WASHINGTON DC: The Sadir Affair (The Puppets of Washington Book 1)

by Lavina Giamusso

  He pushed her hand back. “No, I won’t and you’re not going anywhere until you hear me out!”

  His resolute stance got Talya to return her hands to her lap. She looked up at him.

  “Okay, Talya Kartz, as I see it, you’ve got a heck of a stubborn streak in you, and Dr. Hendrix didn’t want to get into a battle of wits between you two before the surgeons had made a decision.”

  “But, it’s my body, for heaven’s sakes,” she argued angrily. “I’ve got the right to know.”

  “Yes, you do. But you don’t have the right to treat your friend the way you do. He’s your physician and he knows where shattered hopes would send you, right?”

  “I guess so.”

  “So, stop being so petulant about it, and come back.” Bending down to her ear, he whispered, “Let him know that you’re sorry, for once.” She looked up at him, obfuscated. “Yes, you’ve probably been blaming everyone around you for what happened to you, and in that blame there’s no place for remorse, is there?”

  She glowered. His blue eyes were penetrating. Talya felt as if she was sinking aboard a boat without a rudder, engulfed in his captivating eyes. “No there wasn’t…,” Talya said quietly.

  “Let’s go then.” He walked around and without looking back went to regain his seat beside Aziz. The two men observed Talya manoeuvre her chair around and come back to face them.

  “I was doing it again, wasn’t I?” Talya said, looking at Aziz ruefully.

  He smiled and shook his head. “Yes, you were, milady, but that’s okay…”

  “No, Aziz, it’s not okay! Jay here is right, I’ve got to recognize when someone’s trying to help before I insult you.”

  “Let me ask you something else, Talya,” Jay interrupted, “would you mind if I had a look at your legs, back at the B&B, of course, so I could tell you how much work we’d have to do to get these pins of yours back in shape, if or when the surgeons make up their minds.”

  “But don’t you have something else to do?” Talya objected. “I mean aren’t you supposed to go back to Whistler sometime?” She was trying to avoid an examination that would reveal how much she had neglected herself for all these months.

  “No, I mean yes, I’ll have to return to work sometime, but I’m free for the summer. I’m only on contract for the winter.”

  Chapter 31

  Khalid boarded the flight to Singapore feeling angry. He was furious, and not against anyone but himself. He had not seen Mark since he had left him at the airport with the officers. Mark had only called him to say that he was going to stay in town for a bit and to have a good flight back to Paris.

  Being unable to untie his hands, or unable to contact Talya, drove him nearly crazy. He had tried to send her an email, but got no answer. Next, he tried contacting Aziz. No response. When he finally reached the Hotel de Crillon, nearly 24 hours after leaving Sydney, he rushed to Mrs. Marie Dobonnet’s desk.

  “Capitaine!” the good woman exclaimed when she raised her eyes to him. “It is so good to see you’ve made it back.”

  That statement was nothing less than puzzling. Khalid was about to speak when Mrs. Dobonnet added, “You know, when your Mr. Flaubert called from Vancouver, I didn’t know what to say. I thought you had been delayed somewhere or worse—you had had an accident.”

  “No, Marie, nothing of the sort…”

  “But your pilot phoned a couple of times last week. He said to tell you that the Lear is back at Orly. And from these messages, I really didn’t know what to make of it all. I was worried, I can tell you.”

  Khalid couldn’t help but smile at the dear lady. “As you can see, I am back and not a scratch on me. I had just been called to make a detour to the States, that’s really all there was to my unexpected absence.”

  “Hum, yes, well...” Marie Dobonnet didn’t believe a word of it. “Mr. Flaubert left a telephone message for you, though.”

  “Oh? Do you have it or did you leave it in the apartment?”

  “No-no, here it is,” said she, taking an envelope out of the desk drawer.

  “Thank you,” Khalid replied distractedly, opening the missive quickly. It read:

  Don’t worry anymore. Talya is going to be fine. Phone me when you get back.

  “Thank you again, Marie,” Khalid said, unable to wipe the grin off his face as he made his way to the elevator.

