Sandstorm

by Alan L. Lee

  His captors persuaded him to tell them everything about the contact in Tbilisi. They told him they’d get the information they wanted even if he didn’t cooperate. He was assured that route would be painful.

  Self-preservation won out. He gave them what they needed to know. Including the truth that he’d never met the contact in Tbilisi face-to-face and real names were never exchanged. A few hours later, a doctor was allowed in to treat his wounds. It was only then that he no longer feared for his life. They wouldn’t bother patching him up after getting what they wanted if they were just going to kill him anyway.

  Davis slowly succumbed to the pain medication and drifted off. The first time he came out of the haze, he encountered a pair of new faces. The trio he had come to know and loathe was nowhere in sight.

  CHAPTER 35

  Even under an assumed name, traveling with Nora still presented a tremendous risk. Champion hadn’t lifted the all-points bulletin for her, because doing so might raise suspicion, and at least for now, he was willing to see if this wild story had any merit.

  With no direct flight from Brussels, the trip to Tbilisi took over eight hours. It seemed even longer as Sara Garland tried her best to get Alex to open up. He had no one to blame but himself. It was his idea to separate and travel as two pairs. Duncan sat with Nora, and he was saddled with Sara. He would have gladly paired her with Nora, but in the interest of harmony, it was best for now to keep them apart as much as possible.

  Though he tried to ignore her, Sara was persistent in her attempts to extract information. He gave her the cold shoulder by putting in his earbuds and listening to jazz on his iPod. Searching for a way in, Sara even tried to test his jazz knowledge. She asked if he was more of a bebop-era fan, leaning toward the likes of Charlie Parker and Thelonious Monk, or if he preferred the modern-day flavor of smooth jazz like Boney James, Jeff Lorber, or Marion Meadows. Alex almost took the bait but instead murmured, “Nice try, but I’d be willing to bet you’ve never even heard a song by John Coltrane—or Pat Metheny, for that matter.” The look on her face told him everything. Before she responded with “Got me,” the earbuds were back in place for the rest of the flight.

  Carry-on luggage in tow, they quickly made their way through the airport. On the remote chance that anyone had taken an interest in them, they took separate taxis five minutes apart to their hotel overlooking the winding Mtkvari River.

  Not knowing what the next few hours would bring, they utilized forty-five minutes to refresh, change clothes, and equip themselves with all the items they felt necessary. Sara, shortly after their arrival, received a couple of express packages. The courier didn’t bother obtaining a signature. He’d memorized her face from a photograph supplied by Langley, and his orders were to hand over the two boxes without question. She’d been given no notice before being assigned to monitor this situation, and making certain arrangements now required a number of people to be on top of their game in a hurry.

  She laid the two boxes on a table while she finished getting dressed. She was sure Alex would be prompt and wouldn’t wait, no matter how much she might have suggested otherwise. She swept her wet hair into a ponytail, securing it with an elastic band. Her black running pants matched her athletic shoes and lightweight jacket. She proceeded to open one of the boxes, pulling out a 9 mm handgun, making sure it was operational. Satisfied, she holstered it in her jacket, specifically designed for such an accessory. Two extra clips went into a hidden back pocket. There was a set of car keys in the box, along with a note detailing the location and make of the car waiting for use. Sara glanced around the room. If need be, she could leave everything behind. She took a moment to send a text message to Alex, Nora, and Duncan, telling them she was heading down to get the car. On her way out, she scooped up her passport, a tiny credit card wallet, and the remaining box, cradling it between her forearm and hip.

  Informing the concierge that she was going to retrieve a car, she handed him the box for safekeeping, promising to pick it up in a few minutes. Once outside the hotel doors, she jogged off at a brisk pace. Two blocks later she made a right turn, and after a left on the next block, she located the vehicle and then climbed behind the wheel. She double-parked in front of the hotel just long enough to pop in and get her package. Three blocks later, she pulled over to allow Nora and Duncan to get into the car. Nora got into the backseat behind Sara to give Duncan plenty of legroom up front. Sara anxiously looked around before putting the car in gear.

  “Where is he?”

  Nora wasn’t the least bit apologetic with her answer. “He left ten minutes ago in a taxi.”

  “Shit,” exploded Sara, smacking the steering wheel as she cut off a car to reenter traffic. She hated that she had absolutely no control over Alex. He wasn’t on the government payroll, and there was nothing they could hold over his head for coercion. He lived on an island, and for all intents and purposes, he seemed to conduct himself as an island. She had to dismiss the brash behavior for now, but she hoped it wouldn’t become a major source of irritation later. She informed Nora that the contents of the box were for her, Duncan, and Alex, but since he wasn’t here, getting it to him was more than likely out of the question. Nora was impressed with what was inside.

  “Nice to have friends in high places,” she said, locking a magazine into place in the Walther P99 Compact. She knew it wasn’t coincidence that she was holding her weapon of choice. She inspected and loaded Duncan’s gun before handing it to him.

