WASHINGTON DC: The Sadir Affair (The Puppets of Washington Book 1) (15 page)

Mark had to get himself equipped, shall we say, for his grand entrance as a billionaire the next morning at the hotel’s restaurant. He was glad the meeting had not been scheduled for the night of his arrival. The way he felt (and looked) at the moment could be compared to an overdosed junky in quest of his next fix. His greasy hair, red eyes, and the sweaty smell emanating from his tired body, didn’t make it easy for him to walk into the most expensive clothier in town and asked to be shown a couple of their best suits. Since he didn’t have time to have the trousers altered and the jacket taken in, he chose whatever was on offer and fitted him. The sales clerk, who looked more like a personal valet than a store’s assistant, frowned several times, but as etiquette demanded, didn’t say a word when Mark asked to try on some of the ready-to-wear garments. He bought all of the necessary accessories, down to driving gloves and even a cane to take on his morning stroll. He thought he could give it to Talya once she would be out of her wheelchair. The thought of the cane becoming a gift drove him to choose it with superfluous care, to the gentlemen’s gentleman ultimate surprise.

Once his purchases were concluded, he went to the third floor of one of the department stores and rushed into the hair-stylist’s salon. The young woman at the desk looked like the dominatrix of a late-night show. Leather corset, tight-fitting pants, spiky hair, offensive red lipstick and silver jewellery complemented her somewhat frightening, pale face.

“How can I help you, sir?” the woman asked.

Mark came to stand in front of her after he had dropped his many shopping bags into a nearby chair. “I’d like your stylist to give my hair a rinse to get rid of the colour.”

“Very well. Would next Friday at three suit you?” She scrolled down the appointment list on her computer screen.

“NO!”

She threw him a quick glance and returned her eyes to the screen. “How about Thursday at five o’clock?”

“How about right now?” Mark said with the firmness of one who couldn’t be denied.

“I’m afraid that’s impossible, sir,” she replied politely, “our stylists are busy till closing today…”

“Make it possible then. You get one of them un-busy and there is a hundred in it for you.”

She was all smiles now. “Bribery will get you everywhere...” While she let the remark hang in the air, she walked inside the salon and called out, “Alain? Would you mind…?”

Mark didn’t hear the rest and waited until an effeminate fellow showed up through the archway—the dominatrix in tow.

“Ho my! What a mess,” the stylist exclaimed, rounding Mark as if he were a side of beef on display at the butcher. “What have you done? Did you colour those locks by yourself?”

Turning to face him, Mark finally uttered, “Yes. I was in a hurry. And I’m still in a hurry.”

“Of course, my dear man, of course. Follow me. My name is Alain, by the way, and what’s yours?”

This was definitely getting too friendly for the about-to-become billionaire. “Mark,” he replied curtly. “Shall we get on with it?” He was already walking into the salon under the amused gaze of the receptionist.
She should get her whip out to him
, Mark thought.

An hour and a half later, Mark reappeared, paid his bill and left a hundred dollar note on the counter, which the dominatrix swiped off, quickly saying, “My name is Belinda, Mark. If you’d like to come back sometime, I’d love to show you what I can do with the rest of you!”

Mark had enough. He walked out, shopping bags in hand, without a word.

When he got back to his room, he didn’t bother unpacking. He took out the cell phone he had bought first as he got into the shopping mall, opened it, registered it with the service provider, and finally dialled Fred’s number.

Already at home, Fred looked at the call display on the phone in his den, and grunted.

“Alright! You’ve got it. Good. I’ll send you Lypsick right now.”

Surprised that the Chief didn’t let him place a word edgewise, Mark sat back and waited.

“Have you got it?” Fred asked once he got back on the line.

“Yes, thank you. What about Sadir’s?”

“Yes, that’s next, but it’s not a very good one. Anyway, he’s fat, that’s really all you need to know about him.”

Mark smiled to himself. Although the chief was not fat per se, he counted among the gigantic men of this earth—he was sure.

“Okay, Chief. I think I’ll turn in now, otherwise I’m gonna fall asleep on this sofa.”

“No problem. We’ll talk in the morning before your first meeting with Lypsick. Phone me.”

“We’ll do.”

Mark shouldn’t have been sitting down. It took him less than thirty seconds to fall asleep where he was.

