Counterblow Page 10

  “That’s too long, Javin.”

  “Sorry, honey. It’s the best I can do at this time, but perhaps once this last op is done, I might… no, I will have more time for us.”

  “That would be nice, Javin.”

  It’s going to happen, one way or another. He sighed and said, “What else is new?”

  “Not much. Same grind, different day.” She let out a deep sigh. “Don’t misunderstand me: I love what I do. But I’m tired of all this fighting, the office politics, the garbage…”

  “You’ll hear some good news soon; I know it,” Javin tried to make his voice as reassuring as possible.

  “Oh, I don’t know… I hope so, Javin, I truly do.”

  “Yes, this will all be over soon, honey. Hold out a bit longer…”

  “I’ll try, but… I’m really at the end of my rope.”

  “I understand. See if you can take some time off—”

  “I can’t; they won’t let me. Even the last time, I had to fight for it.” She sighed again. “At this point, it’s either stick it out until the end of my contract, two months away, or quit. Unless my transfer is approved, but even that will take a couple of weeks…” Her voice was full of frustration and desperation.

  “In six days, maybe sooner, I’ll come and see you,” he said in an upbeat tone. “We’ll still be in Iraq, but at least we’ll be together…”

  Liberty took a long moment to reply, “If that’s the best we can do…”

  “Let’s do that, honey. Things will get better; we’ll make them better.”

  “I hope so, Javin.”

  “You know so, you do. All this will soon be over, and we’ll be together.”

  “Thanks, babe. I… I love you.”

  “I love you too. Now, I’ve got to go, but I’ll call you, maybe tomorrow.”

  “Okay. Be safe.”

  “You too. Take care and bye now.”

  He ended the call and drew in a deep breath. One part of him wanted to abort everything, take the first flight to Baghdad, and drive to Mosul so he could be with the love of his life. But the other part of him, the primal instinct seeking vengeance, stopped him. Honor comes first. I made a promise to Yael to avenge her blood. I can’t give up now.

  He paced back and forth, then decided to walk to the end of the terminal to clear his thoughts. He was halfway there when his phone rang. It was Fang. “Yes,” Javin answered right away. “What’s new?”

  “We’ve had some complications…”

  “With your girlfriend?”

  “No, no, she’s safe.”

  Fang had moved her to a safe location in Langfang, a city an hour south of Beijing. He knew that after the shootings in the Chinese capital, all security agencies would be looking for Fang and especially for his girlfriend.

  “So, what is it?” Javin asked.

  “We’ll need a new location to store the drone.”

  “Why?”

  “The hangar at the original place is no longer available. I mean, it still is, but I suspect it has been compromised.”

  Javin wasn’t going to ask how or why it had happened. At this point, he trusted Fang’s judgment. He was the man running the operation on the ground, who knew all the facts and all the details, who took the greatest risk. Javin couldn’t second-guess his decisions. He hated it when bosses did that to him, and he wasn’t about to become the thing he hated. So he said, “Can you find a new hangar?”

  “I can try, but I might need help.”

  “What kind of help?”

  “I have two potentials, and I should know something soon, in the next two hours at the most. But we need to have a place before nightfall. Our operation starts at midnight, and we can’t have a drone hovering in the air without a hiding place…”

  “I get it,” Javin said in a warm tone of understanding. “I’ll make a call and find us a back-up location, if that becomes necessary.”

  “Good.”

  “Is everything else in place?”

  “Yes, everyone is ready. The exercise is tonight. We’ll wait until all the drones are airborne, then we’ll take over one of them. We’ll disable the tracking devices and land it at the new hangar. The dismantling team will already be on location.”

  Javin smiled. Fang seemed to have a good handle on the operation. “Good. And the truck is ready?”

  “Yes, yes, everything is ready. We only need the new hangar, and I’m working on it.”

  “That’s very good, Fang. Let me know what happens. I’ll call you once I have something.”

  Fang ended the call without another word.