  With a frown on his face, Duncan said, “Hopefully, this meeting will get done peacefully.”

  Nora also extracted a pouch that contained a syringe and two vials filled with a sedative strong enough to bring down a horse in seconds. Going into an unsecured environment, it was best to have a fighting chance at an exit strategy if the need arose. Nora turned her attention to other items in the box that might prove useful. As care packages went, this one was pretty well equipped.

  CHAPTER 36

  The cathedral stood as a testament not only to faith but also to the resiliency of the human spirit. Built originally in the sixth or seventh century, the place of worship had undergone numerous restorations. Most of those repairs were born of necessity, the cathedral having been destroyed by foreign invaders. Each time, Georgians had banded together to start anew once the turmoil had subsided. The current design dated back to the nineteenth century. It had taken two centuries to restore after the Persians tried to make a claim for territorial domination.

  There were some traditionalists that still worshipped at the church, but the vast majority of new souls found solace in the more contemporary cathedrals.

  The church, located in the old part of Tbilisi, had long served as the place of worship for the Georgian Orthodox faith. With its ancient architecture, which included a bell tower from the 1400s, it was also historical enough for sightseers to explore. An ardent observer would recognize it as one of the oldest remnants of Russian neoclassical architecture in the region.

  It all made for a nice postcard, but the tall, muscular figure making his way up the hill wasn’t interested in capturing memories or in the tales behind the architectural wonders of the region. His focus was the church, but by no stretch of the imagination would he be mistaken for a religious man. A mere glance showed he just didn’t fit the part. True, people were capable of surprise, but it was difficult to fool a trained eye. And there was a set of such eyes watching the man as he approached the church. For the moment, the man was on the opposite side of the street. The eyes that were following him felt certain he would eventually cross. Even while walking up the hill, the man, the eyes noticed, kept a measured pace, and his breathing appeared to be under control and not labored. The average person would be forced to intake and exhale a lot more air.

  There was about an hour and a half of daylight left, certainly enough sun to justify the large-rimmed sunglasses that hid the eyes. They belonged to a middle-aged man resting comfortably on a bench near the church, a hardcover novel in
his hands. He looked content to just let time pass by, his legs crossed as he sat at an angle. His appearance was completed with a long, outdated, wide-brimmed hat that added shadows to his face, further aiding his deception. He’d done very little reading of the book—mindful, though, to at least turn the pages every couple of minutes. The slumped figure smiled, presumably reacting to a passage he’d just read, but in reality, it was in response to being right.

  The tall, muscular man was crossing the street.

  Alex was cautious, mindful of not drawing too much attention. Though the window was rapidly closing, he was expected. Cutting it so close would undoubtedly make his contact a little nervous. It was no different, really, than waiting on a friend, business associate, or even the cable guy to show up. There was a prearranged time agreed upon, and when that window grew smaller, the frustration and anxiety level increased with each passing minute.

  Alex had decided to leave earlier than the others, fully aware his actions would get under Sara’s skin, but to some degree, that was intentional. He wanted to send the message that it wasn’t her place to dictate how things should go. The fact that Champion made her stay spoke to her qualifications. However, after so many years on his own, Alex wasn’t in the mood to have a boss. Besides, he needed his senses free to scope the landscape on his own first. He had the taxi drop him off four blocks away, more than enough distance to spot a tail if one existed.

  As he crossed the street, angling toward the old cathedral, he was convinced he’d registered everything of possible interest. Since dusk was on the horizon, the flow of actual tourists was ebbing, making the streets a little less crowded. A select few continued to marvel at the church, pointing things out as if they possessed a measure of understanding others lacked. Alex overheard a couple referencing the cupola and southern chapel added during one of the structure’s many restorations. He was about to make his way up the short flight of steps when he froze, seemingly taken aback by the magnificence for the first time. He backed away, reaching inside his pocket. A second later, he had his cell phone, and he went through the motions of taking a picture. To an onlooker, it might appear as if he were sending a photo to someone who would appreciate the gesture. In actuality, all he sent was a short text message. He next dialed a number, pressing the handset firmly to his ear when someone answered.

  “This is Alex. I need you to do something for me.”

  The voice on the other end waited for instruction.

  “Are you in the room with him?” After a short pause, the person answered in the affirmative.

  “Tell him you’re talking to me and that I’m standing outside the church.” Alex waited to hear his directions carried out. He also paused to let a woman pass him on the pavement before he continued.

  “Ask him if he’s certain the procedure he gave me is correct.”

  Alex heard Davis Lipton’s response in the background. His willingness to cooperate so freely gave Alex reason for concern. He checked his perimeter to make sure he wasn’t in earshot of anyone.

  “Okay, do you have a silencer?”

  The voice on the other end acknowledged that he did.

  “Attach it to your gun and put it against his temple.”

  Alex could hear Davis protesting as he reacted to what was happening.

  “Now, ask the son of a bitch if he gave me the right instructions. Tell him if something goes down in this church because he decided to get cute, you’ll put a bullet in his head. Inform him that I’m about to go in.”

