The Belgian Bagman (Justin Hall #11)

by Ethan Jones

  “Hey, Justin, I was about to say the same thing.”

  Chapter Twenty

  January 14

  Erbil, Northern Iraq

  Justin waited until he had handed Hezan to Azade and pointed at his phone, “I’ve got to step out for a moment, but keep an eye on him.”

  Azade said, “Don’t worry about it. Did he talk?”

  “Yes, he squealed.”

  Osman, who was standing further back, shook his head. “Too bad. I wasn’t done with him.”

  Justin ignored his remark and walked down the hall. Outside in the yard, he found a corner that allowed him a certain level of privacy for his call, especially if he kept his voice low. “Hey, Carrie, sorry about that.”

  “No worries. So, what’s the good news?”

  Justin told her about the intelligence he had obtained from Mehmet and Hezan. When Carrie asked about how Justin had found out about Mehmet, Justin told her about the Russian operative. “Wow, that’s an unexpected turn of events.”

  “Yes,” Justin nodded. “This place is such a mess. But wait, it gets even better.” He told her about the Saudi hostage whom Justin suspected had been fighting for ISIS.

  Carrie wrote down al-Farkhan’s name along with the other details Justin gave her. “I’ll see what I can find.”

  “All right, now what good news do you have?”

  “Remember the guy who was fished out of the Charleroi Canal, the banker?”

  “Yes, what was his name, Safiz, Saleh?”

  “Saadoun. He used to work for the Brussels Royal Bank.”

  “Yes, okay. What about him?”

  “Well, I pushed the Belgian police and called in a few favors with the VSSE. And guess what we found?”

  “Saadoun was Egorov’s asset?”

  “Close. He used to work with someone close to one of Egorov’s assets. You can probably figure out the name.”

  Justin nodded. “Tawfiq al-Gailani, top exec with the Bank of Belgium. The bagman.”

  “Exactly. And I’ve discovered ties to him and Russian officials and some Belgian and British businessmen and senior government reps.”

  Justin frowned and cursed al-Gailani. “It makes sense. He was paying them to turn a blind eye to all the Russian money flooding in from Iraq’s oil trade.”

  “Yes. We don’t have anything concrete, yet. But this explains the haste of the Belgian police to close the case and the reluctance of VSSE to investigate. They were worried about the dirt that would come up.”

  “It may all change once we have Hezan’s records. But let’s go back to al-Gailani. Where is he now?”

  “Not sure. No one seems to know. But one thing is sure: he left in a hurry.”

  Justin nodded. “Yes, everyone seems to be doing that lately. And everyone I know, at least in this part of the world, is doing so because of the Russians.”

  Carrie thought about it for a moment. “So you think Egorov is after al-Gailani?”

  “Yes. If she had dealings with him and something went wrong, she’ll come for her pound of flesh.”

  “Yes, that makes sense. And what about the Russians looking for your bank account in Erbil?”

  Justin shrugged. “I’m not sure; I haven’t figured it out yet. But my theory is that Egorov suspected or learned we were looking for her. So she sent her thugs to uncover anything they could use against me.”

  “It’s very possible. A disgraced agent to Egorov is much better than a dead one.”

  “Let’s see if we can find al-Gailani; that would lead us to Egorov.”

  “You read my mind.”

  “All right, and after I have those records from Hezan, we may have sufficient intel to piece together this story.”

  “Sure, send me everything as soon as you have it.”

  “Will do. Oh, I haven’t gotten any hits on those numbers Vale sent me.”

  “What? What numbers?”

  “The ones he got from one of Behrooz’s men. He was the one killed during the safehouse firefight.”

  Justin nodded. He still had not had a chance to talk to Carrie about the details of how the safehouse was breached and the ensuing chase. “Okay, whatever you find might help to figure out how the breach happened.”

  “Of course. Anything else?”

  “Yes, I haven’t heard from Flavio.”

  “He’s been very busy, but he has gotten all your updates.”

  Justin hesitated a moment before asking his next question. “Is he suspecting anything?”

