Closure Read online

“Well then, that’s the plan.”

  “First plane to Geneva.”

  “Via Istanbul or Frankfurt?”

  “Let’s go with the second. I shouldn’t go back to Turkey.”

  “You ran into some trouble in Istanbul as well?”

  “You could say that.”

  Wissam shrugged. “All right. Frankfurt it is.” He pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Al Rafidain Hotel

  Baghdad, Iraq

  After supper, Javin decided it was time to call Bakhtiar and give him the bad news about the attack on the Iranians’ safehouse. The last time Javin had talked to the Quds Force commander was shortly after the team’s arrival in Baghdad. Bakhtiar had been in a bad mood, and Javin doubted the news was going to make things better.

  Javin sat back on an uncomfortable plastic chair and took a sip of coffee. It’s cold, but the bitter taste remains. I need to make a fresh, better pot. After these calls. He shrugged and dialed Bakhtiar’s number.

  The commander answered after the fifth or the sixth ring, when Javin had all but given up. Then Bakhtiar’s strong voice roared in a gruff tone, clearly annoyed at the interruption. “This is Commander Bakhtiar. Who is this?”

  “Javin Pierce. Can you talk?”

  “Yes, yes. Give me the update.”

  “I’ve got very bad news. Danyal and Firuz are dead.”

  Bakhtiar let out a string of expletives. When he had finished, he said, “Who did this?”

  “I’m not sure. The entire safehouse was turned into a heap of rubble.”

  “Tell me what took place.”

  Javin gave Bakhtiar a brief account of the attack on the safehouse. At the end, the Iranian commander asked, “So, it just happened that you were gone when the house came under attack?”

  “Yes, as I explained, I was on the way back, a block away.”

  “Very convenient explanation.”

  Javin frowned. “What does that mean?”

  “You were away when the attack happened.”

  “Are you saying I had something to do with it?”

  “Did you?”

  “No, of course not. I had nothing to do with Danyal’s and Firuz’s deaths.”

  “All right, say that I believe you. You still did nothing to help them?”

  Javin sighed. “There was nothing to do. Perhaps you didn’t hear me, but the entire house blew up when the rockets hit. No one could have survived the attack.”

  “But you didn’t check?”

  “I didn’t. It wasn’t necessary, and I would have been killed in the attempt.”

  “Would you have gone to help them if they were Canadian operatives? Regardless of the risk?”

  Javin shook his head and bit his tongue. He wanted to tell Bakhtiar everything about Danyal’s and Firuz’s betrayal, and how they had given Javin’s phone number to his boss. But Javin was not certain if it would help or if Bakhtiar was aware of or a part of the betrayal. “I did all I could, Bakhtiar.”

  “You say you did.”

  A tense pause followed for a long moment, then Bakhtiar said, “Another team will work with you on the operation. They’ll get in—”

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  “Don’t interrupt me,” Bakhtiar’s voice boomed with anger. “This is a joint operation, Javin. Don’t forget that.”

  “That’s no longer the case. I have everything I need from you, and I thank you for that.”

  “I don’t want your gratitude, Javin.”

  Javin clenched his teeth and drew in a deep breath. “Commander, your secret will never see the light of day. And I’m going on with the mission.”

  “You are?”

  “Of course I am.”

  “You’ve secured outside help from another source?”

  “I’d rather not talk about it.”

  “You’ve struck a deal with the Zionist pigs?”

  “Like I said, I’d rather not discuss it.”

  Another long silence, then Bakhtiar said, “Javin, you’ll still need my help.”

  “If I do, I’ll let you know. I have your number.”

  “And I know where I can find you too. You’re still in Baghdad, but even in Europe, I can always find you.”

  Javin frowned at the veiled threat. “Yes, I’d like for us to keep in touch. We can always work on other joint ops.” He really had no intention of ever crossing paths with Bakhtiar, but he also knew the right words he needed to say. As one of his mentors used to say, The bridge you burn today is the one you'll have to cross tomorrow.

