LOST AND LETHAL

by Fredrick L. Stafford

  Azzur pursed his lips. “Perhaps.”

  Molka and Azzur arrived at the room door.

  Azzur stepped away from the door’s peephole. “Knock.”

  Molka smiled. “I now give you Major General Ahmad Shamieh. And again, no need to thank me, you’re welcome.”

  She knocked hard enough to wake the dead tired.

  After a pause, the locks clicked, and the door opened to the annoyed face of a dark-haired, chunky woman in a green bathrobe. A wide-eyed, pigtailed toddler girl in yellow pajamas peeked from behind her.

  The woman’s face flashed surprise at Molka and Azzur, and she spoke words in Greek.

  “English?” Azzur said.

  She answered in English. “Yes, what do you want?”

  Azzur looked past her. “I want the two men staying in this room with you.”

  “There’s only one man staying in this room with me. My husband.”

  Azzur pulled out his weapon.

  The woman’s face terrorized.

  He scowled at the woman. “Do not move from this spot.” He looked at Molka. “Draw your weapon.”

  Molka drew the Glock.

  “Watch her.” Azzur moved into the room weapon first.

  The woman’s face terrorized further on Molka’s weapon, and the little girl hugged the woman’s leg, trembling in fear.

  A moment later, a man’s voice speaking Greek sounded from deep in the room.

  Azzur speaking English answered.

  A conversation in English ensued, but what was said could not be deciphered from Molka’s position.

  A few uncomfortable minutes passed and Azzur reemerged. “I apologize, ma’am. We are with hotel security. We are at the wrong room.”

  Molka followed Azzur back down the hall.

  The door slammed behind them.

  “The general and Tariq weren’t in there?” Molka said.

  “No.”

  “Who are those people in their room?”

  “The registered guests for it,” Azzur said.

  Molka’s eyebrows rose. “Oh. The general and Tariq must have checked out.”

  They reached the elevators, and Azzur stopped and faced Molka. “The general and Tariq were never checked into that room. The husband showed me their reservation, and the daily room charges receipts. They have been in that room for the last four days.”

  Molka’s face flashed puzzlement. “Four days? That’s impossible. I was in there with the general and Tariq a few hours ago. And I didn’t get the wrong room either. I took a pic of the door number when I left so I wouldn’t forget.” She pulled out the phone and showed Azzur the photo. “See?”

  Azzur ignored her, removed his phone, dialed, and put the phone to his ear. “Give me the location of Tariq’s phone, immediately…Yes…I will stay on the line.”

  Molka raised her hand. “Um…I have Tariq’s phone. He gave it to me. He’s using a new prepaid one.”

  Azzur grimaced and spoke into his phone. “Cancel that. Standby.” He looked to Molka. “Give me his prepaid phone’s number.”

  Molka swiped to Tariq’s text messages and read the number off to him.

  Azzur repeated the number into his phone. “Call me when you have its location.” He clicked off and glared at Molka. “When did Tariq give you his phone?”

  “At Larnaca airport after he rented me the car.”

  “And then he informed you he was leaving and went to buy the prepaid phone for his use?”

  “Yes,” Molka said.

  “And that is when the general refused to leave with you because he did not trust you to safeguard him anymore as the security specialist?”

  “Yes.”

  “But he told you he trusted Tariq, and wished for Tariq to accompany him instead. However, Tariq said he was not interested?”

  “Yes,” Molka said.

  “And that is when you called me with this problem. And I told you to inform the general that Uri was now the security specialist and that he would see to the general’s safe travel to Nicosia. But Uri was in no condition to do so, of which you failed to inform me?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you ran after Tariq, who had not quite made it out of the airport yet?”

  “Yes,” Molka said. “He was still talking to a young, pretty phone salesgirl nearby.”

  “Of course, he was. And you went to him and asked him to reconsider and accompany the general here because you had no other means at your disposal?”

  “Yes.”

  “And Tariq strongly refused at first, but then he reluctantly agreed only if you agreed to the stipulation things be done as he saw fit?”

  “Yes. Exactly.” Molka’s face beamed with wonder. “Amazing. How did you figure all that out?”

  Azzur’s face darkened with certitude. “Because I have also recruited assets without the asset knowing they were being recruited.”

  Molka’s wonder face fell to a look of confusion. “Ok. Now I’m a little confused.”

  Azzur glared at her again. “Yes, you are.”

  Azzur’s phone rang.

  He removed it from his pocket and answered. “Yes?... That is confirmed?... I see…No. We did not…Return to the airport. I will meet you there.”

  Azzur clicked off and put the phone back into his pocket.

  His face drained white.

  His face flushed red.

  His eyes closed, and he whispered. “No.”

  His eyes opened. “No.”

  He ran the hallway’s length to a sealed window at the end.

  He pounded the window and yelled:

  “NO!”

  “NO!”

  “NO!”

  “NO!”

  Molka thought the window might break, and Azzur would fall or jump seven stories to his death.

  His man burst from the stairwell and ran past Molka toward Azzur with a Glock held to the side.

  Azzur stopped pounding and turned around. He ignored his man and walked recomposed back toward the elevators.