  “What, about the Turkish base attack?”

  “Yes, and the kidnapped soldiers.”

  “I don’t know. If he has any ideas, he’s keeping those to himself.”

  “Am I reading too much in his silence?”

  “You could be, but let me check. There have been cases when he contacted operatives only when necessary. Since you’re keeping him abreast of the situation, he may not deem it necessary to call. But you know he’ll do so whenever he wants.”

  “Yes, I just . . . I don’t want him to only hear one side of the story, if the Turks are talking to him.”

  “Oh, Justin, if the Turkish Army has suspicions about your involvement, you’ll hear it loud and clear from Flavio.”

  “All right, Carrie.” He wanted to ask her about Karolin, but he knew how Carrie felt on the matter. She would most likely remind him, again, to give Karolin a call and talk directly to her. “That’s all for now.”

  “Justin, be safe, and we’ll talk soon.”

  “Yes, you too.”

  He sighed and looked toward the house. Osman had just stepped outside and lit up a cigarette. He waved at Justin, who returned the wave and headed back to the house.

  Osman asked, “Do you need anything else?”

  “No, I think we’re done here.”

  Osman shrugged. “If you’re ever in town and you need me . . .”

  “For sure. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  He walked inside and found Azade. She was in the dining room, sipping tea and chatting with Tori and the other Peshmergas. Hezan was handcuffed and sitting on the floor near a corner. “Hey, Justin. Coffee?” Azade said when he entered the room.

  “Sure. We can spare another five minutes or so.” He sat next to one of the Peshmergas, who moved closer to Tori to make room for Justin.

  “Where are we going?” Tori asked.

  Justin did not reply right away. He did not want to break the bad news to Tori in front of everyone that his services were no longer needed. He might interpret it as an insult or as a sign of mistrust, and Justin was not about to explain and defend his decisions around the table. So he took a small sip of coffee, enjoying the strong taste and the great smell.

  Tori leaned forward. “Justin, did you hear me?”

  Justin nodded. “Yes. Let’s talk about it when we’re outside and getting ready.”

  Tori shrugged. His face showed dissatisfaction with the reply as he pursed his lips. “Sure, sure, we’ll do that.”

  Justin stole a glance at Azade, then filled another cup of coffee and took it to Hezan. He cocked his head and looked at Justin, unsure at first of what to make of the gesture. Justin said, “Can you hold it?” He placed the cup in Hezan’s cuffed hands.

  Hezan nodded. “Yes, thanks. I . . . I wasn’t expecting it.”

  “Well, I don’t want you to die of thirst.”

  “Yes, he’ll die of something else, but not of thirst for sure,” Tori said.

  Justin sat at the table and nursed his coffee for the next couple of minutes. Then he waited until there was a natural break in the Peshmergas’ conversation and said, “Well, friends, we have to go.”

  They shook hands and exchanged embraces. Then Tori led them outside, while Azade followed and Justin brought Hezan at the rear.

  When they were all outside by the Nissan, Tori asked, “Where to now?”

  Justin stepped closer to Tori. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but it’s just me and Azade from this point on.”
>
  Tori searched Justin’s face for a moment. “What happened?”

  Justin shrugged. “Nothing happened. It’s over. We got what we needed, and we couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “But you still need my help. Taking care of Hezan and Mehmet, and there’s Vale.”

  Justin nodded. “Yes, we need to take care of them, but between myself, Azade, and Vale, we have it covered.”

  Tori tilted his head toward Azade. “She’s a great fighter, but you need more people.”

  Azade shrugged and did not say anything.

  “We’ll be fine, Tori. But we can use the car, if you can part with it.”

  Tori’s face formed a deep frown and a look of disappointment. “It’s only a car, Justin. You can have it.”

  “Thanks, man.” Justin offered Tori his hand.

  Tori stepped in for a hug. “May God bless you and lead your hand against your enemies, brother.”

  “Yes, the same to you, Tori.”

  He handed Justin the keys. “See you, Justin.”

  “Take care, Tori.”

