by J. C. Fields
She activated the phone and stared at the screen. “It’s a Samsung Galaxy and it’s locked. There is no way I am going to get into it.”
Wolfe hit the re-dial on his cell phone. Joseph answered right away. “Yes.”
“Is your friend still in Springfield?”
“Which friend is that?”
“The one who helped us two years ago.”
“Yes. Why?”
“We have an electronic device we need assistance with.”
“Oh, whose?”
“Our visitor left it behind.”
“I see. Let me call him and see if he is available.”
The call ended and Wolfe glanced at Nadia.
“Are you ready to get this nonsense over with?”
She stared ahead at the highway and nodded. After several minutes, she turned and took a deep breath. “I do not want to be on the sidelines for this one, Michael.”
He shot her a quick glance then returned to watching the road. “By sidelines, what do you mean?”
“Gerlis took you away from me and then tried to kill me. I owe him.”
Wolfe glanced at her again. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, very.”
A slight smile came to his lips. “Then that’s how we’ll play it.”
Wolfe parked the Jeep in an angled slot in front of a nondescript buff brick two-story office building on the southwest side of Springfield. It was mid-afternoon and the area surrounding the location was busy with pedestrians and automobile traffic. He turned to Nadia as they stepped out of the Jeep. “Are you sure this is the right place?”
“Yes.” She pointed to numbers on the side of the building. “That is the address Joseph gave me when he called back.”
“There’s no name on the building.”
She shrugged.
Wolfe stood on the sidewalk in front of the building and took in their surroundings. On the west side stood a high-end restaurant and to the east, an office with the names of four lawyers. Across the street was an urgent care facility and an expensive-looking daycare center. “Not what I expected.”
Smiling, Nadia said, “What did you expect, Michael? The dark basement of a creepy old house?”
“I guess I did.”
After entering the building, Wolfe approached a reception desk. The young lady behind it looked up from her computer. “Good afternoon. May I help you?”
“Yes, Michael and Nadia Lyon to see JR Diminski.”
“Oh, good, he’s expecting you.” She pointed to a staircase to her right. “Second floor, you’ll see a conference room when you get to the top. He’s waiting for you there.”
After they entered the room, JR shook both of their hands. “Good to see you two. What can I help you with?”
Wolfe was glad the hacker did not want to engage in small talk. He handed him the cell phone.
Diminski looked at it, smiled and pried the back cover off. He expertly removed the battery and extracted the small SIM card. After placing the card in a slot of a black box attached to a laptop computer with a USB cord, JR used his mouse to click on an icon. The laptop screen immediately started scrolling data and computer code.
With a slight smile, he looked at Wolfe. “What exactly did you need to know?”
“I want to know what numbers the phone called.”
JR nodded as his fingers flew over the keyboard. He was silent for almost five minutes. “The phone was purchased at a Walmart in Dallas, Texas. It has 852 minutes left of the original 1000 minutes purchased with the phone.”
“What about calls.”
“Uh—let’s see.” He typed for a few more seconds. “Ah, here they are. He called the reservation number for Choice Hotels. Numerous pawn shops in the Dallas-Fort Worth area and…” JR stopped and looked up at Wolfe. “An international number in Spain.”
“That’s the number we need to know about.”
“Uri, have you had any luck locating Gerlis?”
Ben-David remained silent on the other end of Joseph’s call. Finally, he said. “Unfortunately, no. He has vanished again. We suspect the cell phone number you gave us has been discarded by now.”
“Don’t bother looking for El Sombra anymore.”
“You know something I don’t?”
“He met with an accident here in the states.”
“Fatal one?”
“Yes.”
“Can you give me any details, Joseph?”
“Not at the moment. I don’t have any. My source confirmed it earlier today.”
“That just leaves Gerlis.”
“Yes.”
“Then we will find him, my friend.”
Joseph set the hand set back in its cradle and mumbled, “I kind of doubt it.”
JR pointed to the laptop screen. “He called the number four times—once in Dallas, once near Muskogee. Oklahoma, and twice near West Plains, Missouri.”
“Where is the number located now?”
It took another five minutes before JR stopped and looked at Wolfe. “Madrid.”
Wolfe leaned forward and placed his arms and hands flat on the conference table. “Where in Madrid?”
“Various locations, never one in particular.”
Silence returned until Nadia broke the quiet. “JR, is there a way to give us a general idea of where in Madrid the phone was?”
Nodding, JR started typing again. “Looks like they are centered around a place called El Carrascal.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I am familiar with this area. Lots of tall apartment buildings and cultural spots.”
JR said, “Never been there.”
Her eyes brightened, “I love Madrid. It is a beautiful city. I have been there numerous times both as a child and an adult.”
“Is there a way to pinpoint where he lives?” The question came from Wolfe.
JR shook his head. “Not unless he makes a few calls from the location. If it’s in a high-rise apartment building, probably not. But I could eventually determine the building location.”
Wolfe stood. “Thanks, JR. We’ve taken enough of your time. This has been extremely helpful.”
