“Yeah, what is it?”
“Did the FBI ever confirm that they closed the file on this particular case to you personally in the past few days?”
“Not directly but, yes, Khalid. I was on the phone with the Deputy Director of the CIA in Washington this afternoon and he told me that since the FBI had closed the file on this affair, they became suspicious when Sadir began using it as an excuse to me and others to get Talya down to Australia, “out of the way,” he said.”
“Thank you. That will be very helpful, in fact. Again, let me think about what we need to do so that surgery on her spine will be the only ordeal she has to face in the next few months.”
Mark said, “That reminds me, Chief, do you have a recording of these conversations? I mean the ones you’ve had with Sadir or the CIA Deputy Director.”
“You know we do, Mark. I can get you an email of them if you want.”
“That would be great, thanks.”
“Anything else? Or does either of you guys want me to stay in the office all night?” Mark and Khalid smiled at each other. They knew how Fred loved to go home.
“No, Fred, not tonight—let’s make it another night...”
“Of course, Your Highness, any time,” Fred replied, a hint of sarcasm in his voice, and rang off.
Mark shook his head. “You know, Khalid, when I compare this conversation with my chief with the way they’re handling Samuel, I feel very lucky to be where I am.” He emptied the glass. “Samuel can’t even talk to his people—only emails with cryptic messages.”
Khalid didn’t want to get into that. He changed the subject. “It seems to me that when it comes to Talya’s safeguard, you’re becoming paranoid.”
“No, Khalid, not paranoid. I was just in shock. I could see how easy it would be to arrest her and how difficult it seems to be to get our hands on the true culprit. It’s just frustrating the hell out of me.”
“Do you want another bottle? I think there’s another one...”
“No, thanks, not on an empty stomach. I don’t want to get drunk. I’d rather eat than drink now...”
“Well, in that case, we shall go downstairs for dinner since I have to wait a few hours before I could wake Uncle Abdullah and put my attorney up to date.”
“Who is he?”
“You mean my attorney?”
“Yes. Is he from Saudi, too?”
“No, actually he’s from Israel.”
Mark’s mouth fell open. He stammered, “Don’t tell me…, please don’t say, he’s Jewish, because then I will not understand.”
Khalid chuckled and went to replace the cell phone in his jacket before he put it on. “Have you ever heard the expression, “know the enemy”?”
“Sure…, oh, I see…, you mean you need to have someone who knows or thinks like your possible enemy to be effective in case of legal entanglements.”
“Exactly, my dear Mark, exactly.” Khalid extended an arm toward the door and bowed. “Shall we, Mr. Van Krauss?”
Mark chortled and got to his feet. “By all means, Your Highness, let’s do this!”
Chapter 50
There were certainly some things to think about when Sadir received a call from Khalid, inviting him to have breakfast with him the next morning. Sadir was no fool. He knew the prince would play his part and maybe throw some reproach his way for letting him go to Australia. Yet the most surprising to Sadir was that Khalid had called on him directly—in Vancouver—without Lypsick’s intervention. That was most frustrating to him. He didn’t know if he preferred to have Lypsick where he could observe him, or have him lurk about the hotel without knowing when or where he would appear. What’s more, Sadir had no new information on the prince, nor did he know what was going on outside his hotel room. He felt as if he were in a vacuumed box. He didn’t relish the thought of having to face the prince alone while in such a vulnerable position.
Expecting Lypsick to pop up out of nowhere at his side, Sadir waddled into the hotel restaurant in search of Khalid as he did in Washington. This time, however, he didn’t have to request anyone’s assistance; he found Khalid and Mark sitting at a table not too far from the entrance. Sadir pointed the table to the waiter who led him to a seat between the two men.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” Sadir opened while slowly squeezing his butt between the arms of the chair.
“Good morning, Mr. Sadir. Glad you could join us,” Khalid replied quickly. “Let me introduce you to Mr. Van Krauss.” Khalid nodded in Mark’s direction. “He’s one of my business associates working with me in West and North Africa.” Then to Mark, “Mr. Van Krauss, this is Mr. Muhammad Sadir, a very good friend of our family.”