  Justin slid in the driver’s seat, while Azade and Hezan took the backseats. “Good to go?” he asked.

  “Yes, we’re ready.”

  Justin drove out of the alley. He needed to give Vale a call, to find his location and whether he had finished with Mehmet. So Justin found his phone and scrolled to Vale’s number. However, before the call was connected, his phone rang with an incoming call. The caller ID said “private number.” Justin wondered for a moment about the caller. The phone rang again, so he answered in Arabic, “Yes, who is this?”

  “Am I talking to Mr. Hall?” a strong male voice replied.

  Justin glanced at the phone and did not answer immediately. “Who wants to know?”

  “My name is Muhammad Baeshen. I’m the First Aide to the Prince Sulaiman Hussain bin Aziz Al-Taweel of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia,” the voice said slowly in a solemn tone.

  Justin frowned and for a moment doubted his ears. Prince Al-Taweel was not one of the most influential royals in Saudi Arabia. He was mostly known for views radical even for the kingdom, so he had been sidelined in the recent government shuffles and political power plays. “What is this about? Is this some kind of a joke?”

  “No, this is the truth. Now, am I talking to Mr. Hall?”

  “Yes, this is Justin. How did you get this number?”

  “It was given to me.”

  “By who?”

  “That’s not important, but—”

  “Was it GID?”

  “Eh, what?”

  “Was it GID that gave you my number?” Justin asked, referring to the General Intelligence Directorate, the most powerful and greatly feared Saudi security intelligence service.

  “As I said, it’s not important how I got in touch with you. But it’s important what I have to say, since it’s on behalf of the prince.”

  “Okay, give me a minute.”

  His eyes met Azade’s glance in the rearview mirror. “I need to handle this.” He pointed at the phone and pulled to the side of the road.

  Justin stepped outside and walked a few steps in front of the Nissan. “Yes, I’m listening.”

  “It has been brought to the prince’s attention that one of our citizens may be in your custody,” Baeshen said in a matter-of-fact tone.

  Justin liked Baeshen’s no-nonsense approach, and how he did not waste any time beating around the bush. But Justin hated the fact that Prince Al-Taweel knew about the Saudi fighter and Justin’s involvement in the hostage rescue. “How did he come upon this intel?”

  Baeshen hesitated for a moment. “Again, the source is not important, Mr. Hall.”

  “Call me Justin.”

  “Yes, Justin. Can you confirm our kingdom’s citizen is in your custody?”

  “I can neither confirm nor deny anything. And that seems unnecessary, since you claim to know everything.”

  “I certainly made no such claim, and neither does Prince Al-Taweel claim to know everything. We’ve received information about the citizen and are in the process of verifying that information. So we could use your help in this matter.”

  “Uh-huh, I’m listening.”

  “Eh, that’s all. We’re waiting for your information.”

  Justin sighed. “Oh, just like that, you want me to answer right away?”

  “Well, yes, if you know the answer.”

  “Mr. Baeshen, have you ever been to Iraq?”

  “No, I haven’t had the pleasure.”

  “You should visit sometime. It will provide you a great deal of education on how things work in the real world.”

  Baeshen let out a low cough of annoyance. “Can you get to the point, Justin?”

  “Sure, the point is that I’m very much in the dark about your request. I get a call out of the blue, inquiring about one of your citizens, as if I am the Saudi population keeper. You refuse to inform me about how you learned about my potential involvement with your citizen. And you haven’t given me anything to go on here about this citizen of yours.”

  “You’re right. I haven’t been forthcoming. What would you like to know?”

  “What is his name?”

  “Adnan al-Farkhan.”

  “What is he doing in Iraq?”

  “Eh, we’re not really sure at this time. It seems he went there to do some consultancy work.”

  “For ISIS?”

  Baeshen did not reply right away, but Justin thought he heard swear words through the line. “We don’t have more confirmed details, but if you could help—?”

  “Sure, I can look into that. But you have suspicions, right?”

  “Yes, it seems he was . . . eh, somehow involved with possible militant groups in Iraq.”

