Counterblow Page 9

Javin shrugged. “It doesn’t matter—”

  “What is your name?” The man’s voice grew stronger and louder, and he got into Javin’s face.

  The CIS operative looked around. A few of the bodyguards were observing the tense exchange. So Javin smiled at the gray suit and said, “It’s Mohammed bin Mohammed.”

  Mohammed was the most common name in Qatar and across the Arab world. It was the same as saying John Smith.

  The gray suit didn’t appreciate Javin’s attempt at humor. Before the Qatari could open his mouth, Javin added, “I’m here to meet the Honorable Prince Al-Thani.”

  “You are? Interesting. What for?”

  Javin stepped closer to the man, who almost instinctively moved back. He puffed up his chest and moved his hands in front of him and slightly up as if expecting Javin to attack him. Instead, the agent lowered his voice to barely a whisper and said in a warm tone, “I have some good news and some bad news—”

  “About?”

  Javin shook his head. “Better delivered in person. You know the prince hates bad news.”

  The gray suit seemed to mull over Javin’s words. “Show me an ID.”

  “I don’t have one under that name…”

  “So, you’re lying to me?” He raised his voice.

  Javin gestured with his hand. “Keep it down. I need to talk to the prince right away, because this is time-sensitive. You’re wasting his time, something the prince also hates…”

  The gray suit shook his head slowly. “I can’t let just anyone in who claims he knows the prince because he has seen him on TV…”

  “Oh, so you’d like the prince’s authorization before you let me in, is that what you’re saying?”

  “Yes, funny guy, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “Well, now we’re getting somewhere.” Javin moved his hands to his sides and showed them to the gray suit, so he could easily see they were empty. “I have a phone in my jacket, right here.” He pointed at the left side of his chest. “Don’t shoot me now.” His eyes went to the bulge on the left side of the gray suit. A pistol or even a compact submachine gun was resting in a shoulder holster.

  “No surprises.” The gray suit lifted his right hand and moved it closer to the bulge.

  Javin showed him a white Samsung phone, then began to dial a number. A busy signal, then his call was forwarded to voicemail. Javin tried again while smiling at the gray suit.

  He cocked his head and gave Javin a menacing frown. “Can’t get through? Maybe you have the wrong number?”

  His frown didn’t last long.

  Javin heard the dial tone, then the gruff voice of Prince Al-Thani, who said, “Who am I talking to?”

  “Honorable prince, my sincerest apologies for bothering you,” Javin said in a very respectful tone. “Unfortunately, I have some bad news about one of your servants, who seems to be embezzling your hard-earned money and insulting your endless generosity.” Javin’s tone remained polite and deferential.

  “What is your name? Who are you talking about?” The prince’s voice kept the gruff tone, but Javin noticed a sliver of interest.

  “I’m just outside the tower and would prefer to discuss this matter with you in person,” Javin spoke quickly, before the prince could cut him off. “But it’s about Mr. Ali Khalifa Al-Attiya and involves a guest from the UAE you have been looking for…”

  Javin didn’t want to give any more details, because the gray suit was less than two steps away. The CIS operative continued, “One of the security guards outside the tower is stopping me from doing my duty and informing you of the truth.”

  “What is his name?”

  Javin grinned at the gray suit, whose face registered a clear sense of panic. The CIS operative said, “He wants to talk to you…” and handed the phone to the gray suit.

  The man almost dropped the phone, because his hand was trembling. He turned around and took a few steps, so that Javin couldn’t see or hear the conversation.

  Javin didn’t look around, but kept the nearest bodyguards in his peripheral vision. A couple of them were mumbling something indiscernible to his ears. By their careful posture, it was apparent they had realized they had misjudged the man.

  The gray suit turned around in a matter of seconds. His face had lost all color, and he looked like he was about to faint. He avoided looking Javin in the eyes and instead handed him the phone. “This way, please, sir,” he said in a shaky voice and headed toward the entrance.

