“No, thank you… Dad.”
Justin’s left eye had produced a small tear. He rubbed it away quickly before the assistant or someone else saw it. He felt weak and empty and it was not because of his wounds. Justin took a few deep breaths, trying to slow down his racing heart. Then, as the assistant reappeared, he struggled to climb to his feet and limped back to the conference room.
Carrie was midway through her debrief, describing the course of events that took place in Nice. Johnson was in her office and had placed her camera on the left side of her computer monitor.
“Oh, Justin, welcome, welcome.” Johnson’s voice was colder and sharper than usually. “I’m glad you could join us.”
Justin brushed away her sarcastic bite with a nod and perched himself on his seat.
“Carrie was telling me about the unauthorized Nice operation. What do you have to say?”
“Not much. The results speak for themselves. We stopped the Prince’s attempt on the Prime Minister’s life. Everyone is safe.”
Johnson frowned. “I think you’re forgetting something. You’re forgetting how you endangered the lives of Carrie and Abdul, by running this clandestine operation, for which you had no authorization whatsoever. You put the lives of CIS agents at risk, and also the reputation of our entire Service, by operating illegally in a friendly, ally country. On top of that, a Saudi prince is dead and my agents are the primary suspects.”
“I agree, Madam Director. I miscalculated the Prince and his reaction to our plan. I believed he was going to refrain from violence. I admit it. I was wrong.”
Johnson nodded, pleased at Justin’s confession.
“However, Carrie and Abdul knew what they getting into, and they went to France upon their own free will. And I was there with them, all the time. I went with them all the way. I never mislead them or held back vital intel.”
“Are you accusing me of any indiscretion, Mr. Hall?”
“Yes, I am. You should have told us you gave the Mossad the location of our meeting with Sheikh Ayman and that the Mossad was active in Sudan to kill him.”
“That was irrelevant to your mission.”
“I disagree. The Mossad attack almost killed two CIS agents and cancelled our extraction plans.”
Johnson’s face came very close to the screen. “Your disagreement is duly noted,” she said in a solemn tone as if rendering a final verdict.
Justin did not blink. “Providing misleading information about our Prime Minister’s visit to Tripoli was even a greater offence. You put two of your agents in harm’s way. Intentionally.”
“At the time when I ordered you to go to Tripoli it was uncertain whether our Prime Minister was going to attend the G-20 meeting—”
“With all due respect, Madam Director, that’s bullshit. The Prime Minister never planned to go to Tripoli. You knew it and you chose to lie to us.”
Silence fell on the other side of the line. Johnson leaned back in her chair. She tried to maintain a certain amount of composure, but there was an almost invisible twitch at the corners of her lips. She clenched her jaws and her left hand fingers closed tightly around her coffee mug.
“Justin, you’ll go on administrative leave. A few weeks of holiday would do you—”
“Listen to me, Claire,” Justin said.
George shook his head. Carrie kept staring at Justin. Nobody ever dared to call the Director General of Intelligence by her first name.
“Justin, shall I remind you of protocol?”
Johnson’s blazing eyes made such a reminder unnecessary.
“Claire, you have one hour to resign from all your duties with the CIS.”
“What? What did you say? Are you crazy?”
“I will not allow you to endanger the lives of agents serving their country with their blood and their soul. Leave now, and you’ll will leave with honor.”
“Or what, Justin?” Johnson sputtered out her reply. A tiny drop of her saliva landed on the video camera. “What are you going to do?”
“If you’re still around, you’ll see.”
Justin grabbed his crutches and began to stand up.
“Hey, where are you going? This is not over; it’s not over, Justin.”
“You’re right. It’s not over.” He didn’t look back. “I still have one last thing to do.”
“Let me help you.” Carrie was already on her feet. She whispered in Justin’s ear, “I really hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
“I do trust you.”
They left the room, paying no attention to Johnson shouting vile threats.
Epilogue
Justin nursed his water bottle, patiently waiting for Carrie to return from her phone call. Thomas had just called and their plane for Toronto was not leaving for another hour. If it were up to her, Carrie would talk to her boyfriend for that entire hour.
“Eh, there you are,” Abdul shouted from across the departure hall. A few passengers looked up with curiously mixed with annoyance at the loud interruption.
“Hey, Chief,” Justin greeted him once Abdul was a couple of feet away, “or should I say General?”
“Shhhh, don’t use that word.” Abdul sat next to Justin. “After the plot, the Prime Minister hates generals.” His eyes darted around the hall for anyone eavesdropping on their conversation. “Conspirators were everywhere, in the Assembly, the Ministry of Defense, everywhere. However, after they learned the attempt on the Prime Minister’s life failed, they mounted very little resistance. A few of the Alliance fighters were able to leave the country, though.”
“So, what was your reward for all your hard work?”
“I got the position of Colonel Haydar. You’re talking to the new chief of the Counter Terrorism Branch for Tripoli.”
“That’s great. Congrats.”
“It was thanks to you.”
“No. Your put your life on the line. It’s the least the Prime Minister can do for you.”
Abdul nodded and patted Justin on his shoulder.
“Did you find Colonel Haydar’s body?” Justin asked.
“No. I don’t think we’ll ever find it, but we’ll keep looking.”
Justin nodded.
“But we found Tarek’s body.”
“You did?” Justin asked with excitement. “Tell me he’s really dead.”
“Dead and rotting. Someone obviously retrieved his body from the scene of that attack but never got around to burying it.”
“I’m glad you found him.”
“This morning I got an important call,” Abdul said. “Guess who it was?”
“The Prime Minister?”
“No, he called yesterday. I’ll give you a hint. It’s a prince.”
“Oh, that’s really helpful.”
“A Saudi prince.”
“That narrows it down to about five thousand.”
“Someone very close to Prince Al-Farhan.”
“Now you’re making it too easy. It was one of his brothers, Prince Fouad bin Al-Farhan.”
Abdul peered curiously at Justin. “How did you…”
“I know because he called me too. Thanked me for saving Sameer and told me he’s going to take care of the kid.”
“Did he make you an offer you were tempted to accept?”
“Yeah, he offered to make a small donation to a charity of my choice.”
“I was so close to saying ‘yes’ when he made me the ten million dollar offer.”
“But I’m glad you said ‘no.’”
Abdul nodded. “I don’t want to be in debt to anyone,” he said quietly.
“Neither do I. How is Nour doing?”
“Stable. You know, he came out of his coma yesterday.”
“Yes. I saw him last night before leaving Tripoli. I also talked to Matthew, who said they found the mole in the White House admin. Remember, we were wondering how all that information about the US President’s schedule got out? Some intern in human resources was working for one of the Prince’s associates in the States.”