Sandstorm

by Alan L. Lee

  “I don’t think you can wave a magic wand and bring Janway back. Seems like a big risk to take just to see how something might stick.”

  “It’s time to end this charade. Where is Nora Mossa?”

  Alex had been waiting for this moment, and without Champion noticing, he grabbed his cell phone and sent a prewritten text message.

  “You want to see Nora?”

  “If she still considers herself an employee of the CIA, I damn well demand it.”

  Alex’s ability to see the front door of the establishment was aided by a high mounted mirror Champion couldn’t see because his back was to it. Alex didn’t really need the mirror, though. From across the room, Sara’s reaction told him Nora had entered. Sara stiffened just enough, and then she gave Fred Flintstone a subtle nod. Sara was rising to position herself on Nora’s flank when she totally disappeared from Alex’s view. Standing high above her and the man from Bedrock was Duncan’s imposing figure. He had stepped forward from the seat behind them.

  “What do you say we let them have some quiet time?” Duncan said, with a suggestive hand in the side pocket of his jacket. “Everybody is going to be just fine. If you need anything”—he motioned to the chair behind Sara—“I’ll just be right here.” Duncan then sat down and motioned for them to do the same.

  Champion sensed that Alex’s sudden silence wasn’t because he’d run out of things to say. Instead, he felt the presence of someone just outside his peripheral vision.

  Before he could turn his head, Nora took a seat next to Alex.

  “One field agent, as promised,” Alex announced.

  Champion had only met Nora a couple of times. Once was during a joint operation he’d conducted with Janway. She’d boasted about her young agent, and he, in turn, had bragged about his protégé, Alex. As a refresher, he had gone over her file, and seeing her now, he was surprised how subtle changes like shorter hair, of a different color, had changed her appearance.

  “Miss Mossa, are you all right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You’ve generated a lot of man hours. You didn’t feel that you could bring this…” Champion rested his eyes upon Alex for a moment, “this … concern to your superiors?”

  “With all due respect, sir, not after Erica was murdered. Her assumptions are what got her killed, and she passed those along to me. I didn’t think it was wise to sit around and wait for the cavalry to arrive.”

  “Not even if it was your own people?”

  “Especially my own people.”

  An exasperated Champion raised his hands to shoulder height. “Okay, I’ve sat here and listened to the far-fetched story our friend here is pitching. Do you have anything of significance to add?”

  Nora shot Alex a look, seeking reassurance. “I know it sounds completely ridiculous,” she said. “Why would the Israelis aid a country whose leadership has, time and again, called for their extinction? A country that has even funded terrorist organizations in attacks against them. The answer has to be that the Israelis are running some kind of operation. Something spectacular. Exactly what that is, we have no idea.”

  “Even if it has legs on some level, you’ve implicated a high-ranking member of Congress. You’ve also suggested he’s complicit in the murder of a CIA agent. Damn it, we’re talking about Senator Bryce Lipton here. You know how much juice he has? He can call and get a tee-time with the president. Hell, he can darn near initiate a war on his own.”

  “You’ve essentially confirmed that he’s in a position to pull something like this off,” Alex chimed in.

  “We have some proof, sir,” Nora offered, cutting off Champion’s anticipated fire-breathing.

  “Proof. Now there’s a word I haven’t heard. What kind of proof?”

  Again, Nora glanced at Alex, unsure if she should continue. This time he led the conversation. “George, when I called yesterday, remember I asked you, which asset?”

  “I’m damn sure I don’t like where this is going. What have you two done?”

  Feeling the best way to get it over with was to get it out, Nora blurted, “We got the confirmation from Davis Lipton.”

  “Holy shit,” Champion exhaled. “You got it how? Where is he now?”

  “Sedated. Sleeping it off,” Nora answered.

  “Sleeping what off?”

  “His injuries,” said Alex.

  If this had been his office at Langley, Mrs. Prescot would have heard his agitated voice, despite the thick door being firmly shut. As this was a public place, it took every ounce of restraint Champion could muster to contain himself.

