by Ethan Jones
The streets were clean and well-lit by tall streetlights, lined with palm trees and neatly landscaped lawns. A couple of vehicles drove past Javin and Carrie, but the drivers and passengers cast only casual glances at the Canadian operatives. They strolled leisurely, so as to not draw the wrong kind of attention.
When they came to Kheder’s house, they looked through the large front windows. The dark blinds were drawn down, but an intermittent light shone in an irregular pattern. Someone watching TV.
Claudia said, “Let me get the door, since Kheder knows your face…”
“What if he has seen your picture?”
Claudia shrugged and rearranged her headdress. “He’s not expecting us, and it’s going to take him a moment to recognize me. A moment too long.” She unzipped her sweater and placed her right hand over the grip of her Sig pistol in her waistband holster.
“Okay,” Javin agreed to the plan in an unconvinced voice.
“Stay out of sight.”
“I’m right here.”
He walked toward the house next door and stopped when he was beyond the range of any security cameras that Kheder might have installed. He was a Bahraini security agent, so it was only logical to conclude that he had taken measures to ensure his and his family’s safety. And they were positive that Kheder was armed and well-trained, like all NSA operatives.
Javin threaded a long sound suppressor on the muzzle of his Sig pistol and held the gun at his side. At the first sign that Claudia’s life was in danger, he was going to tap the trigger.
Chapter Twenty
Outskirts of Manama
Bahrain
Claudia sensed she was under surveillance as soon as she rang the doorbell. She listened for noises or footsteps inside while standing straight up and closer to the wall than necessary. She was almost positive there was a camera pointed at her from the brown sconce strategically positioned over her head. Claudia kept her face away from it, looking in the other direction.
She counted to ten and rang the doorbell again. Claudia shifted her weight to the other leg, then turned slightly to the left side, covering the holster with her hand. She was trying to appear as calm and collected as possible, but she was sizzling on the inside. Her palms were sweating, and the adrenaline was rushing through her body. The moment of fight or flight…
Definitely fight.
The door opened about halfway, and the barrel of a sound suppressor was pointed at Claudia’s head.
She had anticipated Kheder’s move.
Claudia swung her body to the left while she pushed away Kheder’s hand holding the pistol.
He fired a round.
The gun let out a quiet apologetic cough. No muzzle flare.
The bullet whizzed inches away from Claudia’s head.
She held Kheder’s wrist with her left hand and struck him in the side with her right fist as he fully emerged through the doorway.
Someone inside the house fired a round. The bullet splintered the wooden door, sending sharp slivers over their heads.
Kheder was able to squeeze off another round. It missed Claudia’s body by perhaps four inches.
Where’s Javin?
The assailant tried to kick her, but Claudia was able to sidestep him. She lost her tight grip around his wrist but was able to pull out her pistol. Before she could tap the trigger, a bullet hit Kheder in the chest. He leaned against the wall for support but slipped and fell at the doorsteps.
Claudia barely had a moment to move away from the door as someone from inside the house fired a quick burst.
Javin returned fire from the sidewalk where he had taken a standing firing position.
His volley shattered one of the front windows, then a couple of his bullets flew through the door.
Claudia’s eyes fell on Kheder. He was gasping, and the white thobe he was wearing was stained red. Blood was oozing from a large wound on the right side of his chest. His pistol had fallen three steps away from him, and he made no attempt to retrieve it.
She held her Sig at head level and aimed it at the door as she took a couple of steps backward on the small porch. She couldn’t see through the door, but she wasn’t expecting the shooter to burst through. Claudia swung her head to the right, just for a moment.
Javin was dashing toward the front door. He stopped when he had covered half the distance and fired a three-round burst. Then he proceeded to walk slowly and cautiously, keeping his pistol pointed at the front door at all times.
When he was two steps away from Claudia, he said, “You okay?”
“I’m good.” She nodded. “Him, not so much.” She tipped her head toward Kheder.
He wasn’t gasping but taking small breaths. His face looked pale in the dim fluorescent light coming from the house.
“I’m going in.” He climbed the three stairs and stepped through the doorway.
Claudia covered him. There were no shooters in the front room of the house, which had a cream-colored sectional in one corner, in front of a huge wall-mounted television screen. She took another side step. Javin was going through the narrow hall leading to the rest of the house. A kitchen was to the left with a large black refrigerator. That’s all she could see from the doorway.
Claudia knelt next to Kheder. He let out a wheezing gasp, and blood came out of his mouth. His eyes were half-closed. “Why did Murphy, Tom Murphy, try to kill Javin?”
Kheder gave Claudia a distant, unfocused gaze as if he didn’t hear or understand her.
“Why did Murphy try to kill Javin?” Claudia tried again. “Tell me, Kheder…”
The high-pitched tone seemed to have jolted the Bahraini back to reality. He began to shake his head for a moment and let out a small cough.
Luckily, Claudia was standing to his side, so none of the blood and saliva coming out of his mouth landed on her. She reached over Kheder and used the top of his thobe to clean his lips. “Tell me, and I’ll help you live… And we’ll take care of your family… your son, Sami…”
Kheder’s eyes sparked with life at the mention of his son’s name. “He’s… don’t let her… eh… hurt him…”
“We won’t. You’ve got my word.” Claudia leaned over Kheder. “Murphy, who sent him?”
