Enemy of My Enemy

by Allan Topol

  "It's over now," he said. "I have a man waiting in a car across the street. We'll take you home."

  She pulled away from him. "You can't. Some cop, Daniel Moreau, is looking for you on my street, going door to door with your picture. He has men stationed there."

  "Jesus, since when?"

  "This evening."

  "Then come to my place."

  She stared at him with dead, cold eyes. There was no hint of a mysterious smile on her sad face. "I just want to go home alone. Please, Jack. Right now I hate myself. I want to spend about an hour in the shower and get rid of his smell. That's what I want."

  An empty taxi was passing. Layla raised her hand.

  She didn't even look at Jack as she got in the cab.

  * * *

  Jack climbed back into Gal's car. His mind was a jumble. Concern for Layla and guilt for what had happened were threatening to cloud his mind and muddle his judgment. He couldn't let that happen.

  He had already seen the poster of himself on the police van near the Israeli embassy. Now Layla had said Moreau was searching for him near her apartment. The Frenchman was closing in on him.

  Out of an abundance of caution, Jack asked Gal to leave him off at Place Victor Hugo, four blocks away from his apartment. "I'll be okay from here," he told the young Israeli. Then he set off on foot, following a circuitous route along narrow back streets until he reached a corner that he could peek around and have an unobstructed view of his apartment building. It took Jack only one quick glance to spot the police car parked immediately in front of his building. Next to the car, on the sidewalk, two blue-uniformed gendarmes were standing, smoking cigarettes and chatting. Jack realized that Moreau must have penetrated his carefully constructed layers of dummy companies to find out about the apartment.

  Oh, shit, he thought. I can't go back there. He didn't want to stay with Avi. They had to remain apart, at least at night, so Moreau couldn't capture them both together. The Hotel Bristol was close to the Israeli embassy. He decided to stay there, using his Henri Deveraux identity to register.

  Jack retreated, staying on side streets, heading toward the Bristol on foot. After ten minutes he pulled out his cell phone and woke Avi up at the Hotel Pyrenees. "Don't call me anymore at my apartment. Just use the cell."

  "Your place has gotten hot?"

  "Moreau is tightening the noose. We don't have much time."

  Chapter 30

  Nadim woke up and reached across the bed for Layla. All he found was a piece of paper on the pillow.

  He grabbed it and bolted upright in bed. His head was pounding, and he felt washed-out from all the alcohol last evening. Finishing that large glass of cognac had been a mistake. There wasn't much he remembered in detail of what had happened after they had left the restaurant. He and Layla had come here. After that everything was fuzzy.

  Then he read the note. And he read it again. A broad smile lit his face. There was no question about how he had performed. He'd see more of her in the next couple of days and while he was still in Paris. Once the deal with McCallister was complete and he seized control of the Syrian government from Ahmed, he'd bring her back to Damascus to live in the presidential palace with him. He was confident that she'd come. Her note told him as much.

  What really pleased him was that he had beaten out Jack Cole, that Israeli spy, where it mattered most: between the sheets.

  Carrying his briefcase, Nadim was whistling a tune as he entered the embassy. Not only was the deal for the American pilot coming together, but he had Layla now as well.

  His good mood ended once he walked into the reception area of the Syrian embassy and saw General Kemal waiting for him. The Turk should have called first rather than making a sudden surprise visit to Paris, but he could understand Kemal's anxiety. To be fair to the man, Nadim had not kept him informed of developments. Kemal couldn't risk calling or sending a message from Turkey. He had to assume that the Americans were now using every conceivable electronic device to pick up any communications coming in and out of the country.

  Nadim hustled Kemal up to his office. He put his briefcase down on the table next to his desk and turned to his visitor. "The Iranians are on board," Nadim said with pride.

  "Thanks for telling me when it happened."

  What Nadim wanted to say was, Look, asshole, if it weren't for me and my plan, you'd be rotting in a Turkish prison for the rest of your life. But he didn't do that, of course. The road from Iran to Syria ran through Turkey. So he sucked it up and calmly said, "It just happened yesterday. I had planned to call and invite you to Paris today to give you that report, but you beat me to it. You're a very smart man, as always, General Kemal."