  With Champion’s laser beam pupils burning through him, Alex said, “Don’t look at me. I’m just along for the ride.”

  Champion diverted his wrath to Nora. “Injuries! Do you have any idea how many rules you’ve broken? This is your career, or what used to be one. What happens when Davis files a report? You think his father isn’t going to get to the bottom of this? He heads up the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence, for God’s sake! You interrogated a fellow government agent.”

  “Sir, the end justifies the means here. Davis is going to be fine. He only has a couple of cracked ribs and a slight concussion at worst—he’ll be just fine. He’s damn fortunate that’s all he’s got.”

  “Don’t get cute. All this for what? Risk your career for what?”

  “Sir, he admitted to setting Janway up.”

  “Setting her up how?”

  “The accusations that got her removed from Moscow were all fabricated. He said his father ordered him to do it because they needed her out of the sector. They were afraid she’d get wind of their operation and wouldn’t go along. As best we can tell, thousands of centrifuges have been moved out of Russia and into the hands of the Iranians for their nuclear program. Davis left no doubt that his father and the Israelis are involved. We were there when he transferred ten million dollars to a black market dealer. That kind of money had to come from somewhere.”

  “What about Janway’s death?”

  “I pressed him on that, and he seemed surprised. Claims his father wouldn’t go that far. Frankly, I’m not so sure. You can see him if you’d like. Take him back with you and let the specialists at the Farm take a crack at him.

  “Oh, no.” Champion exhaled. “I have no intention of getting near him. All I can do at this point is make quiet, polite inquiries. Any exit strategy here? Since you’re rolling the dice as you go along, what do you plan to do with him at this point?”

  “We have one more card to play. He claims there’s a final shipment that’s supposed to be heading for Iran. But it has to be inspected and approved by a go-between before the order can proceed. Davis says he has to be the one who gives this person his marching orders.”

  Champion sat bewildered for a second, amazed he was giving this even the slightest consideration. “What makes you think Davis doesn’t know you’re CIA?”

  “I don’t think he’s quite put that together yet,” Nora confirmed. “He’s scared and confused. I’m sure he doesn’t believe that someone from the agency, knowing who he is, would dare interrogate him.”

  “I have a hard time believing it myself. When and where does he have to meet with this person?”

  “He says there was a three-day window. If he doesn’t make contact by the allotted time, all sorts of red flags go up, and the operation gets scrubbed. His contact and the merchandise will be in Tbilisi. If Davis is pulling our chain, this person won’t exist, and there won’t be several truckloads of centrifuges ready for transport. But my gut tells me he’s not lying.”

  Champion was speechless as his mind raced. He was not happy with Mossa’s conduct for sure, but he was even more pissed at the possibility that an operation was being run under his nose, utilizing assets from his department. If Senator Lipton was truly involved, how many other government agencies were being used as well?

  “One more thing,” Nora said, breaking the silence, “I don’t see a connection, but Janway al
so made reference to North Korea several times in her notes.”

  Champion tried not to let on, but too many coincidences in this business generally formed the framework of a puzzle. There was that damning thing with the North Koreans. Despite assurances that they would be found, several IRBMs—intermediate range ballistic missiles—were mysteriously unaccounted for. Such was the state of cooperative politics with the North. Champion had a sickening feeling when he thought of where those IRBMs might be now. For the moment, though, he decided he’d keep that thought off the table.

  “I’ll look into it,” he assured Nora.

  Her eyes opened wide. “So, you believe us?”

  “I’m not quite sure what the hell to believe, but as I mentioned, I’ll look into some things. In the meantime, you take very good care of Davis Lipton—and you’ve only got a couple of days to let this play out. If Tbilisi turns out to be bullshit, you release him immediately. But understand, Miss Mossa, your actions in this whole thing will be severely scrutinized. I must be out of my mind for not putting an end to this right now.”

  Alex formed the hint of a grin. “Sometimes, George, you just have to let a hunch play out.”

