Five Years in Yemen

by Luana Ehrlich

  This usually took only a few seconds.

  The device was a hotel burglar’s dream come true, but fortunately, its cost was prohibitive, and even if someone had the money, it wasn’t available on the open market.

  Less than a minute later, I assumed the device had accomplished its purpose when I saw Barron shove the Proxie Box back in his pocket and push the door handle down on Room 504.

  As Barron entered Gault’s room, I had to make a quick decision.

  Should I slip in the door behind him, or should I continue monitoring the situation from my post in the stairwell?

  I decided to stay put.

  * * * *

  For the first time since the mission started, I regretted not having a weapon on me. None of the GNS crew were armed.

  Firearms were not part of our cover stories, and if they’d been found in our possession, either by airport or hotel security, our remaining time in Saudi Arabia would have been spent in less than ideal surroundings.

  Having access to a firearm wouldn’t be a problem once we arrived in Aden.

  After we got to the airport, we’d pick up a weapons package delivered by a courier from our Special Ops Forces stationed in Al-Mukalla. More than likely, the handoff would take place in the parking lot after we’d taken possession of our rental vehicle.

  The only reason I was thinking about having a weapon at this point was because the moment I saw Barron close the door to Gault’s room, I had an immediate sense of foreboding.

  The longer he remained in there, the more apprehensive I became.

  The situation was made worse when the elevator doors opened and two Saudi men emerged. For a few seconds, I thought they were headed toward Gault’s room, but then, they headed in the opposite direction and entered a room at the end of the corridor.

  After that brief scare, I decided to wait five more minutes and then knock on Gault’s door myself.

  Three minutes later, my Agency phone vibrated.

  It was Barron.

  “We have a situation,” he said.

  For a few seconds, I felt relieved. The codeword terminology of having a situation was not something he’d use if he were in danger.

  “Here’s what you need to do,” I said.

  “But you don’t know the—”

  “I’m standing outside Gault’s room. Open the door.”

  I quickly abandoned my hiding place in the stairwell and slipped across the hallway just as Barron cracked open the door to Room 504.

  I went inside.

  * * * *

  The room was immaculate—as if a maid had just cleaned it. The bed was made up, a welcome message—written in Arabic, French, and English—was propped up on the pillow, and the heavy tapestry drapes were wide open.

  Nothing in the room looked out of place.

  Nothing, except for the dead body lying in a large pool of blood on the floor beside the bed. Barron carefully stepped aside as I bent down to examine it.

  It was Stephen Gault.

  His throat had been slit.

  It was a clean cut; his assailant knew what he was doing. One swipe across the jugular, and it was done.

  He had been dead for several hours, probably killed the moment he walked in the room.

  I looked over toward the windows.

  “Whoever did this must have been hiding behind the drapes when Stephen entered the room. See how the pleats at the top aren’t hanging straight?”

  He looked at me like I was crazy. “Pleats? Are you kidding? What are you doing here, Titus?”

  “I’ll tell you later. Right now, we need to check out Gault’s belongings, see what’s missing, and then get out of here. I don’t want anyone to know we were here, so try not to disturb anything.”

  “This isn’t my first rodeo you know.”

  “Oh, yeah, sorry.”

  I took a deep breath.

  Barron’s remark made me realize there was a possibility I was experiencing a slight case of shock at seeing Gault’s body—his lifeless eyes staring off in the distance, his bluish lips frozen in a kind of macabre grin, the fluids from his body, along with the sickly-sweet smell of his blood, permeating the room with a gut-churning stench.

  Plus, of course, there was the gaping wound where his butcher/assailant had sliced open his throat.

  Yeah, I’d say a slight case of shock was a real possibility.

  I could also have been a little rattled knowing his death was about to have a major impact on the mission, not to mention I was remembering the last time I’d seen Stephen Gault and how excited he’d been at the thought of all the money he was about to make.

  Then, just like that, he was dead.

  Barron gestured at Gault’s suitcase, which he must have dropped at the foot of the bed the moment he’d walked in the room.

  “I’ve already gone through his things. As far as I can tell, the person who did this never went through his suitcase. Personally, I don’t believe this could have been a robbery.”

  “No, I’m sure Gault was the target. This was a hit, pure and simple.”

  “Yeah, I have my own theory about that, but right now, we need to get out of here.”

  “I agree. Let’s go.”

  Before I stood up, I reached over and removed Gault’s passport from his shirt pocket.

  I didn’t try to grab his cell phone or his wallet because I assumed they were both in his back pocket, and I didn’t want to disturb his body, plus I figured they were both soaked in blood.

  “What about Gault’s suitcase?” Barron asked. “If we took it with us, the authorities might think this was a robbery.”

  “I’m good with that.”

  After we discussed the quickest way for us to leave the hotel, Barron called a member of his surveillance team and had him pick us up at the hotel’s back entrance.

  While he was driving us back to the Rosh Rayhaan Hotel, I removed Gault’s passport from my pocket and looked it over. As I flipped through the pages, an idea suddenly made its appearance on the outer fringes of my cerebral cortex.