“The woman, Fakhry… She has… has the answer…”
“Where is she?”
A couple of gunshots came from inside the house. Claudia looked up, trying to determine their location. It seemed they were on the second floor, but she couldn’t be certain. She looked behind her and toward the next house. Someone was looking through the blinds. A car engine rumbled in the distance.
She returned her eyes to Kheder, but the light of life had left them. “Kheder, hey, wake up, wake up…”
Kheder didn’t move.
She checked his carotid artery for a pulse but couldn’t find it. She placed her face right over his mouth and felt no breathing.
Kheder was gone.
She sighed and shook her head. Fakhry—who is this woman?
“Claudia,” Javin said halfway through the front room.
“Javin, what happened?”
“There was a woman in the house… the one firing at you and me…”
“Where is she?” Claudia stood up.
“Upstairs. Dead, but I got her phone.” She showed it to her.
“Let me guess. Her name’s Fakhry.”
Javin gave her a sideways glance. “Eman Fakhry. How did you…” He looked at Kheder. “What else did he tell you?”
“He was worried she’d hurt his son…”
“Well, she won’t do that.”
The car engine rumble sounded much closer, followed by footsteps. A faint siren cut through the warm night air.
“Let’s make ourselves scarce. And see how this woman fits with Tom’s attempt on my life…”
Chapter Twenty-one
Grand Gulf Hotel, Adliya District
Manama, Bahrain
“Eizeh balegan!” What a mess! Yael said as soon as Javin and Claudia enter
ed the suite. “I have bad news.”
“What is it?” Javin asked with a frown.
“My chief knows about the recordings…”
“Yes, you told him about that,” Claudia said.
“No, I mean the big chief, the director of Mossad.”
“Oh, and how did that happen?” Javin sat down on one of the chairs in the living room.
“Trying to figure that out. I told my boss to keep the intel confidential, but he had to share it with others, in order to check the intel’s authenticity. Somehow, the director learned about what’s going on.”
“And what does that mean for us?”
Yael sighed and walked to the living room, facing Javin. “It means I’m on stand-by. Mishigas. Craziness. Another team will be dispatched to deal with the nuclear scientist—”
“Deal with? You don’t mean eliminate him, do you?” Javin said.
Yael shrugged. “Eliminate or kidnap him, whichever is possible.” She sighed.
Javin shook his head. “The Iranians came to us in good faith. We can’t, we shouldn’t, do this to them.”
Claudia said, “Especially since they agreed to hand him over peacefully.”
Yael sighed again. “I explained all that, but my boss is my boss, and he’s always right. Well, he thinks he’s a kolboynik, a know-it-all.” She shook her head and looked at Claudia, who was standing with her back against the kitchen counter. “Iranian peace comes at a high price. The director is categorically refusing a deal with the Iranians.”
“Why?” Javin asked.
“He thinks it’s a trap, or a distraction, an attempt for them to gain time, so they can get closer to having the nuclear weapon.”
“I can’t believe this.”
“Neither can I, but it’s happening.”
“So, we’re stabbing Salimi and the Iranians in the back, after they reached out to us…”
“Do you really believe them?”
“What would be their reason for lying?”
“To set a trap, distract us, so—”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am. It has happened in the past. Why can’t it happen again?”
Javin shifted in his seat and ran his fingers through his hair. “Can’t you see this is different? The Iranians saved my life, gave us good intel, and offered to hand over what we’ve been looking for, and what do we do? Plan to respond through violence.”
“We can’t be certain about the assassination attempt. The intel, we’re still assessing it. The scientist might be a bargaining chip that has no real value…”
Javin didn’t answer. He decided it was useless to continue arguing with Yael. “So, you’re going to do what your boss says?” His tone of voice had a clear hint of defiance.
“What choice do I have, Javin? I have a clear order to stand down and provide support only if needed.”
“And what’s Mossad’s endgame here?” Claudia said.
“I don’t know, and it’s not up to me to figure that out.”
“Well, it looks like history is repeating itself. Mossad will assassinate the scientist, fanning the flames of distrust and violence between Israel and Iran. But will Iran give up? No, they’ll redouble their efforts to lure other scientists.”
“And we’ll go after them too.”
“But for how long? Forever?”
“As long as it takes, Javin.”
“And will there ever be peace? Peace between Israel and Iran?”
Yael gave Javin an uncertain look. “That depends on Iran…”
“And they say it depends on Israel…”
Yael shrugged and shook her head. “Then I don’t know what to say, Javin. But I know what I can and can’t do.”
Javin nodded slowly. And so do I, he thought, but kept that to himself.
Yael asked, “What did you learn?”
He updated her on what had taken place at Kheder’s house, and the intel they had gathered about the woman named Fakhry. The Mossad agent wasn’t familiar with the name, but she offered to run it through the Mossad databases.
