WASHINGTON DC: The Sadir Affair (The Puppets of Washington Book 1) (16 page)

Gilbert and Jacobin were waiting for Samuel as he came out of the gangway.

“Passport please,” Gilbert said to Samuel.

“Yes, officer, right here…” He pulled the document out of his pocket and handed it with shaking hands.

Jacobin was observing him from behind Gilbert’s shoulder. He had seen his share of disguises during his career and he wondered why their quarry would hope to get away dressed like that.

“Would you mind coming with us, sir?”

“Where to?” asked Samuel, still unsure he was welcomed back in Canada.

“We’ve been ordered to escort you through the gates personally.” Gilbert handed Samuel his passport back. He chuckled quietly. “This thing would have sent a red-flag to everyone around here.”

Samuel smiled, putting the passport in his pocket.

As the doors opened and Samuel rolled his trolley down the fenced aisle, he saw Mark amid the crowd first. He and Lypsick were standing at the back of the families and friends, their arms and hands hanging over the railing, waiting for their relatives or dear ones to appear through the doors.

Lypsick had told Mark about Samuel’s latest disguise and both men didn’t hesitate once they saw the bald bike-rider appear. Mark bent his head, but knew Samuel had recognized him.

“Let’s go,” Lypsick said to Mark.

He nodded and they went to stand at the other end of the aisle.

Samuel stopped just before reaching them. This was his last chance, but he had nowhere to go. He noticed too, that there were RCMP officers standing amid the crowd and watching every passenger exiting the customs’ area. He had no desire to tackle any of these guys. They were known for their ruthlessness and unwavering resolve when it came to apprehend a criminal. Rabbi Joshua’s voice once again rang in Samuel’s ear, “
you’re no longer a criminal...
”

“Mr. Samuel Meshullam?” Lypsick said, approaching the man slowly. Mark stayed back.

“Yes, sir.”

“Follow us to the car,” Lypsick ordered. His coldness sent a shiver down Samuel’s spine.

In a fraction of a second, Samuel came to walk beside Mark. “You look like a dandy coming out of the Odeon, mate,” he told him.

Mark took no offence. He had seen the anxiety in Samuel’s eyes. He knew how he must have felt at that moment—like a trapped animal. “And you need to get rid of the leather, man.”

Both men laughed, under Lypsick’s somewhat reproving glare.
The man is too stiff,
Mark decided.

When they were out of the arrivals’ hall and onto the sidewalk, Samuel took in a breath. He stared at the limousine and at the chauffeur. He couldn’t believe it. He had expected some sort of a car waiting to take them somewhere, but not a limo.

“Welcome to my temporary world,” Mark said, pointing to the vehicle’s open door.

Samuel looked at both Mark and Lypsick in turn. His astonishment was painted on his face. With a still shaking hand he was about to grab one of the cases from the trolley, when the chauffeur stopped him. “Let me, sir,” he said, taking the handle from Samuel’s hand.

“Get in,” Lypsick told him, pushing Samuel ahead of him. Again, that roughness didn’t agree with Mark. He followed Samuel into the car, making sure he directed him to sit opposite Lypsick and not beside him.

On their way to town, Samuel remained quiet. Lypsick looked out of the window and Mark observed the Mossad agent. His keen eyes, his unblemished face, and his hands—those of a concert pianist—told Mark he was probably a very quiet and calculating man. He didn’t seem to have any aggressiveness in him. He appeared to know when to take a bow or when to react. The Samuel he had met in Georgia was not the man sitting across from him now. There was no longer the hesitancy, the apparent lack of knowledge, the un-worldly attitude of the hiker he had met on the road. Today, Samuel was the man whose determination was going to make or break their operation. Mark hoped it would be the former.

It took less than a half-an-hour for the limo to pull up into the parking lot of one of the buildings in the complex near the beaches of English Bay.

Coming out of the vehicle, Mark led Lypsick by the arm to the low wall bordering the lot. “Cool it, Lypsick. If you want any answer coming out of this man’s mouth, cut off the crap, okay?”

Lypsick nodded. “He’s got my back up, for some reason. But you’re right; I should “cut off the crap” as you say. Let’s get him upstairs…, shall we?”

“Yeah. Just take it easy, will you?”

