Unfazed, the man kept walking toward the CIS agent.
“Here to see someone?” Mike asked when the man was two steps away.
The man nodded. Carrie thought she heard a slight growl of annoyance, but she could not be sure because of the background noise.
“Face the wall.” Mike gestured with his left hand.
“This is not necessary,” the man replied in a slow, dry voice.
Carrie tried to place his accent, but it was nearly impossible. The man sounded like he could be an Egyptian, Jordanian, or from anywhere else in the Middle East.
“Standard procedure,” Mike said. “You know the drill.”
The man spread his legs and arms, as he stood inches away from the beige wall.
“He’s clean,” Mike said after the pat down.
The man jerked his head back.”Happy?” he asked Mike, his palms spread in front of his face.
“Delighted. This way.” Mike motioned with his head for the man to walk in front of him.
Three seconds later, Carrie shook the man’s hand.
“Thank you,” she said, as Mike retreated outside the room. “Mr. Ben-David?”
The man nodded. “Call me Eliakim,” he said.
“OK. Eliakim, take a seat.”
They sat in chairs facing each other, underneath a showcase displaying ancient pottery.
“My name is Carrie O’Connor. My operational chief arranged for this meeting, which was supposed to take place almost an hour ago.”
“We’re handling another crisis at the moment, and the traffic was a mess,” Eliakim replied with a slight grin. “I see you don’t have much trust, do you?” The man pointed at the entrance to the room. Mike’s shadow was still visible on the wall.
“You’re an Israeli in Egypt; do you trust anyone in this country?”
The man grinned again.
“Let’s not waste more time. You have the intel I need?” Carrie asked.
“I have to make sure the man in question is alive and well.”
“That will be impossible. This is not a ransom drop; it’s an intel exchange. You give me what was promised to my boss, details about your agent’s mission to Sudan. I’ll give you his location.”
Eliakim shook his head. “I need to talk to the hostage before I tell you anything.”
Carrie frowned. “Your man is not a hostage. He was rescued after his chopper crashed, after he and his team tried to kill me and my team. Your man was wounded in the fight. If we had left him in the desert, you would have found his sun-baked corpse. If we had turned him over to the gunmen who survived his attack, you would have found his gasoline-scorched bones.”
She stared at Eliakim, who was taken aback by her sudden eruption.
“So, we saved his life, taking him with us. He was never and still is not a hostage. We are keeping him safe until the Mossad is willing to take him back.”
“I understand, but I still need to establish that he’s alive. Like your agent said, it’s standard procedure.”
“We sent you a photo, which shows his current state. Your man is alive and well. We have no reason to kill him now, after saving him, informing you that we have him, and arranging for this meeting.”
Eliakim shook his head. “Once you learned he was an Israeli, you crafted this plan to squeeze out information, rather than hand him over to us, like the good tradition requires between friends.”
Carrie leaned forward, pointing at Eliakim with her left hand index finger. “Friends? How many times do I have to tell you? This man attacked us with missiles and .50 cal machine guns. See this bruise?” She pointed at the left corner of her lip, just underneath her dimple. “And these scratches?” Her hand brushed against her right cheek. A purple streak was carved about an inch away from her eye.
Eliakim nodded and opened his mouth, but Carrie was quick to stop him.
“No, you listen to me. Your man was captured right after a gun battle, which almost cost me my life. So, I’m not going to take any bullshit about friendly relations.”
Eliakim leaned forward. “This conflict, this shootout, was unintentional. It was what they call ‘friendly fire.’ We didn’t know you were running an op at the same time and in the same area where the terrorists were hiding…”
“OK, let’s assume for a moment that’s true. How did you know about the Sheikh being at that exact location?”
Eliakim hesitated for a second. “Do you know that these people, with whom you’re involved, smuggle rockets and missiles to Arab terrorists, who use them to kill innocent people, women and children, in Israel?”
“I’m the one asking questions here and don’t use that tone with me,” Carrie replied. She noticed Mike’s shadow getting closer to the entrance as her voice rose to a shout. After taking in a deep breath, she said, “Cooking means getting messy, and we work in a very dirty kitchen.” Her voice returned to a calm tone.
“Uh-huh, go on.”
“And yes, unfortunately, there are casualties, but we were there to negotiate a peace deal, which means less bloodshed.”
“Now, you listen to me.” Eliakim stood up, his muscles bursting underneath his blazer, and his chest rising up in anger. “There can be no peace in the Middle East without Israel at the table. The bloodshed will continue as long as terrorist rockets fall on our cities. And, for your information, sometimes the cooks get burned while they’re fixing these secret recipes for disaster.”
“Sit down,” Carrie said. “And answer my question. How did you learn the Sheikh was there?”
Eliakim took his time pacing around the room. Then, he stumbled to his chair, clenching his fists.
“Of course, we knew Sheikh Ayman was somewhere in the desert. Our operatives have been following every move of the Alliance ever since they started their bombing campaign. As the violence spread across the region, a decision was make to execute, what do you, Americans, call it—”
“I wouldn’t know about that,” Carrie interrupted him, “I’m Canadian.”
Eliakim gave her a grin. “Yes, now it came to me, ‘targeted killing.’ A decision was made to eliminate the operational head of the Alliance, Sheikh Yusuf Ayman.”
“Who made this decision?”
“High government officials.”
“Any names?”
“Uh, that’s classified.”
“Declassify it for me, please.”
“The Prime Minister gave his approval,” Eliakim said.
“Was anyone aware that a breakaway faction of the Alliance was in fact responsible for the suicide bombings?”
“We were. But splinter units are nothing new. There’s always someone who considers this or that Sheikh as ‘weak’ or ‘inefficient,’ and decides to start up their own killing business.”
“So, the purpose of the choppers’ mission was to assassinate Sheikh Yusuf Ayman?”
“Yes. We received a tip that he was travelling in North Africa. Most of the time, he stayed in densely populated areas, where a precise air strike was almost impossible. He never ventured too far out in the desert, and for that I guess I have to thank you.”
“Us?”
“Well, maybe not you personally, but definitely your boss.”
“Johnson?”
“Yes.”
“Why? She gave you his location?”
Eliakim nodded reluctantly.
“She gave you his location. That’s how you knew exactly where the Sheikh was,” Carrie said slowly. “Did Johnson tell you we were meeting with the Sheikh?”
Eliakim shook his head.
“I think you should discuss that with Johnson.”
“Tell me, did she tell you we were there?” Carrie demanded.
Eliakim grinned. “I’ve already said too much.”
Carrie gave him a cold stare. His voice was convincing, but his grin told her he was not really sorry this information had “slipped” his lips.
“Of course she told you. She gave you the location and the time of our meeting. That’s why you said you didn’t know we were in the area at the same time and in the same place as the terrorists,” Carrie said. “But we were late getting to the valley, and your people assumed we were already gone. Or your people arrived earlier.”