by Tom Haase
“By the way, Matt called while you were with McGregor,” Scott said. “He didn’t want to interrupt anything but asked if you could join him at the safe house.”
“Okay. I’m heading off now and if I don’t see you before you leave, good luck and keep me posted.” Bridget gave both of them a hug and left for the safe house. She felt like they were finally making progress. They had formulated a plan and were moving ahead to find the story behind both icons. The Vatican didn’t want something discovered. She felt it in her bones.
She also wondered what could have happened that Matt wanted her to come to the safe house.
24
Arlington, Virginia
Safe House
Matt greeted Bridget at the door before leading her down to the interrogation room. He opened the door while carefully observing her reaction. She turned and he followed her gaze to the man who sat at the center of a table and he smiled. “What did you do?" Bridget asked while turning to face Matt.
She turned again to face back toward the inside of the room. The man sipped his coffee, his restraints removed. The seated man looked at them and again smiled. He attempted to get up, but Matt raised his hand indicating he should stay seated.
“What the hell is going on?" Bridget asked.
"I want you to meet Karim. He is going to be our new best friend," Matt said.
"This guy just tried to kill you. He is not your new best friend. What are you trying to do?" Bridget asked.
"Karim, tell my partner, Bridget, your story.”
“My name is Karim Pahlavi. I was born in Iran twenty-nine years ago. That is ten years after the great revolution under the Grand Ayatollah Khomeini. My grandparents were arrested and executed, because of their wealth, by the revolutionary guards of Khomeini and also because of their Western education and contacts. My parents survived by going underground. They taught me the ways of the West but ensured I did all the right things to avoid the fate of their parents. When I was ten, my parents were caught by the authorities because of an old warrant for their arrest.”
“Were they killed?” Bridget interjected.
“Yes. They suffered the fate of their parents. I attended a religious school to study the Koran and become a good Muslim. The days of the brutality of the revolution were past and I was deemed no threat after two generations. I played along and became a good follower. I became an asset to them because I spoke good English, from my parents teaching me from birth in that language, and because I had an aptitude for what they called spy craft.”
“Wait a minute,” Bridget interrupted. “You expect us to believe you are on our side? Are you nuts?” She turned to Matt. “This guy is a piece of shit. You can’t trust him.”
Matt nodded to her but at the same time gave her a raised eyebrow. “Wait a second. Listen to the rest. Go on.” He pointed at Karim to continue.
“They recruited me for a mission that needed a person who spoke English. It entailed arms procurement and training of jihadists in America. I indicated I would be interested. It could be my way to freedom. I’d already received the training they required on the weapons specified and with a few weeks of intense learning I had the skill required to deal with the arms trading and procurement.”
“So why were you trying to kill Matt?” Bridget demanded.
“As you know, I didn’t. I fired over his head. I ran, hoping to get away clean so I could report his death to my superiors. They might believe me even without a corpse but I didn’t have any other choice at the time. They wanted justice for the men he killed in Roanoke. That night I drove the truck that got us out of the kill zone.”
“Let’s stop there for a minute,” Matt said. “Do you see any way we can use this man?” He waited for Bridget to respond.
She took her time before answering. Then a smile began to appear on her face. Matt realized her mind schemed on a different frequency than his.
“If you believe him, and I have serious doubts, then why don’t we turn him around and send him back to them?”
“That is along the line that he and I have been discussing,” Matt said. “He would be an invaluable asset inside their organization. We don’t have any currently. We could be ahead of them on any operations. We could have a secure means of communication and maybe even use the old fashioned dead drops or park bench meetings.”
“There’s a small problem,” injected Karim. “The other two sent with me are dead at the hands of Matt here and realistically I can’t go back if he is still alive. They would kill me.”
“That’s easy to solve.” Bridget grinned at Matt.
“How?” Matt asked her.
She looked at him. “We kill you.”
25
New York
Schultz Apartment
Benjamin Schultz waited in his luxurious penthouse overlooking Central Park for his daughter’s arrival. Gerti called him earlier and briefly relayed the plan she and Scott would follow. He liked the initiative she demonstrated and his suspicion of Bridget didn’t mar his appreciation of Scott. The young man was perfect for Gertrude in his opinion. However, the idea of them traipsing off to Russia was surely not something he relished. He believed he might have to intervene by contacting an old friend who owed him a few favors. He heard the front door open and rose to greet them.
He embraced his daughter and gave Scott a hearty handshake. Then he led them to the living room and indicated to take seats. “So tell me more about your plan.”
“We are traveling to St. Petersburg to see if we can follow the trail of the icon that is currently in the Vatican. Somebody had to own it over there, or stole it. Jonathan McGregor revealed that a priest secured it during a gunfight. We want to find who owned it before that gunfight. In a conversation last night, McGregor informed Bridget how it arrived in Rome. Father, I think Scott and I need to go to Russia and not just have someone we know do this for us. We need to be there to follow up on any information.” Gerti stopped and looked at her father.