  “We’ll see about that,” Bakhtiar said with a grunt, then hung up on Javin.

  He shrugged and sighed. No point in wasting time rehashing the past and how things could have been if there had been no betrayal. As much as Javin hated it, backstabbing and deception were daily occurrence, a part of his job he had grown to accept. He shrugged again and dialed the next number, his other sensitive call.

  Asher, the Mossad operative, picked up after the second ring. His deep, almost baritone voice hammered out the words in what Javin knew was Hebrew. When Asher finished his rattling, Javin said, “Asher, it’s me.”

  “Javin, where have you been? I’ve tried to call you all evening.”

  “Yes, I’ve run into some complications.”

  “Nothing you can’t handle?”

  “Correct.”

  “Because you are the corrector.” He let out a low laugh.

  “I try. What do you have for me?”

  “Good news. My boss agreed to the exchange.”

  “Only the intel part?”

  “No, the entire deal.”

  Javin nodded and smiled. He really needed some good news.

  Asher said, “I’m as surprised as you are, but it happened. Must be your lucky day.”

  “I’m not sure about that so far. When do I get the package?”

  “That’s why I have been calling. The team reviewed the intel you provided on the bus bombing and concluded it’s genuine. I have what you asked for: the data on Al-Qaeda’s sending assassins into Saudi Arabia targeting their prince, and the Iranian involvement.”

  “What was the reason?”

  “You’ll see; it’s in the files.”

  “Can’t you tell me?”

  “It will take time, which I don’t have at the moment.”

  “And the Mossad operative’s resignation?”

  “Yes, about that ...” Asher’s voice trailed off.

  Javin frowned. “Asher, you said the deal was complete.”

  “It is, Javin, but there are a couple of conditions.”

  “Oh, I should have expected that.”

  “No, it’s not a trap. I have to admit, it’s not as clean as you’d have wanted it.”

  “Just give it to me, Asher.”

  He sighed, then said, “The operative has agreed to resign, but she wants a meeting, so she can explain to you what really took place.”

  “That is a trap.”

  “No, it’ll be in a controlled environment.”

  “You know there’s no such thing.”

  “There is. We’ll create it.”

  “Let me guess: It will have to be in Israel.”

  “Wrong guess. Anywhere in Europe.”

  Javin thought about his answer for a moment. “I’ll be available. But you’re sending me everything about why she tried to kill me?”

  “Yes, yes, everything is in the package. What’s a good email?”

  “The one you already have.”

  “It’s not compromised?”

  “You’re the only one who has it.”

  “Good. I’ll send this over right away. Then I’ll arrange for the meeting. When and where?”

  Javin made some quick calculations. If everything went well tomorrow with the Geneva operation, he should be able to make the Mossad meeting the day after that. “Two days from now. Lyon, France.”

  “Okay. I’ll call you with details.
”

  “No, this number is not good. Expect my call tomorrow.”

  “Sure.”

  “Thanks, Asher.”

  “Yes, about that. A warning from my boss to you and other CIS operatives: This was a very unique situation that demanded an extreme solution. But this is not going to become a pattern. There will be no such deals in the future. Never.”

  “What do they say about the ‘never’ word?”

  “Never say it? I know that, Javin. But I’m just the messenger.”

  “Understood, Asher.”

  “Talk to you tomorrow, Javin. Have a great day.”

  “Yes, same to you, Asher.”

  Javin glanced at the phone. It’s too bad I have to get rid of this one as well. He was glad he had opted for the cheapest model. As much as he doubted Mossad would undertake a strike operation against Javin and Muath at such short notice, he did not want to risk it. Mossad had the capacity to trace calls, and Javin knew for a fact they had an active team in Baghdad. Javin and Muath would have to find another location for the night.

  Muath walked from the bedroom into the kitchen of the hotel suite. “You’re done?”

  “Almost. One more call. But we need to go.”

