Tag: cia

The Circle

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excerpt

“Come in, my son, come in. Let me introduce you to the Minister of Finance,
Omar Salem. Here’s one of my sons from the United States, minister. His name
is Talal Ahem.”
Omar Salem looks at Talal and smiles.
“He’s one of the seven?”
“Yes.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you, sir,” Talal says, and shakes the man’s hand.
“You, too, Talal Ahem,” says the minister. “Should we expect you to return
to your country soon?”
Ibrahim smiles with obvious pleasure as he tells the minister, “He’s a
chemical engineer.”
“A chemical engineer, very good; now, this is a man our country needs, don’t
you think, my good friend, Ibrahim?”
“Yes, of course. Yes, our country needs all her talents to help her in our years
of development.”
“Please tell me, Ibrahim, when your dearest son Hakim will visit us?”
“I hope very soon in the new year, minister.”
Talal shakes the hand of the minister once again and leaves him with Ibrahim
in the study. He finds Emily in the garden and they walk together for a while.
She’s curious to know what happened.
“Who’s meeting with Ibrahim, honey?”
“It’s the Minister of Finance for Iraq.”
“Well, it certainly seems Ibrahim is well-connected here.”
“He’s well-connected all over the world, my love. What surprises me,
though, is that there are seven of us in the United States.”
“What do you mean, seven of you?”
“Hakim and I are in the United States thanks to Ibrahim’s money. Now, I
find out there are another five who have gone to the states for studies, just as
Hakim and I did. I only know Ahmed, in Los Angeles whom I see often, but who
are the other four and where are they?”
“Why did Ibrahim send you if you are not a blood relative?”
“My mission is to be with Hakim and make sure he never feels alone, nor gets
into trouble. To make sure nothing bad happens to him.”
They walk hand in hand, silently, while Talal tries to figure out who the rest
of the seven could be and where they may be now. There must be a reason the old
man sent us all to the United States. Talal knows he needs to find that out before
they return home, so he can brief Hakim before he gets involved with Bevan and
his plans.
“Tomorrow we’re going to the gulf. Are you not excited?” he asks Emily.

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Jazz with Ella

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A sad story, Lona thought. She wondered how many other homes had buried treasure—perhaps the owners didn’t even know it. Back in New York the buyers would be interested in stories like this one.
When she got home should she find a buyer for the icon, too? No, she wanted the icon for herself. She would not be turning it over to the businessmen on her return, but somehow, she would have to account for the cash—it had cost $50 U.S. dollars—that she had been given to purchase these items. She would cross that bridge when she came to it. She considered its size, weighing it in her hand like tomatoes at the grocery store. She checked once more that the door was locked, then she carefully unwrapped the distinctive Beryozka wrapping paper from a newly purchased balalaika, a musical instrument with a long narrow neck and a triangular body. There was no mistaking its shape even in wrapping paper. Once the paper was removed from the balalaika she wrapped the icon in her kerchief, then squeezed it into the space between the strings and the body of the instrument. It just fit. She re-wrapped the Beryozka paper around the balalaika, being careful to tape it in exactly the same spots as before, then held it up for inspection. You could hardly tell a thing—just the merest suspicion of something rectangular. She placed the wrapped balalaika into a mesh shopping bag such as the Soviets seemed to carry everywhere. This one she would be taking on the plane with her and stowing in the overhead baggage compartment. That done, she pulled out a kit from her suitcase that contained some acrylic paint such as children use and bottles of powder and Vaseline.
The jewellery, a pendant of solid gold and very old, was easy to doctor up; it was not of religious significance, although Krov had tried to tell her otherwise. It would find a buyer who was simply looking for something pretty and special. She considered if she had time to invent a provenance for it—a story about some czar giving it to his mistress, perhaps? The consortium had rapped her knuckles once before for inventing but she couldn’t resist. Who’s to say that it was not true? What Russian peasant before the revolution would own such a rich thing?
She removed the elaborate gold chain and put it with her own modern jewellery, then re-hung the locket on a leather strip. She put the locket into a tiny, leather, filigreed sack. She would wear it around her neck.
The prayer scrolls were also easy. They would be placed among the pencil sketches of St. Isaac’s Cathedral that she had completed…