  Javin walked to the nearest window and looked outside the airport terminal. Streams of people were rushing in all directions, getting in and out of taxis and limousines, exchanging hugs and handshakes, and carrying or rolling their luggage.

  He dialed Mila’s number, and the SVR operative spoke in a hesitant voice in Russian, “Allo, kto eto?” It meant, Hello, who is this.

  “Javin. How are you, Mila?”

  “I’m all right, Javin. You?”

  “Pretty good. Thanks for the classic gift in Beijing.”

  Mila laughed. “I’m glad you liked it. Did you put it to good use?”

  “I sure did. Too bad I couldn’t take it with me.”

  “Where is it?”

  “Hidden somewhere safe in Beijing.”

  He had placed it underneath a pile of broken furniture debris outside a rundown house a short distance from the McDonald’s where he had changed his appearance before heading to the airport. He doubted anyone would find it, because the debris looked like it had been there for years.

  “Where are you now?”

  “Doha. Waiting for my flight.”

  “To where?”

  “That’s why I called you. I need a hiding place in the Xinjiang province. It’s in the far northwest, bordering Kazakhstan.”

  A brief pause, then Mila said, “Aren’t you in Doha? Why do you need a safehouse in northwest China?” Her voice rang with genuine curiosity.

  “It’s not for me or one of my contacts. It’s… I need a hangar.”

  “A hangar? What’s going on, Javin?”

  “You know I can’t tell you the details.”

  “Tell me what you can.”

  “I’m… eh, moving something from China to a new location. I need some help getting it across the border to Kazakhstan.”

  Mila laughed. “A plane. What kind of plane is it?”

  “C’mon, Mila.”

  “A fighter jet. Are you serious, Javin? You’re stealing a Chinese fighter jet? Why?”

  Javin sighed and decided to let Mila believe what she wanted to believe. “I need to finish something.”

  “No, Javin. An air attack on whoever you’re planning to attack will not finish anything. It will only start a war, your personal war, which you’ll surely lose.”

  “Thanks for your inspiring words.”

  “You don’t want to hear them, but I have to say them,” Mila sounded genuinely concerned. “I… I still care about you, Javin. I don’t want you to do anything stupid.”

  “Too late for that.”

  “It’s never too late.”

  “Will you help me?”

  It was Mila’s turn to sigh. “Of course, Javin. I won’t let you deal with this on your own, whatever it is that you’re doing. I have to make some calls, pull some strings. The transfer across the border shouldn’t be too difficult. The SVR has a good relationship with the Syrbar, the Kazakh’s foreign intel. A hangar in China… That would be tricky.”

  “But you can do it?”

  “Of course I can, Javin. I’m saying it’s difficult, not impossible.”

  “Good. That’s what I wanted to hear.”

  “Well, you might not want to hear that we’re no closer to finding Tarasov than when we started.”

  Javin nodded. Mila had sent him a couple of updates over the last few days. They were still looking for the driver of the Corolla, the car
that Tarasov had used to enter Canada. Javin’s CBSA contact hadn’t been able to access those records yet. The files were locked away because of some unspecified security concerns, but he was going to try again as soon as he could.

  For her part, Mila had discovered that Nikitin, the man whose car Tarasov drove to escape the United States, was, indeed, a Russian citizen. He had immigrated to the States about twenty years ago. In Moscow, he used to work as a taxi driver, something that he continued to do in his new country for the first few years. Then he switched to home renovations and now ran a construction company. However, over the last three months, he hadn’t worked on any projects. The reason wasn’t clear and neither was the connection between Tarasov and him.

  Javin said, “I’ll talk again to my guy in the French intel. He’s still trying to figure out how Tarasov secured his fake French passport. That might give us a lead.”

  “Yes, do so. I’d hate for this traitor to slip through our fingers.”

  “Well, he won’t try to return to the States, as he’s flagged at the border. So he’ll lay low in Canada.”