  He hardly took the time to set his carrying case down before picking up the phone and dialling James’s number at the office. He looked at his watch. It was about 10:00AM in Vancouver.

  “Carmine Resources, how can I direct your call?” he heard Sabrina, the receptionist say.

  “Is James in?” was Khalid’s answer.

  “Oh Goodness me,” Sabrina screeched over the line, “Khalid! How are you? Where are you? We’ve been looking for you all over the place. What’s happened? You know about Talya…?”

  “Sabrina…, my dear, not so fast... I’ll tell you all about my latest adventure when I get to Vancouver…”

  “When…?”

  “That, I don’t know…, but would you mind if I talked to James now?” It was good to hear such a bubbly, friendly voice at the other end of the line. It abated some of Khalid’s inner irritation.

  “Yes, of course, I’m sorry. Let me transfer you.”

  Khalid heard the click, and within seconds, James was on the phone.

  “Khalid! At long last. Where have you been? Obviously you got the message I left at the Crillon…”

  “Yes, I did…”

  “Well then, let me tell you... this is so unbelievable...”

  “James… please.…”

  “Okay…, here it is; Talya has turned the corner. She apparently watched a TV program last week about some invalid woman who had made life impossible for her husband... Anyway, the next day, she finally got out of the apartment on her own and went shopping.”

  “You don’t say!” Khalid couldn’t grasp the meaning of that story or its resulting effect immediately. “Does that mean she’s feeling like herself again? What about her legs—any progress?”

  “No, not yet. But now that she’ll be trying and be more positive about everything, there is hope yet.”

  Still perplexed and unconvinced, Khalid sounded somewhat reserved. “That’s great news, James. I really wish I could see her…”

  “Then why don’t you? I thought, we all thought, you were on your way here actually. What happened to you? Did Fred send you somewhere?”

  “You could say that…”

  “Alright, I hear you. You can’t talk about it, right?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “But, I think you should know that I spoke to Fred myself. I was wondering why you didn’t show up last Wednesday and when I found out that you had cancelled your reservations at the Sands, I called him.”

  “Did he say anything…?”

  “Nothing, except that he didn’t know where you were and that he would look into it. That’s all.”

  “I see.” Khalid was unwillingly terse, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell James why he had made such a fool of himself in running after Isaac—or whatever his name was.

  “Okay, now that you’re up-to-date, the question is when can we expect you?”

  “I wish I could be in Vancouver tomorrow, but at this point, I have no idea when I will cross the Atlantic again.”

  That statement took James aback. He had to pause before he could answer. Khalid’s voice was that of a man who had come at the end of his tether. “Okay, Khalid. You must be tired. Maybe you could call me again… soon… I hope.”

  “I’ll do that,” Khalid replied evasively. “Oh, I almost forgot. I’ll be able to write to you now. While I was in the States... I bought a new laptop... and if you wouldn’t mind, I will email you.” This childish remark came out of his mouth and he regretted having said it the moment he uttered the words. To admit that he was thrilled with his acquisition was so out of character for him. Being happy about buyin
g something as common these days as a computer, put him among the uneducated people of this world, he thought. He was annoyed with himself.

  “Good! Glad to hear it.” James paused again. “I better let you get on with whatever you were doing. Just keep in touch, okay?”

  “I’ll do that, yes, of course...”

  When Khalid hung up, he went to sit in front of the fireplace. He was exhausted, mentally and emotionally. The enormity of his error dawned on him; it crept inside his brain as if a disease had slowly invaded his mind. He couldn’t believe what he had done. He had gone through this malefic plan on the spur of the moment. Although guided by the words of Mr. Badawee, he was the one who had built this whole castle of cards—a vengeful, evil construction of deceptions that he thought would appease his anger—that had come crashing at his feet in Sydney.

  He got up, went to the phone again, picked up the receiver hesitantly at first, but then more decisively dialled Pierre Masson’s number.

  “Pierre?” he said as soon as the pilot said hello.

  “Ah, Khalid, you’ve made it back. How was your stay in Canada?”