Mark nodded, but only replied with a grunt and then he addressed Sadir with a greeting in Arabic, which truly amazed the fat man. The latter looked at him and then at Khalid, who simply smiled.
“I see it surprises you, Mr. Sadir, that I speak your native language,” Mark said.
“Yes, it does, sir, and you speak it quite well, I might add.”
“Thank you. I’ve learned from practicing the language day after day in the field.”
“And where was this?”
“Casablanca, Mr. Sadir—the city of romance and trade. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Totally.” Sadir looked at Khalid.
The prince had remained purposely silent throughout the exchange. He wanted Mark to play his role to the fullest and introduce the idea of re-opening the drugs and arm’s trade channels on the Dark Continent.
“Yes, hum…, yes…” Khalid said distractedly. “Shall we have breakfast before we discuss business, though?”
“Yes, of course, Your Highness, I’m sorry.”
“That’s quite alright, Mr. Van Krauss.”
Following a scrumptious breakfast, the three men decided to retire to a more private part of the hotel’s reception area, away from eyes and ears.
All the while Sadir was wondering what he was doing here, and what was expected of him. Throughout breakfast, the prince had talked briefly about West Africa and the Van Krauss fellow had only mentioned his weapons of choice, depending on the circumstances. Sadir felt as if he was lost in high seas without a rudder or a compass.
“Now, Mr. Sadir, you must be wondering what this is all about,” Khalid began, “but in fact this meeting is designed to help you get out of a precarious situation.”
“And what situation might that be?” Sadir mumbled.
“I don’t think you need to play the innocent party with either of us,” Khalid said. “Mr. Van Krauss here has connections all over the world and we could get you out of this hotel and out of the country in no time, if you were prepared to give us a low-down on the operations that the CIA and Mossad conducted in West Africa up to the time Ms. Kartz began meddling in your affairs.”
Sadir looked stunned. Mark appeared thoroughly amused while Khalid peered into the ex-CIA man’s eyes with interest.
“Well,” Sadir said, “it sure is an alluring proposition, but what makes you think I need either of you to get out of the country? And what do you propose I do with Agent Lypsick? You remember or you are aware I believe that I am here against my will, aren’t you?”
Mark raised an eyebrow. “That’s just it, Mr. Sadir; you cannot expect to get out of here unless you demonstrate to the CIA and to us that you’re willing to play your part again. Besides, how do you expect anyone to bypass the CIA and to help you at this juncture?”
“I don’t expect anything from anyone, Mr. Van Krauss. I know what I know and I am not prepared to give up inside information on the CIA’s operations to you especially, Prince Khalid, when I know you’ve been playing both sides against the middle for years.”
Khalid stretched to the back of his chair and a smirk appeared on his lips. “So, that’s what you think I’ve been doing, do you?”
“Of course! I’m no fool, Your Highness—I’ve told you that already—and your invitation this morning seemed out of place at first, but w
hen I think about it, you are only perpetuating the games you and your father played all along.”
It was Mark’s turn to show interest in what Sadir had to say.
“You talk about games, Mr. Sadir, but weren’t you—the CIA and Mossad—the ones who instigated the exchange of drugs for shipment of armaments to Israel?” Khalid asked.
“Perhaps we were, yes, but you, Your Highness, you let Ms Kartz meddle and destroy the operations in West Africa without preventing her to go further into her investigations. We had a perfect plan, but the minute you began meddling in our affairs, we had to stop you.”
“And I suppose that’s when you proposed Mr. Slimane and Ms. Kartz’s elimination to Mossad as a way to get rid of unwanted or disturbing parties, is that it?”
