Tripoli's Target (Justin Hall # 2) (17 page)

“What is it?” She adjusted her earpiece volume and walked to the entrance of the room.

“Tall, muscular man. Blue blazer, khaki pants. Late thirties. Coming to you from the left, at nine o’clock. He’s staring at you, Mike.”

“Yeah, I see him,” replied Mike, the agent by the entrance to the room. He had spotted the man among the thinning tourist crowd.

Carrie could see him as well. The man had sharp facial features, a chiseled nose, dark penetrating eyes, and a well-trimmed anchor beard.

“I got him.” Mike took a few steps forward, blocking most of the narrow hall with his three hundred pounds body.

Unfazed, the man kept walking toward the CIS agent.

“Here to see someone?” Mike asked when the man was two steps away.

The man nodded. Carrie thought she heard a slight growl of annoyance, but she could not be sure because of the background noise.

“Face the wall.” Mike gestured with his left hand.

“This is not necessary,” the man replied in a slow, dry voice.

Carrie tried to place his accent, but it was nearly impossible. The man sounded like he could be an Egyptian, Jordanian, or from anywhere else in the Middle East.

“Standard procedure,” Mike said. “You know the drill.”

The man spread his legs and arms, as he stood inches away from the beige wall.

“He’s clean,” Mike said after the pat down.

The man jerked his head back.”Happy?” he asked Mike, his palms spread in front of his face.

“Delighted. This way.” Mike motioned with his head for the man to walk in front of him.

Three seconds later, Carrie shook the man’s hand.

“Thank you,” she said, as Mike retreated outside the room. “Mr. Ben-David?”

The man nodded. “Call me Eliakim,” he said.

“OK. Eliakim, take a seat.”

They sat in chairs facing each other, underneath a showcase displaying ancient pottery.

“My name is Carrie O’Connor. My operational chief arranged for this meeting, which was supposed to take place almost an hour ago.”

“We’re handling another crisis at the moment, and the traffic was a mess,” Eliakim replied with a slight grin. “I see you don’t have much trust, do you?” The man pointed at the entrance to the room. Mike’s shadow was still visible on the wall.

“You’re an Israeli in Egypt; do you trust anyone in this country?”

The man grinned again.

“Let’s not waste more time. You have the intel I need?” Carrie asked.

“I have to make sure the man in question is alive and well.”

“That will be impossible. This is not a ransom drop; it’s an intel exchange. You give me what was promised to my boss, details about your agent’s mission to Sudan. I’ll give you his location.”

Eliakim shook his head. “I need to talk to the hostage before I tell you anything.”

Carrie frowned. “Your man is not a hostage. He was rescued after his chopper crashed, after he and his team tried to kill me and my team. Your man was wounded in the fight. If we had left him in the desert, you would have found his sun-baked corpse. If we had turned him over to the gunmen who survived his attack, you would have found his gasoline-scorched bones.”

She stared at Eliakim, who was taken aback by her sudden eruption.

“So, we saved his life, taking him with us. He was never and still is not a hostage. We are keeping him safe until the Mossad is willing to take him back.”

“I understand, but I still need to establish that he’s alive. Like your agent said, it’s standard procedure.”

“We sent you a photo, which shows his current state. Your man is alive and well. We have no reason to kill him now, after saving him, informing you that we have him, and arranging for this meeting.”

Eliakim shook his head. “Once you learned he was an Israeli, you crafted this plan to squeeze out information, rather than hand him over to us, like the good tradition requires between friends.”

Carrie leaned forward, pointing at Eliakim with her left hand index finger. “Friends? How many times do I have to tell you? This man attacked us with missiles and .50 cal machine guns. See this bruise?” She pointed at the left corner of her lip, just underneath her dimple. “And these scratches?” Her hand brushed against her right cheek. A purple streak was carved about an inch away from her eye.

Eliakim nodded and opened his mouth, but Carrie was quick to stop him.

“No, you listen to me. Your man was captured right after a gun battle, which almost cost me my life. So, I’m not going to take any bullshit about friendly relations.”

Eliakim leaned forward. “This conflict, this shootout, was unintentional. It was what they call ‘friendly fire.’ We didn’t know you were running an op at the same time and in the same area where the terrorists were hiding…”

“OK, let’s assume for a moment that’s true. How did you know about the Sheikh being at that exact location?”

