Chapter Twenty-eight
Café Ezahra neighborhood
Sousse, Tunisia
Farhad, the only man in the gray Hyundai, dropped Justin in front of Café Ezahra and drove into the next alleyway that connected to the back of the three-story blue-colored building. Justin sighed as he glanced through the mirror-like windows. He had no idea what to expect, but so far, Abdulkareem had not tricked him. That did not mean deception was out of the question, or that Justin should drop his guard. He had disassembled his AK rifle in the car and had placed it inside his rucksack. But the Beretta pistol was still in his hand, and he held it next to his thigh.
“You can put that away, so we’re not noticed.” Abdulkareem stepped out of the café and waved his hand toward Justin’s pistol. “And you won’t need it.”
“You’re armed.” Justin still held the weapon tight in his hand and tipped his head toward Abdulkareem’s side.
“Right, but I’m not going to need it either. Put it away, and we can get on with our business,” he said in a hurried tone.
Justin glanced around at the nearly empty street. Two men were leaning against a wall about thirty yards to his right. In the darkness, Justin could not make out their faces. A streetlight was right above their heads, but the lamp was broken. “Are they your men?”
“Yes, but they present no problem. We come in peace. I thought that was clear by now...”
Justin shrugged and returned the pistol to the waistband holster. “Only minutes ago, you were screaming at me. Then, you, or your gunmen, opened fire, risking the life of my teammates. You can’t blame me for being a bit suspicious.”
“No, I’m not blaming you, and that’s why I’m clarifying my position and our relationship.”
Justin followed behind Abdulkareem, who began to walk to the left, away from his men. Justin did not have to turn his head to know the men were going to escort him and Abdulkareem, never leaving them out of sight. “So, what changed?”
“Everything changed. But let’s start from the top: Why didn’t you give me the prisoners’ exchange location?”
Justin had anticipated the question. “I was going to call you once Karolin was safe—”
“That would have complicated my mission. Getting to Khazri once he was among his men would have been much more difficult.”
“But this put Karolin’s life in danger. She was almost killed in the gunfire...”
“I’m glad she’s all right.”
“Yes, well, this could have been avoided if you had been patient.”
“Or if you’d have given me the location. We could have coordinated our attack or joined efforts.”
Justin shrugged. He could not see himself working alongside Abdulkareem’s gunmen. Even the intelligence exchange so far had left him with an unsettling feeling. It was true that Justin was suspicious of all security services operatives, but Abdulkareem seemed to trump them all. He had an uncanny aura about him, and Justin felt as if he were handling a snake, one slipping through his hands and jerking its head to bite when least expected. “Yes, I don’t know about that.”
Abdulkareem returned the shrug. “Well, as you say it’s all water under the bridge now... But know that my team had everything covered at the exchange. Hassan and two of the gunmen were cut down by my snipers’ bullets.”
“Doesn’t make me feel any better. You could have waited.”
“Yes, and I explained the reasons why we decided to move ahead. Do I need to go over it again?” Abdulkareem’s voice slowed down and took on an admonishing tone as if he were talking to a child throwing a temper tantrum.
“No, it’s all clear. How did you learn about the location?”
Abdulkareem’s face formed a sly smile. “Trade secrets, Justin.”
Justin groaned. “No secrets here. One of two ways: You followed us—very unlikely considering we kept our eyes wide open—or you have a mole inside Khazri’s camp. If I were a betting man, I’d put everything on the latter option.”
Abdulkareem’s smile grew larger as he showed Justin his perfect rows of teeth. “You should start betting, Justin.”
“No, gave up that vice a long time ago. Who is it?”
“You know I can’t tell you that.”
“All right. Well, then we’re done here.” Justin gestured with his hand over his shoulders. “Good to see you—”
“No, wait, what’s the hurry?”
“I still have many things to do in the city—”
“If I were you, I’d make myself scarce. The police know what you’re up to.”
Thanks for the obvious, Justin wanted to say, but instead he nodded and said, “Yes, we figured that out after the shooting.”
“No, one of Khazri’s men works for the police.”
“Thanks for the heads-up.” Justin tried to keep the sarcasm building up in his mind away from his voice. “I still don’t understand why you’re helping me...”
Abdulkareem nodded. “Yes, perhaps I should have started with that. I told you that things have changed. I’ve received new orders, which are quite discreet.” He lowered his voice and looked around.
The streets were empty but for two boys, no older than ten, who were kicking a slightly deflated soccer ball on the sidewalk in front of a fruit and vegetable stand. The owner barged out of the store and shouted at the boys, who moved their play a few steps away.