When Samuel reached Suva, he disembarked with the rest of the passengers and decided to spend the morning at the market. He wanted nothing, he needed even less, yet he wanted to lose himself among the people and maybe sit somewhere in front of a tall, refreshing juice. While walking down the street, he noticed a man sitting at a shaded terrace. He noticed him because of his white beard and his detached attitude. He climbed the couple of steps separating him from the terrace and approached the old fellow silently. He bent down to his ear and whispered, “May I join you?”

The man didn’t reply but waived a hand to the chair opposite his.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, sir,” Samuel began as he sat down, “but you remind me of someone I knew a long time ago and I wonder if you wouldn’t mind a bit of company.”

The blue eyes met Samuel’s in a gentle but steady stare. “Why did you shave your head and beard?”

Samuel passed his hand over his scalp and smiled. “I needed to do it.”

“Ah,” the old man said, “it should have been a great need to subject yourself to such a disfigurement. Would this need be that you wanted to hide from undesired scrutiny?”

The perspicacity of the man surprised Samuel. “You’re right. I didn’t want some people to recognize me.”

“Ah, yes, of course. And your manner of dress does not match your presence. Was that part of the need to disguise yourself, too?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Why would you need to hide behind a mask that is as revealing as your eyes?”

“Yet, you do not know me. How could you tell? My appearance is all but a disguise, albeit a transparent one.”

“Because, dear boy, same as you, I have known you all my life.”

“That’s impossible!” Samuel exclaimed. “I have never been here...”

“But this is assuming that I have lived here since birth, isn’t it? And if the premise is wrong then the theorem must be false.”

“May I know your name?”

“You know it already, but your mind has yet to acknowledge its recollection.”

“Have you been to Australia?”

The old man shook his head, and when he did, the beard moved aside and let the pendant around his neck reflect the sunlight. It was the Star of David.

“You are Rabbi Joshua.”

A thin smiled crossed the old man’s lips. “Indeed I am, dear boy.”

“I guess the beard and the long hair had me fooled.”

“Unlike you at present, people do not often know who I am, or recognize my station in life.”

“I thought a balding head would be the perfect disguise...” Samuel let the words trail off when he saw the Rabbi look at him reprovingly.

“God has given you a mind to think—nothing more, nothing less. Yet, what you do with your mind and the thoughts you engender within is up to you. The consequences of your thoughts and actions are yours to bear.”

“I need to protect someone from harm, Rabbi, but before I can reach her, many men will want to stop me, that’s the reason for my disguise.”

“Your chivalry has rendered you blind and deaf, my son. You have expressed your wish to God in prayer, have you?”

“Yes, Rabbi, I have. And I have expressed the reason for my wish in recitations.”

“Very well then. Let me assure you that your disguise however sheer it may be will not be necessary. God has seen your way to her already.”

“How would you know this, Rabbi?”

Joshua’s eyebrows lifted slowly and his eyes peered in those of Samuel. His regard was penetrating. Indeed, Samuel felt as translucent as a veil floating before the Rabbi’s eyes.

“Do not doubt my word, child. Have the juice you wanted when you climbed those steps, when you joined me, and then go on your way. You need to be there shortly. The sooner the better, I would even say.” The Rabbi then raised a hand and a little Fijian woman appeared at his side instantly, as if by magic. “Samuel here would like a papaya and mango juice, my dear. Would you mind bring it to him?”

“Bien sûr, Rabbin, tout de suite,” she said in French.

Samuel had not listened to anything after Joshua had pronounced his name. “How did you know my name?” He had whispered the question as if afraid that his voice would attract attention.

“Would you prefer I call you Isaac,” the Rabbi replied, leaning to the back of the chair.

Samuel was stunned. “No, not really. I would prefer to erase that name from my memory forever.”

“There is only one person on this earth who can do that. I think you know who that is, don’t you?”

“Yes, Rabbi, I know. I can hardly wait to prostrate myself at her feet and ask for her forgiveness.”

“Ah, thank you, Louisa,” the Rabbi said to the little woman as she deposited the tall glass in front of Samuel.

“De rien, Rabbin, c’est mon plaisir,” she said, trotting away already.

Rabbi Joshua looked at Samuel while the latter sipped on his juice. He still looked like a child to him.