Schultz listened as Gertrude detailed the outline of a sketchy picture. In his mind, he realized this would be a dangerous undertaking. Two armed groups shooting it out screamed a turf battle between two powerful warlords. He didn’t want these two youths getting caught up in that milieu. His daughter thought she knew everything about the business and all his contacts. That was not entirely true. He never revealed all of his secrets to her.
“I want you to go to the Courtyard Vasilievsky in St. Petersburg. It is in the center of the old city and on the banks of the river Neva. A friend will contact you there. I will call you with his name later.” He paused.
“Why not now?” Gerti asked.
“Because I have to make some calls to people you don’t know as yet. After this, you will know another group of people you’ll have to deal with in the future.”
“Secrets,” Gerti exploded. “More things you haven’t told me.”
“My dear—”
“Don’t give me that my dear stuff,” Gerti interrupted. “You told me I would run the business as an equal partner. No secrets. Remember? No secrets.”
Schultz noticed Scott reach for her hand and squeeze it. That act seemed to calm her down. He liked what he observed. The boy possessed the ability to influence his daughter.
“My dear,” Schultz continued, ignoring her outburst, “I am training you to take over the entire business, not just half, but I can’t do it all at once. This is another part of your training.”
“I don’t know what good it’ll do to find out about this icon in Russia, but it might give us a clue to the mystery surrounding the one here in America,” Scott said.
“Use the man you’ll meet there to do the leg work. My strongest advice to you is to not go out on the streets of Russia trying to discover anything yourself. Use the assets of my contact to accomplish that,” Schultz said. He rose from his chair.
Gerti rose and went to him and kissed him. She grabbed Scott’s hand and headed for the door.
“H
ave him contact us tomorrow evening at six,” Gerti said over her shoulder just before closing the door on the way out.
She needed to get in the last word, he realized, to pay him back for the secrets he still kept. He let a little smile form on his countenance and then slowly returned to the living room and made a phone call to St. Petersburg.
26
Arlington, Virginia
Safe House
Special Agent Liz Garcia and an FBI doctor arrived thirty minutes after Matt called. The doctor patched Karim’s leg and proclaimed it a minor injury that should heal in a few days. While Matt waited for the doctor to depart, he noticed Liz’s angry red face. She wasn’t happy and her stance, hands on hips and eyes boring into him, indicated the rage she attempted to control. But he’d known that it wouldn’t be long before her Latino temper blew.
“What the hell are you trying to do? You almost get killed twice in two days, you bring in the Donavan woman, and now you want to run a double agent operation against the arms dealer. Is that about it? Is there anything else? Oh, and you want to get killed.” Liz didn’t change her posture during this tirade.
Matt smiled. “Yes, that’s about it, except for my death announcements. I’m sure you can take care of that.”
“After this, I might be the one to make it real.” Liz finally let her stone face crack. A small upward turn at the corners of her lips told Matt she finished with the bluster. “Damn you, Matt. You’ve got to be nuts to think this might work. I know you from before and I don’t think you’ll let this go. So let’s plot out the entire strategy, as I’ll have to brief the director and I don’t want him to tear me apart.”
After an hour, Matt thought they managed to engineer a descent plan.
Matt returned to the prisoner in the basement, their new double agent. Bridget asked to speak to Liz before she departed. They walked outside into the brisk Virginia morning.
“So what do you want to discuss?” Liz asked.
“I know you know a little about me, but I’m not sure how much Matt has told you.”
“Not much. I first met you in the affair with Gerti’s father when you were after the Bible of Constantine. You killed the man who kidnapped him. Matt only told me you two served in the military together,” Liz said.
“That’s true. What he didn’t say was we served in a special anti-terrorist unit that hunted down those scumbags and erased them.”
“You killed terrorists?” Liz blurted out.
“Over and over again. With my own hands. That’s what we did. So you see, I’m not just a friend Matt invited along on his venture, but I possess the skills of a trained killer.”
“Well, that sheds light on why he trusts you. You fought side by side with him?” Liz asked.
“Affirmative. You may not be read in on what we did, but believe me it was of major importance to the United States. Right now I’m worried about his decision to trust this character. It all seems a little too convenient. His single-mindedness in getting the job done, as you must certainly be aware, is one of his great characteristics. But I get a bad feeling about this guy. Any chance you can get me some equipment?”
“What equipment?” Liz asked.
Bridget told her.
* * *
Bridget went down to join Matt in his meeting with Karim. When Liz departed to return to Washington to brief the director. An hour later, the man held photos of Matt’s body. The makeup Bridget applied looked real and convincing enough for the iPhone photo Karim took. His throat appeared slit and the blood ran over the front of his body, splayed in a grotesque supine position.
“With my wound to prove we engaged in a fight and the photos, I believe I can convince Ashil I accomplished the mission, especially after the other two he sent with me failed.”
