Sandstorm (20 page)

“Let me put some of your fears to rest,” Amanda said. “Only one person with direct ties to Israel has visited more than once in the last six months. An aide attached to the Israeli embassy, named Daniel Wassermann. He didn’t meet with the president, and I’m sure the president doesn’t even know Wassermann.”

“I assume he didn’t visit for the food, so who did he see and for how long?”

“The first time, five months ago, Wassermann spent forty-five minutes with Matt Mendelson, a special assistant to the president for economic policy. There happen to be seven people with that job description, by the way. The second time, Mendelson again, only this one was for roughly a half hour, three weeks ago.”

Champion took a moment to absorb the names and circumstances. “Do you know Wassermann’s title at the embassy?”

“Deputy minister for economic affairs. I had to research that one, because they don’t always sign with name, rank, and serial number.”

Champion developed a concerned look on his face. “And just how did you…”

“Get that information?”

“I told you I wanted to keep you sterile on this.”

“You think you’re the only one who’s good at this cloak-and-dagger stuff? Apparently, young Mr. Wasserman has caught the eye of a few female interns. We had a small, girls-only evening snack yesterday, and I casually asked who he was and what he did.”

“Did the interns have a clue as to what Wasserman and Mendelson have been meeting about?”

“Not a one. Look, could be just two young Jewish boys talking about bedding some interns.”

“Surely that’s frowned upon over there, even now.”

Amanda laughed. “Common sense and human nature often clash. Now, as for Senator Lipton, he’s been there three times, but given his title, that’s to be expected. On each visit he met with the president. Twice he was accompanied by others, and the third, he had a good fifteen minutes of one-on-one time.”

Champion again slipped into a minor trance. On the surface, everything seemed harmless, just normal business being conducted at the White House. The place was like a conglomerate unto itself: daily tours, press conferences, photo ops, lobbyists, food service. Uncovering a needle in the haystack would require constant monitoring, and that kind of access was impossible to obtain for an outsider.

“You seem disappointed,” Amanda pointed out.

“Believe me when I say I’m relieved more than anything. Now, what do you say we actually have lunch?”

He didn’t want her to agonize any further over what could turn out to be absolutely nothing. Her job was difficult enough. He also didn’t feel the need to tell her Daniel Wassermann’s life was about to go under a microscope.

CHAPTER
34

It was nearly unanimous that he be left behind. The only dissenting vote came from Davis Lipton. He realized that staying behind meant he had no more bargaining chips.

He couldn’t believe he had been both careless and stupid enough to be in this jam. Who were these people? At first it crossed his mind they were part of a rogue organization out to make a profit on the knowledge they’d gained. But he later concluded they were much more. The beating he took from the woman was severe but skilled. She knew precisely where to place her blows to inflict damage. That took training. The way he was set up even indicated a certain degree of operational ability. They’d also taken him to the brink of believing that killing him was not out of the realm of possibility if he didn’t cooperate. How did they know about Erica Janway? They were aware of who his father was, and that didn’t scare them at all. His CIA cover was blown, too. Had Tobias Baum sold him out? After all, the black market dealer had been paid, so what did he care about Lipton? Perhaps doing so led to another nice payday. No, Baum wouldn’t dare. Doing that would risk his personal well-being. The Israelis would exact revenge—unless that had been their plan all along. There were hundreds of scenarios running through his mind, but figuring out what had brought him here was not the most important thing. What mattered most was survival.

His captors persuaded him to tell them everything about the contact in Tbilisi. They told him they’d get the information they wanted even if he didn’t cooperate. He was assured that route would be painful.

Self-preservation won out. He gave them what they needed to know. Including the truth that he’d never met the contact in Tbilisi face-to-face and real names were never exchanged. A few hours later, a doctor was allowed in to treat his wounds. It was only then that he no longer feared for his life. They wouldn’t bother patching him up after getting what they wanted if they were just going to kill him anyway.

Davis slowly succumbed to the pain medication and drifted off. The first time he came out of the haze, he encountered a pair of new faces. The trio he had come to know and loathe was nowhere in sight.

