Abigail – The Avenging Agent: The agent appears again

by Rose Fox

“That bastard has cut the tires on the car he is sitting in with Karma.”

  “Yes, I saw him. Why do I have the feeling that he is acting on orders from Effendi?”

  Karma felt nothing and had no idea what Adel had done but when he came back to his seat, the car descended till it landed on the ground. Adel cried out in feigned panic:

  “Oh, what was that?!”

  Effendi decided that this was the time to commence their meeting in his sumptuous ‘Bentley.' Since Karma was grounded for the present, he started his car and slowly drove over to them, waved arm through the window and called out:

  “A’halan, Ya’Karma!” He invited him into his luxurious car as if he was inviting him into the drawing room of his home.

  At this moment, Karma, the ‘Mossad’ agent, who was well-trained and experienced, forgot all the rules of caution he was familiar with and made every possible mistake.

  “A’halan w’ Sa’halan (Greetings and welcome), Ya’Effendi,” he shouted back at him. He went out to him, hugged his brother-in-law warmly and pressed his cheek to both of Effendi’s cheeks, as was customary among close acquaintances and relatives and patted him on his shoulder. Effendi reciprocated with an embrace and called out to him affectionately:

  “How are you, my man?” and he glanced quickly over Karma’s shoulder. He pointed to the car whose four wheels Adel had punctured just minutes ago and made a sign to him to destroy it.

  Karma climbed into the grand car and sank into the soft leather seat. He stroked it and invited Effendi to sit beside him. Effendi called out to him:

  “What are you up to, my brother, where’ve you been? Where did you disappear to?” Then he added the most important question of all to expose him,

  “What, did you leave our country without me knowing?”

  Effendi really did not know where the couple had moved and this was also why he had agreed to meet here, in Zanjan, in the Iranian enclave across the border. Karma frowned at him with his prominent brow, trying to understand if the purpose of the meeting really was only to keep in touch with him or also to keep track of him. So, he kept his silence.

  “I heard you have news for us,” Effendi declared and tightened his lips into a narrow smile. “I hope you haven’t forgotten that we are, after all, family, right?!”

  “News? What news are we talking about?” He still spoke light-heartedly until he heard the following sentence.

  “Well, actually, we are talking about taking a second wife in an illusory marriage that can easily be dissolved, right, my brother?”

  A chill pierced Karma’s heart. He was convinced that only the Ayatollah Karim and, later, Abu-Rain knew of his relationship with Abigail. When he heard what followed, his throat choked up.

  “I have only one little question. Your wife, Salima, does she know about your second wife? And, your daughters, what about them? I am concerned and want to know whether…”

  “Enough, stop, Effendi don’t play innocent and sweeten your interference with concern for my well-being and that of my family.”

  He was boiling with rage but forced himself to remain composed and controlled. His brother-in-law stroked his mustache and stared at him.

  “What do you want, Effendi?”

  “Okay, let’s say that I am fighting to protect the honor of my sister and that of my family,” he declared and glanced out of the window. He noticed that Adel was sitting in Karma’s car, and continued speaking slowly.

  “Put it this way, I would be “mabsut” (satisfied) if you would get rid of the new wife. By the way, what’s her name and where did you find her?”

  “Put it this way, it’s none of your business,” Karma replied. “And what if I don’t?”

  “Why be negative?” Let’s be positive. If you give her up, we will compensate you financially and you will also receive a gift.”

  “How lovely! What gift did you have in mind?”

  “Some prominent names.”

  “You said ‘we,' who does that include?”

  “Me and my friends,” Effendi laughed.

  He thought things were moving ahead much faster than he thought they would, but then heard Karma saying.

  “Oh, is that so? Well then, give me one name as a down payment, someone who will motivate me to send my bride away and cancel the marriage.”

  Effendi roared with laughter and slapped Karma on his knee.