  “Screw you,” he shot back. “And don’t think I’m not considering bringing your private-citizen ass up on charges for assaulting a government employee. Fortunately, the guy you roughed up in Washington is going to be okay.”

  Alex winced. “You know, I almost forgot about that. I’m truly sorry about it, too. But, if I may, he does need some field training.”

  “The situation was slightly outside his expertise, but I’ll pass along your sentiments.”

  “How do you want us to keep in touch?” Alex asked.

  For the first time since he’d sat down, Champion was able to foster a sinister smile. “Simple enough. From this point on, Miss Garland will be by your side.”

  Nora hunched her shoulders as she turned to Alex with a puzzled look.

  Alex rolled his eyes as he glanced over to where his added baggage was sitting.

  “I’ll explain it to you in a minute.”

  CHAPTER 33

  The rain began to pelt the pavement with more regularity, forcing the expansion of umbrellas. Champion didn’t mind the rain, especially since he was moving faster than the flow of pedestrian traffic as he made his way up Fifteenth Street NW. It was just past one thirty in the afternoon when he reached his destination, and the lunch crowd was still packed inside the popular restaurant. On his own, he would have had to wait for a table or take a chance that a seat was available at one of the bars scattered throughout the establishment. However, once Champion informed the receptionist whom he was joining, he was whisked away promptly. Passing table after occupied table, he recognized a smattering of inside-the-Beltway political faces holding court. Thank goodness his own face was an obscure one. The noise level was deafening in pockets, producing a near-stadiumlike chorus. After a few more paces, his lunch companion saw him coming and rose to greet him.

  “George.” The middle-aged brunette affectionately gave him a hug.

  “Amanda, so good to see you,” Champion said, upon separating. “You look no worse for the wear. Power agrees with you.”

  “My, my, dishing out the compliments early,” she responded, inviting him to sit down in the booth, which he did across from her.

  “Thanks for seeing me on such short notice.”

  “Hey, I was in the neighborhood,” she playfully pointed out.

  Amanda Jergens did, in fact, work just a few steps away, at the most prestigious address in the world: 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Though her face, like Champion’s, was less recognizable than some in the restaurant, there wasn’t a place in the District with any political savvy that wouldn’t seat her right away. Amanda trumped all of the restaurant patrons as White House deputy chief of staff.

  “So, how goes life in the fast lane?” Champion asked, while perusing the menu.

  Amanda sighed. “Potholes everywhere and too much time spent on fixing all the flat tires left behind by the previous administration. How are things in the dark corners of the world?”

  “Hard to see the light some days, which is partly why I called you yesterday.”

  “Of course, I’m curious to know why you asked for what you did, but for now, I’ll settle for your assurance that my man has nothing to be concerned about.”

  “I’ll definitely tell you if and when there’s something to lose sleep over. But I’m seriously trying to rule out your man.”

  “I realize that cloak-and-dagger is your modus operandi, but still, calling me on my personal cell and insisting we not use e-mail or print out copies…,” Amanda said with a raised eyebrow.

  “Harmless as I hope it is, I don’t want anything sticking to you. Asking to see the visitor’s log for the past six months shouldn’t raise any flags.”

  “Yes, there are literally thousands of names to sort through, unless you’re looking for specific ones, which you are.”

  Seeing Champion and Jergens together at lunch or even in each other’s personal space at a function didn’t give anyone reason to question such encounters. Those in the know were aware of their deep-rooted friendship, formed in college and continued long afterward, when Champion introduced Jergens to her future husband. She’d been building a prosperous life in the private sector, one of those driven, no-time-for-serious-personal-life types, when Champion and his wife invited her down from New York City for a few days of sailing on the Chesapeake. She’d had no clue about there being a fourth person involved. That fourth turned out to be the US ambassador to Spain, and a few hours after setting sail, she found herself no longer upset with her good friends but instead very infatuated with the man that would become the love of her life. In college, Jergens and Champion were drinking and party buddies. They never took the relationship further, as both realized they enjoyed something special that was nonsexual in nature. Their careers took different paths, but their friendship had remained intact. She used to poke fun at his devotion to anything spy-related: books, movies, and real-life world events. She herself had a mind for business and making money. It was no surprise to Champion that after landing a lucrative job post-college, she quickly climbed the corporate ladder, eventually being hired as CFO of a major Fortune 500 company. Her success coupled with her husband’s political connections led to a chance encounter with the man who would become president of the United States. He was so impressed with her credentials that he offered her a post in his administration. Jergens didn’t hesitate to put her private-sector career on hold for what she felt was a higher calling.