“Talya...” Samuel raised his head, an astonished look on his face. The Rabbi held his gaze. “Yes. Do not be surprised. I know Talya. And she will not understand why you did what you did unless you tell her how much you love her.” Joshua paused. Samuel didn’t believe what he was hearing. “…and, how do you expect her to come back to the fold if you don’t?”

The Rabbi knew everything about him, right down to the last message he had received from Israel.

Joshua smiled. “Don’t dismay yourself, my son. Someone is watching over you and the same person asked me to be there where you could find me—be across your path, as it were—to advise you to make your way to your destination sooner than planned. Evil has been caught and you need to get to Talya.”

“And when you said I shouldn’t worry about people recognizing me, did you mean
they
will welcome me?”

“Yes, they will, son. You are no longer to be tried; no longer to be perceived as a criminal, but as an instrument in the wrong hands, and now as a witness to the evil deeds that have been perpetrated by the one you are to meet at your destination.”

“May I ask you a question, Rabbi?”

Joshua chuckled. “You have already... but go ahead, what would be your second question?”

“Will the prince be there when I arrive?”

“I presume so. In fact, I would think he should be there. Why do you ask?”

Samuel looked down at his glass without answering.

“I see. You harbour hate in your heart for the one who only tried to save the woman from harm for many months now.”

Samuel nodded.

“Moses had vengeance in his heart when he introduced the law of an eye for an eye, Samuel, and after many enactment of his uncontrollable rage, God exiled him from his sight. Do you want to be exiled from the sight of God as well?”

“No, Rabbi, I do not. I want peace. That’s all I want for Talya and for me.”

“Then I suggest you talk to him in peaceful terms and God will be vigilant, I assure you.”

Samuel finished his juice, stood up and walked down the few steps to the sidewalk, feeling thankful. He didn’t turn around immediately to wave goodbye to Rabbi Joshua, but when he did, the old man had disappeared.

The sun streaming through the windows of his room woke Mark up with a sudden jolt. He sat up and realized he was still dressed, sweaty and smelly. He grunted, shoved the cardboard box that had contained his new cell phone aside, looked at the bags on the bed and grunted some more. He felt stiff and disagreeably un-rested. He pulled himself out of the sofa, stretched his arms above his head and went to take another cold shower. That cleaned him up but didn’t restore him. He grabbed the hotel’s robe from the peg, put it on, went to forage through his knapsack, got his swimming trunks out, slipped them on, and walked out of the room.

Mark was not known for his liking of water, however, he found swimming the most invigorating whence he felt tired or in need of a quick boost to his metabolism. Besides, a few laps in the pool always made him hungry, which was something he needed to be for the next phase of his assignment—breakfast with Lypsick.

A boutonnière on the lapel of his dark blue suit, a powder blue shirt, an exquisite tie completing the outfit, Mark marched down the hall, took the elevator down to the restaurant and made his entrance as if he owned the place. The morning hostess accompanied him to a table near the window, giving onto Burrard Street below and retreated as soon as Mark had ordered a three-course breakfast. He unfolded the newspaper he had found under the door of his room when he had returned from the pool, and was about to start reading the financial pages, when Lypsick joined him.

He stood beside Mark. “May I join you?” Lypsick said quietly.

Mark hadn’t heard the man come to stand at his side. He folded the paper and looked up. “By all means,
Mr.
Lypsick. I’m glad to see you’ve made it. Where have you been?”

Lypsick sat down opposite Mark and looked at him appreciatively. “Just came back from DC.” He unfolded his napkin and laid it carefully onto his lap. He was impeccably dressed. Not a wrinkle on him, Mark noticed, which pleased him. Mark didn’t like unkempt appearance. He much preferred dealing with someone who cared about the way he looked and behaved. The only distracting feature perhaps was the scar on Lypsick’s left cheek. The bitterness in this man’s eyes was merely shadowed by the marred face.

“Anything interesting happening on Capitol Hill?” Mark asked, setting the paper on the window ledge.

“Quite a bit actually,
Mr. Van Krauss
. Where would you like me to start?”

The waitress chose this time to come to the table and deposit Mark’s fruit cup in front of him. “And for you, sir?” She looked down at Lypsick.

“Coffee, toast, marmalade and orange juice. Thank you.”

“Would that be white or whole wheat bread?”

“Whole wheat, please.”

“Very well. Be right back,” the waitress said, walking away.

Watching the young woman retreat, Mark answered, “How about giving me a run down on our main investor’s movement? Where do we stand with him?”