  Muath smiled. “I knew you were going to say that. Already have a reservation at the Qindar Palace. Five minutes by taxi.”

  “Great. We’ll leave in five, less if possible.”

  “I’ll be ready in two.”

  Javin nodded and pointed at the phone. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  Muath nodded back and left the kitchen.

  Javin deactivated the phone he had used to call Bakhtiar and Asher, then stood up and tossed the broken SIM card pieces and the battery out the window. When he returned to the table, he dialed a new number from the second brand-new phone Muath had provided for him.

  The call was going to connect Javin to bin Alawwad, the first aide of Saudi Prince Al-Hamad.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Al Rafidain Hotel

  Baghdad, Iraq

  The prince’s aide replied immediately after the first ring. “Yes, this is bin Alawwad,” he said in his warm, high-pitched tone.

  “Javin here. I’ve got concrete intel.”

  “Javin, it’s good to hear back from you.”

  “You sound surprised. I told you I was going to call as soon as I had something.”

  “Yes, yes, I remember now, you did say that.”

  Javin frowned. He’s sounding strange. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing, Javin, nothing. Everything is all right; it’s all good. Now, what information do you have?”

  “How’s Claudia?”

  “She’s doing very well, and will continue to do so as long as you keep your end of the deal.” Bin Alawwad’s voice turned firm and strong and lost some of its initial warmth and uncertainty. “The information.”

  “Yes, I have a very reliable source handing me a full report on what took place, how Al-Qaeda was implicated, and what role the Iranians played in the plot.”

  “Anything concrete, Javin?”

  “Not on the phone. I don’t have a secure line.”

  “When will you deliver the report?”

  “As soon as I can. In the next couple of hours, I hope.”

  “You hope?”

  “Yes. I still have an operation to run, in case you forgot.”

  “This is your top priority.”

  “This is the prince’s prio—”

  “No, no, no, no. You were paid for this job, Javin. You work for the prince.”

  Javin swore under his breath. “I have an arrangement with the prince, and I’ll honor it. But many things are happening all at the same time.”

  “Well, get it done, Javin. Don’t call me until you’ve sent the report.”

  “I’ll do that, but when I call, I want to talk to Claudia.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  Javin frowned. “Why not?”

  “It’s not part of the deal.”

  “Deals can change.”

  “Not this one.”

  “Bin Alawwad, why don’t you take this to the prince and let him decide?”

  “Javin, are you telling me how to do my job?”

  “No, far from it, bin Alawwad, but I’d like the prince to decide.”

  “He has already decided, and I’m his mouth and his hand.” Bin Alawwad’s voice rose up to a shout. “You’re not talking to your partner until the report has been delivered, and it’s found to be in order. You understand?”

  Javin clenched his teeth, but there was not much he could do. While Claudia was in the hands of Saudi intelligence services, Javin was forced to abide by the terms of the unchangeable deal. He swore again under his breath, then said, “I understand.”

  “I’m glad that’s clear. Now off you go. We’ve wasted enough time.”

  “Have a good day, bin Alawwad.”

  “Of course, I will, and I hope yours is successful.”

  Javin shook his head and ended the call. He stood up and cast a sweeping gaze at the kitchen, then the living room area. Once he made sure he had left nothing suspicious behind, he grabbed his go-bag by his feet and bolted toward the door.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Qindar Palace

  Baghdad, Iraq

  Javin and Muath reached their new hotel without any problems. No one was following the taxi, but Javin remained vigilant. After the attack on the Iranian safehouse, he had come to expect that anything could happen.

  At the hotel, Javin took the first guard shift. Muath assured Javin that no one knew their whereabouts, but Javin insisted they be extra careful and cover all the bases. The last thing Javin wanted was to be caught asleep when Iraqi special forces or Mossad assassins barged through the door. Moreover, he wanted to study the files Asher was expected to send at any moment.