  “Yes, but the more time we waste, the less chance we have to find him…” Her voice clearly expressed her disappointment.

  “We’ll find him, Mila. He can hide for a while, but not forever.”

  “I hope so, Javin. I need to show progress, or it’s my neck on the line.”

  “I understand. Once I’m done with this assignment, I’ll be fully committed to finding Tarasov.”

  “Can’t be fast enough…”

  “I’m doing my best,” Javin said slowly, trying not to come across as defensive. “But you have my word: We’ll get him.”

  Just as the words left his mouth, he remembered Liberty and the promise he had made to her. He cursed under his breath and shook his head. Focus, Javin, and figure things out. You’re trying to please everybody, but you might end up pleasing nobody and lose everything… He drew in a deep breath and said, “Mila, I’ll head to Canada as soon as I can, and we’ll catch him.”

  “Okay, Javin. Don’t delay now…”

  “I won’t. Call me when you have the hangar’s location. I’ll fly to Kazakhstan, so I can be nearby.”

  “Good plan. I should have something in the next hour.”

  “Perfect. Talk to you soon.”

  “Be safe, Javin.”

  “You too, Mila.”

  He looked at the phone, then headed to the nearest counter of Qatar Airways. Let’s hope Fang’s op goes well, and when I land in K-stan, we’ll have the drone…

  Chapter Fifteen

  Hamad International Airport

  Qatar

  The next flight to Almaty International Airport, in Kazakhstan’s largest city, didn’t leave until ten thirty-five in the evening. Javin had a few hours to spare at the airport before his red-eye flight. He indulged in an early supper at Le Grand Comptoir, a French restaurant in the departure area. It was perhaps the best option available. The restaurant had an elegant design with a large tree in a planter in the middle of the dining area, comfortable wicker-style chairs, light brown wooden tables, reddish brown walls and booths. The overall atmosphere was relaxed.

  As far as airport fare went, the food was delicious. Javin enjoyed Filet de Saumon, which was a specialty of the house. The Norwegian salmon was crisp and tasty, complemented well by the roasted baby potatoes and the grilled vegetables. He thought about the last time he had been to a French restaurant. It had been in Paris, at the Café de la Regence, with Liberty, after they had visited the Louvre Museum. A scrumptious lunch and a great time.

  He began to feel guilty and suddenly missed Liberty, her kisses, the way she held him against her… He missed everything about her. Oh, how am I going to make this work? He shook his head and finished the last of his meal, which didn’t taste half as good as when he had started.

  Javin refused the waiter’s offer of dessert, but did order a coffee to go. He found his gate and sat across from it. Mila’s call came through minutes after he sat down. She had the location to a hangar, about fifty kilometers north of the Chinese base. It belonged to a Uyghur farmer that Mila said harbored no love for the Chinese communist regime, which he considered evil and repressive.

  Muslim Uyghurs were the indigenous population of farmers and shepherds that lived in the rugged, mountainous area and its vast deserts. While the province was supposed to be autonomous, the central Chinese government controlled almost every aspect of life in the region. Ethnic tensions flared up, with violent conflicts between the indigenous community, the Han Chinese settlers, the police, and the authorities.

  Javin had a brief conversation with Mila, then called Fang and gave him the location of the hangar. Fang welcomed the news, considering he hadn’t been able to find anything yet. However, everything else was in place, and, barring any unforeseen circumstances, the operation would start as scheduled at midnight.

  The CIS operative boarded his delayed flight around eleven. He’d have to remain in suspense until he landed the next morning, around 6 a.m. when his plane would arrive in the land of the Kazaks. But he couldn’t do much, other than worry. The operation was now in the hands of Fang and the team he had assembled. If they were unsuccessful, Javin would have to come up with another option.

  Until then, he could relax and enjoy the flight.

  It wasn’t meant to be.

