by Andrew Watts
“Tell me first, is this person a man named Pakvar? Do you know that name?”
He looked more worried. “I do.”
“Is that who is after our source?”
He nodded. “I believe so, yes.”
“Do you know where he is? Where we can find him?”
“He is not the type of person you want to find, I should think. But I am aware that he is in Dubai.”
“I need to know where.”
“I will speak with Mr. Gorji. If God wills it, he will provide you that information as well. I do not know Pakvar’s location. Thus, I cannot help you with that today.”
He turned to leave, but then reached for something in his inner suit jacket pocket. “I take it that you wish to continue this conversation with Mr. Gorji?”
“Yes, indeed.”
“Then I am to provide you with one more thing, Mr. Manning. Have you asked yourself why we wanted to speak with you in particular?”
“Of course.”
“And what answer have you come up with?”
“I have none. I have no idea why you asked for me.”
“I am told that there are several members of your family that work with classified military matters.”
Chase flushed. He hadn’t expected this skinny bastard to bring up his family. He kept his voice under control. “What’s your point?”
“Mr. Chase Manning, I am authorized to give you one name on this list. A word of warning. Whatever name is on this paper, do not contact this person. If you do, we will not provide you the rest of the names.”
Chase clenched his jaw. “Then why provide us with this name? You can’t expect that we’ll do nothing with it.”
“We expect you to look into the veracity of our claim. If you find that this person is indeed providing classified information to a group outside the US government, then you will know that we are telling the truth. We do not have the means to research this. But you may. However you do this, remember: you cannot communicate with them. This risks alerting the Abu Musa group, and places Mr. Gorji in danger. If we find out that you have communicated with this person, we will no longer provide you the other names.”
He handed him an envelope. “Don’t open it until I leave. Then burn it. We will be in touch.” He walked out of the store, quickly.
Chase’s heart pounded as he opened the envelope and looked down at the single name written in ink.
David Manning. His brother.
5
Chase ate dinner alone in his room, waiting. He had texted Elliot an hour after he had finished with Gorji’s assistant. The day had passed without a reply.
The mobile phone that Elliot Jackson had given him buzzed on the night table.
A text message read: Sending a car to pick you up. 15 min.
Chase walked back out of the Four Seasons Dubai and into the dark parking circle. Even after the sun had set, the humid air was still incredibly warm. He waited on the steps of the hotel. The sounds of honking horns and city traffic filled the air. To the east, the white lights of the Burj Khalifa made it look like a metallic rocket about to launch into the hazy night sky.
The sound of high heels echoed on the brick walkway behind him. He turned and saw two large eyes staring at him from behind a headscarf. Beautiful eyes. The eyes of a woman who had worked for the CIA for many years, and had recently been promoted to the number three position in Dubai.
“Hello, Chase.” He could see her modest smile, half-hidden behind the headscarf.
“Hello. I wondered if I would run into you.”
She stood very close to him. Her fingertips crept over his right hand. She stared into his eyes for a moment, neither of them saying a word. They didn’t need to. He wondered if anyone was watching them. Public displays of affection were forbidden here.
She tilted her head ever so slightly. “Shall we?”
“After you, Miss Parker.”
Chase got into the passenger seat of Lisa Parker’s Toyota sedan, and she accelerated onto Jumeirah Road.
He had first met Lisa a few months after arriving in the UAE. He had been called to Dubai Station for a weeklong training session. It was mostly classroom stuff. Briefs on the geopolitical situation. Updates on the regional terrorist cell habits and practices. But there were a few skills improvement classes. One of these was entitled Unarmed Combat Refresh. Lisa Parker was the instructor.
She had gone over hand-to-hand combat techniques, as well as escape and evasion best practices. It was an all-day class, half of which was spent in a rented-out private gym.
Lisa embarrassed a lot of men during those few hours. She was the only female in a group of very macho men. There were five students, four of whom were from the Special Operations Group. The last part of the training called for the men to demonstrate some of the techniques she had taught them—on her. Chase watched her demolish them one by one. She flipped the first guy, a 220-pound former Delta operator, onto his back before he knew what hit him. As each man finished with her, they were allowed to leave. She left them all humiliated and in tatters. And these were men who had a good deal of training and real-life experience in hand-to-hand combat.
Lisa was very good. Chase also found her extremely attractive. Her tight workout attire was distracting, to say the least.
Chase was the last person in the group to go. This also meant that Lisa and he were alone, facing each other on the floor mat, when he made his attempt to take her down.
Chase gave her a sheepish grin. “You know, I just watched you kick those guys’ asses, and I’ve got to tell you, I am one hundred percent positive that they were all much tougher than I am. Would it be possible to just assume that you will whip the hell out of me? If it’s all the same to you, we could call it a day now and go grab a drink or something.”
She smiled back at him. Big, beautiful eyes. “Or something?”
Chase wasn’t sure what to say to that. Was she being forward and showing interest? Or was she offended and giving him more rope to hang himself with?
She said, “Do you know who I am?”