“Not quite, Prince Khalid, not quite.” Sadir shook his head. “In fact, the CIA planned to eliminate all that had taken part in the initial operations...” He paused. Khalid and Mark looked at each other. “…So that Mossad and the CIA could start fresh after the African debacle. We have to be grateful to Ms. Kartz for one thing, though; she did away with two of our double agents when she was in Jacksonville. But in the end, you’re right, Your Highness, you and she needed to be taken out...” He let the words hung out for effect. “So, really, I don’t need any help from you at this point. I’ve got ample assistance from Mossad if I wanted to. They’ve always proven to be strong allies and what’s more, they’ve done my bidding, because they knew I could get my hands on the armaments they needed at Gaza to repress Palestinian insertion of the territory.”
Mark wanted more. “When you say that the CIA and Mossad wanted to “start fresh” what did you mean?”
“Well…, you see, we had organized originally for our African contact to purchase drugs from South American cartels under the guise of distributing them in West Africa. These drugs were then shipped from Nouakchott to Algiers where we sent clients—CIA undercover agents—to Mr. Rasheed, who then exchanged the drugs for weapons that we ultimately sent to allied countries. In this case, the weapons were destined to land in Israel and the drugs were destroyed.”
“Yes, I’ve heard this scenario before, Mr. Sadir,” Khalid put in, “and although quite a laudable operation, you failed in addressing two very important points.”
“What are those?” Sadir asked, frowning.
“First, why did Ms. Kartz and I find a container filled with cocaine at the mine site in Senegal? Second, why did you continue sending weapons to Israel when you knew that, on the one hand, these were faulty and that there was no longer an exchange to be made in Algiers since your agents’ deaths, on the other?”
“But I didn’t,” Sadir exclaimed, “it was all Slimane’s doing.”
“Ah, yes, and “dead men don’t talk,” do they, Mr. Sadir?”
“No they don’t—and I made sure they didn’t…” As the words came out of his mouth, Sadir must have realized he had just revealed his guilt, because he uttered some gibberish and took his handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe his sweating brow.
Mark smiled. He and Khalid had gotten what they came for—a confession from Sadir that he was responsible for initiating the pursuit and the death of anyone who had been originally involved in the CIA’s operations.
Khalid nodded, smiled in his turn and got up from the chair. “We’ll be seeing you in court, Mr. Sadir,” he said, walking toward the elevators.
Mark followed the prince after leaving Sadir agape, and saying, “Good day to you, Mr. Sadir.”
“I think this must have been one of the shortest and sweetest interviews I’ve ever had with a suspect,” Mark said as both he and Khalid went up the elevator back to the prince’s suite.
“Did you get it all?” Khalid asked, looking at Mark as he extracted a minute tape recorder out of his jacket pocket.
“Yes, and then some. Yet, there is something the man said that Chief Gibson will need to verify…”
“Ah yes, the fact that Sadir mentioned it was the CIA’s intention initially to get rid of the people who had participated in the first sting operation.”
“Yes, and I don’t think the Chief is going to jump for joy when he hears that.”
“Well, my dear Mark, our job here has been done. Whatever the powers-that-be decide from now on is no longer our concern.”
Mark looked at Khalid with a dash of surprise in his eyes. “I’d say it will still be our concern until after Sadir’s trial because if he is correct, and the CIA Deputy Director is the one who had given these elimination orders, we’re in for trouble, wouldn’t you say?”
“I’d say the CIA is notorious for taking care of their own; and even if Sadir is made a scapegoat, he is at least guilty of carrying out orders and overstepping his bounds.”
“I guess so, but I’d prefer to stay on the side of caution,” Mark concluded as they arrived in front of Khalid’s door.
“Why don’t you come in for a few minutes and let’s discuss this…?”
“Okay...”
Hours later Mark emerged from Khalid’s suite, his mind racing. They had talked this puzzle out of possible answers and now, as Khalid had surmised earlier, it was up to the authorities to decide what they were going to do next, and for justice to take its course.
Chapter 51
Things were jumping at the Jacksonville precinct. For some reasons crime was on the rise in the spring. As if the criminals suddenly awoke from hibernation somehow and went on a rampage of vandalism, theft, wilful destruction, arson and, of course, murder.
The two detectives, who had been in charge of the “Marianne Case”, as it had been nicknamed last year, were in their captain’s office.