“You mean, Mr. MS?”

Mark had to think for a second. “Hum, yes, Mr. MS, that’s right. I saw him upstairs this morning…”

“Did he acknowledge your presence?”

Mark shook his head. “I don’t think he knows I’m in town…, does he?”

“No. He had no way of knowing where you were. Although, he must have gathered that you accompanied Prince Khalid to Sydney. And he actually phoned him to find out where you were…”

“Did the prince give him any indication…?”

“No, he told Mr. MS to get his information from Chief Gibson.”

Mark smiled inwardly, recognizing Khalid’s own cunning in that answer.

Seeing that the two men were in the middle of their conversation, the server put down Lypsick’s toasts and juice in front of him unobtrusively, poured coffee in his cup and left the table without saying a word.

“Has he ever seen my face?” was Mark’s next question.

“He might have months ago, when you were involved with the trawler incident in Florida. Yet, I wouldn’t worry about it right now.”

“You’ve kept tabs on him (and me I guess) for some time then?”

“Oh yes. As soon as Slimane was off the charts, we began to retrace the chap’s movements more thoroughly. That’s when we discovered that Mr. MS was pulling the strings.”

“I see. And when did you realize that he was involved with our Israeli partner?”

“Oh that partnership was in place for a very long time now. But what was not known to us was the fact that someone was taking faulty armaments out of the warehouses in Texas and shipping these weapons to our partners in Gaza.”

“That’s when things heated up, I bet.”

“Precisely. We stopped all shipping the moment we got the first reports from Tel-Aviv. But we were too late and the death toll had already risen. The only thing we wanted to do was to stop Slimane or get him to talk, but our partner pulled the trigger before we could locate him.”

“And our Mr. MS pointed our partner in the direction of Flint, before anyone was the wiser.”

Lypsick nodded, and buttered his toast carefully. “The other thing that seemed odd to us was the fact that he was very keen on shoving the investigation into Al Nadir’s death under the carpet. At the time, and since we didn’t see the connection between Nadir’s and Mr. MS, other than being another CIA undercover agent, we didn’t pay much attention to his manoeuvre. We figured Mr. MS wanted to protect Ms Kartz and the doctor from reprisals or worse.”

Mark finished his cup of fruit and drank some of his juice. Having watched him, the waitress came back to the table at that point, retrieved the empty bowl and placed his plate of bacon and eggs on his placemat.

“Thank you,” Mark said to her distractedly. Once the woman had gone to another table, he returned his attention to Lypsick. “Why then did he send Samuel after Ms Kartz, if he was so keen on keeping the whole thing hush-hush?”

Biting in one of his toast, Lypsick answered, “Hum…, because…, we figured he didn’t want her to go back to Africa. He knew that once she was back at work and the dust had settled, she would probably go back to Senegal or Mali and he didn’t want her anywhere near these places.”

“But why? There is nothing there anymore...”

“Perhaps not, Mr.
Van Krauss
, but the fact remains that he wanted to slow her down.”

“I guess the key to open that door is with Agent Meshullam?”

“We believe so. As you confirmed when you investigated her shooting last year, Samuel didn’t want to kill her, and the reason for that is still very much unknown.”

“So, what do you presume Mr. MS is doing here in Vancouver then?”

“Ah, yes, and this is partly why we’ve called upon you to assist us in this matter. According to our intel, Mr. MS has rented an apartment on English Bay…” Mark stopped eating and glanced at Lypsick. “Yes... The apartment is located across the lane from Ms Kartz’s flat.”

“What would he be doing there? It’s not like he’s trained in field work…” Mark resumed eating.

Lypsick finished one of the toasts, drank a bit of coffee, and went on, “You’re right, but the apartment was not for him. We believe he rented it for Samuel.”

Mark stopped a forkful from reaching his mouth. “What would
he
want to be doing there?”

“Ah, this is typical of our Israeli partner. They let Mr. MS believe that Samuel was called here to eliminate not only Ms Kartz but our Prince as well, when in fact; all they wanted was for Samuel to take Mr. MS out of the picture and re-establish their good name in the Saudi royal family’s eyes.”

“You mean they don’t want to have Saudi Arabia as an enemy when the Gaza Strip’s future hangs in the balance.”

“Precisely.”

