Five Years in Yemen

by Luana Ehrlich

  When he made that statement, several people in the congregation said “Amen,” while others clapped. Olivia was one of the latter.

  As I thought about the pastor’s sermon on my way over to the restaurant to meet Olivia for lunch, I decided the congregation’s reaction to his message could be described as a slightly different version of “preaching to the choir.”

  While I felt convicted about my own failure to pay attention to the disadvantaged around me, I also thought about Nikki’s church in Norman, which seemed to have a different approach to doing ministry in the community.

  They had a coffee bar; they had special lighting in the auditorium, and Nikki said they had a block party, along with seasonal musical programs, which they presented free of charge to the community every year.

  I didn’t know what to make of the contradiction between the two churches. Were such differences all that important? Perhaps it was a case of style and not substance; the substance being faith in Christ, the Bible, worshipping God, and maybe a few other teachings I knew nothing about.

  Did style matter all that much if both churches were involved in delivering the substance of Christianity?

  I didn’t realize how troubled I was by this question until I walked in the restaurant and greeted Olivia.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked. “You look worried.”

  “I’m not worried. I’m just trying to figure some stuff out.”

  “Stuff about your next assignment?”

  “What assignment? I’m on leave right now.”

  “No, you’re not. The DDO called you back to Langley yesterday.”

  Before I could ask her how she knew that, the hostess arrived and showed us to our table.

  Once the waitress had left the table with our drink orders, Olivia said, “You’re probably wondering how I knew about your status. I’ve been working with Douglas on Rebel Merchant for several weeks now.”

  I quickly glanced around the room to make sure none of the restaurant’s patrons could hear our conversation. “I’m not comfortable talking about this in here, Olivia.”

  “Then let’s talk about something else. Douglas told me you’re engaged. Why am I always the last person to know anything?”

  By the time I’d finished telling Olivia everything she wanted to know about Nikki and me, our food arrived.

  Olivia had ordered a gigantic salad—she seldom ate anything else—and I’d ordered a large plate of barbeque ribs, along with sweet potato fries and coleslaw.

  As I was about to dig into the ribs, Olivia said, “Shouldn’t we thank the Lord for our food before we start stuffing our mouths?”

  “Ah . . . sure,” I said, putting my fork down. “I should have thought of that.”

  “That’s one of the first things I learned when I joined Metropolitan Church. A meal is a blessing of God’s provision, and the very least we can do is spend a few seconds of our time thanking him for it. The Bible says our food is made holy when we give thanks for it.”

  “Where does it say that?”

  “I can’t give you the reference, but I know I heard the pastor say it. If you don’t believe me, you can ask him.”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t believe you.”

  “Fine. I’m gonna pray now so you can tell me why you’re bribing me with this lunch.”

  * * * *

  I was amazed when I heard Olivia pray. Granted, her prayer was a little too long, and by the time she was finished, I was pretty sure we’d drawn the attention of everyone seated around us, but her depth of concern for the homeless people she’d met through the church’s feeding ministry was truly touching.

  I could also tell she was more comfortable at voicing a prayer than I’d been when I’d first become a believer, and, when she’d finished praying, I mentioned this.

  She said, “When I’m at church, I’m around people who pray a lot. That’s how I learned to pray.”

  “I can see how that might help.”

  After she’d taken a bite of her salad, she pointed her fork at me. “Quit stalling. Tell me why you called me.”

  Since Olivia said she knew about Rebel Merchant, I scrapped my plans to spin her some tale about why I wanted her to go with me to the Service Award Gala tonight. Instead, I decided to be honest with her.

  “I received a couple of invites to the Capitol Hill Distinguished Service Award Gala tonight, and I’d like you to go with me. If you know anything about my next assignment, you can probably guess why I’d like to have you there.”

  She nodded her head. “That’s not hard to figure out. You want me to introduce you to a particular congressman.”

  “I know it sounds like I’m using you, but—”

  “You are using me.”

  “—but it’s all for a good cause.”

  She wiped her mouth with her napkin. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

  “You will? Thanks, Olivia. I really appreciate it.”

  Now, as I waited for her inevitable question, I realized the hardest part was yet to come.

  “What time should I be ready?” she asked.

  “Since we need to be at Ben Mitchell’s townhouse by six o’clock, I’ll need to pick you up around five-thirty. Ben’s ordered a limo for us.”

  “We’re going with Ben to the gala?” She put her fork down and glared at me. “Naturally, you failed to mention that.”

  Olivia had been the field officer when the DDO had sent Mitchell and me to Caracas during Operation Clear Signal. From the moment we’d arrived at the airport in Caracas until we’d flown back to Langley two days later, she’d continuously been on Mitchell’s case.

  The basis for her criticism had primarily been Mitchell’s inexperience in the field, but the fact that Ben was the son of Elijah Mitchell had also played a major role in her fault-finding. Not surprisingly, she and the Senator hadn’t gotten along that well when they’d worked together on the Senate Intelligence Committee.

  I said, “That’s how I got invited to the party in the first place. Ben asked the Senator to invite me, although I have to admit Ben had to use flattery to soften him up before he provided me with a couple of invitations.”