“Okay, I’ve had ADA Blake on the phone this morning,” Captain Hiller said, “and she wanted to know which one of you two had decided to pin the murder of the CIA agent on Ms Kartz.” The two men looked at each other, visibly at a momentary loss. “Nobody is saying that was wrong, I’m just wondering why and when you decided to point the finger at the lady.”
Fisk, the younger of the two detectives, decided it was better to come clean. “I think I did, Captain.”
“You think? Aren’t you sure? Let me tell you something; on my patch, you don’t think, you make sure before you open your mouth. And that goes for you too, Laslo.”
Laslo had his hands in his trousers’ pockets. He was looking at the floor. He was trying to think of the name of the FBI agent who told him and Fisk that the Kartz woman had killed the CIA man. “We both did, sir.”
“Alright... and why, is my next question, because I’ve got an ADA who’s hopping mad right now and who’s thinking that someone is dictating what should go in your reports—so I want answers.” Captain Hiller was a fair man but he disliked loose ends with a passion. Unsubstantiated details fell into that category.
“I’d have to look at the report, Captain, but I believe the FBI was on top of the situation when we got to the scene, and they told us what happened.”
“They told you? They told you? Since when have you become blind and deaf? Because the guy’s got a badge with some alphabet on it doesn’t mean he can dictate what you write in your reports.” Hiller was not happy. He groaned and sat down. “Get me the agent’s name and go back to the marina and where ever the incident occurred and see what you can find out…”
“But, sir, it’s been almost a year,” Fisk ventured.
“I don’t care if it happened ten years ago; get yourselves out of here before I transfer you to the Cold Case Section for good. Do you hear me?” Hiller hollered.
Without taking the time to answer, both Fisk and Laslo left Hiller’s office in a hurry. They knew they were in trouble.
Later that afternoon, Laslo was back. He knocked on the open door of Hiller’s office.
“Yeah... Come in... So, what’s your take on it?” Hiller didn’t raise his eyes from the paperwork in front of him.
“The agent’s name is Verduccio,” Laslo replied. “Apparently, he had gotten a call from C
SIS in Canada and he told Fisk and me that Ms. Kartz had killed the CIA agent.”
Hiller lifted his head slowly and glared at his detective. “And you believed him?”
“Well…, yes, sir, we did. See, this Verduccio seemed pretty sure of himself…”
“Are you kidding me?”
“No, sir, I had checked his ID and he was with the FBI alright…”
“Are you gone completely off your head? You should have gone over the scene and get CSI on it…”
“But these guys had already removed the bodies from the river and there was nothing else to see or do…”
“You mean to tell me that you didn’t have a chance to go on the frigging trawler yourselves?” Hiller extended a hand for Laslo to give him the file he had held in his grip since he came in. “Give me that.” Laslo did and crossed his arms over his chest. Hiller read a few lines and pointed at one paragraph in particular. “It says here “nothing appeared out of order on the upper deck and all evidence have been tagged and taken to the pathologist for forensic examination”.” Hiller flipped through the pages. “I seem to remember asking myself at the time what sort of evidence these guys had... Do you happen to have a list now, or a forensic report?”
“We got something from the FBI a month or so later, saying the file had been closed and the Canadians were going to handle it since one of their agents was also on board at the time. The report is at the back of the file…” Laslo pointed at the folder.
“Let’s see…” Hiller pulled out another sheaf of paper and started reading. When he finished, his face was blustering red. He was angry. “As I said you people are blind. Have you read this?”
“Huh, sir…?”
“Tell me what it says…” Hiller handed him the forensic list and report.
“They recovered rags with blood stains from the transom... and the blood belonged to the second victim—a guy named Salaman Abib…”
“Good, at least you can still read. And what does that tell you?”
“That he was knifed...” Laslo froze. He realized what he had read meant. “Since Al Nadir was strangled, and this Abib guy was knifed, it means that Ms. Kartz didn’t kill the CIA agent but she knifed Abib.”
WASHINGTON DC: The Sadir Affair (The Puppets of Washington Book 1) Page 18