“Which one: me coming here or melting inside this rusty tin can?” Carrie replied, attempting to cool off by undoing the top button of her brown shirt. A pair of light blue jeans had replaced her usual khakis.
“Well, both, but I’m talking about the first. Did I forget to mention how crazy this place is?”
Carrie gave him a long measuring gaze. “You seem to be doing pretty well.”
“I’m not kidding.”
“Where’s your vest?”
“Abdul forgot it.” He fumbled with the seatbelt, and the edge of his shirt rose up. Carrie caught a glimpse of his Glock.
“Hey, where is mine?” she asked with a pout.
“Abdul brought only one. At the time, we had no plans of you coming here.”
“Seems like your American partner has greater foresight.” She played with her Security Consultant badge.
“Yes, he thinks he knows everything.”
“I see the match of wits has started.”
“Oh, the match is over. He never stood a chance,” Justin said with a smile.
“I take it you’ve told him very little.”
“I’ve told him what he needs to know.”
“That’s why I said very little.”
“The Americans don’t need to know about the Prince. They’re in bed with the Saudis.”
“So are we.”
“Yes, but we haven’t been stabbed in the back. Not yet, anyway.”
“Lighten up, would you? The US is our ally and we’re to work together in this op.”
“We are working together.”
Carrie sighed, while Justin grinned. He honked at a taxi that cut in front of him, and switched to the other, faster lane. Cars slowed down as they came to an intersection, and the traffic light turned red. Justin pressed hard on the brake pedal. The Nissan took a while to respond and the car stopped inches away from a white van in front of them.
“Have you received any news from your sister about your mother?” Justin asked.
“Yes, I got a hold of her this morning, before flying out.” Carrie let out a deep sigh and stared out the window at a large mosque coming into view. They heard the prayer chant from the mosques’ minarets.
“And?” Justin pressed on.
“Oh, I’ve had better conversations with Susan.”
“How did your mom’s tests come out?”
“Inconclusive. Doctors are scheduling more liver and thyroid tests next week to determine her Alzheimer’s stage and the care she needs. They’ll do a head CT as well.”
“Sorry to hear there’s no good news.”
“It’s not bad news either.”
Justin stepped on the gas pedal as the traffic light changed. The car growled and jerked forward, the engine rattling.
“Before you ask, I did get in touch with Thomas too,” Carrie offered.
Justin smiled. “I wasn’t going to—” he began.
“Yeah, yeah,” Carrie interrupted him. “Thomas was worried about me, since I hadn’t called him.”
“Why didn’t you call him?”
“So he would worry about me.”
Justin blinked. “I don’t get it. You’re trying to be unpredictable?”
Carrie nodded.
“But, that’s a given, because of our profession.”
“Oh, but it doesn’t hurt to point out at times that I can be as detached as he is.”
“Beating him at his own game, aren’t we?”
“Not yet, but trying hard to.”
“If you keep this up, you may be overplaying your hand.”
He adjusted the rear-view mirror and checked a couple of cars tailgating them. His eyes searched the faces of the drivers, who were both old men.
“You think grandpas are mukhabarat?” Carrie noticed his actions.
“In this place, everyone’s mukhabarat. What do you think is Prince Al-Farhan’s game?”
“I’m not sure. According to the Mossad, he’s interested in burning up all of North Africa. That’s for short-term, clear objectives. In the long run, he may have many goals. Establish a Sharia law state in the region, without country borders. Create safe havens for terrorist training camps. Maybe he’s after safe routes for large-scale weapons contraband to the Middle East. He’s not doing that well financially and he’s not the favorite grandson of the Saudi King.”
“We need to find out what he wants.”
“I’ve already talked to Johnson, and she has the entire section digging up intel on the Prince. But, she warned me not much is known about him.”
“A man shrouded in mystery?”
“As much as his women are veiled in burqas.”
Justin grinned. “Anything from our post in Dubai?”
“They’re scrapping together what they can.”
Justin sped up, trying to keep up with Nour, whose GMC was already two cars ahead. “So, if the Prince had a feud with the Libyan Prime Minister, could that mean he’s striking back?”
“It could be. The bombs have definitely rocked the Prime Minister’s regime.”
“True. And the mukhabarat has begun its backlash against the Alliance. Jails will be overflowing any time now.”
“Then, what about this American President plot?” asked Carrie.
“I don’t know what to make of it. It serves the overall purpose of attacking the government, for sure. Any attempt at harming the American President, a guest of the Libyan leader, is a slap across his face. As long as she’s in the country, she’s under his protection, according to Arab customs of honor.”
“But the evidence we’re finding seems planted, don’t you think?”
“Definitely. I have the impression the Alliance is trying too hard to convince us they’re going after the US President. First, the suicide bomber botches up his operation, confesses without hesitation and winds up at the end of a noose. Then, Sheikh Ayman wants a ‘deal’ in exchange for ‘sensitive’ information. Now, we discover one of the bombs was sabotaged.”
“But?” Carrie noticed Justin’s hesitation at finishing his thoughts.
“But none of this evidence is conclusive. Like Nour said earlier, there are many ways to explain these events, these circumstances. I don’t want to rush into drawing wrong conclusions.”
“What are the Americans doing?”
“They’re tightening the security around their President and changing her schedule and her route. I haven’t heard anything about cancelling her visit.”
Carrie wiped sweat drops from her lips with a Kleenex and rolled down the window about an inch. Dusty air swept around the cabin, and she hurried to close the window before Justin could voice his objection.
“Sorry, I thought it would help with the heat.”
Justin shrugged and rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. Carrie leaned over and sponged off a sweat trickle drizzling along the edge of his cheekbone. “Speaking of cancellations, I have some bad news, but don’t get angry,” she whispered.
“I never shoot the messenger,” Justin said with a grin.
“Our Prime Minister will not be at the G-20 Summit.”
“Well, one less thing to worry about. Why is that bad news?”
“Because he never planned to come here.”
“What? Johnson said he was attending the meeting.”
“Possibly. I remember Johnson saying ‘schedule permitting.’ I made a few calls and I learned that he never made such plans. Instead, he’ll be in China, on a trip planned six months ago.”
Justin eyes turned dark, a glint of disappointment lurking underneath. “I want to believe Johnson didn’t know about it, and she truly believed the Prime Minister was coming to Tripoli.”
Carrie closed her eyes and pursed her lips. “Unfortunately, she had full knowledge of his travel plans. And she’s not the kind of person who forgets crucial details like that.”
“So, you’re saying she tricked me, tricked us, into coming down to this snake pit?”
Carrie hesitated a second before replying, “I’m afraid so.”