CHAPTER
35

Even under an assumed name, traveling with Nora still presented a tremendous risk. Champion hadn’t lifted the all-points bulletin for her, because doing so might raise suspicion, and at least for now, he was willing to see if this wild story had any merit.

With no direct flight from Brussels, the trip to Tbilisi took over eight hours. It seemed even longer as Sara Garland tried her best to get Alex to open up. He had no one to blame but himself. It was his idea to separate and travel as two pairs. Duncan sat with Nora, and he was saddled with Sara. He would have gladly paired her with Nora, but in the interest of harmony, it was best for now to keep them apart as much as possible.

Though he tried to ignore her, Sara was persistent in her attempts to extract information. He gave her the cold shoulder by putting in his earbuds and listening to jazz on his iPod. Searching for a way in, Sara even tried to test his jazz knowledge. She asked if he was more of a bebop-era fan, leaning toward the likes of Charlie Parker and Thelonious Monk, or if he preferred the modern-day flavor of smooth jazz like Boney James, Jeff Lorber, or Marion Meadows. Alex almost took the bait but instead murmured, “Nice try, but I’d be willing to bet you’ve never even heard a song by John Coltrane—or Pat Metheny, for that matter.” The look on her face told him everything. Before she responded with “Got me,” the earbuds were back in place for the rest of the flight.

Carry-on luggage in tow, they quickly made their way through the airport. On the remote chance that anyone had taken an interest in them, they took separate taxis five minutes apart to their hotel overlooking the winding Mtkvari River.

Not knowing what the next few hours would bring, they utilized forty-five minutes to refresh, change clothes, and equip themselves with all the items they felt necessary. Sara, shortly after their arrival, received a couple of express packages. The courier didn’t bother obtaining a signature. He’d memorized her face from a photograph supplied by Langley, and his orders were to hand over the two boxes without question. She’d been given no notice before being assigned to monitor this situation, and making certain arrangements now required a number of people to be on top of their game in a hurry.

She laid the two boxes on a table while she finished getting dressed. She was sure Alex would be prompt and wouldn’t wait, no matter how much she might have suggested otherwise. She swept her wet hair into a ponytail, securing it with an elastic band. Her black running pants matched her athletic shoes and lightweight jacket. She proceeded to open one of the boxes, pulling out a 9 mm handgun, making sure it was operational. Satisfied, she holstered it in her jacket, specifically designed for such an accessory. Two extra clips went into a hidden back pocket. There was a set of car keys in the box, along with a note detailing the location and make of the car waiting for use. Sara glanced around the room. If need be, she could leave everything behind. She took a moment to send a text message to Alex, Nora, and Duncan, telling them she was heading down to get the car. On her way out, she scooped up her passport, a tiny credit card wallet, and the remaining box, cradling it between her forearm and hip.

Informing the concierge that she was going to retrieve a car, she handed him the box for safekeeping, promising to pick it up in a few minutes. Once outside the hotel doors, she jogged off at a brisk pace. Two blocks later she made a right turn, and after a left on the next block, she located the vehicle and then climbed behind the wheel. She double-parked in front of the hotel just long enough to pop in and get her package. Three blocks later, she pulled over to allow Nora and Duncan to get into the car. Nora got into the backseat behind Sara to give Duncan plenty of legroom up front. Sara anxiously looked around before putting the car in gear.

“Where is he?”

Nora wasn’t the least bit apologetic with her answer. “He left ten minutes ago in a taxi.”

“Shit,” exploded Sara, smacking the steering wheel as she cut off a car to reenter traffic. She hated that she had absolutely no control over Alex. He wasn’t on the government payroll, and there was nothing they could hold over his head for coercion. He lived on an island, and for all intents and purposes, he seemed to conduct himself as an island. She had to dismiss the brash behavior for now, but she hoped it wouldn’t become a major source of irritation later. She informed Nora that the contents of the box were for her, Duncan, and Alex, but since he wasn’t here, getting it to him was more than likely out of the question. Nora was impressed with what was inside.

“Nice to have friends in high places,” she said, locking a magazine into place in the Walther P99 Compact. She knew it wasn’t coincidence that she was holding her weapon of choice. She inspected and loaded Duncan’s gun before handing it to him.