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Jazz with Ella

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But David, there’s another thing and it’s a real mystery.” She described the telegram that had been sent from Kazan. “That was a dreadful day trying to avoid Chopyk’s sheep herding efforts, trying to see the Gorky Museum and not think about Paul, all at the same time. Did you…?” But David was shaking his head.
Jennifer felt a wave of fear again. “You were one of the few who broke away from the group so I thought it must have been you trying to surprise me. Please tell me it’s not someone else trying to pull a fast one. ”
“I didn’t send any telegram. If you think about it, it would have to be someone who knew Volodya’s address—and knew the code words.”
“No, it didn’t have the code words in it. He thought I’d forgotten them and came anyway.”
“Natasha? She would have quick access to telegrams…she knew his address from the telegram he sent you…”
“Natasha—it has to be her.” Jennifer was stunned. “But why? I don’t get it. You know I suspected her back when the other telegram came in. She’s from Leningrad, you know, and they might have known one another while he worked for Intourist.”
“I’ve thought there’s more to her than what we’re seeing. That’s gotta be it, but you won’t get a chance to ask her because we’re trying to avoid her like the plague right now.” David began to sort through the closet for the jacket and shoes. “Do you know if she caught up to us here at the hotel?”
“Oh, for sure, but I don’t think she knows what rooms we’re in. If you hadn’t told me your room number, I’m sure I couldn’t have got it from the desk clerk. They seemed terminally uninterested.”
“Listen, why don’t you ask Volodya if he knows Natasha? Let’s sleep on this matter,” he yawned politely, “and get you-know-who fixed up with clothes in the morning.”
But when she returned to her room, Volodya had fallen into a deep sleep sprawled across the utilitarian single bed. His pack was open, contents spilled onto the floor, with his clothes hanging neatly on the racks. Coaching would have to wait.

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The Circle

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excerpt

“Come in, my son, come in. Let me introduce you to the Minister of Finance,
Omar Salem. Here’s one of my sons from the United States, minister. His name
is Talal Ahem.”
Omar Salem looks at Talal and smiles.
“He’s one of the seven?”
“Yes.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you, sir,” Talal says, and shakes the man’s hand.
“You, too, Talal Ahem,” says the minister. “Should we expect you to return
to your country soon?”
Ibrahim smiles with obvious pleasure as he tells the minister, “He’s a
chemical engineer.”
“A chemical engineer, very good; now, this is a man our country needs, don’t
you think, my good friend, Ibrahim?”
“Yes, of course. Yes, our country needs all her talents to help her in our years
of development.”
“Please tell me, Ibrahim, when your dearest son Hakim will visit us?”
“I hope very soon in the new year, minister.”
Talal shakes the hand of the minister once again and leaves him with Ibrahim
in the study. He finds Emily in the garden and they walk together for a while.
She’s curious to know what happened.
“Who’s meeting with Ibrahim, honey?”
“It’s the Minister of Finance for Iraq.”
“Well, it certainly seems Ibrahim is well-connected here.”
“He’s well-connected all over the world, my love. What surprises me,
though, is that there are seven of us in the United States.”
“What do you mean, seven of you?”
“Hakim and I are in the United States thanks to Ibrahim’s money. Now, I
find out there are another five who have gone to the states for studies, just as
Hakim and I did. I only know Ahmed, in Los Angeles whom I see often, but who
are the other four and where are they?”
“Why did Ibrahim send you if you are not a blood relative?”
“My mission is to be with Hakim and make sure he never feels alone, nor gets
into trouble. To make sure nothing bad happens to him.”
They walk hand in hand, silently, while Talal tries to figure out who the rest
of the seven could be and where they may be now. There must be a reason the old
man sent us all to the United States. Talal knows he needs to find that out before
they return home, so he can brief Hakim before he gets involved with Bevan and
his plans.
“Tomorrow we’re going to the gulf. Are you not excited?” he asks Emily.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562817

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0978186524

Jazz with Ella

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excerpt

Shiny new ones from Germany and Japanese ones with colourful markings. He began to wonder if he had the wrong hotel.
Just when he considered giving up, maybe returning tomorrow, he saw her coming. She was a long way off, walking, not from the direction of the Hotel Rossiya, but from the direction of Red Square. As she got closer, he could see that she was laughing and happy. His heart gave a little lurch and she approached him quickly, still smiling. Wonder of wonders, she was apologizing to him:
“Sorry I’m late. We’re not staying at this hotel after all. We were taken to the Hotel Bucharest, way over there. I walked across a bridge…”
“Da, da, da,” was all he could think of to say, nodding and smiling in return. This was superb! Recovering slightly from his daze, Sergey linked arms with her like a sweetheart and they walked around the block, while Sergey ran through his various shopping lists. She interrupted several times to tell him that she hadn’t seen such an item or there was a good supply of the other. Eventually he gave her all the foreign money, which turned out to be $45 American dollars, a few pounds sterling and some West German marks, and she disappeared into the store.
“Ech, you dope,” Sergey muttered. “You could have offered her a drink or an ice cream from the stand…”
Once more he waited, this time choosing a different street corner, next to the GUM department store. He could shop at GUM himself later. The way he calculated it, shopping for goods like vodka and brandy at the foreign currency store would save him money because everyone knew items for tourists were at least four times cheaper than in their Russian stores—that is if you could find them in the Russian stores. Also, it would give him lots of time to procure out of stock goods elsewhere. The difference would probably pay for his wanton taxi ride plus maybe an evening at the restaurant…with Lona. Guiltily, he realized that he had been in Moscow for three hours and hadn’t thought once of Nadya, his sister. He should telephone her; she had a phone installed recently and he had the new number. There was a pay phone across the way, but the receiver hung uselessly. Some one had placed a sign “Not Working” and it looked as if the sign had been there for months. There would be public telephone booths at the telegraph office in back of the hotel and they would be in good working order. He slipped over there to make his call.