JR stood also. “Don’t leave just yet. Let me give you something.” He stepped out of the conference room and walked to a cubicle next to the glassed-in room. He returned and handed Wolfe a plain white business card with only a number handwritten on it. “You and I have something in common.”
“What’s that?”
“Joseph as a friend.” JR paused for a second. “Eight years ago, he did something for me I will never be able to repay.” He swept one hand toward the cubicle farm outside the conference room. “Because of Joseph, I was given the freedom to create this business. The only way I can repay him is to help his friends.” He pointed to the number. “There are only a few individuals who know that. If you ever need help with anything, send me a text message. I will call you. Don’t call, just text. Remember. I will call you.”
Wolfe stared at the card for several seconds. He offered his hand to JR. As they shook, he said, “Thank you.”
Chapter 40
Washington, DC
J erry, during your time overseas, were you ever in Spain?”
Griggs turned and found Joseph standing in his office doorway looking at him.
“It depends. Who wants to know?”
“Me.”
“In that case, yes.”
“Do you have any contacts there?”
“Yes.”
“Who is he?”
“He is a she, who happens to work for The National Intelligence Center.”
“How well do you know her?”
“That’s a little personal, Joseph. I don’t kiss and tell.”
“Professionally, Jerry.”
Griggs folded his arms. “She and I collaborated on the Madrid train bombing in 2004. Why?”
“Is she still active?”
“I believe she has a desk job, a husband and two kids. Again, why?”
“Would she d
o you a favor?”
Taking a deep breath, Griggs shook his head. “You’re dancing around something, boss. What is it?”
“A friend of mine needs to find someone in Madrid.”
“You have a lead on Gerlis?”
Joseph nodded.
“Well then, it’s time to impose on her sense of international cooperation.” He turned to his computer and started typing.
An hour later, Griggs laid a piece of paper on Joseph’s desk. Taking the page in hand, the National Security Advisor read it quickly. Looking up, he said, “She’s in management now?”
Jerry nodded. “She wouldn’t say which department, but I bet it is pretty high up.”
“Will she help us?”
Another nod.
“What did you tell her?”
“I told her we had two US Marshalls traveling to Spain to look for a fugitive and we wanted to do this quietly without going through all the red tape.”
“She agreed?”
“Not until I told who it was. Then she did.”
Joseph frowned. “What did you tell her?”
“I appealed to her maternal instincts.”
“Jerry, what the hell did you tell her?”
With a chuckle, he said, “I told her it was a rich American, charged with embezzlement, who had left his wife and kids without any financial means.”
“Jerry…” Joseph closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. Finally, he said, “And she bought that?”
Griggs shrugged. “I doubt it, but she laughed and agreed to help without involving Spanish authorities.”
“Okay, I’ll let him know.”
Griggs did not move, his face a mask of concern. “Why not let Mossad handle this?”
“Because if the CNI knows Mossad’s involved, Gerlis will hear about it and vanish again. Besides, Michael can handle it quietly.”
“Will he and Nadia come out of hiding after this?”
“Don’t know. That will be up to them.”
Madrid, Spain
Madrid Barajas Airport, along with Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris, occupies the largest land mass of any airport in Europe. Located twelve kilometers northeast of Spain’s capital city, travelers can connect to and from the city via rail and highway. Since both Wolfe and Nadia knew their way around Madrid, they rented a BMW Series 1 F20 hatchback. This would allow more flexibility with their search for Gerlis.
After checking into their hotel, Wolfe sent a text message to Joseph and received a reply five minutes later. He looked at Nadia and said, “Want to get a cup of coffee?”
“As long as it isn’t American style.”
He smiled. “You just used a contraction.”
She stuck her tongue out and glared at him.
Ruda Café, located in the La Tina area of Madrid, maintained a reputation as one of the best coffee shops in the capital city by offering a variety of international styles. Wolfe and Nadia arrived thirty minutes before the scheduled appointment. Both sipped espresso as they kept a watchful eye on individuals entering and exiting the establishment.
At exactly 4:00 p.m., a tall slender woman with long black hair, round eyes and a professional demeanor entered the café. She swept her gaze around the room and immediately locked onto the couple.
Nadia gave a small gasp. Wolfe turned to her and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“I know her.”
With a frown, Wolfe returned his attention to the woman, who walked briskly toward their table. “How?”
Before Nadia could answer, Mariana Torres stopped beside them and offered her hand to Nadia. With unaccented English, she said, “Nadia Picard, what a surprise.” Her attention turned to Michael. “And who is this handsome man?”
With a smile, Nadia said, “This is my husband, Michael Lyon. Michael, this is Mariana Torres.”
Wolfe stood and shook the offered hand.
She said, “It is very nice to meet you, Michael Lyon.”
“The pleasure is mine, Ms. Torres.”
“Call me Mariana.”
He nodded.
The three sat and Torres got right to the point. “Why are you here and why are you masquerading as US Marshals?”