  “Thank you,” Javin said in a flat tone, without any sign of mockery or gloating.

  Everyone hated someone who gloated.

  Moreover, his mind was focused on the tricky conversation with the prince. It was one thing to force a bodyguard to let him inside a building. It was something altogether different convincing a powerful royal to eliminate his closest confidant…

  Chapter Thirteen

  Al Faisal Tower

  Doha, Qatar

  The red carpet had become somewhat stained with dust from the conference attendees who had walked over it. A tiny man was vacuuming it with a machine that looked too big and too heavy for his frail frame. Javin followed the gray suit as he led him to the left of the carpet over the white-and-black, spic-and-span marbled floor, toward the entrance to the conference hall guarded by two men in black suits.

  When they came near the large, brown wooden doors, the men stepped in front of them.

  “Stay here,” the gray suit said in a rough voice and gestured to Javin as if he were a disobedient dog.

  He stopped and looked around. Men were walking through the large lobby, which was well-lit because of the rows of windows to the right. It was much cooler inside than the scorching heat outside, and tiny drops of perspiration had beaded on his brow. He drew in a deep breath, sensing a hint of a coffee aroma coming from his left. He turned his head and peered, trying to find the source, but he couldn’t.

  He saw a few women dressed in colorful abayas walking about thirty meters away from him. Qatar was one of the most progressive Gulf States when it came to women and their role in society. They could drive, work outside the house, vote, and run for political office. However, there were still many imbalances when it came to family and divorce laws, and a host of restrictions were deeply embedded in the society’s culture and traditions.

  The gray suit talked for a moment with the two bodyguards. Then he turned his head and pointed to Javin. One of the guards gave Javin a measured glance, followed by a headshake. The other one shrugged and entered the hall.

  The gray suit walked past Javin and away without another word.

  Javin shrugged and stepped closer to the door.

  The bodyguard headed toward him, but before he could say anything, the door of the hall opened. Prince Al-Thani walked through and looked toward Javin. He must have recognized the operative, because the prince’s face took on a deep frown.

  He was in his early fifties, about the same height as Javin, but looked taller, because of the white headdress. The prince had a broad forehead, small but piercing black eyes, and a thin mustache. He was dressed in a shiny blue-black-and-gold thobe and walked toward Javin with purpose.

  Javin gave the prince a reverent bow.

  Prince Al-Thani stood one step away from Javin and said, “Pierce… Of all people, what are you doing here?” The prince spoke in English with a hint of a British accent. His strong, chiding voice clearly expressed his displeasure.

  “Sir, I’m very sorry to bother you, especially at this time,” Javin said in a warm tone. “But it’s something you need to see.”

  “And it couldn’t wait?”

  Javin shook his head. “No, it couldn’t.”

  Prince Al-Thani studied Javin’s face for a long moment, then nodded. “You have two minutes. What is it?”

  Javin gestured with his head toward a quieter place to their right. “Can we talk in private?”

  Al-Thani shrugged. “If you insist.”

  He walked ahead of Javin in that
direction along the hall and gestured to the bodyguard to follow him, then waved a hand to indicate he should stop there. When they were at a distance beyond earshot of the guard, Javin pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket. He unlocked it with his passcode, tapped the screen, and swiped to the left. “I told you I had some intel about Mr. Al-Attiya—”

  “My trusted aide, yes. You implied he’s been stealing from me…”

  “I did, and this is the evidence to prove it.” He offered the phone to the prince. “This is a text message exchange between your servant and one of his best friends…”

  Javin let the prince read the short message, where the aide boasted of how he had pocketed a third of the money the prince had allocated to a couple of investment projects in Lebanon. It was about thirty thousand dollars, a drop in the proverbial bucket compared to the prince’s wealth, but it was the principle that mattered.

  The prince’s frown grew deeper. He looked at Javin and said, “How can I be certain these are true?”

  “I wouldn’t lie to you about such grave matters.”

