WASHINGTON DC: The Sadir Affair (The Puppets of Washington Book 1) (9 page)

As Mrs. Allison opened the door for her guests, she stared down at Talya. “My Dear God, Ms Kartz, what on earth happened to you? Please, come in…, both of you. Dr. Hendrix, good to see you again. But tell me... I really don’t know what to say... Sorry for staring...” She couldn’t keep her eyes from Talya’s frail-looking body…, the chair…, the blanket... It was all too much for the old woman.

Amid this babbling, incoherent welcome, Aziz and Talya tried to put a word in, to no avail. They went through an archway to a large room, the former parlour of the house, where Aziz sat down across from the woman and Talya, depositing the two shoulder bags to the floor.

The handsomely furnished room reflected the décor of the entire house. The walls lined with bookshelves, entertainment centre, and a couple of antique desks flanking a large fireplace, made the whole room as inviting and comfortable as one could want. The sofa facing the hearth and the couple of chairs set apposite added an accent of warmth to the entire place. You wanted to sit and relax in this room.

“I’ve got the room on the ground floor ready for you, dear,” Mrs. Allison said, tapping Talya on the arm compassionately. She was an elderly woman, matronly one could say, but her hospitable attitude, her grey hair and her soft regard made one forget that she was the owner of the house. She gave everyone the impression to be one’s grandmother, or aunt, waiting to welcome you home.

“Thank you,” Talya replied. “I’m sorry if we’ve put you out...”

“No-no, not at all, dear. We’re still in the low season, and I’ve got only one other guest apart from you two, so you’re no bother at all. But I had to put you upstairs, Doctor. We haven’t got two rooms on the ground floor, I’m sorry.”

“No problem,” Aziz said, “we’ll manage.”

“Would you like some coffee or tea?” Mrs. Allison was already on her feet. Clearly, she wanted to keep her guests in the parlour to hear what happened to Talya. Curiosity was gnawing at her thoughts. She could not imagine what could have happened to such a beautiful woman; nothing short of a car accident, she was sure.

However, Talya didn’t feel like talking. She wanted to go to her room, lie down and sleep. After a delicious and filling brunch, she felt more tired than ever. “No thank you, Mrs. Allison, I just need to lie down for now. Do you mind?”

“Not at all, dear, you go right ahead. I’ll show you where it is.” Matching words to action, Mrs. Allison led the way down the corridor, stopped in front of a double door, which she opened wide to let Talya roll her chair into the spacious suite. The décor reminded her of the room she had had in Khalid’s apartment in Paris. Shooting an appreciative glance to the tall wardrobe and the four-poster-bed opposite, she went to the French windows and looked out. The view was all encompassing and quite pleasant. It overlooked part of Snug Cove and faced the Sunshine Coast, north of Vancouver on the opposite side of the sound. The light-blue silk drapes that framed the window were the one thing that made Talya think of Paris. Similar drapes had framed the window of her room there, too. She stretched a hand and caressed them. The memory of Khalid and their time at the Hotel de Crillon came back to her mind so vividly; she had to turn away. As she did, she found herself facing Aziz.

He smiled gently at her. “Do you want to unpack and freshen up before lying down?”

The question brought Talya back to the present. She looked down at her legs for a moment and nodded.

“Okay, I’ll leave you two kids alone,” Mrs. Allison said from the doorway where she had remained while observing the couple.
They’re so good together
, she thought. “I’ll be in the kitchen, if you need me.”

“Thanks,” Aziz replied, not watching the woman as she closed the door behind her.

When the elevator doors opened, Cameron Sheffield, a man in his thirties, always proud of his appearance and good looks, noticed Muhammad Sadir sitting in one of the chairs of the reception hall. He looked up at Cameron over the rim of his newspaper and returned to his reading. He was far from expecting Agent Sheffield to stop in front of him. He put down the paper in his lap and raised his eyes again.

“Thomas couldn’t make it,” Cameron said, “he’s busy tracking
your
friend…, so I thought you wouldn’t mind having lunch with me instead.”

Muhammad was stunned. This wasn’t good. He extracted himself from the chair, dropped the paper on it and grunted, “Sure…, by all means, why don’t we…?”

Leading the way out of the building, Cameron turned to the waddling agent and opened the door for him. “Where are we going?”

The two men headed in the direction of Sadir’s car.

“I had in mind to take Thomas to the Chinese place around the corner. Would that be okay with you?”

“Sure, and that seems to be a good place to start…,” Cameron replied, climbing in the front seat.

“Start what?” Sadir brushed a puzzled face past his colleague, as he turned on the ignition. He had no idea how much the man knew or how much he was authorized to tell him. He would have to tread carefully.
Say as little as possible
, he thought.

“Your vacation... I hear you’re going to Seattle…, nice place. I’ve been there a few times when I was working in Canada.”

