“And no tricks, Justin. There will be no other shoot ‘em up under my watch.” Matthew raised a finger in the air and waived it in front of their faces.
“We get it. We’ll do our job from inside this trap hole,” Carrie said.
Matthew forced out a snort. “You’ll thank me later.”
Then, he walked out the room.
“What a jerk,” Carrie mumbled. She walked over to Nour, who had a slight grin on his face. “So, you’re going to help us escape?”
“No freaking way. Do you think I’m crazy?”
“No? So, what’s with the wink?” Justin asked.
“This.” Nour produced a satellite phone from his pants pocket. “It’s my personal phone, untapped by the embassy. All phones here are monitored, and all calls are recorded. If you use my phone to call Johnson, maybe she’ll twist Matthew’s balls until he agrees to let you go.”
Justin eyes shone.
“Thanks, we appreciate this.” He glanced at the satellite phone. “But, what’s in it for you?”
“For starters, the pleasure of seeing Matthew squirm,” Nour replied with a quiet chuckle. “He can be a real jerk at times, although I understand his hands-off approach. In a few days, he’ll be out of this place, and I’ll still be in charge of the security for American diplomats. I don’t want this place to become more hostile than it already is.”
“Do you really think the Alliance has a chance?” Carrie asked.
“In Libya, everything’s possible,” Nour replied. “The Prime Minister came to power after a civil war that toppled a forty-one-year rule of a strongman, and he may go out in a car bomb.”
Justin weighted the satellite phone in his hand. “You call Johnson.” He handed the phone over to Carrie. “I’m gonna talk to Abdul.”
“I’m starving.” Nour followed Justin to the door. “There’s this place around the corner that makes the best falafels in Tripoli. I can bring you some lunch, since you shouldn’t leave the building.”
“No, but thanks,” Carrie said, “I can’t stomach anything until after I’ve finished reporting to my boss.”
“Is she giving you guys a hard time?”
“Not more than usually,” Justin replied. “After you.” He waited for the American to go through the door. Then, he said to Carrie, “I’ll be back in fifteen or so.”
“I’ll be here, on the phone,” she dragged her words.
“You’re welcome any time,” Justin said. Then, he dropped his voice to a low whisper, “at least she’s not dropping you somewhere you can get killed.”
“Oh, no, not yet,” Carrie replied with a sigh, “but ask me again when you come back. She may have something else in mind.”
Chapter Twenty
“Tell me this once again. The Americans have a spy in the Alliance?” asked Abdul.
“Keep your voice down.” Justin gestured toward a couple of women walking through the embassy halls. He nodded at them as they turned the corner by two L-shaped leather couches, where Justin and Abdul were sipping bitter coffee from small paper cups. The young redhead returned a pretty smile; the older woman whipped them with a stern frown.
“I still can’t believe it,” Abdul dropped his voice to a silent hush, “that is so bold.”
“Yeah, that’s true, but I’m not supposed to share this intel with you.” Justin took a sip of his drink.
He reached back, pushed the window curtains aside, and glanced outside. From the second floor of the embassy he could see the whitewashed walls and a small stretch of the street leading to a row of coffee shops and falafel restaurants across the intersection. Nour had yet to return from picking up his lunch. It had already been fifteen minutes. Did he find a long line or he is eating there? He said he was going for takeout.
“Oh, so we’re expected to bend over backwards, but Americans aren’t giving away a thing?” Abdul asked.
“You’ll go a long way, Abdul, because now you’re getting it.”
“Thanks?”
“You’re welcome. Now, can we believe this guy you’re torturing?”
“My agency does not torture and personally, I haven’t beaten anyone.” Abdul went on the defensive. “Well, not in the last two years, at least.”
“So, yes or no?”
“Well, that’s tricky to say. Torture confessions are useful only if we find other evidence or at least have these claims confirmed by other sources.”
“Well, the US source knows only that the US President is not the target, but he can’t confirm the identity of the new one.”
“And our raids haven’t produced any evidence. We’re back to square one.”
“Has your agency infiltrated the Alliance?”
“If it has, I’m not aware of it.”
“Would the colonel know?”
Abdul shrugged and leaned back on the couch. Its springs squealed under his weight.
“Maybe, but don’t count on him telling you.”
Justin sighed. He conceded, “So, really, we don’t have much.”
“No, we don’t. And if you’re locked within these walls for the rest of the day, and then get on the first plane tomorrow morning, we’ll find nothing else.”
“Unless the colonel scraps his deportation order.”
“He might, if the Americans ask for a favor. But you told me Matthew doesn’t want to do that.”
“Yeah. Apparently he’s washed his hands of this case.”
“And your boss?” Abdul asked.
A dark shadow fell on Justin’s face. He delayed his reply, allowing for the spark of anger to die down, to avoid mouthing off any swear words about Johnson.
“She’s… I don’t think she’s willing to intervene either,” he said after a few seconds, his fingers clenching the paper cup so hard that coffee almost spilled over the top. “She’ll get us outside the embassy, but most likely Carrie and I would have to leave tomorrow.”
Abdul leaned forward and picked up his own cup. After a quick sip, he asked, “What if you simply disappeared?”
“I thought about it, but running will worsen our chances. How can we investigate and gather evidence if we’re wanted by the mukhabarat?”
“You’re right about that,” Abdul said. “Nothing good will come from running.”
Justin glanced again outside the window. A taxi was parked in front of one of the restaurants. A group of people huddled in front of the next door coffee shop. His gaze soared, and he noticed two men sitting in one of the balconies of the apartment complex across the intersection. They were on the fourth floor, about three hundred yards away.
“Still nothing,” Justin said, consulting his wristwatch.
“Relax.” Abdul leaned back, his right hand stroking his chin. “He’s probably enjoying some decent coffee. Unlike this one.”
“You bought it.”
“Big mistake, but it was the only thing half decent at the machine.”
“If we’re running and hiding, sooner or later we’ll get caught, not to mention that you’ll land in hot water, all over again.”
Abdul shook his head. “That’s if I help you.”
“Huh? What?”
“I’m kidding. Of course, I’ll help you. Now, the risk is great, but if we can undo the plot to kill the Prime Minister, that will mean great rewards, great rewards, for all of us.” Abdul’s voice echoed with envy.
“Chief of the mukhabarat?” Justin noticed Abdul’s drooling.
“Oh, yes, yes. Even army’s chief of staff.”
“No way! Isn’t that position reserved for a general? I don’t see any stars on you.”
“If we save his life, the Prime Minister can make me a general with a snap of his fingers.”