  “Well…, it was a bit eventful, but interesting, shall we say.” Khalid wanted to bury his Australian jaunt among the memories to be forgotten as soon as possible.

  “Good. Are we going somewhere else then? Because you’re not calling just to say you’re back, I guess.”

  That remark told Khalid that he had ignored the friendship he had developed between him and Pierre for too long. “Yes. Actually, I’d like to go back to Canada. Say, by the end of the week. Could you be ready by then?”

  “No problem. Are we going back to Ottawa?”

  “No, not this time, Pierre. We’ll stop over in Montreal and then go on to Vancouver as originally planned.”

  “Sounds good...” Pierre hesitated. “Would you want to take the controls this time? It’s been some time since you’ve put in a few hours.”

  “Yes, I think I will. And you’re right, I need to put in the hours.”

  “Do you want to take a dry run during the week then?”

  “Do you think that’s necessary?”

  “Yes, Khalid, I do. You’ve been away for months now, so I think it’s absolutely necessary, yes.” The firmness in the pilot’s voice didn’t escape Khalid’s notice.

  “All right then, let me know when.”

  “I’ll call you as soon as we’re ready.”

  Throughout this short conversation, Khalid remembered the words of his uncle; “If you do see her, give her my regards. What she suffered is my fault.” Not only did the wish demonstrated that his family was not holding any grudges against Talya, but it also gave Khalid pause. Why was his uncle saying what she suffered was his fault—a question that bothered him and another reason to go to Talya.

  Chapter 32

  Auckland was not Samuel’s only and last stopover before reaching Vancouver. He knew he would have to get lost for at least a week while travelling in the direction of his ultimate destination. The best way to do that in the middle of the Pacific was to take a cruise. Seven days at sea would give him time to plan his next move once he landed in Vancouver. He had left his laptop and cell phone in Melbourne at the hotel. Even if the police would ever get their hands on either item, they would not be able to track him down. He had destroyed the hard drive from the computer and taken the memory chip out of the cell. He bought another laptop and disposable cell at the airport’s duty-free shop in Auckland, and since there was still time to get to the cruise line’s office, he took a cab to the port. He looked at the board of departing ships for that night or next morning and opted for a cruise that would take him to Fiji. From there he could take another cruise either to Vancouver or to Central America, depending on how he felt at the time. Mossad had taught him a long time ago never to rush to a destination or let any pursuer deduce where he was intending to go in the end. Costa Rica would be another option, he thought.

  Since he didn’t want to be noticed amid the favourite passengers, or being asked ‘to the Captain’s table’ anytime during the cruise, he decided to book the trip travelling on the lower deck of the ship. He got a cabin with bunk beds, shower and private lavatory. That arrangement suited him just fine since there wasn’t anyone else booked in the same cabin.

  The ship sailed at 7:00PM that evening. Samuel was aboard a half hour prior to sailing, which allowed him the time to make it to the upper deck and watch the farewell dance on the pier performed by the local Maori dancers.

  Chapter 33

  As soon as Mark reached the Sydney airport he went to the Qantas counter and got his boarding pass. He rushed through the security gates and got to a payphone. He slipped his credit card along the slider, got a dial tone and punched Fred’s number at home. He didn’t care what time it was; he needed to let the Chief know what he was doing and get him to detail someone to Vancouver a-sap. Samuel had almost 24 hours on him.

  “Fred Gibson,” the man groaned. It was 5:00AM in Ottawa.

  “Chief, listen, we’ve got to move fast…”

  “Mark?” Fred said his voice gruff with sleep. “Where are you?”

  “I’m boarding a flight to Vancouver in a half-an-hour. Samuel is already gone. Get someone to Vancouver as soon as you can, Chief. Talya is Samuel’s next target...”

  “Hold on, Mark…” Fred’s unease was audible now.

  Mark paid no attention. “No time, Chief, I’ve got to go...”

  “Don’t you hang up on me, boy!” Fred roared, flinging the covers aside and sitting on the edge of the bed. It was too late, though, Mark had already hung up.