  His man followed him. “They’re not in the room?”

  “No,” Azzur said.

  “Do you want me to start searching the hotel?”

  “It is now too late to search this hotel for them. And it may even be too late to search this country.”

  Molka and Azzur rode the elevator to the lobby.

  Azzur, with Molka in tow, headed for the main entrance, walked out, moved to the large planter on the right, sat on its edge, and lit a cigarette.

  After several silent minutes of standing before him, Molka could not contain herself any further. “Azzur, I swear I was in that room with the general and Tariq today. You can polygraph me again if you want.”

  Azzur flicked ash into the planter. “That will not be necessary. I know you were in that room with the general and Tariq.”

  “Ok,” Molka said. “So they must have bribed or forced those people to let them use their room.” She shook her head. “That woman is a natural actress. Her denial sounded legit, and she really looked terrified.”

  “Her reactions were genuine. There are many ways to gain entrance into other guest’s hotel rooms when they are not in them, use the room for deceptive purposes, and then leave without the guests ever knowing you were there. As when a little family on vacation spends the day out of their room on a hotel sponsored sightseeing tour. It is not as difficult as it sounds, especially for experienced operatives like the general and Tariq. In normal times, we also trained our own operatives to do so.”

  “Interesting,” Molka said. “But I couldn’t have guessed that because I’m not a trained operative.”

  Azzur blew smoke and nodded glumly. “No, that you are not.”

  “You said it was maybe too late to even search the country for them. Where do you think they are now?”

  “Likely across the border in Turkish controlled Northern Cyprus awaiting transport to the US airbase in Izmir, Turkey. Once there, they will formally request that their new American Corporat
ion friends guarantee them protection from us. This request will be granted.”

  Molka grimaced. “Oh. Darn. I guess that’s what the distressing call you got upstairs was about. You took it very hard, but you still have the general’s list, which is what you really wanted anyway.”

  “That distressing call was not about the general—with Tariq’s deceitful help—double-crossing me and going over to the Americans. It was to inform me that Tel Aviv confirmed that the general’s list you brought me of GPS coordinates for proposed secret nuclear sites around the world actually contains the GPS coordinates of the general’s favorite cigar shops.”

  Molka smiled. “Ha. Uri guessed it. The general was lying.”

  “Uri did not guess it, and the general was not lying. The list with the real GPS coordinates exists, and the general has it in his possession.”

  “Again, I’m confused.”

  Azzur continued. “When you split from Tariq and the general at Larnaca airport to take Uri to the hospital here, what did they tell you they would do?”

  “They would go straight to the Promontory Hotel where the general’s briefcase was, do counter-surveillance, and if they thought it was clear, they would recover the briefcase, check into a room here, and wait for me.”

  “And this raised no concerns with you?”

  “No,” Molka said. “I mean, why would it? We were on the same team. And we had all just faced down death together. And you were on the way. I would never have suspected them of betraying a man like you.”

  “Nevertheless, what did they say when you arrived here and visited them in the room?”

  “They told me they decided against going to the Promontory Hotel to retrieve the case until I returned to go with them, for security reasons.”

  “And this flattered you?”

  “Yes,” Molka said.

  “Why did this flatter you?”

  “Because Tariq was an experienced operative, and the general was a high-ranking leader in his country’s intelligence service, and they both wanted me to provide their protection.”

  “And when you accompanied them to the Promontory Hotel and witnessed the general retrieving the briefcase, you had your eyes on the briefcase the entire time from when you left the Promontory Hotel, crossed the street, and arrived here?”

  “Yes,” Molka said. “No way he could have opened it and switched the contents without my knowledge.”

  “That is correct. Which is why the switch had already been made.”

  “But how?”

  “While you were taking Uri to the hospital, they were not waiting in the room for your return to accompany them to retrieve the briefcase from the Promontory Hotel safe. They instead retrieved the briefcase themselves, removed the real list from the envelope and inserted the well-made fraudulent list—most likely emailed to them by the Americans and printed out in the hotel’s business center—resealed the envelope with wax from a cheap drugstore candle and imprinted it with the general’s signet ring, placed it back in the briefcase, had the briefcase placed back in the hotel’s safe, and then waited for your return to go retrieve it again.”

  Molka frowned. “And that way, I would report to you I had witnessed, what I thought, was the legit list being removed from the safe.”

  “That is correct. And what happened after you all brought the briefcase with the fraudulent list to the room here?”

  “I never made it back up to the room. In the lobby, Tariq suggested I better leave to pick you up on time. He said the general and the case would be secure in the room until I returned with you.”

  “And you expressed concerns about that?”

  “Not exactly,” Molka said. “Tariq noticed me looking at the case with concern, though. Then he accused me of not trusting him, said he was offended, and insisted I take the case with me to meet you.”

  “And the general simply agreed to this?”

  “No. He was against it. Then Tariq told him it would be smart of them to let me take the case as a way of showing me respect, thereby showing you respect to…you know, to kiss up since you controlled their safety now.”

  Azzur shook his head with a begrudging smile. “Tariq is such a clever devil. This is why I wanted him for the program.”

  “I can see that now,” Molka said.

  “And then the general handed over the briefcase?”