A few more hours passed as they plotted possible moves that might be required. Liz reappeared and wanted to take a photo of Karim. He refused, saying, “If that ever got shown the group would know I consorted with law enforcement.”
Liz accepted this and took Bridget by the arm to go outside. They stood on the front steps of the house. “I did some more checking on you. You are not just a pretty face. My apologies for my earlier comments.”
“No problem. Did you get it?”
“Not the weapon you asked for, maybe later,” she said. “We’re ready on our end for the other thing. Now you must make him stop on these steps when he comes out. I’ll get him with a telephoto lens. We need to get his picture.”
Bridget returned to the room with Karim and Matt.
“Make sure you continually erase all the data on your phone after every call or text message. Do not call except in an emergency. You have the number memorized?” Matt asked. Karim nodded.
“Let me see your phone. I just want to check it for any bugs,” Bridget said.
He handed her the phone and she took it apart. “It’s too dangerous for us to place a bug in it, as your compatriots might examine it. So we won’t be able to track you by GPS or any other way.” She put the phone on her charger. “Now, it’ll be ready for you when you leave.”
“Okay,” Karim responded. He looked worried with downcast eyes.
“What’s the matter?” Bridget asked.
“If I succeed and don’t get killed, will I be able to get a green card and a new identity in the United States?”
“That we can promise,” Matt said.
“Okay, I need to call in and report. I must get back as quickly as possible. They will already be a little suspicious, as I have not called since last night. I will use my wound as an excuse while I sought medicine and pills for my pain. It’s not serious, but I needed to take care of it before I reported. They will be suspicious as it is, but with your death, I should be okay,” Karim said.
“What’s the next step?” Bridget asked Karim.
“Wait to hear from me.”
27
St. Petersburg, Russia
Scott and Gerti arrived at their five-star hotel three hours before they expected to hear from her father’s man in the city. The trip proved uneventful but tiring like all airline travel today. Gerti threw herself on the bed and spread her arms for Scott to join her.
“Really? Now? I’m beat,” he said.
“So am I. I just want a snuggle. Come on, nothing else,” she pleaded. “I’m exhausted.” He jumped on the bed and gave her a bear hug and a kiss. They both rolled over and instantly fell asleep from the hours of jet travel.
The bang on the door caused them to awaken and Scott jumped off the bed.
“Damn, we slept too long,” Gerti whispered.
Scott opened the door. A muscular man over six feet tall with a full black beard stood there.
“Is this Gertrude Schultz’s room?” he asked.
“I’m here,” she responded from behind Scott. “Come in. This is Scott Donavan.” She waited for him to speak.
“My name is Val,” he said in perfect English. “Your father asked me to stop by and see if I could be of any assistance.” Some British language training now became obvious in his speech.
“We are looking for an icon. A very specific icon. Let’s go down to the bar and I’ll tell you what we know about it. I want to find out everything related to that item.”
After two vodkas each, Gerti completed the story and repeated her request for all the information she desired on the icon. The man had not interrupted or asked any questions during her monologue.
“Miss Schultz,” he started.
“Please… Gerti.”
“Okay, Gerti, that is some story. I know about the restaurant firefight and am aware of the two gangs involved. I will put my people to work on this. It’ll take at least two days. Is that satisfactory?” Val asked.
“We have nothing else to do, but I didn’t want to do this with a telephone request. I need to be here. Please contact us at any time with any questions or if you need more information that we might supply. I must ask you about your fee.” Bridget looked at the m
an in anticipation of a large demand for what would certainly take four or five men working full out for two days.
“Is it all right if I present you a bill at the successful conclusion of my investigation into the matter?” Val asked.
Gerti assumed he knew that the Schultz enterprises overflowed with money, especially if he worked with her father in the past. She nodded her agreement to his question.
“By the way, how do you know my father?” Gerti asked.
“I’m afraid your money can’t buy that little bit of information.”
28
St. Petersburg, Russia
On the morning of their second day in Russia, Gerti would vomit if she toured another sites, especially after seeing the Ice Palace, and visiting numerous churches, too many churches. She poked Scott to wake him and rolled out of bed. She hurried to shower before him. On reemerging into the bedroom suite she stood with her hands on her hips, wearing nothing.
“Okay, what’s wrong?” Scott asked.
“I’m bored. We need to take some action. We can’t sit on our asses again today. We need to go out and find something ourselves,” she said. Then she returned to the bathroom and got dressed. “I feel like this might have been a bad idea. I certainly could’ve been wrong in my guess on how this trip could help us out. So we either need to leave and go home or go after information here.”
She finished dressing, then called her father and brought him up to date on what they were doing, which took only a few seconds, and she admitted perhaps coming to Russia wasn’t her greatest idea. His agreement with her made her want to scream at him, but that would be fruitless. Besides, it appeared he’d been right about the whole venture. What could she hope to prove? Best to concede defeat and go home and help Bridget. At least Bridget and Matt had something to go on, some leads, and she was poignantly aware that the time approached for Bridget to return the money to her father.