Chapter 8
1861 Words
Chapter 8Such as Khalid hoped, Talya and Samuel were well aware of what was looming ahead of them. Searching for the puppeteer or even identifying him would inevitably lead to encountering trouble.
Samuel asked, “Now that we’ve made a list of all the people that came across your path in this country, can you think of anyone else you knew or met in your travels that could be linked to us at this stage?”
That question had roamed Talya’s mind since she and Samuel began drafting the list of people she knew some years ago. “No, Samuel, I can’t think of anyone at the moment, but that doesn’t mean there is no one else.”
“Alright then, I think we should start with the obvious blokes. This Herbert Parsimon for instance, can you give us something on him that would make him our prime suspect?”
“Before we go on with all that, can you tell me if Mossad is prepared to help us?”
“Why wouldn’t they? There the ones who need to find him.”
Talya got up from the sofa, took her cane and made her way to the kitchen. Samuel followed her. “Listen to me, Samuel,” Talya began, “What I’m going to say might surprise you, but before you get on your high horse and go all ape on me”—Samuel opened his eyes wide. He had to smile at Talya’s comparisons—“you need to hear me out, okay?”
“Okay, Little One, I promise I won’t go all ape and jump on my high horse...” Talya suddenly realized what she had said and laughed. “...go ahead, I’m all ears!”
“Okay.” She went around the countertop and began cutting the vegetables that had been left to soak in water for a while. “Let’s just say that one of the people I knew is indeed our suspect, and let’s assume that the situations this man and I found ourselves into at the time didn’t amount to anything good, what would Mossad’s conclusions be at that point, do you think?”
Samuel stared. He had all of a sudden realized the implications associated with identifying and locating their puppeteer. Talya would be suspected, together with him, of criminal deeds even before they put the matter of treason on the plate. “Do you really think this is a possibility?” Samuel asked, knowing the answer to that question already.
Talya nodded. “It will be an undeniable fact, Samuel. See, when I was working for Herbert Parsimon, the president of that company—a man by the name of Swartz—I was sent to Guinée to work with the government in view of obtaining mining exploration permits along the Baoulé River in north-eastern Guinée, an area located only miles from Sabodala.”
“But that could be only a coincidence...”
Talya raised the knife with which she was slicing a potato, and waved it in front of Samuel. “Not such a coincidence when you learn that the mining camp, and all its occupants, was destroyed in an explosion.”
Samuel was agape now. “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely, Samuel, I couldn’t be more serious. The entire site was wiped out in a matter of minutes, and to make matter worse for me now, the fact is that I left the camp the day before Herbert Parsimon himself called me back to the US unexpectedly.”
“Did they ever find out who planted the explosives and why?” Samuel had difficulty getting the words out.
“Yes. They blamed the locals—the poor bastards who could not defend themselves. And what’s more, the government blamed the company for mismanagement and simply revoked the permits.”
“But do you know who the culprit really is?”
“I could only guess, Samuel. I only returned to Guinée two years ago with Khalid and Mark for a totally different purpose, which I told you about when we were still in Washington.”
“And what’s your guess then?”
“I always believed Swartz had a hand in this affair, because he used to tell me that if you can’t get something, don’t let anyone have it. He was fiercely jealous of anyone getting close to his properties—whatever belonged to him couldn’t be shared.”
“You think he would go to the length of killing people because they would represent a threat to his possessions?”
“Oh yes. I saw Swartz and Parsimon going back and forth in a shouting match many a time, just because Swartz would be opposed to any sort of joint-venture partnership.”
“But that doesn’t mean he’s the criminal who instigated the mining camp’s destruction, or would it?”
“Yes, it would, Samuel, and in my mind it does. He had connections all over the world and whatever he wanted, Mr. Swartz got. Although he had to, he actually did not want to share in the profits with the Guinean government. He was all for paying some dividends or some such thing when the mining development became profitable, but he was totally against sharing the profits with any of the locals. He considered that people in the area had lived the way they did for hundreds of years and wouldn’t know how to handle anything better.”
“But, Little One, what you’re describing is pure racism...”
“Oh yes, it is, Samuel, and that’s why my association with Swartz or Parsimon would be viewed as wrong, any which way you look at it.”
Still sitting on his stool beside the kitchen counter and watching Talya prepare their meal; Samuel let his thoughts wander for a while. Talya kept her own counsel as well. This search for their puppeteer was going to be a matter of clearing her name, her reputation and maintaining some sanity in the meantime.
“We need to contact Mark, Talya,” Samuel said, keeping his eyes on the fish and veggie casserole Talya was putting together.
“Why would you want Mark to come to our assistance?” Talya replied blandly, lifting her gaze to Samuel.
“Because he and CSIS have access to data we don’t have and Mark can interview these blokes where ever they are now.”
“And we can’t?”
“No, Little One, we can’t. Mossad and Lypsick in particular, would be only too pleased to get the information they need to sink our ship.”