  And you're full of shit, as always, Kemal was thinking.

  "There is one small adjustment to our original plan," Nadim said.

  "Yeah. What?" Kemal asked warily.

  "Ali Hashim won't pay us what I asked."

  Kemal looked indignant. "Then to hell with him. We'll cut Iran out."

  It's not possible, you imbecile, Nadim thought. Do you have any brains at all? "I settled for a million dollars for each of us, to be deposited in a Swiss bank account."

  Kemal grumbled. "It has to be two. That's the least I'll accept."

  Nadim thought about reducing his own five-million-dollar share as a way of getting two for Kemal, but he quickly rejected that possibility. "Listen, my friend, today is already Tuesday. The exchange takes place on Friday. That's only three days from now. We don't have the luxury of time to continue negotiating. A million dollars is a lot of money. I'm satisfied with it. I think you should be too."

  "Bastards. They claim to be so righteous, and they always swindle us."

  Nadim tried to sound sympathetic. "I know how you feel. I was plenty angry at him myself. I did the best I could."

  Kemal was squirming in his chair. He hadn't anticipated this development. How could he be certain that Nadim wasn't skimming some of Kemal's money for himself?

  Nadim wanted to wrap this up already. He was tired of haggling with both Hashim and Kemal. He decided to press Kemal. "The train's leaving the station. It's now or never."

  Kemal fumed in abject resignation. He knew that he had no choice about the money. "I want to talk about the details of the exchange."

  What now? Nadim wondered. "I'm listening."

  Kemal had his back up. "When we made the deal, you told me that I would have control over the American pilot again before the exchange takes place."

  "And you will," Nadim said. "I promise you that you will be the one who brings the pilot to the exchange. To set it all up, I want you to fly to Adana in southern Turkey today. Have one of your troops, someone you can trust, meet you there."

  Kemal decided that he'd call Abdullah.

  Nadim continued. "I have your cell phone number. Tomorrow evening I will call you and tell you where and when on Thursday we'll turn the pilot over to you. Friday at first light is the time for the exchange."

  * * *

  Jack was relieved. The bugs Layla had planted were working. He and Avi were in the sound lab with a technician. They had heard every word Nadim and Kemal said.

  Jack now knew that the exchange would take place Friday morning. Nadim, Kemal, and the Iranians would all be involved. Kemal would be bringing Robert McCallister to the site. He still didn't know where that was, or what the terms of the exchange were, but they were getting close. Jack had to stay out of Moreau's clutches long enough to obtain that information, then develop a plan to rescue Robert and block the exchange.

  Thinking about the pilot reminded Jack of that awful meeting he had in Tel Aviv—the last time he had seen his brother. Between Nadim and Moreau there was too much of a chance Jack might never make it out of this alive. He couldn't bear the thought of leaving his relationship with Sam the way it now was with their argument in Tel Aviv, if he never saw his brother again. Though it involved some risk, he had to take it. He picked up the phone and called Sam at his office in London. "I
have to see you in Paris today," he said. "It's quite important."

  "Is this about Robert?"

  "Please, no questions, and don't tell Ann or Sarah."

  Jack heard a shuffling of papers as Sam either checked his calendar or the train schedule.

  "I can get to Gare du Nord at five o'clock this afternoon."

  "Good. When you arrive, take a cab to a little brasserie at number Thirteen Rue Marbeuf. There's a section in the back, up a few steps. Sit at a table up there. Order something and wait for me."

  * * *

  Nadim returned to his office and picked up the phone. He called Layla at the bank.

  "What a nice note you left," he said.

  Her stomach churned as she heard the sound of his voice. This wasn't something she had figured on. It took her a few seconds to recover her composure. "It was a special evening. One I'll never forget," she said, forcing the words out, while all she could think of was throwing up in the gutter outside of his apartment.