  The prince shook his head. “I can’t believe he’d be such a fool as to write this…”

  “He was a fool to believe he could steal from you and get away with it.”

  “That’s what you say. But I know there’s bad blood between you and my aide because of your last operation…”

  “Water under the bridge, sir.” Javin waved his hand. “I’m here because I want you to know about this—”

  “Why? So you can right this wrong?”

  “Far from it. No one made me a judge. But we had a deal, intermediated through Mr. Al-Attiya. It involved Shinwari, the supposedly reformed terrorist, to whom you gave a considerable compensation in exchange for intel. Of course, he disappeared after taking your money…” Javin didn’t finish the thought, confident that the prince would draw the correct conclusion.

  “And you’re implying Al-Attiya took that money as well?”

  Javin nodded. “I have the evidence.”

  “Where is it?” The prince looked at the phone.

  “No, since this is serious, you need more proof than a text message. You already suspect that’s forged, so how about an eyewitness?”

  Prince Al-Thani cocked his head. “You have an eyewitness?”

  “Mohammad Shinwari. He’ll tell you how much money he received. And you’ll be shocked to learn it wasn’t even half of what Al-Attiya was supposed to have paid him…”

  The prince took a moment to process the revelation, then cursed under his breath, and a look of rage darkened his face. “How dare he do this?”

  “A fool, sir, an arrogant fool.”

  The prince studied Javin’s face again as if trying to detect any signs of being set up. Finding none, he nodded. He handed Javin back his phone and asked, “What’s the number?”

  Javin scrolled through his phone until he found it, then showed it to the prince, who had already pulled out his own phone in a shiny diamond-encrusted case. The prince dialed the number and walked away from Javin.

  He drew a sigh of relief. The operative had designed such a scenario. He had made arrangements for the prince to talk directly to Waleed Helal. He was a high official working in the National Security Agency, or NSA, the primary agency responsible for security in the Kingdom of Bahrain. Helal would then connect the prince to Shinwari, who was captured by Javin and a Bahraini team after a fierce firefight in Barcelona.

  Shinwari was transferred from the Guantanamo prison to the custody of the United Arab Emirates. Shortly after his arrival, he had disappeared and had returned to his former, terrorist ways. The prince had heard rumors about a terrorist attack being plotted against Qatar and had tried to secure intelligence from Shinwari. The money intended to buy the terrorist’s cooperation seemingly had been stolen by Al-Attiya to finance his sexcapades in Dubai.

  Javin glanced at the bodyguard standing halfway between the operative and the prince. Al-Thani was talking animatedly into the phone, but he was beyond earshot, so Javin couldn’t hear anything. However, when the prince returned two minutes later, his face did all the talking. He had become flushed with anger as if the blood was sizzling inside him. The prince’s eyes had turned into small, fiery slits. His fingers were tight around the phone, and he unclenched his teeth to say only, “It’s confirmed.”

  “I’m sorry you had to find out this way,” Javin said in a genuine tone. “But you had the right to know.”

  “I want to talk to Shinwari again. It’s still an unresolved matter. It’s about terrorists planning to attack my country.”

  Javin nodded. “That can be arranged.”

  The prince returned the nod. “I will take care of that… that thief.”

  I’m sure you will. Javin just nodded. “I’d better go then…”

  “Wait. Is… you’re not asking for anything in return?”

  Javin shook his head. “I didn’t come here for money—”

  The prince’s stiff face formed a smirk. “You came for revenge…”

  Javin shrugged. “You’d have found out one way or another, sooner or later…”

  “But it had to come from you.”

  Javin held Prince Al-Thani’s eyes for a long moment. “Am I sorry about your aide?” He shrugged again. “I didn’t make Al-Attiya do any of this. He sealed his own fate the moment he decided to steal from you…”

  “Yes, and he will curse the moment he made that decision…”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Al Faisal Tower

  Doha, Qatar

  Javin left through the main entrance and flagged the first available taxi to take him to the airport. He wasn’t sure how long it would take Prince Al-Thani to make good on his promise. He wasn’t known as a merciful man, but rather as someone who gave people exactly what they deserved. Whenever the time came for Al-Attiya to meet his fate, Javin wanted to be as far away as possible. His job in Qatar was done.