Eliakim hesitated for a second. “Do you know that these people, with whom you’re involved, smuggle rockets and missiles to Arab terrorists, who use them to kill innocent people, women and children, in Israel?”

“I’m the one asking questions here and don’t use that tone with me,” Carrie replied. She noticed Mike’s shadow getting closer to the entrance as her voice rose to a shout. After taking in a deep breath, she said, “Cooking means getting messy, and we work in a very dirty kitchen.” Her voice returned to a calm tone.

“Uh-huh, go on.”

“And yes, unfortunately, there are casualties, but we were there to negotiate a peace deal, which means less bloodshed.”

“Now, you listen to me.” Eliakim stood up, his muscles bursting underneath his blazer, and his chest rising up in anger. “There can be no peace in the Middle East without Israel at the table. The bloodshed will continue as long as terrorist rockets fall on our cities. And, for your information, sometimes the cooks get burned while they’re fixing these secret recipes for disaster.”

“Sit down,” Carrie said. “And answer my question. How did you learn the Sheikh was there?”

Eliakim took his time pacing around the room. Then, he stumbled to his chair, clenching his fists.

“Of course, we knew Sheikh Ayman was somewhere in the desert. Our operatives have been following every move of the Alliance ever since they started their bombing campaign. As the violence spread across the region, a decision was make to execute, what do you, Americans, call it—”

“I wouldn’t know about that,” Carrie interrupted him, “I’m Canadian.”

Eliakim gave her a grin. “Yes, now it came to me, ‘targeted killing.’ A decision was made to eliminate the operational head of the Alliance, Sheikh Yusuf Ayman.”

“Who made this decision?”

“High government officials.”

“Any names?”

“Uh, that’s classified.”

“Declassify it for me, please.”

“The Prime Minister gave his approval,” Eliakim said.

“Was anyone aware that a breakaway faction of the Alliance was in fact responsible for the suicide bombings?”

“We were. But splinter units are nothing new. There’s always someone who considers this or that Sheikh as ‘weak’ or ‘inefficient,’ and decides to start up their own killing business.”

“So, the purpose of the choppers’ mission was to assassinate Sheikh Yusuf Ayman?”

“Yes. We received a tip that he was travelling in North Africa. Most of the time, he stayed in densely populated areas, where a precise air strike was almost impossible. He never ventured too far out in the desert, and for that I guess I have to thank you.”

“Us?”

“Well, maybe not you personally, but definitely your boss.”

“Johnson?”

“Yes.”

“Why? She gave you his location?”

Eliakim nodded reluctantly.

“She gave you his location. That’s how you knew exactly where the Sheikh was,” Carrie said slowly. “Did Johnson tell you we were meeting with the Sheikh?”

Eliakim shook his head.

“I think you should discuss that with Johnson.”

“Tell me, did she tell you we were there?” Carrie demanded.

Eliakim grinned. “I’ve already said too much.”

Carrie gave him a cold stare. His voice was convincing, but his grin told her he was not really sorry this information had “slipped” his lips.

“Of course she told you. She gave you the location and the time of our meeting. That’s why you said you didn’t know we were in the area at the same time and in the same place as the terrorists,” Carrie said. “But we were late getting to the valley, and your people assumed we were already gone. Or your people arrived earlier.”

Carrie stopped talking, but her thoughts raced on.
That’s why Johnson was so skeptical, unwilling to accept we had a Mossad agent with us. But she knew what we were claiming was true because she gave the Israelis this intel. And, of course, she knew they were going to eliminate the Sheikh. Now, is it a coincidence, we were caught in the middle, or the Sheikh was not the only one set up for elimination? But, why would Johnson want to kill me and Justin?

The last thought darkened her face. She tried to clear her mind and focus on the task at hand.
This will have to wait until I talk to Justin.

Eliakim shrugged, feigning indifference about Carrie’s confused state. “All I can say is that we have this intel sharing agreement, under which—”

“I know about that. We, well Johnson, gave you the intel and this is how you repay us, by almost killing us.”