  "Let's do it again this evening," he said, sounding euphoric.

  She couldn't possibly relive that nightmare. But it was unlikely Jack had gotten the information he needed. She couldn't destroy everything she had put in place.

  Playing for time, she said, "Let me check my calendar."

  She thought of putting him on hold and calling Jack on the other line, but there wasn't time for that. Nadim was too smart. He would grow suspicious. She came up with a plausible story. "I have a dinner meeting with key officials at the bank. I can't break it."

  "What about afterward?"

  "These sessions run late." To give herself credibility, she added, "Let's do it tomorrow."

  Nadim was thinking that tomorrow was already Wednesday. He had planned to fly to Baku Wednesday evening. He hesitated.... Thursday morning would be soon enough. Not only would it be another great evening with her, but he was anxious to solidify their relationship. "Tomorrow, then," he said. "Apicius at nine."

  "I'll be there."

  Her hands were shaking so badly she could hardly hang up the phone. What am I going to do? I'll never go to bed with that monster again. She picked up the phone and called Jack on his cell. "I have to talk to you."

  * * *

  Jack was too distraught and worried about Layla to be thinking clearly.

  "Why did you tell Nadim you'd see him again?" he blurted out as soon as Layla entered the sound lab.

  She was stunned. "How do you know about it?"

  "The bugs you planted are working perfectly."

  It never occurred to her that Jack would have heard Nadim's side of the conversation. Of course, he could easily have pieced together what she had said.

  "I don't know what you were thinking."

  His words and tone reminded her of her father when she was a young girl and he disapproved of something she had done. The situation was all too much for her. She lost it.

  Ignoring both Avi and the sound technician, she railed at Jack. "Don't be so stupid! I didn't have a choice."

  "I can't stand the thought of your being in his bed again."

  She moved in close to him. "You can't stand it!" she shouted. "How do you think I feel? I'd rather die than do that again."

  "Then you should have—"

  Avi cut him off. He realized that Jack's concern for Layla was clouding his judgment. "She's right," Avi said. "She had no choice. If she refused to meet him, he'd know something was wrong. Delaying him a day was a brilliant move on her part."

  Avi's words brought Jack back to reality. He didn't like it, but he had to admit they were both right. Once you put a ball in play, you couldn't always tell which way it would bounce. Nor could you stop the game in the middle.

  In frustration, he slammed his fist into the palm of his other hand. All of this was his own damn fault. He was in love with her, which was crazy, with what was happening. He should have followed Avi's advice in the beginning and never gotten involved with her. Once he did, he should never have suggested that she call Nadim. There had to be a way out of this morass. God, she had looked so awful leaning over the gutter and retching in front of Nadim's building. He couldn't let her go through that again. Then it hit him: There was a solution.

  "You won't have to sleep with him again," Jack said. "I have an idea."

  Layla and Avi both looked at Jack expectantly.

  "You're safe at the restaurant, right?"

  She nodded.

  "Suppose we give you something to take with dinner, to slip into your wine or food, that'll make you throw up. One of those drugs they give kids when they ingest poison and you want them to get rid of it. You'll be so sick you wouldn't be any fun for him. He'll have to let you go home."

  Layla wrinkled up her nose while she thought about what he had proposed. "That should work," she said. "I can do that."

  Avi wasn't as enthusiastic, but he decided to keep his nagging doubts to himself. There wasn't anything he could point to. He was just worried that something unexpected would occur. They would never be able to control Nadim so easily.

  * * *

  The four trucks in the nuclear convoy were barely moving.

  A snowstorm had struck the greater Caucasus Mountains. In near-blizzard conditions, they were still on the Russian side of the border with Azerbaijan.

  The head of the convoy, Nikolai, knew very well what the weather could be like. His grandfather had survived the battle of Stalingrad but was left without fingers or toes as a result of frostbite. He was one of the lucky ones. The Russian winter had done what its soldiers couldn't do: destroyed Hitler's army. Nikolai had come prepared. Each of the trailer trucks had chains for the tires in their cabins. Once the snow started coming down, he had ordered all of the drivers to stop and install the chains.

