Two Steps Forward

by Luana Ehrlich

  “I agree. That’s more or less what I thought too. I’m guessing the Ops Center doesn’t have anything on the guy.”

  “Then I vote we take a look at your pictures. I was recently in Iraq covering Madi’s election, so I may recognize some of them. Maybe I can figure out the new guy.”

  I removed the strap from around my neck, set the camera down on the table between us, and turned on the monitor screen. As I clicked through the images, Pike and I studied Madi’s ten-member security detail without commenting.

  Each of the men carried an H&K MP-7 submachine gun, and they were all dressed in a pair of light-colored pants, a white shirt, and a dark-green bulletproof vest. Although neither one of us said anything while I was scrolling through the images, once I came to the end, I went back to one of the frames and asked Pike a question.

  “Notice anything about this guy?”

  Pike squinted at the screen for a few seconds. “He’s not as focused on what’s happening around him as the rest of his buddies are.”

  “Keep your eye on him as I click through the other frames.”

  After viewing a succession of a dozen images, Pike nodded. “He’s totally out of sync with the rest of his unit, and he looks uncomfortable carrying his weapon. It also looks like he may have a broken finger.”

  “Have you ever seen him before?”

  Pike shook his head. “He must be a new member of Madi’s detail. I’m surprised he looks so uncomfortable with the MP-7. That little beauty weighs less than five pounds, even with a fully loaded magazine.”

  Pike loved his guns. He could talk about them for hours. Actually, I was surprised he’d gone all evening without bringing up the subject.

  Maybe it was because he knew I wasn’t much of a gun guy.

  I viewed a weapon as a means of protection, a functioning tool.

  Pike viewed a weapon as a piece of art, a thing of beauty, an aesthetically pleasing mechanical device.

  I tapped on the monitor and said, “I wonder if this could be the guy Douglas is interested in. I think we both agree he doesn’t look well-trained, and he’s obviously new to the unit.”

  “Yeah, but let’s face it. He doesn’t fit the profile of someone who’s been hired to assassinate the Prime Minister.”

  “We may be reading way too much into why Douglas asked me to take these pictures. I admit when I heard about Madi’s ongoing feud with the Iranian regime, I wondered if someone in Tehran might want to get rid of Prime Minister Madi. However, that may not be the case.”

  “When I was in Baghdad last October, I interviewed the cleric who helped Madi win the majority of the seats in Parliament. He told me Madi was committed to having a balanced approach to foreign policy. He wants to be the first prime minister to have strong relations with both the United States and Iran.”

  “That won’t make our diplomats very happy.”

  “That’s exactly what Henry Garrison said when I stopped by the embassy and gave him the highlights of my interview.”

  Garrison was the Agency’s chief of station (COS) in Iraq, and if Teddy Davenport’s restructuring plans ever got approved, Garrison would be one of the first people he’d force to retire. According to Carlton, when that happened, I’d be offered his job.

  After I drained my cup of nous nous, I asked Pike, “How well do you know Henry Garrison?”

  “Pretty well. He’s a great guy. One of the really good ones.”

  I found his answer a little surprising.

  * * * *

  I quizzed Pike a little further about Garrison and how he viewed the situation in Iraq, and then that reminded him of a funny story he’d heard about one of Saddam Hussein’s old generals.

  As he was in the middle of telling it, my cell phone vibrated, and the moment I looked down at the screen, I told Pike I had to take the call.

  He nodded and told me to go ahead.

  It was Eleanor.

  “Nikki said you were with someone, but it was okay to call you.”

  “Well, as usual, Nikki’s right. What’s going on with you tonight?”

  “It’s not night here yet. It’s only four o’clock in the afternoon.”

  “Okay, what’s going on with you at four o’clock in the afternoon?”

  “I’m feeling really sad right now, and you told me to tell you when I’m feeling really sad.”