“And Sadir could no longer supervise the execution of his plan from his office when things got too hot for him in D.C. and he hoped to attend to the killing of both the Prince and Ms Kartz from a front row seat, is that it?”

“Yes, Mr.
Van Krauss
, that’s the picture as of last night.”

“Okay, but how do I fit into this?”

“Your primary goal is for you and Prince Khalid to meet with Sadir and have him discuss his intentions behind the shipment of faulty armaments to Gaza as well as to ferret out of him the name of the organization or the person who instructed him to feed Mossad with false information. In turn, you’re here to protect the prince. You know him very well and we need to prevent a confrontation between him and Samuel if things went south on us.”

Mark pushed his empty plate aside. “What about Ms Kartz, who’s looking after her?” Mark was very anxious to hear the answer to that question.

“She’s already under protection...”

“You mean the physiotherapist…?”

“Yes.” Lypsick cracked one of his twisted smiles. “He will remain with her for as long as it takes to have her back on her feet.”

“Wow, that’s very generous of you,” Mark said a little louder than he should have done.

Lypsick waved a hand in front of his face. “Not us, Mr. Gilford, not us, our Israeli partner is picking up the tab for this one.”

Mark couldn’t help but chuckle. “Very good, Mr. Lypsick, very good. But what about Dr. Hendrix? I haven’t heard you mention anything about him. Doesn’t he need some looking after as well? After all he was another witness to the killings on the trawler in Jacksonville.”

“He’s been briefed as we speak and he will be on holidays starting tomorrow. He will probably stay with friends on Bowen Island.”

“For how long?”

“He’s on call with the surgeons who will be scheduling Ms Kartz’s operation as soon as we have Mr. MS in custody.”

“I am impressed, Mr. Lypsick. This is a well-organized operation. So…, if I may summarize; you have brought Sadir here, hoping he would show his hand...”

“Yes, but more than that, we wanted to show him that we have now uncovered his original plan and that all he has to do is to confess to the sending of faulty armaments to Israel and the organizing of the assassination of Ben Slimane and the attempted murder of Ms. Kartz.”

“Will he do that, do you think?”

“I don’t know. But at this point he’s trapped and his only hope to escape the death penalty is to give it up.”

“But why bringing him here, to Vancouver, when you could have questioned him in D.C.? And why did you force his hand in coming here? Wouldn’t it have been better to tail him and let him make his move?”

“Good question, and one which I will answer with another question: what would have happened if we lost him, or if he had waited in Seattle until Samuel got here and realized that we had turned the tables on him?”

“I see your point, Mr. Lypsick, but that does not answer my first question: why not arrest him in Washington and let him rot for a while, or obtain a confession from him?”

“Because we had nothing on him to do any of that. And if you remember, Sadir wanted to leave D.C. anyway – he had booked a flight to Seattle already.”

Mark nodded pensively. “Let’s hope we do our jobs as well as expected.”

“Yes, Mr.
Van Krauss
. Our organizations need to show our Israeli partner that we mean to correct our mistakes and redress what has been a blunder from day one.”

“One last question, Agent Lypsick: when is Samuel expected in town?”

“He should be on his way now. Mossad has advised him of the change of plans and we will explain your undercover appearance to him as soon as he lands in Vancouver.”

“That would be good, because he knows me and we didn’t exactly hit it off when we met in Georgia.”

Lypsick chortled, which surprised Mark no end. The man’s poker face didn’t betray any emotions, he had noticed. “You mean your planting your gun in his ribs…?”

“You know about that?”

“Don’t look so surprised, Mr. Van Krauss. We’ve had to explain that bit of overreacting on your part to our Israeli partner, among other things.”

“I can imagine.”

There were yet many unanswered questions roaming Mark’s thoughts when he got back to his room, but somehow, he knew the CIA’s plan was going to work. Khalid was due in town in twenty-four hours now and he would have loved to go to Bowen Island in the meantime, but he also knew that would be unwise. He and Lypsick had arranged to meet Samuel upon arrival. Once he would have gone through customs under Gilbert and Jacobin’s care, Mark and Lypsick were due to meet him on the other side of the gate. They would then take him to his apartment on English Bay and give him a full briefing.

Mark shook his head. He would be glad to sit at Sadir’s trial and to see Talya
walk
into the courtroom. He went to the closet and brought out the cane he had bought the day before. He twirled it in front of him and grinned. He could hardly wait to give it to her.