“You did? I mean you worked in Canada. I didn’t know that.”

“Yes…, actually I was on assignment in Hong Kong in ’97 when the colony was returned to the Chinese government. Vancouver was my home-base for about a year then.”

“I see,” said Sadir, although he didn’t see at all where this was going. Both men fell silent for a moment.

“They’ve got a large Asian community in Vancouver; did you know that?” Cameron said.

“Yes, I’ve heard. But what’s that got to do with me?”

“Oh, plenty, Agent Sadir, plenty...”

Muhammad was at a total loss. He had no idea what this meant. He had only alerted Van Dams of his intention of leaving on vacation an hour ago. “What does that mean?” He pulled into the mall’s parking lot.

Cameron waited until they were at the restaurant’s doorsteps to say anything. “Let’s go in, shall we?” He opened the door of the establishment and let Sadir pass ahead of him.

A little Chinese woman escorted both men to a table in a corner, poured some tea in their cups, and retreated quickly after she handed them the menu.

By this time, Sadir was worried. He wanted to know where he stood, or what Cameron had heard. “Okay, let’s have it. What’s going on?”

Cameron shrugged, not lifting his eyes from the menu.

“Come on, Sheffield…, what have you heard?”

“I haven’t heard anything, Agent Sadir. I’ve simply been advised that you were going on an extended vacation to China, Shanghai to be precise.”

Sadir’s face passed through the colours of the rainbow in a matter of seconds. He was floored. The Deputy Director must have been on to him, or was that a Mossad move. He felt like a trapped animal.

“Don’t worry, though,” Cameron went on, “China is quite interesting—lots of things to see. Only one thing, though, they don’t like Arabs too much I’m told.”

That was the last drop; the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. Muhammad got up in a brutal rustle of the chair and walked out of the restaurant. Cameron shrugged, waved at the little waitress and ordered lunch.

“China?” Sadir muttered under his breath, as he drove down and parked his car in the garage. “What the hell am I going to do in China?” His climbed out and locked his car.

He was about to step into one of the elevators when a security officer stopped him.

“Agent Sadir?”

“Yes? What do you want with me?” he blurted when the officer grabbed him by the arm.

“This way, sir.” He led him to the security room at the back of the bank of elevators, Sadir gesticulating and trying to get his arm free. “Don’t make a fuss, Agent Sadir. It won’t take long.”

“Long for what?”

“Not here, Sadir. Get in there,” the officer ordered, pushing the agent in front of him.

“I demand to know what this is all about,” Sadir shouted.

Once in the room, another officer sat him down forcefully and handcuffed his left wrist to the arm of the chair.

“Okay, Sadir, here’s the deal; you surrender your handgun, badge and everything that belongs to us and we let you get out of here in peace.”

“You’ve got no right to treat me like this. I demand to see the Deputy Director.”

“He doesn’t want to see you, sir,” a third man said, coming out of a dim lit corner of the room. “Actually, he asked me to have you sign your resignation.” He handed Sadir a letter-size sheet of paper.

Sadir took it with his free hand and read it. “I won’t sign this,” he growled. “I won’t resign!”

“Well, it’s your choice, really, but if you don’t we could make life miserable for you, if you know what I mean, and China would be a good place to start doing that.”

Sadir glared at the man. He had never seen him around the office or anywhere else for that matter. He was a little fellow with a strange look on his face, something between vicious and sadistic.

“What about my stuff upstairs…?”

The man’s mouth morphed into what resembled a smile. “Don’t worry about it. We’ve shipped it to your house already. And your wife’s got your tickets to Shanghai.” Since Sadir didn’t answer, the agent went on, “Consider yourself lucky. The Deputy Director is only asking for your resignation now, and as far as everyone else is concerned you’re on extended leave. You should thank him, really. You could be going somewhere much darker than China.” He cackled into a sombre laughter and then stopped abruptly. “Okay, enough talking. Here’s a pen. Sign the darn letter so I could go back to what I was doing. You’re messing up my day.”

Sadir grabbed the pen from the man’s hand, and putting the letter on his knee, he signed it.

“Very good, Mr. Sadir. Now empty your breast pocket and give your wallet to the officer here.” The agent nodded in the security officer’s direction. He took the wallet from Sadir’s shaking hand, extracted the CIA identification and returned it to him.

The second officer uncrossed his arms from in front of his chest, unlocked the handcuff and lifted the ex-agent out of the chair by the arm. The small man retreated into the darkness of the room, putting Sadir’s letter in his pocket.

As soon as the two officers had taken Sadir’s gun and badge from him, they led him out of the room and onto the street.

It had taken a little less than five minutes to shatter Sadir’s life to pieces.

