by Ethan Jones
“I’m in Deraa City.”
“What?” A dark frown spread across Javin’s face.
“Deraa City is a war zone,” Saif said and cursed Erkan.
Javin shook his head and held the phone tighter to his ear. “Deraa City, that’s quite a change of plans.”
“I would have stayed in Damascus, if it were up to me, and if you would have hurried up.”
“Erkan, we did our best. Where in Deraa City are you?”
“Why does it matter? We’re not going there,” Saif said in a loud voice.
“Erkan, give me a moment,” Javin said, then turned to Saif, “Can you let me talk to him without interr—”
“I’m not taking you there,” Saif said with a stern headshake.
“We can talk about that later, okay? Now, one crisis at a time.”
Saif rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Fine. We’ll do this your way.”
“We haven’t decided anything yet. I’m trying to gather all the facts, here.”
Saif shrugged. “Go ahead then.”
Javin brought the phone to his ear. “Erkan, still there?”
“Yes, what’s the problem?”
“There’s no problem. Give me your address.”
“I’m in the Manshiya neighborhood. It’s in the area of—”
“I know where it is.”
“Good. It’s a white-and-blue house, across from Khalid Mosque. It’s by a four-way intersection.”
“Got it.”
“When will you be here?”
Javin shrugged. “Eh . . . we have to figure that out. Stay put, and I’ll call you back.”
“Don’t delay.”
“I won’t.”
As soon as Javin ended the call, Saif said, “Have you ever been to Deraa?”
“No, but I know how dangerous—”
“You don’t know until you’ve actually set foot there. Erkan is on his own. We’re not going to Deraa.”
“Wait a moment. We’ve come all the way here. You want to abort the mission right away?”
Saif shook his head. “This isn’t my mission. I’m supposed to get you to Damascus.” He gestured with his hand toward the city, whose skyline was coming up in the distance. “Then to Lebanon. There’s nothing in the mission about a suicide trip to Deraa. That’s not something Martin has authorized, or will.”
Javin nodded. “So if Martin approves this assignment, you’re good to go?”
“Martin will never authorize this craziness.”
“Why don’t we let him make that decision?”
“Sure, but he needs to hear all the facts, not just those you tell him.”
“Of course, you’ll have the chance to share your views, especially since you’ve been to Deraa.”
“I’ve not just been to Deraa. I lived there when it was under siege.”
“Isn’t the situation better now?”
“No, it’s the same, perhaps even worse now that fighting has resumed. The insurgent front is fragmented, with factions clashing among each other, as well as fighting local government authorities. Daesh controls some areas in and around the city as well.”
Javin nodded. Daesh was the derogatory term for the Islamic State terrorist group that refused to die no matter how hard the Western coalition, Russia, or Iran tried to kill it, and regardless of the thousands of foreign troops stationed across Syria. “Your intel will help Martin make the right decision.”
“Yeah, and he’ll see through this nonsense.”
Chapter Twenty-five
CIS Safehouse
Damascus, Syria
Martin did not see see through what Saif had described as “nonsense.” It was not Martin’s modus operandi to make decisions on the spot. He told the team to stay in Damascus until he had reviewed all the intelligence he could gather from Deraa and the surrounding area. It would take a few hours, but Martin promised to put all resources necessary to this task.
Saif left the safehouse at the southern edge of the city for the vague reason that he had some matters to attend to, now that they were stuck in Damascus. He was respectful to Martin, but could barely contain his anger at the boss’s indecision. From Saif’s viewpoint, the solution was clear: the mission was too dangerous, especially for their small four-person team.
On the other hand, Javin had argued that Erkan’s value as a source of intelligence outweighed the risks involved. A small team was the best way to infiltrate the city under the cover of darkness. It was in Erkan’s best interest to meet them discreetly and without arousing anyone’s suspicions. It was true that Erkan was followed by the Syrian intelligence services, but, so far, he had been one step ahead of them. Perhaps his streak of luck would continue for another twenty-four hours.