  “Ah, you bastard,” and he wagged his finger at him, “you will agree that I cannot hand you someone’s head on a platter without getting something in return, right? Put it this way, first divorce your Iranian lady and then you’ll get the names.”

  “Sorry, my friend, I don’t do business that way.”

  “Okay, so let’s agree now that I wait a week for you to divorce. If you don’t, we’ll move to the next stage. Then, all your secrets will be revealed and disseminated.”

  “What secrets?”

  “Your cover will be broken and vanish into the air, Pouf! And, of course, the truth about you will be passed on to the Revolutionary Guards. After all, we both know that you live here under the cover of a tourist guide.”

  “Ah, and what about your cover?” countered Karm quietly and the mocking smile froze on Khaidar’s face, but he got control of himself immediately and said:

  “Very interesting, what do you actually know about me? Nothing.”

  Karma smiled. He ran his finger softly over the tattoo of the blue star, between Effendi’s forefinger and thumb. This made it clear he knew Effendi belonged to the murderous ‘Kaukab’ organization that was in conflict with the Iranian regime. He added quietly:

  “No, nothing at all.”

  He got out of the car, bent down and attached the minute locator chip to the inner face of the door, right beside its hinge. He knew that from this moment on the silver ‘Bentley’ would be under constant surveillance and transmitting shortwave signals informing of its location and where it was traveling to at any given time.

  Karma stopped near the car and stared at it. He saw that the tires had no air and that Adel had got out. Karma understood the car had been sabotaged and remained fixed to the spot, not knowing what to do.

  He heard a horse whinnying behind him. It was whipping its hairy tail to chase away the flies and calmly grazed on the dry bushes as its tether dragged on the ground.

  Karma passed Effendi’s silver ‘Bentley’ and continued in the direction of the horse. He stroked its long nose and the horse responded with a soft neigh and waved his hairy mane.

  Karma edged the tip of his shoe into the stirrup and leveraged himself up to sit on the saddle. He clicked his tongue, patted the horse’s neck and pulled the reins, but the horse didn’t move. When he touched its belly softly, the horse began stepping slowly. Then, as Timmy, Michael, Effendi and Adel looked on in amazement, the horse started with an easy canter and a minute later broke into a gallop till it was out of sight.

  Karma rode all night and by morning at first light, Abigail heard a horse galloping. She looked out of the window and when she saw who the rider was, her eyes opened wide in surprise. She went out to him, with an inquiring expression on her face, but he dismounted, exhausted, his face grim and sealed. So, she settled for one question:

  “Is everything okay?” He nodded when he replied:

  “Almost, I’ll tell you later.”

  He slept all morning and when he awoke, Abigail sensed that he wanted to be left alone and she did so, in spite of her curiosity about the horse and his ‘almost’ answer. At noon, she peeped into the room and he smiled at her tiredly.

  “Are you still tired?” she inquired, “Where’s the car, and the horse…”

  “Oh, what can I say, I wish I hadn’t gone to that meeting,” he stated. “They sabotaged my car so I came home on a horse that was left there.”

  Later he made a phone call and spoke quietly. She left the room but, not before she heard Michael’s name at the beginning of the conversation.

  In the afternoon, a car dre
w up outside the entrance to their house. It was driven by Timmy. Michael sat beside him. A short youngster got out of the back, his eyes darting suspiciously and went to the horse. The whinnying and snorting of the horse were evidence of the emotional meeting between the two and one minute later the horse burst into a gallop, as his rider waved goodbye. Michael patted Karma on the shoulder and praised him:

  “Congratulations on the idea and the initiative you took. By the way, the glamorous gray lady is under close surveillance.”

  Karma got up in the morning in a great mood and declared:

  “Y’allah, let’s continue putting this house in order and mending what needs mending.”

  In the hours that followed, he changed light bulbs and fixed whatever he could. Towards evening, they went out to look for a washing machine and a refrigerator. Abigail decided they didn’t require a large oven, but insisted on getting a small toaster oven.