“You got it,” Lypsick replied amicably, to Mark’s surprise.
Trusting this guy is going to be a chore,
he told himself.

Samuel had observed the two men from the limo’s open door and wondered how long he would have to put up with the little crab. Mark had not changed. He was the smart one, the cat that could sense an enemy before he even set eyes on him. Samuel liked him. But this other guy was something else. He reminded him of a scurrying rat—spiteful but fearful.

He looked around him. Samuel knew where he was. The street, the buildings, the little park with its gazebo... He didn’t need to be reminded of what the place meant. He had taken the shot that crippled Talya from that gazebo. He wished he could undo the past, but that was impossible. He knew the road ahead was not going to be an easy one and his conscience wouldn’t let him forget what he had done. He shook his head slowly and followed Mark and Lypsick across the parking lot to the building’s entrance.

Upstairs—on the fifteenth floor—exiting the elevator and opening the apartment door, the three men walked into a narrow hallway and into a living room tastefully decorated with modern furniture, a flat-screen TV, a desk on which, Samuel noticed, there was a computer. The place was inviting and the bay windows afforded an all-encompassing view of English Bay.

Mark looked around him favourably. He knew this apartment was identical to that of Talya’s, located in the next building along the street. Stepping onto the terrace, Mark’s eyes rested on the roof of the gazebo in the park below. He wondered if Sadir had chosen the apartment with its particular view on purpose or if it was just a coincidence.

The chauffeur came through the open door and went directly to the bedroom where he deposited Samuel’s suitcases on the bed.

“Thanks, Pete,” Lypsick shouted as the man went out and closed the door. “Alright, Agent Meshullam, before we leave you to unpack, we need to brief you.” He sat down on the sofa. Mark and Samuel sat on the two chairs facing him. “My name is Jack Lypsick, and as you know, this is Mark Gilford.” He nodded in Mark’s direction.

Samuel took his jacket off and draped it over the arm of the chair. He appeared more relaxed now. He knew he would have to undergo some form of interrogation, but although he knew some of the answers, he wondered what Lypsick had in mind if he didn’t provide them, or wished to remain silent. His memory of interrogatory methods used by Mossad, were not particularly appealing to him.

As for Mark, there was one question for which he hoped Samuel could provide an answer; why didn’t he kill Talya. Even though he doubted the Mossad agent had been told the whys and wherefores of that particular assignment, he was interested to hear his take on it.

On the sofa, Lypsick stretched both arms on either side of him and placed his hands flat on the cushions. “We suppose,” he began, “since you’re sitting in this apartment that your agency has brought you up to date on the reasons for you being here.”

Samuel shook his head. “No. Mossad does not give you explanations, only suggestions.”

Mark advanced in his chair. “You mean no one told you why you had to come here and…”

“No, that’s not quite correct.” Mark was sitting on the edge of his seat now. “Because we are suggested to do something does not mean we cannot ask why. We sometimes get an answer, sometimes we don’t.”

“What happened if you don’t follow the suggestions?” Lypsick seemed mildly interested as though he knew the answer already.

“You are set aside as an unwilling agent.”

“And what happened then?” Mark’s aroused curiosity appeared to be directed not only at Samuel but also at Lypsick.

“I’m sorry, gentlemen, but are we here to analyze the workings or methods used by my agency or are we here to go over
your
assignment?” His eyes went from one agent to the other very quickly.

“You’re right, Agent Meshullam, but we would like to know why you came to Vancouver in the first place. What was the
suggestion
this time?”

“Unless I can be sure my goal fits in your plans, I am not ready to divulge what my agency had in mind,” Samuel replied.

Ouch,
Mark thought,
he doesn’t like Lypsick and he’s not ready to open up. This is going to be more difficult than scarred faced expected.
“Okay, Samuel, we know this is probably awkward for you, but if we’ve got to work together, we need to have the same goal. That’s the reason for Agent Lypsick’s question.”

“Yes, mate, I can understand that, but at this point, the fact that I’m here should tell you that I accepted to be here.”

Lypsick puckered his lips. Mark thought he was going to moo. “Were you told about this apartment?”

“No, I have no idea why you brought me here. I thought that perhaps it would be more discreet for me to live in a flat while I’m here than staying in a hotel.”