  Like the beam from a distant lighthouse, it was bobbing just off the horizon, giving me a glimmer of hope Operation Rebel Merchant wasn’t about to run aground on a reef.

  Now, I had to figure out how to convince Captain Carlton to steer the ship in the right direction.

  Chapter 31

  When Barron and I arrived in the GNS suite at the Rosh Rayhaan Hotel, the rest of the team had just returned from their sightseeing trip to Kingdom Centre and the Sky Bridge.

  Apparently, they’d enjoyed their excursion—if the smiles on their faces were any indication—but the moment they saw Mason Barron enter the room behind me, their smiles disappeared, replaced by varying looks of confusion and surprise.

  Since the Rebel Merchant protocols didn’t include having contact with Barron again, I figured they must have realized his presence at the hotel meant something about the operation had changed.

  Perhaps they were also confused—and no doubt mystified—by the bellboy outfit he was wearing.

  The mystery only increased after he rolled Gault’s suitcase into the suite’s living area and placed it on the coffee table in the center of the room.

  Taylor, who was sitting on a sectional sofa facing the coffee table, immediately leaned over and rubbed his finger on a dark spot along the outer edge of the suitcase.

  After sniffing his finger, he looked up at Barron and asked, “Is that blood on your suitcase, Mason?”

  “That suitcase doesn’t belong to Mason,” I said.

  “Who does it belong to?”

  “It belongs to Stephen Gault. Unfortunately, that’s also his blood.”

  * * * *

  The living area in our hotel suite was big enough to accommodate at least eight people, but, when the five of us, Barron, Mitchell, Taylor, Delaney, and me, all sat down in the room together, the place seemed overly crowded and stuffy.

  Stuffy, because death had a way of sucking all the air out of a
room, and crowded, because it felt like Carlton and the whole Ops Center was there in the room with me as I described how Barron and I had discovered Gault’s body.

  After I finished giving them all the details, Mitchell said, “I’m not clear why you decided to go over to Gault’s hotel in the first place. The text you sent me said you had to check on something. What did you have to check on?”

  Barron, who was in the process of unbuttoning his red jacket, looked up at me and said, “Yeah, Titus. I’m not really clear about that either. Why were you at the hotel in the first place?”

  “You hung up on me,” I said. “I thought something had happened to you.”

  “And you walked over to the hotel to make sure I was okay?”

  I shrugged.

  “Well,” he said, “that’s really touching, although I don’t remember hanging up on you.”

  Mitchell said, “Titus gets these gut instincts sometimes. That’s probably what happened.”

  I was surprised to hear Mitchell defending me—at least I think that’s what he was doing.

  “Could we focus on how this is going to affect our mission?” Taylor asked. “What happens when Gault doesn’t make his flight tomorrow? Weren’t we counting on Jacob meeting him at the airport?”

  “I never thought there was much chance of that happening,” I said, “and I’m pretty sure the Ops Center thought the same thing. That’s why Olivia insisted on having a tracker on Gault’s suitcase. Jacob never made it clear how he and Gault would connect with each other once he arrived in Somahi, so there was no way of knowing if Gault was going to be staying at the compound with Jacob or somewhere else.”

  Barron began unzipping the suitcase. “Gault’s laptop is in here. There might be something on it about his plans.”

  A few seconds after he started rummaging through the suitcase, he suddenly stopped and removed the bellboy jacket, exposing his bare chest. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I can’t stand this monkey suit any longer. You don’t think Stephen would mind if I borrowed one of his shirts, do you?”

  He suddenly started laughing. “No, I guess not.”

  We were all speechless as we watched Barron pull one of Gault’s shirts out of the suitcase and slip it over his head.

  Delaney said, “Seriously? You’re wearing a dead man’s shirt just a few hours after he was brutally murdered?”

  Barron ignored her and opened up Gault’s laptop.

  Delaney glanced over at me as if she thought I should voice some disapproval of Barron’s actions.

  However, I felt my phone vibrate, and when I saw the number on the screen, I said, “You’ll have to excuse me. This is Douglas. He’s probably responding to the alert I sent him.”

  As I walked down the short hallway to my bedroom, I heard Mitchell say he agreed with Delaney about Barron’s insensitive actions.

  No surprise there.

  “I’m clear,” I said, after closing the door behind me.

  “I got your alert. What’s going on?”

  * * * *

  Carlton listened without comment while I explained what had happened to Stephen Gault.

  I was forthcoming with him about why I’d gone over to Gault’s hotel in the first place—he never seemed to mind if I acted on my gut instinct as long as it yielded results—but I didn’t mention Barron’s impersonation of a bellboy.

  I omitted this information because I knew it would only feed Carlton’s negative feelings about Barron, and, for my purposes, I wanted him to think only positive thoughts about him.

  To that end, I emphasized Barron’s good qualities, pointing out his ability to get Gault’s room number, the ease with which he was able to enter Gault’s room, and the efficient way he got us out of the hotel while avoiding the security cameras.

  “We’re back at our hotel now,” I said. “Mason suggested we bring Gault’s suitcase with us to make his murder look like a robbery, and when you called, he was about to take a look at Gault’s laptop. Maybe there’s something on there that could be useful to us.”