In Saif’s absence, Javin, Claudia, and Zeki were able to openly discuss the operation. They ran through a series of pros and cons, creating a couple of strategies to enter and exit the city, including contingency plans.
Around suppertime, Zeki offered to pick up their meals from a restaurant a couple of blocks away. Javin picked rice and lamb kebabs, while Claudia went for the healthier option of rice and lentils. Zeki did not want to make up his mind until he had seen the restaurant’s menu. Javin and Claudia were sure that what they had chosen would be available, as it was standard fare in Syria. On the unlikely chance that the restaurant did not offer those items or was out of them, Zeki was free to surprise them.
Javin began to make coffee when his CIS-issued cellphone rang. The caller ID told him it was an unidentified number. Javin shrugged, then answered it. “Yes, who is this?”
“May I talk to Mr. Pierce?” a male voice asked in a polite tone with a clear British accent.
Javin frowned.
Claudia glanced at him and made a curious gesture with her hands.
Javin shook his head, then said, “And who is this?”
“Oh, where are my manners? This is William Fox, Deputy Director of Global Counter-Terrorism with the Secret Intelligence Service.”
Javin mouthed MI6 to Claudia. Everyone but SIS operatives called the British intelligence service by its most common name of MI6. “Yes, Mr. Fox, to what do I owe the pleasure of your call?” Javin gave his voice a neutral tone.
“It’s about a memory stick that’s in your possession.”
“Can you be more specific? I have a lot of drives where I store my files.”
“I was told you have a sense of humor, Pierce. I’m talking about the memory stick that you nicked from one of SIS’s assets in Istanbul.”
“You lost me, Fox. Do you mind explaining?” He sat down at the kitchen table.
“Certainly, I’d love to do that. A CIS team interfered with an SIS-sanctioned operation in Istanbul to retrieve a lost memory stick containing classified intelligence. It was you and Ms. Claudia Aquarone, along with Zeki Turan. I’d like the memory stick returned to its rightful owner.”
Javin shook his head, but the frown remained on his face. He wondered how Fox knew about their involvement. How did he get that intel? There were no witnesses, but even if there were, they wouldn’t know who we are. The MI6 assets saw our faces and put two and two together? Yeah, that could be it. “Mr. Fox, I think there has been a big misunderstanding. I don’t have any memory stick belonging to MI6.”
“What?” Claudia said in a low voice barely above a whisper.
“Pierce, you know full well what—”
“Sorry, let me put you on speakerphone, so that my partner can hear you as well.”
“Oh, surely, hello, Ms. Aquarone.”
“Mr. Fox,” Claudia said. “A pleasure to finally speak to you.” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.
“Oh, the pleasure is all mine. As I was telling Mr. Pierce, you have something that belongs to my agency.”
“And as my partner was saying, the intel you’ve been relying on is deeply flawed.”
“Are you denying you have the SIS memory stick?”
Javin leaned closer to the phone
he had placed on the table. “Sir, we have no property of your agency, or any British intel service for that matter.”
“You don’t have a drive with the seal of the Turkish Ministry of Energy?”
“As you were told by my boss, Hugo Martin, operatives are looking for the drive.” Javin did not answer the question and did not outright lie to Fox. “But why do you suspect that we have it?”
“I don’t suspect it, Pierce. I know you have it, and I know you’re telling me any number of lies.”
Javin shook his head. “Fox, I don’t think we’ll get anywhere if we’re throwing insults at one another.”
“You’re insulting my intelligence and testing my patience, Pierce, when you’re telling a bald-faced lie and denying you have the drive. Are you denying you were involved in the shootout in Istanbul?”
“Fox, I can’t discuss with you details of my work in any of the cities where CIS dispatches me. My operations are classified, and if you need specific details, you’ll have to talk to my boss, who—”
“Pierce, I’m fed up with your deceit, and I’m not going to wait for your boss. I know what happened and how you snuck up to the SIS’s assets team and ambushed them. One of those brave men lost his life for his country. I want you to know that he did not die in vain.”