“But that’s not all, is it, Agent Meshullam?” Lypsick was all aggressiveness again. “You know this location means something to everyone involved, don’t you?”

Samuel bowed his head and bent forward. Elbows on the armrests, he folded his fingers in front of his chest. He nodded almost imperceptibly. “It is significant, yes.”

“I’d say, it’s significant,” Mark flared. “You shot a dear woman, right in front of this place! Do you remember, Samuel? Do you?”

Samuel lifted his head. “Yes, mate, it is very significant to me personally, more than you would probably ever know.”

Lypsick had been observing that little exchange with great interest. It told him Samuel harboured deep sentiment for Ms Kartz and shooting her was a
suggestion
he had regretted accepting. “Your ruefulness is quite touching, Agent Meshullam,” Lypsick sneered. “Are you telling us that you’re here to make amends in some ways?”

Samuel reclined in the chair, riveting his eyes on the CIA agent. “I will never be able to make amends for what I did. Whether I feel remorse or not, is not important. What is imperative, however, at this point, as I gathered during my trip, is to apprehend the man who led my agency to believe that both my victims were responsible for the death of many of my countrymen.”

That declaration, that clue, that avowal had Mark stunned into silence. He had never imagined that Mossad could have blamed Talya for shipping faulty armaments to Israel, among other things.

“Don’t look so surprised, mate; it stood to reason at the time. Even though no explanation came forth, I had time to think when I was on leave in Australia.”

Lypsick sat back. “And what did you conclude then?”

“The minute Ms Kartz eliminated Mr. Nadir…”

“But that was a bloody accident,” Mark erupted. “She saved my skin, for God’s sakes!” He was incensed.

“Yes, it was an accident, mate, you’re right,” Samuel said. “But I think Mossad was told that since she eliminated another double-agent, she was obviously working against Israel.” The words hung in the air. Mark was intent on Samuel’s face. “Since the very beginning, Ms Kartz disrupted the operations that were conducted by both our agencies.” He looked at Lypsick pointedly. “She made sure that what was to remain a way to get rid of drugs in the States and provide weapons to Israel came to a standstill.”

“But that’s because she had no idea what you were doing,” Mark snapped.

“Yes, but at the time it looked as if she was there to shut down the operations, and the fact that she was involved with a Saudi Prince, made matters worse.”

“And when Slimane began sending faulty weapons to Gaza,” Lypsick put in, “your agency probably saw it as an ultimate move to stop the arms’ supplies.”

“But more than that; when she and you, Mark, decided not to fly from Miami directly back to Canada, and then you took the road to Detroit…”

“You thought we were going to join Slimane in Flint,” Mark finished for Samuel.

The latter nodded.

“Perhaps another thing,” Lypsick said, shaking a pointed finger at Samuel, “that clenched the allegation into evidence was the fact that she recognized Slimane right off the bat when they met in Paris.”

Mark glared at the CIA man. He was compounding the accusations against Talya and Mark didn’t like it. “You mean you had us under surveillance even then?”

Lypsick nodded. “What do you think?” His distorted smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. “Slimane was still one of ours, remember?”

“Is that the reason you got Prince Abdullah out of the way?” Mark was on the right track but still confused.

“We had to throw everyone off the scent…”

“You mean, you thought Slimane was a bad egg, and tried to shift the blame on the Saudi family?”

“Mark, if I may,” Samuel cut in, “Slimane acted of his own accord. You discovered that, I’m sure. Look, if the CIA had not stopped Prince Abdullah when they did, he would be dead now. You know that too.”

“Yes, I know that too, as you say, but why not kill Ms Kartz then? You had to kill Slimane, why not her. Just tell me that!” Mark couldn’t contain his anger. For him a sacrificing bullet was better than inflicting injuries, any time.

“That’s Mossad for you, mate,” Samuel said. “You can’t imagine what she would have gone through if they had put their hands on her and brought her back to Israel.”

“You mean torture her?” Mark asked.

Samuel nodded and let out a breath. “They wanted to teach her a lesson she would never be able to forget. And believe me; I hesitated when I took aim. I could have killed her, but then since Mossad knew she was a friend of mine for years before this happened, they would have thought I was working with her.”