  I hesitated a second. “Uh . . . you’re right, I did say that. Would you mind telling me why you’re feeling really sad?”

  “I’m sad because I just remembered yesterday was my mom’s birthday.”

  “Oh . . . I didn’t know that.”

  “But I did, and I forgot about it. That’s what makes me sad.”

  “Are you sad because you forgot her birthday or because you miss her and can’t be with her anymore?”

  I heard her sniffling. “I think I’m sad because of everything.”

  “Okay, I get that. Here’s what I want you to do. Are you listening?”

  “Uh-huh. I’m listening.”

  “First, I want you to put her birthday on your cell phone calendar. You know how to do that, don’t you?”

  “Of course, I do. I already have Bella’s birthday on there.”

  “That’s good. Once you do that, you’ll always get a reminder when it’s your mom’s birthday.”

  She didn’t say anything for a second or two, and I thought she might be about to call my bluff, but then she said, “Okay, what else should I do?”

  I didn’t have a clue, but when I glanced over at Pike, who had an amused, but puzzled look on his face, I suddenly got an idea.

  “The next thing I want you to do is to write a story about your mom. Think of some fun things the two of you did together, maybe a special trip you took, or a fun time you had shopping with her. Then, I want you to write it out for me like it’s a story you’d read in a newspaper.”

  There was a note of excitement in her voice. “You mean with a headline and everything?”

  “Yes, with a headline and everything.”

  “I could write about the day she let me skip school, and we went to the zoo together. I even got to pet a sea lion.”

  “That sounds perfect.”

  “You and Nikki could read my story when you get home.”

  “Oh, you bet.”

  “This sounds like fun, Titus, but I’m still a little sad.”

  “I’m still a little sad too, but if you’d give Stormy a hug for me, I might feel a lot better.”

  After I told Eleanor goodbye, I looked over at Pike.

  He was shaking his head.

  “What’s happened to you, Titus? First, I find out you’re married, and then I hear you talking to some kid like you’re a child psychologist, and now you want to hug Stormy. Who’s Stormy?”

  “Those are excellent questions, Keever,” I said, as I grabbed my camera and got up from the table, “but I don’t have time to answer them right now. It’s way past my bedtime.”

  Pike smiled. “It’s been fun, Donovan. Stay out of harm’s way.”

  “Back at you, my friend.”

  Chapter 10

  Friday, May 17

  After saying goodbye to Pike in the coffee bar, I’d immediately gone up to our suite and sent Carlton the photographs I’d taken of Madi’s security detail.

  It hadn’t taken me long to send him the images on my encrypted laptop, and Nikki hadn’t seemed to mind waiting for me to come to bed.

  Now though, as we were about to leave for an excursion to Ouarzazate, she frowned at me when I told her I’d just received a text from Carlton wanting me to call him immediately.

  I figured it was because she’d been looking forward to our excursion to Ouarzazate, and she knew I’d have to leave the hotel to ensure the call wouldn’t be intercepted. Still, I’d been told more than once never to assume anything about a woman, so I asked her.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “The concierge said the tour bus leaves from the hotel’s portico promptly
at nine o’clock. That only gives you thirty minutes to talk to Douglas.”

  “I promise you, Nikki, I’ll meet you in the lobby at nine o’clock.” I gave her what I hoped was my most sincere smile. “The call shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes, twenty max. I won’t disappoint you.”

  “Don’t worry,” she said, placing her forefinger on my lips. “If you’re not there, I won’t be disappointed. If the bus has to leave without us, we’ll find something else to do today.”

  “That won’t happen. We’re going to Ouarzazate today.”

  Although I’d never heard of Ouarzazate before we arrived in Marrakesh, Nikki seemed very familiar with the place.

  She said it was known as the Hollywood of Morocco because two large movie studios were located there. Just recently, it had become a popular tourist attraction after a couple of hit movies were filmed on the outskirts of the village, along with a blockbuster TV program called Masters of Crowns.

