Epilogue
Ten days later
ECS Headquarters
Vienna, Austria
Justin glanced at Carrie, who was following a couple of steps behind in the hall leading to Flavio’s office. She had stopped and was fixing her shoe. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“My heel. It’s loose, almost broken.”
“How did that happen?”
Carrie shrugged. “I must have stepped funny. I’ll get it fixed later. Don’t want to make us late.”
She hobbled for the next ten steps or so, then Justin knocked on Flavio’s office door.
“Come in, come in,” he said in his strong voice.
Justin opened the door and let Carrie enter in front of him.
Flavio was standing by the arched windows of his small office with his phone by his ear. He gestured for Justin and Carrie to sit in the brown leather chairs across from his dark mahogany desk, the centerpiece of his office.
Carrie sat to Justin’s right. He placed his black briefcase near his feet, then pulled out a manila folder. He picked it up with his left hand, which had fully healed. The doctor needed to have a final look, but Justin felt no pain and had regained full range of motion of his fingers.
He exchanged a look with Carrie, who gave him a nervous smile and flattened the front of her cream suit jacket. She always got a bit apprehensive about her look when she needed to wear business attire. Although Flavio had not requested a strict office dress code, both Justin and Carrie felt they needed to look at their best when appearing in front of their boss.
Flavio walked toward the table. “Yes, yes, minister, I understand. No, eh . . . no, of course, not. Yes, yes. We’ll make that clear to the Russians, of course. Take care.” He ended the call and sighed. “Some people.” He shook his head and sat on his chair. “How are you doing today?”
“Pretty good,” Justin said.
“Can’t be better. It’s good to be back home,” Carrie said.
“And it’s good to have you around for more than a couple of days. So much work, and you’re a great help in getting it all done.”
“Glad we can help, sir,” Justin said. “Here’s the final after-action report.”
“Thanks. I’ll review it tonight.” He put it aside, then picked up one of the red folders from a stack at the left side of his desk. “Cyprus OP” was stamped across the cover. He opened it and skimmed through the first page. Then he glanced at Justin. “I don’t think I’ve shared this with you. I should have, but so many things happened last night and this morning. It’s the final report from the Cyprus authorities. They’ve closed the investigation on the Prince Al Khater yacht’s disappearance.”
“And it’s good news, right?” Justin said.
“Excellent; it’s the perfect coverup. Their conclusion is that the most probable cause of the sinking was an explosion on board. Investigators found debris, but none of the bodies. You can read about the details, but that’s a brief summary of the report.”
“That’s pretty good,” Carrie said. “Now, Prince Al-Taweel has an official report to support his assertion.”
Justin frowned. “Why, his words weren’t enough to convince the Qataris?”
Flavio shrugged. “There’s bad blood between the two countries and the two princes weren’t exactly friends. Many people became suspicious that the yacht sank under dubious circumstances, at the exact time when a number of a Saudi company directors were on board negotiating a deal with the prince.”
“But they lost their lives as well,” Carrie said.
“Yes, but that doesn’t stop their suspicions.”
“Has anyone suggested or claimed this was more than an accident?”
“No, not yet,” Flavio said. “But the Qataris have a lot of money. The prince’s family has started their own investigation. They’ve hired an international company that specializes in capsizing and sinking investigations, primarily for insurance purposes.”
Carrie frowned and looked at Justin. “What are the chances of this company finding any of the bodies?”
Flavio shrugged. “It’s difficult to tell. Considering the depth, the storm the day after the sinking, and nearby currents, I’d say it’s a waste of money. But desperate and suspicious people are inclined to do everything they can.” He shrugged again and flipped to the next page in the folder.
Justin said, “Before we move on, Prince Al-Taweel is extremely unlikely to tell the truth to anyone. He’s deeply involved in this affair. He may try to minimize his involvement to that of simply organizing a business meeting, but he actually knew what he was doing and what the consequences could have been.”
Flavio gave Justin a sideways glance. “What do you mean ‘he knew the consequences’? Surely Prince Al-Taweel had no idea a gunfight would erupt on board the yacht, and that the gunfight would cause it to sink?”
“No, but he knew who he was sending in with his team. The prince could have anticipated what might happen. And no one among the Qataris and the late prince’s family will believe that Prince Al-Taweel was that short-sighted. On the contrary, they’ll easily believe he organized this entire affair to get rid of the Qatari prince, for whatever reason—personal, business, or a combination of both.”
Flavio nodded. “All right, so that front should be watertight. Now, have you heard from Egorov?”