  The Airbus 320 hit turbulence as soon as they reached cruising altitude. Javin didn’t mind the climbs and dives, but a baby three seats in front of him had a conniption. She screamed and shouted for at least thirty minutes, and Javin thought she had the lungs of a soprano. He tried to watch one of the action movies on the in-flight entertainment system, but the baby’s sharp shrills penetrated his wraparound headphones.

  Eventually, after a couple of hours, the baby’s tantrums faded out. Javin dozed off for a few minutes, concerned that the ear-piercing outbursts would wake him up at any moment.

  They didn’t.

  He had a broken, shallow sleep, but thankfully, without nightmares, as had been the case over the last few days. He kept dreaming about Liberty being taken by masked men. She’d keep calling his name, and, even though he was so close to her, he could never reach her. He’d run toward her, but she’d fade to black. Her painful cries were the only thing he’d hear… and he’d wake up in a sea of sweat.

  When he woke up, he felt a mind-numbing headache. Everything around him was spinning around. He had to lean onto the seat in front of him, even though he was still seated. He fought his dizziness for a few moments, then popped a couple of acetaminophen tablets. He checked his wristwatch and consulted the map displayed on the small screen on the seat in front of him. Still half of the flight. At least the baby is asleep.

  He went to the washroom, then opened his laptop. The middle-aged woman sitting next to him was sound asleep, with her head on the shoulder of her husband, who had a window seat. There was no Internet connection, so he decided to review the information he had gathered so far on Tarasov. The man’s location remained a mystery, but the French intelligence service had been able to identify the passport’s forger.

  The serial number had given him away.

  Javin’s friend in the DGSE had explained that about a year ago, a batch of a hundred blank French passports had been stolen. The authorities had arrested the forger six months ago and were checking through their databases for his clients and their intermediaries. With some luck, they’d come across a phone number, a name, or an address that could be tied to Tarasov, Nikitin, or another one of their known associates.

  It wasn’t much, but it was a good start. As the saying went, God is in the details. Javin knew of terrorist masterminds who had been caught or eliminated because of a tiny error by one of the least important team members in their network. Osama bin Laden’s hideout was discovered because of his courier. It was always the weakest link that broke the chain.

  Some good news had come from Javin’s contact in the CBSA. Finally, he had b
een able to get into the restricted files regarding Tarasov’s vehicle. A woman by the name of Dorothy Barrett had driven the Toyota Corolla across the Ambassador Bridge and into Detroit. She hadn’t returned to Canada, at least not legally, at any border crossing and presumably was still in the United States.

  Javin had related all that intelligence to Mila before boarding his flight, and she would have started to connect the dots. She had Barrett’s address in Toronto, and she lived not far from Nikitin. Once Mila had discovered their connection, she was confident she’d be able to find Nikitin and, through him, Tarasov.

  Javin stood up to stretch his legs and walked up and down the aisle. There was perhaps another hour or so until they landed. His mind began to wander to the drone operation. It was starting to bother him that he couldn’t be on the ground with Fang and his team. The CIS operative had suggested it, but Fang had dismissed the idea. This was a hacking operation, which would be successful if it was carried out without anyone firing a shot. The team would gain access to the drone’s onboard communication system remotely, then fly it to a field halfway between the military base and the hangar. Fang and two members of his team would then kill the signal by jamming the drone’s navigational frequency and disabling the GPS trackers onboard.

  The second stage of the operation included installing a new tracking device and using a different frequency to guide the drone to the hangar. The team would dismantle the drone into parts that could be easily transported aboard a tractor-trailer to the border with Kazakhstan. Then Mila would do her magic and ensure safe crossing and delivery of the drone to Javin.

  He returned to his seat and took a series of deep breaths to calm himself. The baby was still asleep, so Javin decided to make the best of his time and try to take a nap. Who knows the next time I’ll have such an opportunity? Once I’m in Almaty and I talk to Fang, I might learn that everything has gone sideways, or I might be pleasantly surprised. Either way, I can’t do much about it at this time.

  He closed his eyes and, soon enough, plunged into a deep sleep.