Abdulkareem continued, “The man we’ve been protecting thus far—you know who I’m talking about—well, we’re no longer supporting him or his candidacy.”
“Doma? What did he do to fall out of favor?”
Abdulkareem hesitated for a moment, seemingly unsure how much to share with Justin. “We found out something disturbing in his past, something that, if it came to light, would be quite damaging and embarrassing for the monarchy.”
Justin grinned. “You realized he was Gaddafi’s chief henchman only now?”
Abdulkareem waved away Justin’s sarcasm with a dismissive hand. “That was in his past, many years ago. And don’t forget that Gaddafi and his men were loved by the West. The US, Britain, France, they all had profitable oil deals with his bloody regime and benefited greatly from those transactions.”
“So what did he do now?”
Abdulkareem hesitated another moment, then shook his head. “He’s getting in bed with Al-Qaeda—”
“That’s not new. Khazri and other associates working with Doma were known or suspected Al-Qaeda members.”
“Right, but they were low-level operatives, with local connections only. Doma is setting up a meeting with a top senior Al-Qaeda official in northwest Pakistan.”
“Where?”
“We don’t know exactly, and here’s where you come in.”
Justin sighed. Yes, I always come in when it’s the messiest.
Abdulkareem said, “Al-Qaeda is experiencing a large resurgence in Afghanistan and Pakistan. After the collapse of the Islamic State’s caliphate in Iraq and Syria, many battle-hardened fighters are moving their jihad to the east. Lawless Pakistan is fertile ground for their operations.”
Justin nodded. “Yes, and why isn’t your service going after Doma?”
Abdulkareem stopped and leaned against the streetlight shedding barely sufficient light for Justin to notice the frown darkening the Emirati agent’s face. “I asked the same question. Too much at stake if something goes wrong. If Doma even catches a whiff that we might be behind the attempt to assassinate him, our monarch will be publicly humiliated. That can’t be allowed to happen.”
“But if someone else kills Doma...”
Abdulkareem shrugged. “This sounds cruel, but that’s an acceptable risk. We, the Emiratis, would have had nothing to do with it.”
Justin cursed under his breath. “Nothing is cruel or sacred anymore in what we do.”
“I can only provide you with intel, but you’ll have to act quickly. The meeting is two, or, at the most, three days from now. And if you’re not interested, I’ll go to the CIA.”
Justin groaned. “I guess I should be honored that you came to me first?”
“I don’t know how you should feel, but this is just business. I know you and Patton are working together to eliminate Doma. This will make your job easier. That is, if getting rid of Doma is still your assignment.”
Justin did not reply to the indirect question. While there had been no change in his and Patton’s orders, Flavio might take a different position considering everything that had taken place since the team had arrived in Tunisia. Karolin had been kidnapped; there had been a number of shootouts in Tunis, Sfax, and now in Sousse. Justin’s boss might decide to ask the team to stand down and fly under the radar until the situation cooled off. But it might be too late to get to Doma. That is, if what Abdulkareem is saying is true.
“What do you think?” Abdulkareem stepped closer to Justin.
“Where’s Doma now?”
“No longer in Tunisia. En route to Pakistan.”
“Where exactly?”
Abdulkareem peered into Justin’s eyes. “Somewhere in Eastern Europe. I can find out the exact location once you’ve agreed to the task.”
“Doing your dirty work?”
Abdulkareem’s face drew back in a look of pure surprise. “No, of course not. This is first and foremost your operation. I’m just helping you, making things easier.”
“Oh, really? What happened to ‘don’t cross my path’?”
Abdulkareem shoulders slumped. “There’s no more ‘my path.’ I’ve been ordered to hand over the operation and return home. So, it’s either you or the CIA.”
Justin studied Abdulkareem’s face for a long moment, then said, “Something tells me you already know the exact location.”
“No, I don’t. Even if I did, it wouldn’t help. You don’t want to hit Doma while he’s in Europe. Too much exposure, considering France and Britain support him, albeit half-secretly.”
“So he’s in France or the UK?”
“You’re not listening. Your best bet is to strike while Doma is traveling to or is already in Pakistan.”
“How about you let me decide that?”
Abdulkareem raised his palms and took a step back. “Look, I’m just offering support. If you don’t want it, that’s fine. You have until tomorrow at noon to make your decision.”
Justin wondered if that would be sufficient time for his boss to make up his mind. He would have to, either way. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I know.”
“Don’t delay. This might be your best chance to eliminate Doma before he grows so strong he might become untouchable.”
Justin gave Abdulkareem a frown, but said nothing. The Libyan politician had already turned almost invisible and very powerful. Yes, we can’t allow him to forge links with Al-Qaeda. We’ve got to crush the serpent’s head now.