Justin shook his head. “Not since the last time we talked, three—no, four days after the yacht incident. She thanked me for taking her seriously and following up on her intel.”
Flavio snorted. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but she may be one of the few Russians I know that was straightforward with us.”
Justin shrugged. “She had a good reason: survival.”
“And we don’t know all the other aspects of her dealings with the bagman, Prince Al Khater, and his cronies,” Carrie said with a certain amount of skepticism. “What Egorov told us about herself puts her in a good light, of course.”
“Whatever it is, it’s not our problem any more. With the Qatari prince gone, I’m sure there will be a dozen or so smugglers trying to take his place. Perhaps they’ll learn something from the fact that even the greatest of them all can come crashing down, but I doubt it.”
Justin nodded. “Considering the history of the Middle East and the Gulf region over the last three millennia, I doubt much will change because we removed a weapons dealer. But we do what we can.”
“Even if we saved one kid whose leg will not be blown off because of a grenade smuggled by a warlord, I think we’ve done well,” Carrie said.
“Do you think Egorov will contact you again?”
“I doubt it,” Justin said. “Now that Prince Al Khater is gone, whoever was selling him weapons made in Russia can sleep better. That loop is closed. And the Cyprus financiers, the United Bank of Cyprus, and whoever was laundering money, they’re off the hook.”
“You really think that, Justin? You don’t think they’ll still go after Egorov and try to tie up that loose end?”
“They might, but as you said, sir, it’s not our problem any more.”
Flavio offered a small smile. “Yes, if Reza had delivered the promised intel, we could have gotten to the root of this weapons traffic.”
“Yes, about Reza. I’ve tried to get in touch with him, but it has been impossible. A couple of his friends have told me he has been relieved of his duties with the Islamic Revolutionary Guard,” he said in a low voice filled with regret as a deep frown creased his face. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Reza is no longer alive . . .” His voice trailed off.
“You shouldn’t blame yourself if the worst has happened,” Flavio said. “Reza knew the risks involved when he agreed to help you. Besides, we don’t know with absolute certainty whether Reza was genuinely trying to help you, or was setting you up.”
Justin nodded. “Yes, and I’ll have to live with that uncertainty.”
“On the topic of things we may never know for sure, I’ve received some interesting intel about a development in Israel. Remember I was telling you, Justin, about my suspicions that Mossad was playing a double game?”
“I do remember.”
“Well, it seems those suspicions were confirmed. Mossad initially was absolutely ready to get rid of Prince Al Khater. Then, after the convoy attack, they changed their mind.”
“Yes, what happened?” Carrie asked.
“Well, I just learned that on the same day, Mossad ran an operation deep into the Syrian side of the northern Golan border. A team of assassins took care of a notorious arms dealer who was thought to be sending weapons from the Syrian conflict to Israel’s enemies, Hamas and Hezbollah. Guess who that dealer was working with?”
Justin smiled. “Prince Al Khater.”
“Correct answer. Once those ties were severed, Mossad probably felt comfortable to stop the pursuit of the prince, knowing we would finish the operation.”
Carrie shook her head. “They could have shared the intel with us.”
“Yes, and the operation could have been easier. But Mossad came around and helped us with the yacht’s security system.”
“Still, it’s upsetting that they’re not open with information, resorting to deception.”
“We’re used to or should be used to it by now. Although, I agree, not knowing the full picture endangers our efforts.” Flavio closed the folder and put it aside. Then he swiveled on his chair and reached for a new red folder from the stack. “Your next mission involves SAS. Our British friends have lost something and are looking for our help in retrieving it. In one piece, if possible.” He slid the folder toward Justin.
He picked it up and looked at the first page while Carrie read it too. He frowned after he finished skimming through the first paragraph and glanced at Flavio. “Is this . . . this is not a mistake, is it?”
“No, apparently not. That’s what SAS believed happened. We don’t know the reason, or when exactly it took place. But that’s what they’d like us to find, and that’s why I’m dispatching you and Carrie to London.”
Carrie smiled. “London, here we come.”
Justin shrugged. “London in March. I don’t know. Rain, cold, fog.”
“Compared to Syria or the Gulf, I’ll take London any time,” Carrie said.
Flavio nodded. “True, but don’t get too comfortable. Following the trail might well take you to the Gulf.”
Justin nodded back. “Yes, but first, let’s enjoy her Majesty’s country.”
I hope you’ve enjoyed this novel. Please let me know what you think of the storyline, the characters and the book in general. My email is author.ethan.jones@gmail.com.
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