  He didn’t have a flight scheduled, because he hadn't been sure how long he needed to be in Qatar to carry out his operation. Besides, he needed an update from Fang about the drone retrieval mission. Depending on the hacker’s briefing, Javin would plan his next moves and when to seek Mila’s assistance. That meant he might need to fly to Kazakhstan or Mongolia and perhaps re-enter China to help with the drone’s transfer.

  At Hamad International Airport, he found a somewhat quiet corner and called Fang. The call was immediately diverted to voicemail, but Javin knew better than to leave a message. He sent Fang an email as well, asking for Fang to get in touch with him as soon as possible.

  With time to kill, he decided to call Liberty. The last time they had talked had been shortly after he had arrived in London. It had been only three days ago, but it felt like a lifetime.

  Liberty answered after the sixth ring. “Yes, who’s calling?”

  “Liberty, it’s me.”

  “Oh, Javin, babe, it’s so good to hear your voice.”

  “Yes, I’m glad I caught you.”

  “Yes, I just… My hands were all yucky, and I didn’t want to mess up the screen.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Painting the bedroom. One of the walls has these water stains I’ve ignored for so long… But no more. One more coat, and they’ll be completely gone.” She sounded upbeat. “But how are things with you?”

  “Things are going well. About one-third of what I need to do is taken care of. The rest shouldn’t be that difficult, if everything goes well.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Somewhere hot, very hot.” Javin wiped his brow with the back of his hand and looked at the sheen of sweat.

  “Are you safe?”

  “I am.” For the moment. “How are things at the camp?” he asked in a hurried voice, eager to change the subject.

  “Eh, the same. An attack happened in Albu Sayf, in the southern part of the city. Daesh fighters fired at the house of an Iraqi who works for the security forces. He was wounded, and his
cousin, who happened to be at the house, was killed.” Her voice had turned quavery, loaded with sadness.

  Daesh was the derogatory term used commonly in Iraq to refer to ISIS fighters. In theory, ISIS had been defeated in Iraq in December 2017 and in Syria in March 2019. In reality, small groups of fighters continued their low-level fighting and carried out individual attacks against mostly vulnerable targets.

  Javin clenched his teeth and tightened his fist. He hated that Liberty had to continue living and working in such a hostile environment.

  Before he could say anything, Liberty continued, “Residents are afraid to leave the camp, and doctors and suppliers are reluctant to come here. They’re being extorted so Daesh can fund their fighting. It’s getting tougher and tougher.”

  “Time to get out of there,” he said more forcefully than he intended.

  “I’m trying, Javin, but it doesn’t depend on me. Haven’t heard anything about my transfer request.”

  “Did you call again?”

  “I did, yes, and left a message. The director is on holiday, and the assistant doesn’t want to deal with it.”

  Typical bureaucracy. Javin shook his head and cursed under his breath. Why make more work for myself, when in a few days, someone else can do this job? “When is she back?”

  “In two days. I’ll call at that time. Trust me; I want to leave this place as much as you want me to…”

  “I know, I worry about you.”

  “And I worry about you, Javin. I… I wish you could tell me more about what’s going on…” Her voice cracked, and faltered, and then trailed off.

  “I’m… I’m sorry, Liberty. I wish I could share everything with you, but I can’t.”

  A tense pause, and he thought he heard Liberty sniffle. Another moment of pause, then she said, “When will I see you again?” Her voice had gotten stronger and firmer, but not by much.

  Javin didn’t answer right away. He made some quick mental calculations. If everything went well, his operation in Syria would be over in three days at the most. Although, if there were complications, it would take another day or two. He didn’t want to give Liberty false hope, so he said, “Six days, a week.”