“You mean they would have thought you were a traitor as well?” Mark stood up and went toward the terrace door. He had difficulty believing Mossad would be as single-minded as to torture their own agents or even accuse them of betrayal without proof.

“Yes, Mark. If I had killed her, I would be rotting in one of Israel’s prison, praying for them to kill me.”

Lypsick knew the Mossad man was telling the truth. He had witnessed such torture. He remained silent.

Looking out of the bay window, Mark uttered, “Will you ever tell Talya the truth?”

Samuel sat up and looked at Mark’s back. “I will have to tell her, mate, and I
want
to tell her. That’s why I came back to Vancouver.”

Mark turned around. “Was that one of Mossad’s suggestions, or is it your own conscience troubling you?” The harshness in his voice was understandable and Samuel understood it.

“For nearly eight months now, I have wanted to go to her. Mossad could not force me to remain in Sydney, but they could have us both killed the minute I would have set foot back in Canada.”

“And that brings us back to Mr. Sadir’s involvement and presence in Vancouver,” Lypsick pointed out.

Mark regained his seat. “You could say that, Lypsick.”

“Okay then, let see what we have to do.…”

“But before we go there…,” Samuel said hesitantly, rubbing a hand on his jacket, “would either of you be able to tell me if Prince Khalid is due in town shortly?”

Lypsick’s eyes examined the Mossad agent’s face for a moment before he replied, “Let me answer that with another question; did Mr. Sadir instruct you to come here?”

“No. I do not answer to Mr. Sadir. I have never had anything to do with the man directly. As I explained, Mossad are the only ones I receive orders from.”

“So, Sadir was not the one who ordered Slimane’s killing or the shooting of Ms Kartz.”

“He was not, Agent Lypsick, yet he was the one who instigated the two assaults. He fed Tel-Aviv with lies and assumptions that were mostly geared to clear the way from Mossad ever finding out who was responsible for the murders that occurred in West Africa and the dangerous supply of faulty weapons to my country.”

“And you’re wondering where Prince Khalid fits in, is that what you’re asking?”

“Yes.” Samuel nodded. “All I know is that he protected Ms Kartz and travelled with her during her pursuit of the truth. Apart from that, Mossad only advised me that he was coming after me to Australia. There again, I must remind you, my contact does not give me explanations, just facts and
suggests
a course of action.”

Mark had a hard time with this. He was used to discuss everything with Fred. “Tell me this then...” He placed his elbows on his knees and fixed his eyes on Samuel’s. “Why would Mossad believe anything an Islamic fellow would tell them? From where I’m sitting right now, it sounds as if your agency was well informed about everything and everyone. And if that was the case, and it seems to be, how come they didn’t find out anything fishy about Sadir until Agent Lypsick here opened their eyes?”

“I don’t know why, Mark.” Samuel appeared dismayed. “Believe me if they had found out he was a traitor and more than that an Islamic Radical”—Lypsick ears perked up— “he would be in Tel-Aviv with body parts missing.”

“How do you know he’s an Islamic Radical?” Lypsick blurted. “
We
’ve never told you he was... Can you prove your assertion?”

“This was not an assertion on my part, Lypsick, just a deduction.” Samuel had been taught to be prudent with his words.

“May I ask how you
deduced
this then?” Lypsick asked.

“I counted the times his actions didn’t make sense.” Mark and Lypsick looked at the Mossad agent in puzzlement. “I’m sorry. Let me explain. And please remember these are my own thoughts on what I was told or suspected.”

“Sure, sure, go ahead,” Mark said impatiently.

Samuel’s eyes travelled from one agent to the other before he resumed. “Okay. First, Mr. Sadir didn’t stop sending armaments to Israel when Mossad first suspected Slimane of treachery, he accelerated the shipping. Then, when Ms Kartz was shot, I truly believed he would have preferred her dead, since she is a Jewess and someone who could point the finger at him. After that, he apparently forced Prince Khalid’s hand in chasing me down to Australia. As soon as I received orders to eliminate the prince, I thought my agency had been coaxed somehow. Why would they want to do that now, when they had plenty of opportunities to take him out when he was in Paris? As I said, none of these things added up. They were opposite to what Mossad would generally approve of or plan.”