  “Okay, that’s really helpful.” Justin tried not to sound too sarcastic. “Now, how come Prince Al-Taweel cares so much about this guy? And please don’t tell me the prince is compassionate and equally concerned about all Saudi nationals.”

  A tense silence reigned for a few long moments. Justin said, “Baeshen, if you need my help with this—”

  “Yes, yes, of course. Uh, needless to say, this is a matter of a very sensitive nature that demands your utmost discretion.”

  “You don’t have to say it.”

  “But I do, so that we’re perfectly clear.”

  “We’re clear.”

  “Okay, then, the following information is for you only. Adnan al-Farkhan is quite close to the prince, who’d like to see al-Farkhan returned to the kingdom as soon as possible and unharmed.”

  Justin nodded. He had suspected that much and had hoped for more details. Baeshen was as vague as ever. “What do you mean by ‘close?’ Are they business associates? Is he a family member of the prince?”

  Baeshen sighed. “I wish I could give you more, Justin, but I’m not really at liberty. Let’s just say that the prince has a deep personal interest in Mr. al-Farkhan.”

  Thanks for emphasising the obvious, Justin thought. “I’ll see what I can find about your citizen. Now, can we talk about the cost of my services?”

  “Mr. Hall, you’re very frank about your . . . eh, ‘help.’”

  “I have to be, to avoid any confusion, and so that we’re perfectly clear.”

  Baeshen grunted. “I know you’re no charity.”

  “No, but I volunteer on Saturdays at the local shelter.”

  “Of course you do. I can’t commit to anything at this point, since I’m not sure how much you can or will find. But I can tell you that Prince Al-Taweel is not one to forget favors.”

  “That’s good to know.” Justin nodded. “Give me some time to see what I can do.”

  “How much time?”

  “I’ll contact you when I have something.”

  “All right, that will do. If I don’t hear from you in the next twelve hours, I’ll be in touch.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “Have a good day, Justin.”

  “Same t
o you, Mr. Baeshen. Give my best to the prince.”

  Baeshen did not say anything else but hung up the phone.

  Justin glanced at the phone. Well, that’s . . . that’s very strange. Is al-Farkhan one of the Saudi family’s black sheep? We’ll have to find out. He shrugged, then dialed Vale’s number.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  January 14

  Erbil, Northern Iraq

  Justin and Azade met up with Vale close to Erbil’s Citadel. He had dropped off Mehmet at the city’s international airport. The man was eager to leave the city, although he promised he was not disappearing and had given Vale a couple of contact numbers.

  Hezan took them to a friend’s apartment in the southern part of Erbil, where he had secreted a vault with bank records. In order to protect Azade—in case she was captured and tortured to reveal what she knew—Justin left her with Vale a few blocks away from the apartment. Hezan gave Justin a large cache of documents. They were mostly printouts in Kurdish or Arabic. From a quick glance, Justin could see their immense value. European-sounding names of foreigners, along with what Justin suspected were Turkish or Iraqi officials, seemed to have been receiving payments that amounted to millions of dollars. Justin quickly took pictures of some that seemed to be the crucial ones and uploaded them and other digital files onto the encrypted and secure ECS online server. Then he sent a message to Carrie to have someone analyze the files as soon as possible, to establish all connections between Egorov, al-Gailani, and the illegal oil trade.

  Justin then called his trusted Peshmerga contact in Kadjalah. The two Turkish soldiers had been safely returned to their army base. Up to this point, the Turkish army seemed to believe ISIS was behind the soldiers’ kidnapping. Justin muttered a short prayer for that not to change.

  He asked the Peshmerga to arrange for someone he trusted to transport al-Farkhan to Erbil and hold him under tight security until he was picked up by someone. Initially, Justin thought about asking Tori to take care of this matter. While Tori had given Justin no reason for suspicion, he was cautious about involving Tori any further. As in the case of Azade, compartmentalization was extremely useful, serving to limit access to information and separate it over a number of agents, assets, and contacts. If one of them fell into the hands of the enemy, at least some of the intelligence was safe, since not one person was in the know about all the moving parts of the operation.