  I seldom watched TV, and I’d never seen the show before, but Nikki told me she was a big fan of the program, and she was looking forward to taking lots of pictures so she could show her friends she’d been to the location where the desert scenes were filmed.

  “Okay, Titus, I’ll meet you in the lobby in thirty minutes, but if you’re not there, I’ll understand.”

  I grabbed the Agency sat phone Carlton had given me. “I’ll be there. I know you’ve been looking forward to this tour, and with the Arab Summit starting, it’s probably a good day to get out of the city. I imagine all the restaurants will be crowded with journalists today, and we might even have a hard time getting a taxi.”

  “Or we could run into Keever,” she said with a smile, “and to be truthful, I don’t think I’m up to being interviewed by him again.”

  I nodded. “He can be a little overzealous at times, that’s for sure.”

  “Believe me, I’m not complaining. Anyone who keeps my husband from going to jail is okay in my book.”

  Although I was headed for the door, I stopped and turned around. “You know, Nikki, I’ve been thinking about what happened last night, and I realized something; actually, I realized two things.”

  “So did I. I wasn’t your best choice for a backup.”

  “That’s totally not true. Don’t even go there.”

  I went over and sat down beside her on the bed. “First of all, I should have listened to your warning about the press badge. You were right to point out I wasn’t wearing one, and I should have realized not having any press credentials would draw attention to me.”

  She smiled and nodded her head. “Thanks for admitting that.”

  “Second, I believe Keever’s presence at the hotel was God’s way of watching over me. There’s no other way to explain it.”

  “What did Keever say about it?”

  “He said he didn’t know why he’d walked over to La Mamounia, except he suddenly had the feeling he should cover Madi’s arrival because of the controversy surrounding his election. But I’m positive God sent him there at that moment.”

  “That’s exactly what I thought last night.”

  Although I was happy to hear Nikki and I were on the same page, I wasn’t looking forward to telling Carlton about my encounter with Pike or, for that matter, the Moroccan soldiers.

  I felt sure his reaction would be a little different.

  * * * *

  As I walked out of the hotel and down the cobblestone pathway that led over to the hotel’s gardens, I thought about what Carlton’s reaction might be when I told him about Pike showing up at La Mamounia.

  Ordinarily, he preferred for his operatives to refrain from any contact with each other unless they were assigned to the same operation.

  Now, I had to tell him I’d talked to both Ben Mitchell and Keever Pike within the same twenty-four-hour period.

  But . . .

  Did I have to tell him?

  Was divulging that information really necessary? What difference would it make if I didn’t tell him?

  I debated those questions as I walked under the arched entrance into the gardens of La Mamounia.

  The lush gardens included bougainvillea—in every conceivable shade—along with palm trees, rose bushes, and lemon trees, plus a large number of plants, trees, and grasses I couldn’t identify.

  Since it was still early, the walkways meandering around the property were mostly deserted, although I did encounter a few joggers taking an early morning run.

  I also came upon a couple I recognized from the hotel who told me they were on their way over to Le Jardin, one of the hotel’s restaurants, for a poolside breakfast.

  After seeing them, I detoured off the main pathway and entered the Menzeh Sanctuary, an area lined with olive trees. It also included several picnic tables, and once I was certain I couldn’t be overheard, I sat down at one of the tables and keyed in Carlton’s number.

  He sounded upbeat. “The photos you sent me were perfect. Just what I needed.”

  “That sounds a little personal to me.”

  “Well, it is. I said you were doing me a favor.”

  “You had me take those photographs for personal reasons?”

  “I believe I made that clear when I spoke to you at your wedding.”

  “I just assumed you’d received some intel about an unidentified security guy on Madi’s team, and you needed me to take some photographs so you could put a name with a face.”

  “Hmmm,” Carlton said, after a few seconds of silence. “What you’re describing sounds more like an assignment I’d give an operative, than a personal favor I’d asked someone to do for me.”