  “We’ll warm up readymade food rather than cook grand meals,” she decided.

  ‘You’re exaggerating, I’m prepared to cook!” he declared. “Once I cooked for a whole family and I still remember how to cook.”

  “Is that so? What family did you prepare meals for?”

  “See here, ah…sometimes I would join up with other people and offer to cook for them to pay for my board and lodging.”

  “Ah, what do you say?” She laughed, but Karma almost slapped himself for the slip of his tongue.

  The following day, they went out to the yard. Karma leaned on the wooden railing on the verandah and watched Abigail as she moved around the trees and shrubs.

  “Hey, the trees are already laughing at your caresses,” he shouted and she stood still, with her hands on her hips and yelled back at him:

  “Instead of making comments that don’t help, why don’t you dig a hole around that tree to contain the water and stop it running to waste.

  He groaned and went down the two broad wooden steps, skipped over the dry shrubs that hadn’t been uprooted yet, dragged a rusty spade that Abigail had attached to a new broomstick.

  That afternoon they discussed an issue they had previously avoided. Abigail tapped her fingernails on the table and as she started to sip from the cup of coffee he had prepared, she began hesitantly:

  “What’s your opinion about… coordinating between us.”

  Karma looked at her and asked:

  “Why?”

  “So as to be cautious and evade a common enemy who seems to be pursuing us.”

  The truth of it was that her curiosity bothered her all the time. She couldn’t stop wondering where he had spent the long months during which he disappeared, and he certainly wasn’t about to tell her. Till now he had even concealed the organization he belonged to while Effendi’s recent threats of what would happen if he did not divorce his new wife echoed in his mind.

  Abigail sighed. She removed the dishes from the table and Karma thought about what she had said.

  “You know, it wouldn’t be right to share things.”

  Now she asked:

  “Why?”

  “Because the less we know about each other, the better it will be for both of us. If one of us gets caught, that person is likely to blurt out details. If you don’t know, you can’t tell.”

  “All I asked was to know under what aegis we are operating, nothing more.” And he considered the sense of what she was saying.

  “Do you know what? I’ll tell you if you tell me,” he laughed, “but you go first.”

  Now she laughed, too, and said:

  “On second thoughts, there really is not logic in what I said. You come from a different place and there is no likelihood on earth of there being a connection to the place I come from.” And, with that, the matter was closed.

  Towards evening, they went out onto the verandah. Karma stretched out on the old rocking chair that he had spent the whole day repairing while Abigail surveyed their garden when they suddenly noticed a couple peeping at them and she waved to them.

  “Hello, welcome.”

  “Hello,” the woman answered, and the man apologized:

  “Forgive us, my wife is too curious.” And Abigail laughed.

  “We wanted to see who had come to the house that was deserted for so long,” the woman explained while the man tried to pull her away.

  Abigail lifted the fronds of the creeper that hung over the entrance and had a better look at the middle-aged couple and hurriedly addressed them.

  “Please, come in and honor us with your presence,” The man let go of his wife’s hand and she said:

  “No, we shall invite you first because you are the newcomers.”

  Karma joined Abigail and hinted that she accept the invitation. She smiled and said:

  “Thank you, only not today. There is so much to be done here. We’re exhausted from taking care of the house and garden. If tomorrow suits you, we’ll come.”

  “Wonderful. We’ll be expecting you at this time, tomorrow.” The two said this almost in unison and continued. The man returned a minute later, pointed at the mountain slope and said that they live in the gray building, a five-minute walk up the hill and waved to them from behind the shrubs.

  The next morning, Abigail wanted to go out to buy a gift for them, but Karma stopped her.

  “Why? Here, the custom is for the hosts to give their guests a gift, so don’t insult them.”

  “Is that so?!” Abigail laughed, “That’s an interesting custom. It suits me.”

  The visit was delayed for two more days.