  “Let me put some of your fears to rest,” Amanda said. “Only one person with direct ties to Israel has visited more than once in the last six months. An aide attached to the Israeli embassy, named Daniel Wassermann. He didn’t meet with the president, and I’m sure the president doesn’t even know Wassermann.”

  “I assume he didn’t visit for the food, so who did he see and for how long?”

  “The first time, five months ago, Wassermann spent forty-five minutes with Matt Mendelson, a special assistant to the president for economic policy. There happen to be seven people with that job description, by the way. The second time, Mendelson again, only this one was for roughly a half hour, three weeks ago.”

  Champion took a moment to absorb the names and circumstances. “Do you know Wassermann’s title at the embassy?”

  “Deputy minister for economic affairs. I had to research that one, because they don’t always sign with name, rank, and serial number.”

  Champion developed a concerned look on his face. “And just how did you…”

  “Get that information?”

  “I told you I wanted to keep you sterile on this.”

  “You think you’re the only one who’s good at this cloak-and-dagger stuff? Apparently, young Mr. Wasserman has caught the eye of a few female interns. We had a small, girls-only evening snack yesterday, and I casually asked who he was and what he
did.”

  “Did the interns have a clue as to what Wasserman and Mendelson have been meeting about?”

  “Not a one. Look, could be just two young Jewish boys talking about bedding some interns.”

  “Surely that’s frowned upon over there, even now.”

  Amanda laughed. “Common sense and human nature often clash. Now, as for Senator Lipton, he’s been there three times, but given his title, that’s to be expected. On each visit he met with the president. Twice he was accompanied by others, and the third, he had a good fifteen minutes of one-on-one time.”

  Champion again slipped into a minor trance. On the surface, everything seemed harmless, just normal business being conducted at the White House. The place was like a conglomerate unto itself: daily tours, press conferences, photo ops, lobbyists, food service. Uncovering a needle in the haystack would require constant monitoring, and that kind of access was impossible to obtain for an outsider.

  “You seem disappointed,” Amanda pointed out.

  “Believe me when I say I’m relieved more than anything. Now, what do you say we actually have lunch?”

  He didn’t want her to agonize any further over what could turn out to be absolutely nothing. Her job was difficult enough. He also didn’t feel the need to tell her Daniel Wassermann’s life was about to go under a microscope.

  CHAPTER 34

  It was nearly unanimous that he be left behind. The only dissenting vote came from Davis Lipton. He realized that staying behind meant he had no more bargaining chips.

  He couldn’t believe he had been both careless and stupid enough to be in this jam. Who were these people? At first it crossed his mind they were part of a rogue organization out to make a profit on the knowledge they’d gained. But he later concluded they were much more. The beating he took from the woman was severe but skilled. She knew precisely where to place her blows to inflict damage. That took training. The way he was set up even indicated a certain degree of operational ability. They’d also taken him to the brink of believing that killing him was not out of the realm of possibility if he didn’t cooperate. How did they know about Erica Janway? They were aware of who his father was, and that didn’t scare them at all. His CIA cover was blown, too. Had Tobias Baum sold him out? After all, the black market dealer had been paid, so what did he care about Lipton? Perhaps doing so led to another nice payday. No, Baum wouldn’t dare. Doing that would risk his personal well-being. The Israelis would exact revenge—unless that had been their plan all along. There were hundreds of scenarios running through his mind, but figuring out what had brought him here was not the most important thing. What mattered most was survival.