Tripoli's Target

Chapter Seventeen

Ismail reached for his phone, after glancing around and making sure he was alone in his office. “They just left,” he said quietly, after the colonel answered his call.

“And?” Colonel Haydar said.

“They figured out the sabotaged wire and the drained battery.”

“What? What? How could… Why did you let them?”

“I had no choice.” Ismail moved the phone away, to save his eardrums from bursting. The colonel’s was shouting at the top of his lungs. “They asked to see the evidence, and I showed it to them.”

“What do they think?” the colonel’s voice was a bit calmer, though still very loud.

“They think the Alliance is preparing another attack, more important than these car bombs.”

“Did they say what other attack?”

“No, I don’t think they know. I don’t even know what we’re doing.”

“You trust in me and you trust in Allah. That’s all you must know.”

“Yes, of course.”

“This wasn’t a very good idea,” Justin said, after they headed toward downtown Tripoli.

“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.”

Justin slammed his fist into the center of the steering wheel, the blaring horn covering the barrage of expletives pouring forth his mouth. “First she told the Mossad about our meeting with the Sheikh, but hid that from us, putting us into harm’s way. Or worse, she wanted to kill us. When that failed, she dispatches us into this hellhole for nothing, by selling us a straight face lie.”

“I don’t think she wants to kill us. There’s no bad blood running between us. She lied because she felt you would have not taken this assignment.”

Justin looked deeply into her eyes. “I might have, and rightfully so. This is a very low blow, even for Johnson. In-fucking-credible.”

“Have you talked to Anna?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“She’s still upset about the cancelled trip. And now I find out it was all for nothing. This is making me livid. Johnson is not getting away with it.”

Carrie looked at the traffic ahead. Nour’s GMC was three vehicles ahead, in the other lane to their left. They were getting closer to an overpass.

“Why the hell are we slowing down?” Justin asked.

Carrie rolled down the window and stuck her head outside, as the car came to a complete stop.

“There’s some kind of road construction ahead, just as we begin to climb up the ramp. This lane is cut off about a hundred and fifty feet ahead.”

The cars were chaotically merging into the left lane. The brown truck ahead jerked forward and Justin stepped slowly on the gas pedal. Their Nissan gained about a foot. He peered through the windshield and saw a long line of barrier boards cordoning off a part of their lane. The brown truck moved again and, without signaling, forced his way into the other lane. Justin waited until there was a gap in the traffic, signaled and drove in front of a blue van. They were now almost ten vehicles behind Nour’s GMC.

“I don’t see any cranes or dump trucks anywhere,” Carrie observed.

“No construction workers either.” Justin checked both his right side and the rear-view mirror, as they crawled up the ramp, along barrier boards and pylons.

A rattling motorcycle caught his attention, as it zigzagged through the cars behind them. Then, it sped up to their right, using the ramp’s shoulder. The motorcycle’s passenger was holding a Kalashnikov.

“It’s an ambush,” Justin shouted, his foot instinctively pressing on the gas pedal. The Nissan came dangerously close to the van.

The motorcycle cut through a gap between the pylons and drove into the cordoned off lane, gaining quickly on them.

“It’s getting closer,” Carrie said.

Justin pulled out his Glock and handed it to Carrie. “Shoot the bastards.”

Carrie cocked the gun and turned around.

“Hang onto something.” Justin ploughed through the traffic barriers.

Debris went flying over the car. Pylons and wooden fragments were thrown at other vehicles and the chasing motorcycle. Justin slammed his foot on the gas and the Nissan drifted around the curb. The bike swerved around the scattering debris. Its passenger aimed his stretched hand toward them.

“Incoming fire.” Carrie dropped against her seat.

Justin veered to the left and then to the right, as bullets riddled the car. Fragments of broken glass showered his head and neck. A bullet grazed the edge of his left shoulder. He swore then clenched his teeth. He glanced at Carrie, wondering why she was not returning fire, just as she began shooting through the shattered windows. “There you go, blast them!”

Carrie kept firing, but their car was still being hammered by automatic gun fire. The vroom of the motorcycle grew louder and the incoming barrage intensified. The car sank, its tires exploding with a loud bang. The wheels scraped the asphalt and Justin struggled to keep the swerving car under control.

“Carrie,” he cried, while the car banged against the metal rail of the climbing ramp, “take them out.”

Carrie shuffled to the back seat and the Glock was heard again. Two quick bursts and a long barrage. Justin heard a great explosion coming from somewhere underneath and saw huge flames leaping at the overpass. Another explosion erupted from the highway below. Black and gray smoke clouded the sun, mushrooming over the scene.

“Justin, you can stop now.”

He listened to her and pulled to the side. The engine puffed as he turned off the car.

“You OK?” Justin asked

Carrie was panting heavily, crouched on the back seat. The Glock lay next to her.

“Uh, uh, yes, I’m fine.”

“Let’s get out of here.”

He helped her climb out of the car. Carrie handed him back the Glock. She ran her hands through her hair, staring in disbelief at their car and at the cloud of smoke.

“Did any bullet get you?” she asked after a long moment, stepping closer to Justin, searching his face and his arms.

“A bullet clipped my shoulder.”

She helped him clear some glass fragments off his body. Then, she inspected his shoulder wound. Justin’s shirt and skin were ripped open. The bullet had made an inch-long superficial cut, and some blood had trickled down Justin’s chest.

“We’ll get you cleaned up soon.”