While Yael was occupied with that task, Javin briefed his boss on the recent developments. Armed with the woman’s name and a host of contact information obtained through her phone records, the CIS chief sounded confident that it was only a matter of time before they connected Fakhry to whoever had ordered her into action. It was obvious she was a hired hand, but the question remained as to who her master was, the one pulling the invisible strings.
Javin struggled with the dilemma of whether to inform his boss about Mossad’s decision to move on the nuclear scientist. While the outcome was unclear, one thing was obvious: the Iranians wouldn’t go down without a fierce fight. No one wanted a bloody outcome in London, of all places, but Mossad seemed set on going forward with its retrieval operation.
Eventually, Javin told his boss everything Yael had reported. It didn’t take long for Bateaux to agree with Javin’s decision that the CIS operatives couldn’t go behind the Iranians’ backs. Regardless of what Yael wanted to believe, Javin was convinced that Salimi was telling the truth, at least about saving Javin’s life and giving up the nuclear scientist’s location. Javin had no illusions that the Iranian operative wasn’t hiding anything, but was willing to take him at his word, until the evidence proved otherwise. Unlike Yael, the Canadians wanted to go in as unbiased as possible, not naïvely, but affording the Iranians the benefit of the doubt.
Javin assigned Claudia the sensitive task of informing the Iranians about Mossad’s plans to raid the Iranians’ safehouse. However, before she could make the call, Yael knocked on the bedroom door. Javin opened it and was met by Yael’s worried face. “More bad news?” he asked in a somber tone.
“Yes, but this is personal.” Yael stood across from the bed.
Claudia, who was sitting on a chair next to the window, gave Yael a nervous glance.
“I just got a message from a good friend, a partner in the agency. The chief, the big chief, he’s planning to call me back to Israel because of this botched op.”
“What botched op?”
Yael swore. “There’s a rumor that I messed up this operation. The leaked recordings, somehow I’m being set up to be the scapegoat…”
“What? That makes no sense,” Javin said.
“How so?” Claudia shrugged. “You’re the one who brought those recordings to light, at least as far as Mossad is concerned.”
“Yes, but you know how things can be spun around to match the establishment’s narrative.” Yael sighed and sat at the edge of the bed. She looked at Claudia to her left, then at Javin standing by the door. “Although I returned to Mossad, I was never fully accepted as one of their own. Once the black sheep, always the black sheep, I guess. They took me in, but I was no longer one of their own.”
“Do you believe these rumors?” Claudia said.
“My friend wouldn’t make it up. I want to deal with them while they’re still rumors, before they become facts, and everyone starts to accept them.”
“So, they’re using this excuse to kick you out?” Javin said.
“That’s the best-case scenario, according to my friend. The worst-case scenario? I’m blamed for conspiring with the Revolutionary Guard against my homeland.”
“No.” Javin shook his head. “They wouldn’t go so far as to—”
“Oh, they would. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.” Yael raised her hand to her face. “I know what my agency is capable of…”
Javin nodded slowly.
Claudia said, “But how can they turn this against you? If the Saudi aide is the source of the leak, you had no involvement at all…”
Yael shrugged, and a look of sadness stretched across her face. “If there’s a will, there’s a way.”
“So, now what?” Javin said.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Yael spread her hands in front of her.
Javin smiled at her. “I think it is, but let’s clarify it, so we all know what it is.”<
br />
Yael gave Javin a stern look as she tightened her hands into fists. “I’m not going down without a fight…”
Chapter Twenty-two
Grand Gulf Hotel, Adliya District
Manama, Bahrain
The whirlwind of activities took most of the night, since time was of the essence. Javin ran the new plan by his boss, Bateaux, who approved it without too many changes. Through a series of well-calculated moves, Javin relayed the information he had obtained through Issa to the Bahraini authorities about the Al-Qaeda mastermind. At first, they were reluctant and suspicious about the delay in the CIS operative’s coming forward with that intelligence. Javin countered by explaining that he wanted to confirm the information and verify its accuracy before communicating it to his trusted local counterparts.
It wasn’t too far from the truth.
The CIS had checked their records, and, in cooperation with the American NSA, the National Security Agency, and the CIA, had determined Shinwari’s possible location in Barcelona. One of his contacts was an American, the CEO of Broman Corporation, a construction company operating mainly in Spain and Portugal. The company had recently received an influx of cash from a dubious source, a few days before the terrorist leader had disappeared. The link between the two was obvious. It didn’t take long for a team of CIA operatives to find Broman and extract the truth through their tried and true means of persuasion.
In exchange for the location of the most-wanted terrorist, the Bahraini intelligence agency agreed to send a team of covert operatives to assist Javin in capturing Shinwari. The six-man team was already on their way to London.
Having taken care of the ground support, Javin turned to the travel logistics. London was over six thousand kilometers away, and all flights were fully booked. However, the distance presented no problem for Al-Attiya’s master, the Qatari prince. It didn’t take long to convince the aide to arrange for a Gulfstream G280 aircraft to fly the team and their gear non-stop from Doha to London. As long as Javin delivered the terrorist dead or alive—preferably dead—they had a deal.