  I paused to see if Carlton might want to express an opinion about the laptop, but when he didn’t say anything, I added, “I also grabbed Gault’s passport.”

  Carlton finally responded, “Adjustments will have to be made to the protocols.”

  “I’m aware of that, but before you get in touch with Olivia and the Ops Center, I have a suggestion to make.”

  “Does this suggestion involve Mason Barron?”

  Evidently, Carlton had been able to see through my intentions—I admit I probably went a little overboard in singing Barron’s praises.

  “As a matter of fact, it does,” I said. “When you showed me a photograph of Stephen Gault several months ago, I said I thought he looked familiar. Now that I’ve been around Mason, I believe it was because Stephen reminded me of him. They both have reddish hair; their physiques are similar, and if Mason got rid of his beard, I believe he could pass himself off as Stephen.”

  “No. Not a chance. That wouldn’t—”

  “Hear me out, Douglas. I’m not saying he could fool Jacob.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “What if Mason took Gault’s place tomorrow on his flight to Aden?”

  “What happens after he lands in Aden?”

  “There’s a good chance the Saudis are sending a driver to pick Gault up, and if Mason is carrying Gault’s passport—which I assure you looks somewhat like Mason—then I believe Mason would be able to convince the driver he’s Stephen Gault. I expect the driver won’t have much more than a verbal description of Gault anyway.”

  “And what if you’re wrong and Jacob is the person who’s picking Gault up at the airport?”

  “If that happens, then I’m sure Mason can deal with it. You know he’s good at improvising.”

  “Acting irresponsibly is more like it. What benefit is there in allowing Mason to impersonate Gault?”

  “More than likely, Mason will either be taken directly to the compound to meet with Jacob or he’ll be taken somewhere else and Jacob will come to him.”

  “I agree.”

  “Either way, we’ll be in communication with Mason the whole time, and, in my opinion, this is our best chance to grab Jacob before Gault’s killer comes after him.”

  “Is that what you think’s going to happen?”

  “Don’t you? I believe Gault was murdered by the same group who killed the Saudi Deputy Defense Minister. You said they wanted to shut down operations in Yemen, and one way they could do that would be to make sure the MODD system never became operational.”

  Carlton sighed. “Until you told me about Gault’s murder, I didn’t see how Amari’s assassination could affect the mission.”

  “And now?”

  “Now, I suspect you’re right. Jacob seems to think Stephen is the only person who knows how to tweak the software to bring the MODD system online, so whoever killed him probably thought they were dealing the program a major setback.”

  “If that’s true, then logic dictates Jacob will be their next target.”

  “I’m afraid so. Unless Prince Mohamed’s followers are able to protect Jacob, he may not be safe from the faction that’s listening to Prince Salman.”

  “All the more reason for Jacob to come with us as soon as we make contact with him. Are you prepared to push the timetable forward?”

  “When I arrived here at the refugee camp in Somahi, I checked in with the Ops Center. Olivia said the images from our reconnaissance satellites look the same. Nothing’s changed, either at the compound or at the Al-Jarba air base. By the time you get here tomorrow, everything should be in place and ready to go.”

  “Does that mean you want me to talk to Mason about taking Gault’s place tomorrow?”

  “No, not yet. I’ll let you know what I’ve decided after I’ve spoken with Olivia.”

  “Do you have any message you want me to relay to the team?”

  “You can tell Mason I said he did a good job.”
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  * * * *

  When I returned to the living room, Barron and Mitchell were hunched over Gault’s computer, while Taylor and Delaney were standing in the small kitchenette having a cup of coffee.

  After I poured myself a cup, I walked over and took a look at Gault’s computer. “I’m surprised you were able to get past the opening screen. Didn’t Stephen have it password protected?”

  Mitchell nodded. “Yeah, but Mason did some kind of special bootup so he was able to get into the root access and change the password.”

  Barron said, “Don’t get too excited. I haven’t found any personal information so far; it’s mostly software stuff about the MODD system.”

  “What did Douglas have to say?” Taylor asked, as he and Delaney sat down on the couch together.

  Mitchell said, “Is the mission still a go?”

  “Oh, you bet,” I said. “Douglas is going to rework the protocols, make some adjustments, consult with Olivia, and get back with us. He didn’t say a word about scrubbing the mission.”

  Barron looked up from the computer. “Did he see a connection between Gault’s murder and Amari’s assassination the other night?”

  “We talked about that, and we’re both in agreement Prince bin Salman might also have had a hand in Gault’s murder. By killing him, the MODD system project can’t go forward, and without the drone detection device, there’s a good possibility the Saudis will get out of Yemen altogether.”

  “If that’s the case, Jacob might be next on the list,” Barron said. “If I were running the show, I’d have you all on a plane tonight. By the time you get to Somahi tomorrow, Jacob could already be dead.”

  “As you know, Douglas approaches situations of this nature a little more cautiously. It could be several hours before we hear back from him.”

  “Then maybe we should order room service,” Delaney said. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving.”

  We all agreed we could eat, but when Mitchell found the room service menu, Barron stood up and said, “Well, I guess that’s it for me. I’ll get out of your hair now. Best of luck with the rest of the mission.”