“I told you earlier, it was unintentional, and I offer you my apologies. I’m truly glad you’re not seriously wounded.” Eliakim offered a seemingly sincere smile.

Carrie did a double take at Eliakim’s sudden change of tactic.
He’s after something.

“OK, I accept your apology. Now, what you do want?”

Eliakim’s smile disappeared at once.

“Can you confirm our target was eliminated?”

Carrie grinned. “You’re forgetting the rules, Eliakim. Do I need to remind you?”

“No, they’re very clear. You’re the one asking questions here.”

Carrie nodded. “You’ll find your man at this address.”

She handed him a piece of paper she took out of her shirt pocket. “Thank you for your assistance.” Carrie stood up. “If there is nothing else…”

“Actually, there is. May I ask a question?”

“Sure. But I may not answer it.”

“I’ll ask it anyway. You said earlier you were talking to the Sheik about a peace deal. What was he offering you?”

“I’m not at liberty to give you that information.”

“Can you, at least, tell me if the Sheikh is dead?”

“I thought you said one question.”

“This is
the last
one.”

“I can neither confirm, nor deny—”

“What if I gave you the name of our next target?” Eliakim took a step forward, getting closer to Carrie.

“The target of another Mossad assassination?”

Eliakim nodded.

Carrie hesitated for a brief second.
Sooner or later, they’ll find out the Sheikh’s dead. I’ll take the deal.
“OK. Sheikh Ayman is dead.”

“Thank you. Our next target is Prince Husayn bin Al-Farhan.”

“What? Is the Mossad trying to start the World War III?”

“I think you’re overreacting.” Eliakim shrugged.

“You call
this
overreacting? How do you think the Muslim world will
overreact
to the assassination of a Saudi prince by Israelis squads?”

“The Prince has made many enemies over the years, many of which have vowed publicly to seek revenge. He started feuds with Chechnya’s separatists, Nigerian warlords and, more recently, with Chadian rebels. His death will be celebrated by many people.”

“Why does the Mossad want to settle the score with the Prince?”

Eliakim’s face showed his surprise at Carrie’s question.

“Al-Farhan has supported terrorism for years, channeling funds to charities in the West Bank, Gaza, and Lebanon. This money is used to purchase grenade launchers and Kalashnikovs. Over the last few months, he has shown a greater interest in North Africa. Two months ago, he was in Algeria. Then, he was seen in Egypt, where we lost him. Then, we picked up his trail in Sudan, but we lost him again. There is a strong connection between his travels and the spike in violence after he leaves these countries. Suicide bombs go off, people die, countries sink into chaos.”

“Did the Prince visit Tripoli before the hotel bombings there?”

“We don’t have any information on such trips, but I wouldn’t exclude the possibility.”

“Do you think he has a hand in these explosions?”

“We have no evidence, but given his old and new track record, it is a safe assumption.”

Carrie drew nearer to Eliakim.

“I don’t understand one thing. Isn’t the Prince a close friend of Libya’s Prime Minister? Why would he organize such an attack in Tripoli?”

Eliakim shook his head with a shrug. “Al-Farhan fell out of favor with the Prime Minister last year over disagreements about an oil deal. Apparently, they couldn’t agree on some exploration investment. We’re talking about tens of billions of dollars. Things got really ugly, with the Prince cursing the Prime Minister and wishing his death.”

“Interesting,” Carrie said. “This gives me a new perspective about many things.”

“Explain that to me, would you?” Eliakim asked.

“Oh, no, I can’t.” Carrie tapped on her earpiece, turning on its microphone. “Mike,” she whispered, “our guest is ready to leave.”

Mike appeared at the doorway and Eliakim took a couple of steps toward him. As he was almost stepping out the room, Eliakim turned around. “You know, O’Connor, when they first told me Canadians had a young woman running this operation, I thought someone had royally screwed up. But, then, they gave me your name, and I knew you would turn out to be a tough bone to crack, even for me. That doesn’t happen too often.”

“If you’re complimenting me because you’re gonna ask me out, I have to say ‘no.’ I no longer date people in my profession.”

“I know. I’ve heard what happened in Afghanistan and what you did to that Northern Alliance warlord.”

Carrie shrugged. “People tend to exaggerate when they tell stories. I simply neutralized the pervert’s threat.”