“Yeah, it’s nothing.”

They looked at the scene underneath their feet. The twisted wreck of the motorcycle had landed on a gray sedan. A plume of smoke was soaring upwards from the burning rubble. Another car was turned upside down. The hood of another truck was badly damaged at the driver’s side. The traffic had pretty much stopped, with the occasional car pushing its way around the burning barricade. A couple of dozen people were walking around, yelling and screaming, staring and pointing at the top of the overpass. Justin saw Nour and Abdul standing next to their car on the other side of the overpass and began waving to get their attention.

“Hey, Justin, look at this.” Carrie pointed to her left, about twenty yards away, at a man lying on his back.

“Was he one of the bike guys?” Justin asked, as they ran toward the man.

Carrie nodded. “I guess he jumped off in time.”

They saw a Kalashnikov a few steps away from the man.

“He’s still alive.” Carrie leaned over him.

The man’s face and ears were severely bruised. He was bleeding from a large bullet wound on his right side.

“You know, you should have worn a helmet,” Carrie said.

“And a vest.” Justin knelt next to the man. “Who sent you?” he asked in Arabic.

The man spat out a bloody cough. As he tried to talk, a wheezing rasp came out of his mouth. His eyes flickered irregularly, like broken windshield wipers. The dim light left in them was going to fade out very soon.

“Who sent you to kill us?” Justin asked again, this time in Arabic and in English. He wiped a trickle of blood oozing from the man’s left eyebrow, which had made its way down to his thick, black beard.

“Go… go to hell,” the man groaned in English.

“You first, you prick,” Carrie spat out.

“We’ll take you to a hospital right away, and you’ll make it,” Justin said, his mouth very close to the man’s ear. “Tell us, who wants us dead?”

“The… the Alliance,” the man let out a faint whisper, almost too quiet. In truth, Justin read the man’s bleeding lips rather than heard his words.

“Why? Why the Alliance?”

The man’s eyes grew dimmer, and he jerked his head to the left. Justin gently lifted the man’s head with his cupped hands.

“Don’t die. Don’t you die. Why did you try to kill us?”

“You… you can’t…”

The man’s breathing became shallow.

“We can’t what? Go on.”

“You can’t save…”

“Who? Who can’t we save? Who?”

“No one… no one can save the… akh,” the man hacked out his reply along with his last breath.

“What!?” Justin cried. “What was that?”

“What did he say?” Carrie asked.

Justin looked at the man’s lifeless eyes. He checked the man’s pulse at the left side of his neck.

“He’s dead. And we learned nothing.”

“What was he mumbling?”

“The Alliance sent them to stop us from saving somebody.”

“Who?”

Justin shook his head and wiped his hands. “He didn’t say. He just faded away.”

“What the hell? What the bloody hell?” Abdul bellowed as he and Nour reached the top of the ramp. “You stupid coward,” he yelled at the dead man. Nour stood to the side, punching a few numbers on his BlackBerry.

“Calm down.” Justin stopped Abdul from getting closer to the dead man. “We’re all fine. Nobody’s hurt.”

“Nobody’s hurt? Nobody’s hurt?” Abdul paced around Justin. “Shit, I’m hurt. My car’s wrecked. This mission is ruined. Dead people and burned cars are everywhere. It’s like another bomb ripped through the highway. The colonel will have my balls on a platter.”

Justin put a reassuring hand on Abdul’s shoulders. “Abdul, it’s OK. These people ambushed us. We had to defend ourselves. It’s easy to explain.”

“No, no, no, nothing is easy to explain. Not to the colonel. Nothing is easy with the colonel.”

“Listen, this is your Nissan and you were supposed to be in there.” Justin stared deep into Abdul’s frantic eyes. “This attack was against you. These men, they wanted you dead.”

Abdul blinked rapidly at the revelation of Justin’s words. He was silent for a few seconds. Then, he found his tongue. “Bloody cowards,” he hollered, this time even louder, “I will show them.” He pushed Justin aside and marched toward the dead body.

“No.” Justin clenched Abdul’s right arm. “He’s dead. Gone. We need to figure out why these two targeted you.”

“Before the police show up, we need an explanation why we were driving your car instead of you,” Carrie said.

Abdul drew in a deep breath. He had stopped struggling to free his arm from Justin’s firm grip.

“I’m calm now,” Abdul said.

“OK.” Justin released him.

Abdul began to walk toward the overpass. At some point, he turned around, stomped the ground with his foot and punched the air with his left fist.

“He said he was calm,” Carrie whispered to Justin.

“Wait till you see him angry,” he replied.

“I got it,” Abdul shouted.

“What is it?” Justin asked.

“You needed to make a few private calls and we didn’t want to waste time, so you took my car, that’s it, yes, that’s it.” Abdul moved his arms around like a wind mill in a strong storm. Then, he stopped and dropped his arms to his sides. His face sank. “This is the least of my worries. The colonel will hang me.”

“Don’t worry.” Justin stepped closer to him. “You’re not alone in this.” He gave Abdul a comforting wink.

Nour was still on his cellphone, with his back to them, oblivious to their gestures, but not their words.

Abdul feigned a smile, just as Nour hung up and turned around. “Well, I’ve informed the embassy. A liaison team is on their way. We’ll use every diplomatic means to keep this incident tight.”

Abdul nodded, but a mask of despair was slowly covering his face. Police sirens could be heard in the distance. They were getting louder by the second.