  Alex kept the phone to his ear as he slowly climbed the steps.

  “Hold it!” The raised tone forced Alex to pull the phone away a little. “He says go to the first pew, grab a bible, make the sign of the cross, and then take a seat in the fourth row of pews on the right. Then wait. If asked, the name is McBride, not Thompson.”

  Alex shook his head. Davis was lucky he wasn’t there with him. Before Alex opened the huge doors to the church, he spoke into the phone one last time.

  “You still have your weapon out?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is the doc still there?”

  “Yes.”

  “There’ll be something extra for the inconvenience, but shoot that asshole in the foot. Your choice. Let him experience the pain, and then get him patched up.”

  Before he ended the call, Alex could hear a faint, agonized scream.

  His mood immediately got better.

  CHAPTER 37

  Less than twenty-four hours ago, Karl Peters and every resource at his disposal had begun peeling away the layers of Daniel Wassermann’s life. Officially, Wassermann had come to Washington two years ago, thanks to a promotion from his administrative duties for the Knesset in Israel. There were no blemishes to uncover, and Wassermann possessed a healthy appetite for young females. Being under thirty and single, that was totally understandable in the nation’s capital. His personal phone records, Internet searches, and e-mail were bland. His movements during the past several hours bordered on predictability. He left home for work early in the morning, grabbed lunch outside the Israeli embassy, and returned to the job for several more hours before calling it a day. Trading a few body checks with commuters on the Metro, Wassermann was now back where his day began, inside his Adams Morgan–district apartment.

  It all made for a very simple, routine life. Just the kind of cleanliness that got one bumped up the ladder. It was all just a tad too neat for Peters’s taste. Through discreet channels, very little information was available about the young man, who somehow managed to remain relatively obscure even while having a high-profile social life and access to the White House.

  Karl Peters though, was a patient man.

  CHAPTER 38

  Alex gazed at the large figure of Jesus Christ mounted high on the cathedral wall. With bible in hand, having made the sign of the cross, he exited the first row of pews and casually walked back to the fourth row, taking a seat after a few steps inward. There was a smattering of tourists milling about in addition to what appeared to be a few locals hoping that God was keeping business hours. An official of the church was on hand to answer questions but also to keep an eye out for the church’s precious artifacts. Alex didn’t see what he’d expected to see, which probably meant he was being carefully watched himself. Trying not to make any moves that might alarm or scare his contact away, Alex slowly retrieved his cell phone from a pants pocket, having just gotten a vibrating text message. It was from Nora, acknowledging his earlier message sent from the cathedral’s steps. In short fashion, she informed him they would be in position soon.

  Alex was distracted momentarily by an elderly woman seated a couple of pews ahead to his left. She was mumbling inaudibly; her emotion seemed genuine. He wondered briefly what difficulty life had dealt her that warranted a visit during the week. Surely her devotion had to count for something.

  While the elderly woman continued her private conversation with the Almighty, Alex sensed the man easing next to him long before he took a seat.

  “We were expecting you much earlier,” the man said, picking up a bible.

  “My benefactors work in mysterious ways,” Alex responded.

  The remark brought a slight smile to man’s face. “Well, your prayers have been answered. Your shipment is waiting. I’m sure you, as much as I, would like to get this over with as quickly as possible. All the necessary arrangements have been made. I shall be in position to inspect everything at twelve thirty this morning. By daylight at the latest, your cargo should arrive at its destination, and I trust my final payment will be sent shortly after. In the meantime, enjoy a nice meal at one of the fine restaurants Tbilisi has to offer.” The man began to rise but was forced to sit back down as Alex grabbed hold of his sport coat. Based on what Baum was paid, Alex assumed this mysterious partner was due a nice sum as well. Addressing one’s greed was worth a gamble.

  “No offense, but I’m not about to sign off on your final payment without being there to ensure everything goes off
smoothly. There’s too much at stake.”

  “I’m not comfortable with that.”

  “We can get someone else,” Alex said matter-of-factly.

  The man sat as if in prayer, contemplating his options. Half of his fee had already been paid, and it was a comfortable amount, but he was counting on full payment to cover his overhead. Protection, for instance, was not a cheap commodity in today’s dangerous marketplace.

  “Fine, suit yourself. But only you. If you’re not alone, you’ll have to get someone else. However, at this late date, I’m sure that will cost you more than just money.”

  Alex could tell he had ruffled the man’s comfort zone with his demand. The swift acceptance indicated the man wanted his final payment badly.

  “So, where shall I meet you?”

  The man thought about it for a moment. “Outside the Tbilisi Opera and Ballet Theatre. You should have no trouble finding your way.”

  “That works for me. I’ll see you there.”

  “Eleven o’clock.” The man began to rise again, only this time, pausing and sitting back down was his idea.

  “I almost forgot. Please wait ten minutes before you exit the church. If you try to leave earlier, that poor old woman will certainly be repentant after putting a bullet in you.”