Chapter Twenty-two
February 16
ECS Headquarters
Vienna, Austria
Carrie knocked on Justin’s office door.
“Yes, come in,” he said.
“Hey, Justin. I think I may have found something about the Iranian involvement.” She slid a three-page report onto his desk.
Justin moved his laptop to the side and glanced at the briefing note. “What am I looking at?”
“I drafted that this morning. Karolin and Dolina were a big help. So, here’s my theory outlined in the BN: The Iranians have received shipments of weapons from Prince Al Khater. There are at least two well-documented cases. Page 2. And this is all confirmed.” She sat across from Justin’s meticulously clean desk. “Once the prince is rumored to be routing weapons to terrorists, and Egorov contacts you, there’s a flurry of activity by the Iranian Guards. The prince’s name is mentioned all over the place. Again, concrete evidence about that.” She gestured toward the report.
Justin nodded. “And how does this tie in to Reza?”
“I’m getting there. Reza has ‘intel’ about Prince Al Khater that he’s willing to share with you.”
“I was the one who reached out to Reza.”
“True, but he would probably have contacted you with a sweet offer. So, you arrange to meet with Reza, and things go haywire. Here’s where my notes get fuzzy. Since I don’t have facts, I have to venture into speculations. But I have two versions.” She raised the index finger of her right hand. “One: either Reza was working all the time on behalf of the Guards, and something went awry in Istanbul.” Carrie’s next finger came up. “Or two: Reza was on his own—either helping you or acting for the Prince—and the Guards caught up to him.”
“So the kidnapping was staged?”
“I don’t know, but I haven’t found any evidence to support it. We only have Reza’s admission.”
Justin frowned as he flipped to the third page. “In all your assessments, Reza comes out as one of the bad guys.”
Carrie nodded. “That’s almost correct. There’s a slight chance he was really trying to help you—well, us. That scenario would have to give good answers to questions about the sources of his intel and how the ‘Russians’ kept finding him in both Istanbul and Berlin.”
“They weren’t Russians, I assume.”
Carrie smiled. “The cherry atop the cake: both men killed in the firefight were Iranians.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. It’s pretty bad.”
Justin cursed the course of events. He skimmed through the first and the second pages again, then put the report aside. “Have you tried to talk to Reza?”
“Yes, many times. He’s no longer in Germany. Took a flight this morning to Tehran. And his phone is no longer in service.”
Justin’s frown grew deeper. “If Reza was genuinely trying to help me, he’s in deep trouble.”
“Yes, and we can’t do much to help him at this point. But, if he was trying to set you up, then we don’t have to worry about him.”
“Right, we’ll have to worry about other Iranians wanting us dead.”
Carrie sighed. “How is the Mossad op coming together?”
Justin sat back in his chair. “Oh, that’s the good news part. The op’s almost ready. Unless there’s another crisis, we’re flying out to Cyprus tomorrow, then crossing into Syria by motorboat. Ali Mansour is meeting us in Latakia. The trucks are already at the port, waiting for their drivers.”
Carrie smiled. “I’m glad Nasser put forward all the names, and the prince approved them without hesitation.”
“Well, according to Eli, there was a bit of uncertainty about one of the names, most likely Ali Mansour. His papers looked too clean.”
“That’s interesting, considering he’s the only Syrian among you three.”
“Yeah, I guess the docs desk paid more attention to my cover. But everyone’s good now.”
“Well, that’s great. We’ll just have to keep an eye on the Iranians. I have a feeling they might make an appearance in Syria.”
“If they do, it’s not going to be three guys armed only with pistols.”
Carrie nodded. “All that work made me hungry. You want to do lunch now?”
“Sure, but one last question: The woman and the two children at the park. Were they Iranians?”
“I inquired about that. The German police never found them. Nothing showed up in security cameras around the park. The same with the second jogger. I would assume he was a part of the Iranian hit team.”
“Most likely.”
“I can’t believe she’d take those children in an op like this.” Carrie shook her head. “Some women would do anything to be successful.”
Justin nodded. “Yes, too bad.”
He closed his laptop and stood up. Before he could say another word, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen. It read: private caller. “Yes,” Justin said.
“Justin, this is Ali Mansour,” a firm man’s voice said in a hurried and nervous tone.
“What’s wrong?”
“I won’t be able to make it for the operation.”
“Okay, what happened?”
“Free Syrian Front attacked one of our convoys. I got wounded in the firefight.”
“How’re you doing?”
“Not bad, but my leg’s all shot up. Nothing that can’t be fixed, but I won’t be able to drive for a long time.”
“I understand. Let me put you on speakerphone so Carrie can hear our conversation.” He tapped a button on his phone.
“I’d love to, Justin, but I only have a few moments. I’m borrowing a sat phone. I hope the op goes well, and give me a call if you need a hand while you’re in Syria. I can’t be of help, but that’s no reason I can’t find someone else.”
“All right, Ali Mansour. Heal fast, all right?”
“Sure, and you do this job right, okay?”
“By all means.”
“And give my best to Carrie.”
Carrie leaned closer to the phone, then said, “God bless you, Ali Mansour.”
“Hello, Carrie. Yes, same to you, and keep Justin in line, all right?”
“I will, yes.”
“Now, I’ve got to go. Bye.”
“Bye.” Justin ended the call and looked at Carrie. “Well, that complicates things.”
“It sure does. What will Flavio say about this?”