  Nikolai had a razor-sharp mind that functioned like a computer, which was one reason that Suslov, his commander in Afghanistan, gave him this assignment. Nikolai knew precisely how many more miles they had to cover.

  As long as they continued moving, albeit at this snail's pace, they would make it to the destination in time. Once they crossed the mountains conditions would improve.

  Nikolai forced the men to keep driving regardless of the conditions. He was aware of the precious cargo they were transporting. The possibility of a truck rolling off the highway and crashing down the rocky, mountainous terrain sent a wave of fear up and down Nikolai's spine. Still, he refused to order the convoy to stop moving on the deserted road and wait out the storm.

  Suslov had impressed him with the absolute necessity of getting to the destination on time. He had given Nikolai an incentive: The former Russian army captain would have enough money that he would never have to work again a day in his life.

  "Keep moving," he repeatedly shouted into the communications system that linked the convoy. "We don't stop. Under any circumstances."

  The drivers could barely see, but the trucks kept lumbering up the mountain.

  * * *

  In his Henri Devereaux disguise, Jack, with a .38 in the pocket of his black leather jacket, waited around the corner from the brasserie on Rue Marbeauf, continually glancing out, looking for a cab to pull up in front.

  Thirty minutes after Sam's train was scheduled to arrive, a green Citroen taxi slammed to a stop in front of the brasserie. Jack watched Sam pay the driver, climb out, and go inside carrying a briefcase.

  He waited a full ten minutes to see if Sam had been followed. During that time Jack weighed in his mind what he was doing. Talking to Sam did have some risks, but he was confident he could trust his brother. At any rate, he wouldn't give Sam any hard information. All he wanted to do was make peace with his brother. If this was the end for Jack, he couldn't leave Sam with the guilt and pain he would have because of their last meeting.

  Satisfied that no one had followed Sam, Jack walked into the brasserie. The air in front was heavy with cigarette smoke. At the bar a couple of workmen on their way home were sipping beer. A lottery machine was punching out tickets.
Jack stopped at the bar and picked up an espresso. Then he made his way toward the stairs leading to the back section, which was deserted except for Sam, sipping a Coke and staring at some legal documents.

  As Jack approached, Sam looked up, didn't recognize his brother, and turned back to the papers. When he got to the table, Jack said softly. "Don't say a word. It's me."

  Recognizing Jack's voice, Sam nearly dropped his drink. Jack slid into a chair at the table next to Sam, but in a position where he could still watch the front of the restaurant.

  "Oh, my God. It is you. I saw posters at the train station. The police are looking for you.... That must be why you're wearing the disguise." Sam looked around the room nervously.

  "There are some things I want you to know," Jack said. "I'll trust you not to mention a word of this to anyone. Not even Ann or Sarah."

  "You don't have to worry. They think I'm in Brussels on firm business. I swear I won't tell a soul."

  "Good. When we were last together in Tel Aviv, you asked me to help get Robert released. You said I must know people in the Israeli government. People who could help rescue Robert."

  "Uh-huh."

  "Well, I do know people like that. I've known them very well for a long time."

  "Jesus. You've been working with the Mossad all these years?"

  "Shhh," Jack admonished. "Whisper, please." Sam was a quick study. Jack was glad he didn't have to spell it out. "Let's just say that I've served Israel in any way I could."

  "What's the situation with Robert?"

  "All I can tell you is that people are working hard for his release. Good people in Israel and in the United States."

  "I hope your life's not in danger because I asked you to get involved in helping Robert."

  The horrified look that Jack saw on his brother's face underscored how much Sam meant what he had just said. "There is danger, and that's one reason I had to see you: to tell you not to feel guilty if something does happen to me. What's at stake is now much bigger than Robert McCallister's release. I can't say any more than that. But regardless of what happens, I am grateful to you for getting me involved. Otherwise things might have happened—terrible things for Israel and the world."