  “He tried, but I said that would not be necessary.”

  “And then Tariq insisted you take it?”

  “Actually, he practically begged me to take it and took the case from the general and literally placed it in my hand.”

  Azzur glared at Molka. “And then their newly recruited asset literally handed their treacherous little joke to me.”

  Molka frowned again. “Yes. Sorry.”

  Azzur flipped away his cigarette butt, lit a new one, and gazed down the walkway at the traffic passing the hotel. “I warned the Counsel about the projects program. I told them that—” Azzur’s phone rang. He removed it from his jacket pocket and answered. “Yes?” He listened and sprung to his feet. “Text me that address and keep me updated on any movement.”

  “Good news?” Molka said.

  “Come on.” Azzur jogged back into the hotel.

  Molka caught up and jogged alongside. “We’re heading back up to the room?”

  “No. To the car. Tariq’s phone has been located. It has not crossed the border yet.”

  CHAPTER 49

  The address Azzur gave Molka for the car’s GPS system guided them from the main downtown highway northeast and then exiting onto smaller and narrower and darker residential streets.

  “Where are we going, anyway?” Molka said.

  Azzur viewed a map app on his phone. “The location is a small café just on the Cypriot side of the border.”

  “What would they be doing there?”

  “Perhaps that is where Tariq left the phone before crossing over. But perhaps not.”

  Molka turned onto another residential street, checked the GPS again, slowed the car, and looked to the right. “We should be here.”

  Azzur pointed to the right down a narrow, pedestrian-only, brick street. “That way. Park here.”

  Molka parked at the curb, both leaped from the car, and Azzur led the way at the run down the dimly lit street which cut through closed two-story, tan-colored shops constructed in classic Mediterranean style with iron-railed balconies.

  An older couple carrying shopping bags walked ahead, and Azzur and Molka split and ran past them on either side.

  The startled couple yelled Greek curse words at their backs.

  Azzur and Molka ran on.

  A moment later, approaching ahead from the opposite direction riding white bikes with lit headlamps, were two white-shirted, blue pants wearing, helmeted police officers.

  Azzur and Molka moved to the left to give the riders room and blew right past them.

  The officers stopped their bikes, turned around, and yelled in Greek.

  Azzur and Molka kept running.

  The officers stood on their pedals and pursued.

  Officer one yelled again in Greek.

  Azzur and Molka kept running.

  The officers quickly closed in on the runners.

  Azzur glanced over his shoulder, stopped running, and turned toward them.

  Molka did the same.

  The officers skidded to a stop before them.

  Azzur said, “English?”

  Officer one answered. “Yes. Why are you running?”

  “We’re Israeli tourists,” Azzur said.

  Officer two addressed Molka. “Are you?”

  Molka answered. “Yes.”

  Officer one: “So why are you running? And why are you running to the Turks?”

  Azzur smiled. “No, we are not crossing the border. We are late for meeting some friends at a café just this side of the border.”

  Officer two addressed Molka. “Are you?”

  Molka answered. “Yes.”
/>   Officer one: “Please face the wall and place your hands on it.”

  Azzur and Molka complied.

  They were about to be searched and caught with handguns.

  Not a good look for tourists.

  Azzur shot Molka a stern glance.

  Message received.

  The officers moved in to start frisking.

  Azzur spun and connected a roundhouse kick to his searcher’s temple.

  Simultaneously, Molka spun and did the same to her searcher.

  Both officers fell unconscious.

  Azzur ran on.

  Molka followed.

  Ahead on the right was a closed café with green umbrellaed tables. And 15 meters past that, sat a border crossing point with a little gated guard booth. A Turkish flag flew on one side of it, and a Cypriot flag flew on the other.

  Azzur stopped running and drew his weapon.

  Molka stopped and drew hers. “What?”

  Azzur aimed at two men sitting in the dark under a green café umbrella:

  Tariq and the general.

  Tariq had reoutfitted in a slim cut white suit over an open collar black shirt, and he accessorized with a black pocket square peeking from the jacket’s breast pocket.

  Molka’s analysis: Very handsome.

  Tariq held his phone, and the general smoked a cigar.

  Azzur smiled at his prisoners. “Good evening, gentlemen.”

  The general frowned at Tariq. “I told him to get rid of that phone and obtain another. But apparently, he gave the number to a young lady in Larnaca who he wishes to hear from.”

  Tariq smirked at the general. “You also told me they wouldn’t be able to track down a burner phone this fast.”

  “Why stop here?” Azzur said. “The border is only mere steps away.”

  Tariq smiled. “Just waiting on some friends.”

  Azzur smiled. “Are we not friends anymore?”

  Tariq’s smile faded. “Never were. Never will be.”

  Azzur’s smile faded. “We will discuss that in your Tel Aviv detention cell tomorrow. Among many other things.”

  “What now?” the general said.

  “You will both come with us back to our car and—” Azzur viewed something down the street at the border crossing. “You will both remain seated.”

  Three college-aged young women all wearing tight jeans, high-heeled boots, colorful shirts, and short leather jackets cleared the guarded checkpoint and laughed and talked loudly in Turkish as they approached the café.