“You’re the toughest woman I’ve ever met is who you are.” He took a step toward her, a playful glimmer in his eye. His senses were heightened, muscles tense. He would try to get close enough that he could get her in a grappling move. Maybe a half nelson.
She stood relaxed, feet shoulder-width apart, hands at her hips. Not a care in the world. “It would be inappropriate for me to be seen out in town, getting a drink with you.”
“Why’s that?” He took another step towards her. Whether she was interested in drinks or not, this might distract her enough that he could get the first move on her before she used any of that judo shit.
“Because I am, I believe, what you would describe as very senior to you.”
Chase began to rethink both of his advances. “I’m sorry if I—”
She dropped to the floor and spun, her leg swinging around and clipping his feet out from underneath him.
He fell hard, landing on his back, the wind knocked from his lungs. She was really quick. As he groaned on the floor, he saw her walking away. He guessed that she wasn’t interested after all. He closed his eyes in pain. Then he heard the heavy metallic sound of a deadbolt lock.
She stood over him. He was still on the floor, stunned. She said, “I’m not interested in drinks. But perhaps I will take you up on the ‘something.’” She kept her eyes locked on his as she crouched down and straddled him.
That was how their very physical and very secret affair began. Chase had asked around about her in the days following. She was a very gifted woman. A rising star within the CIA’s Political Action Group, she had been stationed in Dubai for two years prior to their meeting. She was smart, and spoke several languages fluently. A talented recruiter of foreign assets, she had a knack for getting people to spy for the United States, whether they knew they were doing it or not. And she had earned a lot of respect from the SOG team members for handling herself well in sev
eral firefights.
Chase and she had seen each other maybe a dozen times now. She called the shots. She sent him an email with a time and location. Lisa knew when he would be able to get time off without even having to ask him. Usually they met at a Dubai hotel. They’d chat a little over dinner and drinks and spend the rest of their time in bed. The relationship filled a need for each of them, but they also kept up an abnormally strong set of boundaries.
Chase hadn’t told anyone that he was seeing her. And he was certain that she had done the same. They never spoke about their past, beyond surface-level stuff. It was intentional on her part, he was pretty sure. And he was taking his cues from her. If she wanted anything more than this, he was pretty sure that she would let him know. The problem was, the more they saw of each other, the more emotionally attached he got. He had no idea where this was going, if anywhere. But he didn’t want to blow it by saying something that he shouldn’t.
Now, in the car on the way to see Elliot, he presumed, he wanted to ask her how she had been. He wanted to ask her a lot of things. He stole glances at her out of the corner of his eye, so as not to appear too eager. He had thought about her a lot when he was in Iraq. They had exchanged a few emails, but it had been very superficial. He felt a bit used, but he didn’t want it to stop.
“Where are we headed?”
She glanced at him and then looked forward, taking a sharp turn. “To see Elliot.”
“I know. Where?”
She didn’t reply.
This was a typical response from the Political Action Group agents. They saw themselves as the real CIA agents. The cloak-and-dagger types that clinked martini glasses with foreign dignitaries and picked up envelopes at dead drops. To them, Chase was one of the other types. The machine-gun-toting men that had a reputation for being less cerebral and therefore only needed to know enough to pull the trigger at the right time.
Chase was in his second year as a member of the CIA’s Special Operations Group. Together, the PAG and SOG formed the two halves of the Special Activities Division. While many jobs in the military and intelligence machine were mundane office jobs, the Special Activities Division was where the action was…at least, in the CIA. SOG was considered the paramilitary wing.
Plucked from the most elite units of the military, members of SOG were selected because they were smart, capable, and deadly. In his opinion, they needed to know every bit of information that the “regular” spies knew. Yet members of Lisa’s community ran the CIA. They were promoted faster and higher. It was the way things were. As a PAG agent, Lisa was a member of this superior “master race” within the CIA’s organization.
Chase wasn’t too worried about his promotion potential within the CIA. He wasn’t looking to make GS-15, and he didn’t want to deal with the bullshit that the executives dealt with. Just look what was happening to his father. He was a scapegoat for the politicians in Washington. Chase preferred to serve his country well, and without public reward.
The other card that Chase had in his back pocket was that he was still a reserve officer in the US Navy. He was in his second year with the CIA now, and hadn’t done much with the reserves. But in another month, he was scheduled to start actively drilling with SEAL Team Eighteen, the reserve unit that he had joined up with. While that wasn’t going to be a vacation, to say the least, it would be a nice change from the culture of the CIA.
Lisa drove across the bridge onto the Palm Jumeirah Island.
In 2001, the land that they were now driving on had been nothing but water. But eight years of dredging and construction had produced an island in the shape of a giant palm, with 320 miles of coastline, twenty-eight hotels, and thousands of luxury residences. Each leaf on the palm tree had rows and rows of extravagant housing, restaurants, resorts, and shopping.
Lisa sped down the main street that encircled the island. Chase watched a monorail glide by on a concrete structure above them. Everywhere Chase turned, there were rows of identical palm trees, expensive cars, and luxury residential properties. The wealth here was incredible.