  I didn’t immediately respond.

  I couldn’t immediately respond.

  Even though I tried to control it, I felt anger welling up inside of me. All I could think about was the brutal way the Moroccan soldier had twisted my arm behind me, and the nauseating stench of Yellow Teeth’s breath when his face was just inches from mine.

  “Just so you know, that personal favor nearly landed me in a Moroccan jail, so I hope those photographs are worth it to you.”

  Carlton was quiet for a moment.

  Finally, he cleared his throat and said, “When you sent me the photographs last night, you didn’t mention you’d run into any trouble.”

  “No, Douglas, I didn’t mention it. That’s because I was just carrying out an assignment, or what I thought was an assignment. That’s what I do. I risk my life to serve my country by carrying out assignments, which I hope in some small way will keep America safe from her enemies or anyone who wants to do her harm.”

  “Well, Titus, if that’s what you’re upset about, I assure you the favor you did for me last night will go a long way in keeping America safe from her enemies. At least, that’s what I hope will happen.”

  I took a deep breath, while chastising myself for losing my temper. “If that’s true, Douglas, then why did you just say you had personal reasons for asking me to take the pictures?”

  “I believe you’re getting bogged down in semantics, but I’ll be happy to explain myself after you tell me what happened last night.”

  I no longer had the option of whether to tell him I’d run into Keever Pike in Marrakesh, so I spared him no details. I told him exactly what had gone down from the moment I’d spotted Pike at the Royal Mansour to when he’d rescued me from the soldiers at La Mamounia. I even told him the two of us had discussed the photographs I’d taken.

  “Tell me what you discussed,” Carlton said, “but you can leave out any comments Keever made about the guns in the photographs. Frankly, I’m not that interested in his obsession.”

  “Right. I should probably begin by telling you we were both operating on the assumption you wanted the photographs in order to identify an outlier among Madi’s bodyguards, someone determined to cause problems. Consequently, when we examined the photographs, we were looking for someone who appeared better trained or more alert than the rest of the team.”

  I paused
a moment, thinking he might want to confirm our assumption, but he didn’t say a word.

  During that brief lull, I took a quick peek at my watch.

  I had fifteen minutes before I had to meet Nikki.

  I continued. “Neither one of us saw anyone who met those qualifications, but we both agreed one of the men in Madi’s security detail was acting a little odd, or at least he didn’t appear to be in sync with the rest of his team.”

  “Do you mean the light-skinned man with the bushy eyebrows? The one with the broken finger standing guard next to the statue?”

  “That’s him. We’re talking about the same guy. You noticed him too, huh?”

  “It wasn’t a matter of noticing him. I was looking for him. He’s the reason I asked you to take the photographs in the first place.”

  “You know him?”

  “No, I don’t know him, but I know who he is. He’s Baran Asan, a member of the Quds Force in Iran. He’s one of their fixers.”

  “He’s a fixer in the Quds Force?”

  The Quds Force was part of the Iranian Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC), a special forces unit primarily responsible for all of Iran’s military activities outside its borders, which in its simplest form, meant they were committed to spreading terrorism by means of chaos, violence, and assassinations.

  A person in the Quds Force who held the title of fixer was someone who either initiated the process of carrying out a terrorist operation or cleaned up the loose ends after the operation was over.

  They seldom did both.

  Although Carlton called these men fixers, the Iranians used the Farsi word modir—usually translated as manager in English—to describe these officers. However, the Ops Center had always called them fixers, so everyone at the Agency did the same.

  Our Agency analysts had identified at least five men in the Quds Force who were fixers, but they suspected there were more than just five. Most members of the intelligence community were in agreement with that analysis.

  “That’s right,” Carlton said. “Baran Asan, a member of the Iraqi Prime Minister’s security detail, isn’t an Iraqi. He’s an Iranian and a fixer in the Quds Force.”