  “When I was the Agency’s Congressional Liaison, I could never talk the Senator into doing anything.”

  I doubted Olivia had ever used flattery in her dealings with people, but I decided not to point this out to her.

  “This is a black-tie affair,” I said, “so you’ll get to show off one of your fancy dresses tonight.”

  “If that’s your way of telling me I need to look nice tonight, don’t worry. No one’s ever criticized me for not knowing how to dress.”

  If there was one thing Olivia was proud of, it was her figure.

  With her tall, pencil-thin frame and her short boyish haircut, she looked like a model—something I’d heard people tell her more than once.

  Consequently, not only did she eat like a bird to maintain her figure, she also spent most of her income on designer clothes.

  “What about you?” she asked. “I’m sure you don’t own a tux.”

  I glanced down at my watch. “I plan to go rent one as soon as we’re finished here. There’s a place over on Wilkes Street called Samos Tuxedos. Their website says they’re open until five on Sundays.”

  “Are you staying in one of our safe houses or in a hotel?”

  “Actually, I’m out at Douglas’ place in Fairfax.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Nice accommodations, but you won’t have time to drive out to Fairfax, change clothes, and then get back here in time to pick me up at five-thirty. If you’re late, I may not go with you.”

  “I’m sure Samo will let me change clothes at his shop.”

  “You don’t need to do that. You can change at my place. I promise you I won’t make fun of how you look.”

  “I’ll be wearing a tux. I’ll look great.”

  “Yeah, but you’ll be wearing a tux from Samos.”

  Chapter 23

  Renting a tux
from Samos was not as much of a hassle as I’d anticipated it would be, but by the time I walked out of the store, it was already four o’clock, so I decided to take Olivia up on her offer and change clothes at her place.

  Olivia lived at The Ashby, an apartment complex on Beverly Road in McLean, where she had a two-bedroom unit on the second floor.

  When she opened the door to let me in, she was talking on her cell phone, and she immediately put her finger to her lips and motioned me down the hall to her spare bedroom.

  I didn’t object because I was pretty sure she was talking to the Ops Center.

  As I was closing the door to the bedroom, I heard her say, “Try pinging his phone again. If that doesn’t work, send the surveillance drone in. He couldn’t have gone very far.”

  After hanging the Samos clothes bag in the closet, I cracked the door open and tried to listen to her conversation, but all I heard was silence, so I walked back down the hall to the living room.

  When I entered the room, she said, “You need to tell me if you heard any part of my conversation.”

  “I didn’t hear a thing.”

  “We have an hour before we have to leave,” Olivia said, glancing over at an ornate clock hanging over the sofa. “I think I’ll make me a cup of coffee. If you want me to make you one, you better speak up. Otherwise you lose.”

  “Sure, I could use a cup. Thanks for your kind offer, Olivia.”

  She rolled her eyes at me and walked in the kitchen.

  Meanwhile, I walked over and sat down on a barstool at the counter and watched her brew us each a cup of coffee in her Keurig coffeemaker.

  Other than the coffee machine, there was nothing else on the counter, and, unless Olivia had drastically changed her eating habits, I knew if I looked in her refrigerator, I wouldn’t find more than a dozen items in there.

  Pizzas, salads, and coffee, along with an occasional egg, were the mainstays of Olivia’s diet.

  “Are you the director on call at the Ops Center tonight?” I asked.

  “No, not officially. Nolan Wilson is up on deck, but I asked him to call me if a certain situation came up.”

  Nolan Wilson was one of Olivia’s assistant directors in the Ops Center, and while he occasionally handled operations for Carlton on the Middle East desk, he usually worked the Latin America desk.

  Olivia placed a coffee mug in front of me. “The situation Nolan called me about just now has nothing to do with the Rebel Merchant operation. Nolan’s not handling that. Unless things change, I’ll be the one in the RTM Center when Rebel Merchant goes live.”

  Officially, Olivia wasn’t authorized to discuss an operation with the principals of a mission until the operation went live or—as Carlton preferred to call it—went up on the board.

  However, since she’d brought up the Rebel Merchant operation in the first place, I felt pretty sure she’d be willing to break this Agency rule, so I gave it a try.

  I said, “At the interagency meeting today, I heard several different opinions about Jacob Levin. What’s your take on him?”

  She took a sip of her coffee before answering me. “I don’t have an opinion on the man, and I hardly think it matters.”

  “No, it probably doesn’t. The politicians take care of the opinions, and we take care of our jobs.”

  Olivia nodded. “When it comes to doing our jobs, I’m more concerned about how I’m going to get the Rebel Merchant team in and out of Yemen without causing a crisis with our allies.”

  “If we go in and grab Jacob, there’s a good chance the Saudis will be upset with us, but who else are you worried about?”

  Olivia’s eyes narrowed. “You’re kidding, right? The Israelis also have a stake in this. I’m sure the DDO told you they provided us with the proof that Jacob was alive and working for the Saudis.”

  “Do you think the Israelis gave us this intel hoping it would quash Congressman Levin’s aspirations to run for President or did they have some other reason?”