  So he made a fresh pot of coffee and stood by the window. The Beretta 92FS 9mm pistol was on the small desk, but within his reach. He studied the traffic outside on the busy Mustansiriya Skyway. He frowned every time a suspicious-looking vehicle slowed down or turned onto the small road leading to the hotel. Near midnight, everything seemed to go quiet, but for the occasional police siren echoing in the distance.

  Around twelve fifteen, Javin’s phone beeped with the arrival of a message. A quick glance at the screen told him all he needed to know. An email from Asher with a large attachment. He sat at the desk and began to download the files. They took less than a minute, but to Javin it felt like an hour. He fidgeted, cocked and uncocked the Beretta, then put it aside as the phone beeped again, this time informing Javin that the download was complete.

  He tapped the first file, the Mossad summary on the Al-Qaeda operation, and began to read. The English translation was rough, but Javin had little trouble understanding the meaning. The more he read, the more shocked he became at the truth unfolding in front of his eyes.

  According to Mossad’s intelligence, the Al-Qaeda top operatives—who had been under house arrest for over three years in an undisclosed military installation in Tehran—had been released with the specific purpose of assassinating the Saudi prince. The assassination was expected to cause turmoil and chaos in the kingdom, which had already experienced a series of internal shocks and outside pressures, both politically and militarily.

  Officers from the Ministry of Intelligence and Security, or MOIS—Iran’s primary security intelligence agency—were reported to have escorted the Al-Qaeda fighters through Iran and into the hands of the terrorist organization in northeast Pakistan. MOIS hoped that Iran could take advantage of a weakened Saudi Arabia, strengthen its influence, and assert the Persian dominance in the region. Mossad suspected that even the kidnapping of the senior Iranian diplomat was staged, to provide an excuse for the release, under the guise of a swap.

  However, it seemed that MOIS had neglected to inform or receive the approval of the very powerful and greatly feared Quds Force. The interactions of
the two intelligence agencies were complicated, but it was clear that they were engulfed in a bitter power rivalry. While all intelligence agencies were required by law to share information with MOIS, the Quds Force, which operated independently, routinely sidestepped MOIS, especially when running operations inside Iran. At times, the two agencies had exchanged grave accusations, even to the extent that MOIS had accused Iranian nuclear representatives—who were also high officials of the Quds Force—of spying for world powers, leaking secrets to them, and allowing them to have the upper hand at the negotiations table. The Quds Force, of course, had strongly dismissed these charges and denied any wrongdoing. The representatives in question had not been dismissed, but instead, they had been promoted within the ranks of the Quds Force.

  In the case of the Al-Qaeda operatives, Quds Force senior leaders believed it was a grave mistake to attempt the assassination of Prince Al-Hamad, the third in the line of succession to the Saudi Arabia throne. If the operatives failed, but even if they succeeded, and the connection to Iran became undeniable, the Quds Force was convinced that the Saudis would consider the assassination an “act of war.” That might prompt them to start a large-scale military campaign against Iran, a conflict that might spread into Iraq and Afghanistan, and involve the United States and Western powers, all pouring wrath and bombs into Iran.

  Thus, to avoid such an extreme version of events, the Mossad report asserted that the Quds Force had dispatched a strike team to stop the Al-Qaeda attack. As Javin knew full well, the team had been unsuccessful because of betrayal, having been so close to thwarting the plot. The ambush on the road to Riyadh had decimated the Iranian operatives.

  Javin nodded as he absorbed the information. This makes perfect sense. It explains why the Iranian first unleashed, then tried to put the monsters back in the box. He nodded again and sipped his now-cold coffee. A stirring of admiration for the detailed report washed over him. Mossad might be very treacherous, but they were flawless in their intelligence gathering.

  He got up and readied the coffeemaker for a fresh pot. While he waited, his hand played with the phone whose number he had given to Mila. It has been more than two hours. Why isn’t she calling? In their line of work, delays meant trouble, but Mila was one of the best in handling trouble.