Javin tightened his fists. “That sounds like a threat, Fox.”
“No, it’s a promise. If you return the memory stick, this . . . let’s call it a ‘miscommunication’ . . . this could be a thing of the past.”
“Otherwise?”
“Otherwise, my agency has many options to achieve the same result. Damascus is a bad place to be, Pierce. You don’t need more enemies than you already have.”
Pierce cursed under his breath.
Claudia picked up the phone. “Fox, those people you’re planning to send after us—Damascus will be a bad place for them.”
“Sir, I hate to say this, but you don’t want more brave men dying for their country,” Javin said in a flat, emotionless tone.
“My people are already in place. The only thing you’ll have to worry about is looking over your shoulder. Especially among your own team.”
Javin clenched his teeth and cursed Fox.
Claudia said, “What does that mean?”
“Well, if I have to explain . . . It means I have a source in your three-man team. No, four, if we take into account Saif.”
Javin blurted, “How do you—”
“I know many things, Pierce. It’s for your own good to hand over the memory stick and forget everything about this story.”
Javin shook his head and said nothing.
There was a moment of tense silence, then Fox said, “I’ll assume you’re thinking about your options and considering the consequences.”
Javin reached for the phone, but Claudia gave him a reassuring smile. “Fox, you’d be making a grave mistake if you send people after us.”
“I agree, Ms. Aquarone; I’d prefer we worked together rather than against each other. But that choice is no longer in my hands.”
“It’s not in ours either,” Javin said in a tense voice. “Whatever you’re planning, is not going to work.”
“Pierce, we’re going in circles here, and I have no time to waste. I’ve made you my offer. Think about it and give me your answer. You have until tomorrow morning. If I don’t hear from you, I’m assuming the answer is ‘no.’”
“Don’t wait until tomorrow, Fox. You can have our answer now. It’s a firm and unmistakable ‘no.’ And if your operatives come near us, their blood will be on your hands.”
Fox did not answer, then he ended the call.
Javin looked up at Claudia. “Well, we’ve got a mole.”
“If we can trust that crafty weasel.”
“How else would he know all those details?”
Claudia shrugged. “The MI6 assets. The MIT operatives. Speculation after talking to our boss. Or somehow, he learned bits and pieces here and there, including the French intel, and put everything together.”
“Or we have a mole.”
“Javin, he’s trying to rattle your chain, to cause us to distrust one another. Let’s not allow him to do that, shall we?”
Javin drew in a deep breath. His right hand was shaking, and he tried to hide it from Claudia. He sighed, then said, “Let’s be extremely careful about what we say and do, especially outside this circle.” He gestured toward Claudia and then himself.
She gave him a slight headshake. “Then Fox has won, Javin. We have to trust our team, even the ones we don’t like or can’t get along with.”
“I’m not saying we don’t trust them, but let’s be more tight-lipped about what we share.”
Claudia nodded. “We can do that.”
“And I’ll brief Martin on our strange conversation. At the very least, he needs to know about Fox’s threats. And perhaps our boss can look deeper into who’s selling us out, if that’s actually going on.”
Chapter Twenty-six
CIS Safehouse
Damascus, Syria
Javin drew in a deep breath as he tried to calm himself. The news about a traitor in his team had caught him by surprise. He was not worried, but distressed about how it had happened. He knew about similar cases when operatives had turned against their own, but it had never happened to him. Not until now.
He looked across the dining table at Zeki. Could it be that he was the traitor? Zeki knew everything about the operation. But so did Tolga, the CIS agent stationed in Istanbul. Javin nodded. Yes, it could be one of them. Or perhaps it’s Saif. Now, he wouldn’t know about the Istanbul shooting, but he knows about the operation in Syria.