  “With the Israelis, it’s hard to tell, but if they were hoping to stop the Congressman from seeking the nomination, they might be out of luck. Having worked with Daniel Levin on the House Intelligence Committee, I can tell you he doesn’t give up easily. Once he gets something in his head, it’s nearly impossible to steer him in another direction.”

  “What else can you tell me about the Congressman?”

  She walked over and sat down next to me at the kitchen counter. “He’s ambitious, he’s smart, and he knows how to network.”

  “That sounds like a description of Senator Mitchell.”

  She nodded. “You’re right, it does. The difference between the two men is that, like me, the Senator has to work at being nice, but with Daniel, being nice is built into his DNA.”

  I was about to insist she give me a few more details about Daniel, but before I could say anything, my cell phone vibrated.

  It was Nikki.

  The moment I answered her call, Olivia said—in a too loud voice—“I’m going to get dressed now, Titus. Make yourself at home.”

  “Am I interrupting something?” Nikki asked.

  * * * *

  I spent a few awkward moments explaining to Nikki that the preliminary phase of my next assignment required me to attend a party where several Congressmen would be present, and I was at someone’s house changing clothes for the event.

  “Is this someone a woman?” she asked.

  “That’s correct. I’m required to bring a guest.”

  “You’re taking a date to a party, and you’re getting dressed at her place?”

  “No, she’s my guest.”

  When Nikki didn’t say anything, I hurriedly told her I was attending a gala with another employee who had connections to several Congressmen.

  However, before I could finish describing those connections, I heard Nikki laughing.

  “Why are you laughing?”

  “Please don’t be offended, Titus, but I was laughing because you obviously didn’t realize I was teasing you when I started interrogating you about the woman. You don’t owe me an explanation. I trust you completely.”

  To cover my embarrassment, I laughed along with her, and then I changed the subject. “How are things in Norman? How was your flight?”

  “It was an easy flight, but when we landed it was snowing, and by the time I picked Stormy up it was really coming down. I’ve heard we’re supposed to get several inches here tonight.”

  “For some reason, I didn’t think it snowed that much in Oklahoma.”

  “It snows here, but it’s not usually this early. You should have seen Stormy. He’s outside running around in the backyard right now.”

  “The weather’s been gorgeous here today.”

  I’d warned Nikki we could never discuss anything having to do with the Agency while we were on our personal cell phones, and after we’d covered the weather and Stormy, I couldn’t think of anything else to talk about it.

  “Carla and I finalized the guest list for the wedding,” Nikki said, “but as soon as you get back, we’ll need to finalize the wedding location. Until we do that, I can’t order the invitations.”

  Of course, the wedding. I could always talk about the wedding.

  * * * *

  The car Mitchell had ordered to take us to the gala was a Lincoln Continental stretch limo with seating for six passengers.

  It arrived at the curb outside of Mitchell’s townhouse at precisely six-thirty, and when he pulled up, the four of us had just exited the house.

  The limo driver ushered Juliana and Olivia into the vehicle first, and when Mitchell and I got inside, the ladies were already occupying the double seat at the front of the limo, which meant the rear and side seats were available for Mitchell and me.

  Since I’d expected Juliana to reserve a spot for Mitchell next to her, this arrangement surprised me, but then I realized Olivia must have purposely sat down next to Juliana just to irritate Mitchell.

  Mitchell and Olivia had b
een cool toward each other from the moment we’d arrived at his townhouse, whereas Juliana had greeted me with a hug, telling me I looked “extremely handsome” in my tux.

  Of course, I had to return the compliment—with a little different wording—because Juliana looked stunning in a black sequined floor-length gown that accented her long blond hair.

  Like ebony and ivory, Olivia looked equally attractive in her cream-colored gown that called attention to her short black hair.

  I hadn’t been the only one to notice their contrasting colors. After I’d introduced the two ladies to each other, they’d commented on their fashion choices themselves, and from that point forward, they had plenty to talk about.

  Now, as they sat together in the front of the limo, they were still chatting away, and when Mitchell glanced over at them, he made no comment about the seating arrangement.

  Instead, he immediately slid into the rear seat, while I took the side seat across from him. As soon as the driver pulled away from the curb, Mitchell tugged on his bowtie and said, “Have I ever told you how much I hate going to these things?”

  “Not since yesterday.”

  He turned up the volume on the bland music playing over the stereo system and leaned in toward me. “I hope you won’t be disappointed,” he said, keeping his voice low, “but I doubt if you’ll be able to get close enough to Congressman Levin tonight to hear what he’s saying, much less be able to speak to him. If he’s anything like my father, he’ll be surrounded by his admirers the entire evening.”

  “Have you ever met him?”

  “No, but I’m assuming that’s why you invited Olivia. Since she’s worked with him on the House Intelligence Committee, she could introduce you.”

  He paused and shook his head. “Come to think of it, since the Congressman knows her, that’s probably not such a good idea.”

  “You should give Olivia another chance, Ben. I know she gave you a hard time when we were in Caracas, but she was having health issues then. I really believe she’s a different person these days.”

  He glanced over at her. “If you say so.”

  “I imagine working with her will be a lot easier now.”