He knew that if he didn’t take the flight to Seattle, or tried to hide somewhere else in the States, they would eventually catch up with him. He didn’t relish the thought of rotting in prison awaiting a trial that would never eventuate. Besides, he had his wife and two daughters to think about. Maybe he could contact Samuel in Australia. Sadir shook his head.
Not a good idea
. He knew Samuel was already on the move.
They
wouldn’t have waited to contact him. He felt abandoned, which he was, in fact. Better that than having to deal with anything else the CIA had in mind. Maybe when he arrived in China, he could turn back.

He went back to his car, drove out of the parking lot and headed to the airport. He didn’t want to end up shackled in some Chinese dungeon, never to be heard from again.

They
hadn’t taken his credit cards, so there was still a chance he could go somewhere else than China.

In the CIA’s security room, the little man was looking at one of the screens. On it, there was a background map of Washington D.C. and a moving dot showing where Sadir was travelling. He sniggered. “Let’s see where he’s going,” he said to the officer sitting in front of the set of computers.

“He’s not going home, that’s for sure,” the fellow replied.

“Let’s hope he chooses the correct destination. I would hate to have to pull him back. Feeding him would cost a fortune.” The renewed cackling laugh had the officer turn his head and smile.
Jack Lypsick, you’re a weird guy,
he thought.

When he reached the airline counter, Sadir asked if he had a reservation for Seattle.

“Yes, you do, Mr. Sadir,” the young lady said. “Will you be flying onto YVR right away or staying a few days in Washington State?”

Sadir stared at her. He hadn’t understood what she said. “What’s YVR?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. That’s Vancouver, in Canada.”

The surprise on Sadir’s pleated face was unmistakable. It reduced his speech to a stutter. “I…, I don’t know... I, I mean…, I don’t know…”

“Don’t worry; we can leave that leg of the trip open if you like.”

“Well…, yes…, I guess.” Sadir was thinking about his passport. He didn’t have it on him.

Looking at her screen, “Would you mind waiting for a moment, sir?” the attendant said suddenly.

Sadir began to fret. Sweat beaded above his brow. He took his handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his face. He had been happy to hear that Linda had made the reservations after all, but to hear that his trip had been extended to Vancouver worried him. Who made those reservations, he wondered. He waited.

When the attendant came back to her seat, she handed him a large envelope saying, “We’ve had this package waiting for you, and I almost forgot to get it for you before you left. Sorry about that.”

Sadir’s hands were trembling when he opened the envelope. Inside he found a passport and a letter. He didn’t bother reading the letter—time for that later. He said to the young woman, “On second thought, why don’t you book me on the connecting flight to Vancouver right away.”

“No problem, sir. Any luggage?”

“Umm…, no…, my wife is bringing it with her. She’s supposed to meet me in Seattle.”

“That’s fine then. Your flight is departing tonight at 8:15PM and you should be at the security gate an hour prior to departure.”

Sadir nodded, visibly relieved, and thanked the young woman when she handed him his boarding passes.

“Lypsick here, Deputy Director. Sadir is on his way to Vancouver, as planned,” the little man said into the phone, and hung up.

Feeling very uncomfortable, hot, sweaty and harassed, Sadir went to sit in one of the airport’s restaurant. He ordered a soda with plenty of ice and sat back to read the letter that accompanied the passport he found in the envelope.

Mr. Sadir,

You are now on your way to Vancouver, Canada. When you arrive, you will go to the Hyatt on Burrard Street, where a room has been reserved for you. In the room, you will find your luggage. We will know when to contact you. Wait for further instructions.

Your friend, JL

PS: Do not, under any circumstance, try to contact Ms Kartz.

How did they know he had intended to go to Vancouver ultimately? How was his luggage going to get there, was his next question.

Sadir got up and went to the payphone near the men’s room—he had left his cell phone in his desk drawer. As he pulled out a few coins from his trousers’ pocket, he noticed a little item, which he recognized immediately. “Bastards!” he muttered under his breath. They had put a bug in his pocket when the security men searched him before he left. He dialled his home number feverishly.

As soon as he heard his wife’s voice, he knew something was wrong.

“Moh, where are you?” she said anxiously. “I’ve got your colleague here... A Mr. Lip...” she hesitated. Sadir heard a man say “Lypsick” in the background. “…Yes, Agent Lypsick is here. He wants me to pack your bags... and... he says... to pack enough clothes for you for a month. What’s going on, Moh? When are you coming home? Where are you going…? You said…”

“Jocelyn… please… let me talk to Lypsick... Hold on. Wait. When did he get there?”

“A few minutes ago…, why?”

“Never mind. Just put him on.”

“He says you’re going to Vancouver... and…”

“Just put him on,” Sadir snapped.

He heard his wife say, “No… I want…” as Lypsick took the receiver from her.

“Listen, Sadir. You’ve got your instructions. Now, leave your family in peace. You’ll get your stuff in Vancouver as arranged. Talk to you later.”

Sadir didn’t have time to answer before he heard the click. Lypsick had hung up in his ear.