Lisa took a sharp right turn and drove down a ramp and into a two-car garage beneath one of the townhomes. The garage door shut behind them. For a moment, they were alone in the quiet darkness.
She touched his cheek and leaned close to him. “It’s good to see you again.”
He whispered, “You too.” He looked into her eyes, but made no move to get closer.
A trace of her sweet perfume found its way into his nostrils. It reminded him of the last time they were together. His heart beat a bit faster as she closed in. Her lips grazed his ear as she whispered into it. “Perhaps tonight we could get a drink after work?”
She moved back and looked into his eyes, waiting for his answer.
“I’d like that.”
The smallest of smiles, and then she left the car and headed into the residence. He followed. Entering the home, Chase saw that the dwelling had been set up as a listening post. All of the windows and doors were covered. There were interior rooms with soundproof walls, digital security locks, and enough electronics to service any surveillance requirement that the CIA and other agencies they were working with might have.
Elliot sat on a worn leather couch, watching what looked like a live video feed of a sizeable hotel conference room. He stood up as Lisa and Chase approached.
Elliot shook his hand. “Thanks for coming out.” Chase looked around the room. There were several people with ear sets on, typing into laptop computers. Lisa stood next to them, a curious expression on her face. Chase began to wonder if Elliot had told her why he was here.
“Lisa, we’ll be just a few minutes.”
She had taken the headscarf down and let it hang around her neck. She raised her eyebrows and said, “Of course. I’ll be right here.” She didn’t look like she was too keen on being left out of the conversation.
Elliot walked down the hall and opened a door. The room was bare save for a lone table and four chairs. It could have served as a secure conference room. Or an interrogation room. Chase entered and took a seat at a small wooden table. Elliot closed the door behind them.
Chase said, “You haven’t told Lisa Parker what I’m doing here?”
He shook his head. “Not yet. I intend to, once the counterespionage guys clear her. But there’s protocol to follow and I cannot be too careful.” He clasped his hands together, his elbows on the table. “Alright, fill me in on everything.”
Chase recapped his conversation with Waleed, and let Elliot know about Pakvar. When they were finished, Elliot looked upset. He pulled out his phone and typed a few keystrokes. He held up the screen and Chase saw a face.
Chase said, “That’s Pakvar?”
Elliot nodded. “I received a report that he was in Dubai earlier today. This guy is bad news, Chase. I don’t want him anywhere near our man. We need that data. If they launch this bitcoin-backed currency and we aren’t able to get transaction information, we’re essentially going to have a growing financial black market out there that we can’t monitor or control.”
Chase nodded. “We need to talk to Gorji, as well. I met with his assistant. The one that came to see you at the consulate.”
“Already? When did you meet with him?”
“Earlier today. I sent you a text.”
He looked down at his phone. “Ah. I guess you did. Sorry, things are crazy here right now.” He shook his head. “There’s just a lot going on. Did you find out why he wanted to meet with you?”
Chase had been deciding what to say next all day. He was torn between potentially hurting his brother’s reputation and career, and doing his duty. He knew that David wouldn’t voluntarily provide information to any entity that he wasn’t supposed to.
“I’ve been pretty conflicted about this. Elliot, I swear to God there has to be some mistake. Or this is part of some Iranian misinformation operation or something. I don’t know…”
Elliot frowned. “Spit it out.”
; “The reason that Gorji apparently wanted to speak with me is because of my brother. Do you remember David?”
Elliot frowned. Elliot had been long-time friends with Admiral Manning, David and Chase’s father. He had met David before, but didn’t know him. “I remember your brother.”
“We’ve got a bigger problem than just one leak in Dubai. They claim to have a list of Americans that are providing some group on Abu Musa with classified information. Gorji’s assistant claims that Gorji wants to meet with me personally. Says the Supreme Leader of Iran wants to make a trade. This list of Americans for our help in getting rid of this group on Abu Musa. The proof that the list is authentic is that my brother, David, is on the list. They think that if we look into it, we’ll be able to verify that he’s doing something he shouldn’t be.”
Elliot’s face contorted. “Excuse me?”
Chase repeated everything that he had been told, careful to emphasize that his brother would never betray their country.
When Chase was finished speaking, Elliot leaned back in his chair. He didn’t say anything for a while. He just looked at the wall, thinking. Then his eyes went back to Chase. He said, “It must have been hard for you to tell me about this, Chase. But you did the right thing.”
“I don’t know what to do. They said that we can’t communicate with David or the trade is off.”
“Why did they say that?”
“They think it will be too high-risk. It might alert whoever has penetrated Dubai Station.”
Elliot nodded. “Chase, I don’t know what Gorji is up to. I don’t know if this list is real, or how they got the name of our man in Dubai. But…do not contact your brother David. Do you understand? Not until we figure all of this out.”
Chase grudgingly said, “I understand.”
“Meet with Gorji. Soon. Let me know when you go to see him. I need to run this one up the chain. This is turning out to be much bigger than I thought.”
“And about Pakvar?”
“We’re trying to locate him. See if Gorji can help with that when you meet.”