers?” She wanted to stir his anger. She wanted him to lash out at her, but instead he raised her knuckles to his lips. “Whomever came before me is of no interest to me. I consider everything before we met simply preparation for our coming together. Again, my mother sees things as they are. In some ways, she’s like you.”