  Fred looked at the receiver in his hand, then banged it in the cradle and went to take a shower. He knew it would take Mark at least 15 hours to reach Vancouver, if he got a direct flight. If not, it would take him maybe 20 hours or more to get to the BC coast.

  As soon as he was dressed, he got down to the kitchen, and took the time to gulp down a large glass of orange juice before heading down to his car. He knew he was in for a long day, but he would grab something to eat after he would have set the wheels in motion.

  On the one hand, he thought Mark was right, Talya was next in line to be eliminated, yet there were two issues about it that bothered him. Why would Mossad choose Samuel to take her out? And Badawee’s words rang through his brains repeatedly; “She is Jewish...”

  Could it be that he was right? Mossad was trying to enrol her and not kill her. “But why?” he yelled, slamming his big palms on the wheel of his car as he was driving to his office. Thank goodness she was tucked away somewhere on that island. They wouldn’t know where she was, or so he hoped.

  When he got to the car park, he slid his window down and stopped beside the security officer. “Get her parked in my spot, Dex; I’ve got to get upstairs.”

  Although a bit surprised to see the Chief come in so early, Dex only nodded. “No problem. Shall I get the keys upstairs to you?”

  “Sure,” Fred said, extracting his huge body out of the front seat.

  “Okay.” Dex slid in behind the wheel as soon as Fred had climbed out of the vehicle.

  Once he was sitting behind his desk, Fred called Jimmy, his aide, and told him to get to the office on the double. “Oh, and get me a tall latte with something to eat on the way, will you?” Fred added before hanging up.

  Next, he dialled Sorenson’s number. He smiled to himself, knowing he would be interrupting his evening meal. “My turn, buddy,” he mumbled.

  “232-45-056,” Sorenson said as he picked up the receiver.

  “Chief Sorenson, please,” Fred said, with overstated politeness.

  “Sorenson speaking. Who’s calling?”

  “Sorry to bother you, Sorenson, but if you’ve got a minute, I’d like to confirm something with you. This is Fred Gibson, but I think you knew that...”

  “Yes, Chief Gibson, I knew that, as you say. What is it you want me to confirm?” Sorenson’s voice was as dry as an emery board.

 
“Simply this; have you been able to determine for a fact that Agent Meshullam has left Australia?”

  “The simple answer is no, Gibson. Your Agent Gilford demanded to be relieved of his duty and to have free passage back to Canada. We granted his request because he made a good argument to the effect that Agent Meshullam had been informed of being the subject of a warrant for his arrest, besides which, he must have been advised already of Mr. Sadir’s removal. More than that I couldn’t say.”

  “Thanks, Sorenson. Would you do me one last favour? And then I promise I’ll leave you alone for the next century!”

  Sorenson chuckled, noticeably mellowing. “All right, Gibson, what is it?”

  “If you know anyone in Sydney or Melbourne where Meshullam grew up or where he was staying lately, would you interview them for us?”

  “Hum…, let me think... No one really comes to mind, although I went through his dossier thoroughly, but let me give it another check and ring you back. May I ask why? Why would you need such information?”

  “Call it a hunch. Something tells me there has to be a reason behind Mossad sending Meshullam to eliminate Ms Kartz. And if they’re not after her hide, I’d want to know what the possible connection between the two is.”

  “I see. As I said, let me see what I can do. I’ll ring you back in a day or so, when I have something to report.”

  “Great! Thanks again, Sorenson. I’ll owe you one.”

  “That, you will, Gibson, you can be sure of it.”

  A roar of laughter out of Fred’s mouth accompanied his putting the phone down.

  “The guy is priceless,” Fred said aloud as Jimmy appeared at the same moment through the door.

  The young man was carrying a bag of what looked like bagels and lox in the one hand and a tray with two coffees in the other. “Did I hear you correctly? Did you say someone is priceless?”

  “Indeed I did, my dear Jimmy, indeed I did, as our English Masters would say.” Realizing suddenly that Jimmy had only taken minutes to get to the office; he looked at his aide quizzically. “Have you flown over here?”