Talya grimaced. She didn’t like the man, that’s all there was to it. He was the one who organized Ishmael Assor’s killing and her shooting while under orders from their puppeteer, supposedly. And once Mossad discovered there was someone—probably in their midst—who was conveying false information to their director, Lypsick changed his tune quickly and rallied around the Mossad flag. Lypsick had made sure Talya and Samuel would be taken the fall for this one. He was the person who instilled suspicions in the mind of the Mossad director as to Talya and Samuel’s alleged treason.
“You know, Samuel, there is something that has always bothered me about Sabodala.”
“What’s that?”
“Well..., the CIA with the help of quite a few people had organized the channeling of drugs up the coast of West Africa and the exchange of these drugs for weapons destined to land in allied countries. Yet, Sabodala is nowhere near the west coast of Africa—it’s located 900 kilometers away from any coastal port. So, why would the CIA even authorize the shipment of drugs to a place so far inland?”
“But didn’t you clarify that mystery when the Rasheed bloke was arrested? Wasn’t he the one who couldn’t resist establishing a profitable drug trafficking web from Sabodala?”
Talya nodded as she stood up from putting the casserole in the oven. “Yes. Rasheed was the guy who saw a way of diverting that shipment and establishing his own drug ring from Sabodala, but the question is, why was he able to do so?”
“You mean the CIA turned a blind eye...”
“No, Samuel, they didn’t. I believe that Richard Gillman, the guy who supplied the drugs from South America, was killed because he discovered what Rasheed was planning to do and was going to alert the CIA of what was going on.”
Samuel nodded. “Yes, you’re probably right on that count, but what has that got to do with our current problem?”
“Well, maybe nothing, but that’s when the killings started and that’s also when the CIA pulled the plug on their operation. I would believe that our puppeteer saw his chance then to maneuver his way out of suspicion.”
“I think you’ve got something there,” Samuel agreed. “If Gillman had succeeded in alerting the CIA, they would have found out immediately who was trying to throw a spanner in the works.”
“Exactly. It wouldn’t have taken them long to uncover the scheme and would have moved on to eliminate our puppeteer right then and there.”
“So, you’re saying the puppeteer was responsible for channeling the first shipment of drugs to Sabodala and he was (or still is) a CIA man?”
“I guess that would be a fair conclusion to draw from the facts.”
“But what are we doing here then?” Samuel asked.
Talya smiled, wiped her hands, took her cane and went around the counter to slide her arm around Samuel’s waist. “Let’s go to the terrace and I’ll give you an answer in front of a glass of wine.”
Samuel shook his head, took Talya in his arms and kissed her forehead. “You go ahead then and I’ll bring the wine. Do you want some cheese and crackers?”
Making her way to the small terrace at the back of the house, Talya answered, “Yeah. That would be great, thanks.”
She sat in one of the lounge chairs and looked at the assortment of gum trees populating their garden. It stretched from the back of the house down to the reserve (or park) bordering the property. It was a peaceful corner of the world, where Talya loved to relax and spend a couple of hours every day.
Samuel brought the wine and the cheese platter, set it down between the two lounge chairs and sat down. He exhaled a long breath before taking a sip of the wine. “So what’s the answer—what are we doing here, if our bloke is a CIA man?”
“Because, if you remember, Lypsick was a CIA guy for many years apparently, and it would make sense for him to suggest that we came here and chase all these fellows I used to know, in order to divert attention from the real objective.”
Talya drank a bit of wine, cut a slice of cheese and looked at Samuel. He had stopped mid-way to his mouth with a cracker in his hand. “Do you really think sending us here was a diversion?”
Talya nodded emphatically. “Yes, Samuel, I do.”
“Tell me why you would think that?” He put the cracker in his mouth, finally, and munched on it, looking straight ahead of him.
“Do you remember my telling you about our chasing Slimane—I mean Ishmael Assor—all over the place...? Everywhere he wasn’t.”
“Yes, I do. And it’s only when you and CSIS decided to abandon the chase, so to speak, that Ishmael came to see you in Paris and told you who he really was.”
“And that’s when you were able to follow Lypsick’s order and eliminate him,” Talya added concertedly. She avoided looking at Samuel. She knew that the thought still haunted him.
“And Mark sending him back to the States after your meeting in Paris gave the puppeteer the opportunity to have him in one spot...” Samuel let the words hang in the air.
“Precisely. And it was all planned beforehand. When Ishmael arrived back in Washington, Lypsick sent him to Flint, supposedly to hide him, you were already there waiting for him, weren’t you?”
“Yes, Talya, I was,” Samuel replied musingly. He had been the perfect patsy. He never questioned Mossad’s orders and in this instance, the agency had made sure that Samuel believed he was killing a traitor who had sent faulty armaments to Israel. “And so you think that now by sending us here to pursue any lead we could find in Australia, our puppeteer is simply getting us out of the way?”
“But more than that, Samuel, he wants us to dig our own graves by revealing who, in my past, could be involved in proving that I really was a traitor to Israel.”
“And me along with you...?”
Talya nodded and drank some more of her wine.
- Writer