Wolfe chuckled. “Very good, Mariana. I appreciate the candor.”
She turned to Nadia. “Are you still with Mossad?”
Nadia shook her head. “No.”
“Good, because I would have asked you both to leave my country. Now why are you here?”
“Have you heard of a man named Asa Gerlis?”
Torres’ eyes grew wide for a few moments, then she resumed her neutral gaze. “Yes, he was killed by an ISIS terrorist. My agency was sent a copy of the video. Why?”
Wolfe shook his head. “He’s alive and has been residing here in Spain under an assumed name for the past two years.”
She stared at Wolfe before looking at Nadia.
Nadia placed her hand on Torres’ arm. “He is why we are here.”
“I see.” She grew quiet as a waitress deposited an espresso in front of her. Taking her time, Torres sipped the beverage and set it down on the table. “I need details.”
Wolfe leaned forward and spoke in a low voice. “Have you ever heard the name El Sombra?”
She blinked several times. “Yes, but I’m told he is a myth.”
“He is not a myth, but no longer a problem.”
She took another sip of her coffee and raised her eyebrows. “Oh.”
“Gerlis has been dispatching him from Spain for some time. We believe he tried to kill Nadia and me in Barcelona two years ago and recently showed up near our home.”
“You said he is no longer a problem.”
Wolfe nodded.
“I see.”
“His real name was Omar Said. He was responsible for the death of an MI6 operator named Geoffrey Canfield, and three CIA operatives, Gerald Reid being one of them. The Mossad claims he was responsible for the disappearance of several of their assets around the Middle East. They lost track of him eight years ago.”
She tilted her head slightly. “I was told Reid suffered a heart attack in Barcelona.”
Nadia shook her head. “Michael and I saw him in Barcelona, he touched Reid just before he died.”
With a stern look, Torres straightened in her chair. “Why were you two in Barcelona?”
Wolfe smiled. “Sightseeing.”
Torres glared at Wolfe as she sipped her coffee. “Yes, it is a lovely city. Now why is Gerlis responsible for all of this chaos?”
“Because he is eliminating anyone who knows he is alive.”
“Does he know you know?”
Both Wolfe and Nadia nodded.
Taking a deep breath, Torres frowned. “Why? Why does he care if people know he is alive?”
“Operation Desert Shield and Desert Storm.”
She blinked several times. “I beg your pardon.”
Wolfe proceeded to tell her what they knew about Reid, Gerlis and General William Little. During his narrative, she stared at her espresso, taking a sip now and then. After he concluded, she remained quiet.
Finally, she looked up, “You just confirmed something NCI has suspected for a long time.”
“What’s that?”
“While it has never been acknowledged, Spain lost several NCI operatives during one of General Little’s escapades. We thought we knew what Little was doing—the information you just gave me makes it clear we did not. How much do you think Reid and Gerlis got from Little?”
Wolfe shrugged. “Not sure, but it was enough for them to get nervous about others knowing. The Mossad and CIA believes the auction generated over one hundred million dollars in sales.”
“My, my… No wonder Gerlis is nervous.”
“I don’t think it stopped with the auction after Desert Storm.”
Nadia and Mariana Torres stared at Wolfe. Nadia said, “Michael, you have never mentioned anything about that.”
“No, because I just remembered something so
meone told me not too long ago.”
“What?” both women said in unison.
“When General Little met with his accident on the veranda of his mansion, Reid and Gerlis were there. Why?”
Both women shook their heads.
“Because they’ve never stopped dealing in stolen art and antiquities.”
Chapter 41
Madrid, Spain
T he small art gallery, located between a Senegalese and an Indian restaurant in the Lavapiés section of Madrid, fit in well with the multicultural neighborhood. The area catered to students, artists, and refugees—plus, it was one of the least expensive places in the city to live. With the high number of immigrants and tourists constantly milling around the area, the comings and goings of the shop’s visitors went unnoticed by the neighborhood and the local authorities.
Asa Gerlis, in the disguise of Diego Luis, liked it that way. His store consisted of a display room in the front with a glassed-in office toward the back. Behind his office and closed to the public was his storage area. Sales from the display room barely paid the electrical bill. His real money came from activities related to the storage area and the internet.
His association with a former United States Army General exposed him to the workings of a lucrative business: the brokering of stolen art. When General Little had an unfortunate encounter with a .50 caliber bullet, Gerlis took over the business. Contrary to the rumors he staged his own death to defect, the real reason was to divorce himself from the persona of an Israeli Mossad agent. He could now concentrate totally on this endeavor and increase his wealth. With Reid and Canfield no longer around, the fear of his two old partners developing a conscience disappeared.
Stolen works of art, as a rule, are seldom recovered. There are several reasons, one being specific pieces are stolen for a particular buyer. These pieces go into the private galleries of the ultra-rich around the world, both male and female. Possessed by a passion to own major works of art, those types of collectors will pay top dollar for famous paintings, sculptures, antiquities or any unique one-of-a kind objects deemed irreplaceable.