With a frown on his face, Duncan said, “Hopefully, this meeting will get done peacefully.”

Nora also extracted a pouch that contained a syringe and two vials filled with a sedative strong enough to bring down a horse in seconds. Going into an unsecured environment, it was best to have a fighting chance at an exit strategy if the need arose. Nora turned her attention to other items in the box that might prove useful. As care packages went, this one was pretty well equipped.

CHAPTER
36

The cathedral stood as a testament not only to faith but also to the resiliency of the human spirit. Built originally in the sixth or seventh century, the place of worship had undergone numerous restorations. Most of those repairs were born of necessity, the cathedral having been destroyed by foreign invaders. Each time, Georgians had banded together to start anew once the turmoil had subsided. The current design dated back to the nineteenth century. It had taken two centuries to restore after the Persians tried to make a claim for territorial domination.

There were some traditionalists that still worshipped at the church, but the vast majority of new souls found solace in the more contemporary cathedrals.

The church, located in the old part of Tbilisi, had long served as the place of worship for the Georgian Orthodox faith. With its ancient architecture, which included a bell tower from the 1400s, it was also historical enough for sightseers to explore. An ardent observer would recognize it as one of the oldest remnants of Russian neoclassical architecture in the region.

It all made for a nice postcard, but the tall, muscular figure making his way up the hill wasn’t interested in capturing memories or in the tales behind the architectural wonders of the region. His focus was the church, but by no stretch of the imagination would he be mistaken for a religious man. A mere glance showed he just didn’t fit the part. True, people were capable of surprise, but it was difficult to fool a trained eye. And there was a set of such eyes watching the man as he approached the church. For the moment, the man was on the opposite side of the street. The eyes that were following him felt certain he would eventually cross. Even while walking up the hill, the man, the eyes noticed, kept a measured pace, and his breathing appeared to be under control and not labored. The average person would be forced to intake and exhale a lot more air.

There was about an hour and a half of daylight left, certainly enough sun to justify the large-rimmed sunglasses that hid the eyes. They belonged to a middle-aged man resting comfortably on a bench near the church, a hardcover novel in his hands. He looked content to just let time pass by, his legs crossed as he sat at an angle. His appearance was completed with a long, outdated, wide-brimmed hat that added shadows to his face, further aiding his deception. He’d done very little reading of the book—mindful, though, to at least turn the pages every couple of minutes. The slumped figure smiled, presumably reacting to a passage he’d just read, but in reality, it was in response to being right.

The tall, muscular man was crossing the street.

Alex was cautious, mindful of not drawing too much attention. Though the window was rapidly closing, he was expected. Cutting it so close would undoubtedly make his contact a little nervous. It was no different, really, than waiting on a friend, business associate, or even the cable guy to show up. There was a prearranged time agreed upon, and when that window grew smaller, the frustration and anxiety level increased with each passing minute.

Alex had decided to leave earlier than the others, fully aware his actions would get under Sara’s skin, but to some degree, that was intentional. He wanted to send the message that it wasn’t her place to dictate how things should go. The fact that Champion made her stay spoke to her qualifications. However, after so many years on his own, Alex wasn’t in the mood to have a boss. Besides, he needed his senses free to scope the landscape on his own first. He had the taxi drop him off four blocks away, more than enough distance to spot a tail if one existed.

As he crossed the street, angling toward the old cathedral, he was convinced he’d registered everything of possible interest. Since dusk was on the horizon, the flow of actual tourists was ebbing, making the streets a little less crowded. A select few continued to marvel at the church, pointing things out as if they possessed a measure of understanding others lacked. Alex overheard a couple referencing the cupola and southern chapel added during one of the structure’s many restorations. He was about to make his way up the short flight of steps when he froze, seemingly taken aback by the magnificence for the first time. He backed away, reaching inside his pocket. A second later, he had his cell phone, and he went through the motions of taking a picture. To an onlooker, it might appear as if he were sending a photo to someone who would appreciate the gesture. In actuality, all he sent was a short text message. He next dialed a number, pressing the handset firmly to his ear when someone answered.