Javin sighed, then scooped up a forkful of rice. He tasted nothing. The conversation with Fox was still echoing in his mind, and Javin had lost his appetite. But he had to eat, so he was choking down his meal.
When he looked up, his eyes met those of Zeki, who asked, “What’s going through your mind?”
Javin shrugged. “Wondering about the boss’s reply.”
“Whether he’ll dispatch us to Deraa?”
“Uh . . . yes.”
Javin had updated Martin on the strange conversation with Fox. Martin had promised a thorough search of all possible angles on how Fox and MI6 had learned those operational details.
Zeki cut a generous piece of his lamb kebab, then said, “Boss needs to make up his mind soon, if we’re to make it to Deraa by midnight.”
Claudia nodded. “Right, but as long as we get there while it’s still dark, we should be okay.”
“What do you think of Saif?” Zeki asked Javin while still chewing.
“What do you mean—do I trust him?”
Zeki shook his large head. “No, I know we can trust him. Saif has proven himself on that front. But what do you think of his temperament?”
Javin shrugged. “He’s a hard man to work with, for sure. I wonder what has happened to him to make him be that way.”
“Syria happened,” Zeki said.
“No, that doesn’t explain it all,” Claudia said. “We’ve all gone through tough stuff in our lives. Not all turn out to be jerks.”
Javin shrugged again. “As long as Saif follows Martin’s orders, I don’t mind his gruffness. I . . . I used to be like him when I started.”
Zeki tipped his head toward Javin. “Really?”
“No, you weren’t,” Claudia said.
“I was.”
“Uh-uh, I remember. You were suspicious of people, their motives or abilities, but never a jerk.”
Javin smiled. “Thank you?”
“You’re very welcome.” Claudia returned the smile.
Javin scooped another forkful of rice and a small piece of the lamb kebab. Before he could bring it to his mouth, his phone rang. He recognized Martin’s ringtone. “Yes, boss, go for Javin.”
“Javin, how is it going?”
“Things are going well. Eager for our new orders.”
“Well, the wait is
over. We’ve assessed the situation in Deraa and in the nearby area. It’s very volatile.”
Javin peered at Claudia, who offered a nervous shrug.
Martin said, “I’m not going to dispatch you into a war zone against your will, Javin. I’ll send you a file with the full assessment report. And you can make a decision.”
“I understand, sir. I will do that.”
“That being said, Erkan would be a very good source of intel, especially to confirm any claims from the flash drive. Even though our team could access the files on its own, it’s always better to have a second supportive testimony.”
“I agree,” Javin said.
“Now, about the other matter, the team’s still looking into it. By process of elimination, it can’t be the detainee, since his calls were always monitored. And he wouldn’t know your names.”
Javin nodded. “Yes, makes sense.”
Zeki was giving him curious looks, as he could not hear Martin’s side of the conversation. But Javin wanted to keep it that way, in case Martin said something that would hint at Zeki’s or someone else’s involvement in the betrayal.
Martin continued, “The team is retracing everyone’s steps since the moment of the ambush against the MIT agents in Istanbul. Phone records, meetings, email exchanges, everything. I have a few men doing some background checks, to see if anyone’s situation has changed in the recent weeks or month.”
Javin nodded again. The acronym MICER popped into his mind. The acronym covered all motives why someone, including agents, betrayed their country: money, ideology, compromise, extortion, and reputation. A major change could trigger any of those motives.
“Then, we’re covering the MI6 local team and the DGSE. Those are remote possibilities, but worth taking a look at,” Martin added.
“Okay.” Javin stood up. He gestured to Claudia and Zeki that he needed a moment and walked fast through the hall. “Just give me a minute, sir.” He stepped outside in the yard and pulled the door shut behind him. “We can talk freely now. Uh . . . who do you suspect?”
“You know I don’t like speculation,” Martin’s voice turned firm and cold. “I don’t like to point fingers while we have insufficient evidence, especially when it comes to treason.”