  A high-pitched signal and a short beep were heard from the house. Karma swung his communications pack on his back and said he was going out for some air and would return immediately. He climbed up the steep slope, moving slowly through the dense forest.

  The sun’s rays were unable to penetrate the thick vegetation and it was dark all over. When he pushed it aside, he saw narrow rivulet of flowing water. He knelt down, dipped his hands into the freezing water and washed his face.

  Karma assembled the communications device he had taken out of his backpack, put the headphones on his head and wrote down the encoded message according to the deciphering key on the page he was holding and read it:

  “Load the Trojan Horse today. Going out to swallow 3 pencils.

  Take care of the cave.”

  When he came home, he said two words to Abigail:

  “I’m going.”

  He slung his bag, which was always packed and ready, on his shoulder, fleetingly kissed her lips as he felt their softness and took pleasure in her delicate fragrance.

  When he closed the door behind him, he couldn’t help drawing a comparison between her response, now, and that of Salima, his wife, when he told her he was leaving. Karma knew that it wasn’t a fair comparison because Salima had been left with their daughters and didn’t know when or if he would ever return. Yet, he found it difficult to forget her harsh and hostile reaction.

  The meeting was in a natural cave, tucked away in a rock cliff, and after an hour he arrived to the area. When he reached it he strained his eyes and recognizing it, he made the usual sound, a whistle imitating the call of a night-owl and entered. A cold chill greeted him and he had to take a moment to accustom himself to the gloom.

  Two people sat talking. One of them was Michael, his operator, and the other stood up and introduced himself as “Foxy.” A little smile broke out on Karma’s face because the small-statured man’s face was, indeed, reminiscent of a fox, with his narrow eagle-like nose. His brown eyes were close set and his reddish hair was cut short.

  “What is the plan?” he asked.

  “A drone.”

  “Are we going to prepare an unmanned aircraft?”

  “Almost. This time, we’re going to produce only one prototype. We are planning to have it explode in their most highly secured stockpile of arms.”

  “That’s a marvelous idea, but how will it get in there?”

  “Well, it’s like this,” Foxy began. “Th
e idea is that the drone will fly innocently to the border. We will shoot it down, but we will be quiet and won’t expose the Revolutionary Guards when they claim that they derailed its mission and shot it down on their territory.”

  “Wonderful, I get it. But after they’re certain they have it under control what then?”

  “Again, we’re banking on their curiosity being aroused and that they’ll store it in their ‘Holy of Holies.’

  I see you’re hoping that they, themselves will store it in their “Fort Knox” for safe-keeping.” Foxy chuckled and continued detailing his idea.

  “The moment that baby is safely ensconced in their stockpile of weapons, then…” He threw up his hands in the air, inflated his cheeks and yelled:

  “Boooommm!”

  “Hey, they’re not stupid. Don’t you think they will check the drone isn’t booby-trapped?”

  “Of course, they will, but we’re also not idiots,” Michael said, “This is the reason we are meeting here today. We have to ensure they don’t find the explosive material and that they will store the drone that we will prepare here between their “Shihab 3” missiles.”

  Karma remained silent, awaiting the explanation.

  “I suggested building only one exceptional side,” said Foxy.

  “One side that is booby-trapped. Not a bad idea. What does it require?”

  “We thought we should wrap the explosive in something to hide it.”

  “Well, it’s possible to create a mixture of sawdust, epoxy, and gunpowder,” Karma suggested.

  “Pal, we have gunpowder and explosives, but how the hell do we get out hands on glue or sawdust?

  “What? Are there no carpenters around here?” Michael asked, enthusiastically, “I’m going out to look for them.”

  Michael left and returned an hour later holding a metal box, and carrying swollen jute bags on his back. When he laid them on the floor, the smell of warm sawdust rose in the air.

  First, they mixed the sawdust and glue in a plastic barrel. Foxy remarked that it looked like dough and added dark granules of gunpowder. Michael observed that it was the seasoning, perhaps like black pepper or caraway seeds.