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The Circle

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“Iraq is very hot place, Jennifer, but it is a beautiful. So far, everything looks
good, although one can see all the destruction still in a lot of places. It’s so sad to see
how some people live, so sad.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Are you having a good time, though?”
“Well, yes, I suppose. We’ll be going scuba diving in the gulf in the next couple of
days. I will not be able to talk to you from there, I suppose; however, I’ll talk to you
when I get back, okay?”
“Yes, Mom. Take a lot of pictures, remember?”
“Yes, Jennifer. Bye for now; I love you.”
“I love you, too, Mom.”
Hakim hugs her and says, “There you are. They’re doing fine; my uncle also
sounded good, and Talal sounds good, too.”
“Why do you wonder how Talal is doing?”
“I have always worried how he would feel returning to his home and how he
would find it after all this time.His house has been uninhabited for a long time, the
same as mine.However, Talal hasn’t gone to the old house yet; he saw his sister and
young brother, though. His sister will be getting married next summer.”
“Oh, that’s nice. What are the weddings like there, honey?”
“It all depends, sweetie.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, for the people who follow religion, it’s different from the ones who do
not follow it as much like us; my uncle and Mara have been quite liberal when it
comes to religion and we just don’t follow strict church rules of any kind.”
Jennifer looks him in the eyes and asks, “Have you ever thought of getting
married, honey?”
He’s silent for a while. This is a question he hasn’t thought about before, and
now he must answer her.
“No, I haven’t thought of it, sweetie. Have you?”
“No, I haven’t. But now that the subject of marriage has been brought up, it
made me think of it.”
“Maybe one day, sweetheart. Maybe one day, I’ll think about it.”
Jennifer gets up and makes their breakfast; they sit quietly and eat their toast
with marmalade. She thinks Hakim probably has too much on his mind right
now to think of marriage; he’s worried about his uncle and he has to get together
with Peter before their important meeting.

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Jazz with Ella

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excerpt

off a stool lightly for one of her advanced years, and beckoned them. She opened the cage door, then the elevator door, and ushered them in. She waited patiently while Jen, Lona and Maria assembled their baggage. Three persons plus operator appeared to be the elevator’s capacity. Then she closed the doors carefully and pulled a brass lever. Grunting with effort, the box lifted. “Three into seventeen,” Maria calculated as the box jerked upward. “How many trips will this thing make, do you suppose, before we’re all upstairs?”
Ordinarily, I would find this hotel an intriguing anecdote, thought Jennifer, something to tell the folks back home. Right now, I just find it all an intolerable delay. She was becoming quite adept at all the procedures. As she exited at the fifth floor, she went immediately to the dezhurnaya’s desk and rapped smartly on the table. The clerk, another septagenarian, was nodding off in an easy chair. “Key to room 503,” she said briskly in Russian, and proffered her card. This woman could be someone’s grandmother, she thought, and though it’s difficult to view her as the enemy, a nosy floor clerk who noticed that Volodya was Soviet, not Canadian, would be a nuisance or even fatal.
Jennifer opened the door to her room. It was dark and close but not what she would have picked for a briefing session. There was a private bathroom, she discovered with relief, and opened the door thankfully. It held a square, chipped, pedestal basin, a small bath, and gigantic toilet that sat lordly on a dais. Its tank was secured onto the wall above the bowl and there was a chain to pull that worked the flush. Either the last guest had pulled too enthusiastically or the fixture’s age had rendered it incontinent. It had overflowed onto the floor.
“I’d better start working on getting this cleaned up right away,” she muttered. “I don’t want staff in the room while Volodya’s here—that is, if I could even get staff to clean it up.” Once again she was talking to herself—problems, delays. And underneath it all—fear.
Consequently, it was nearly six o’clock by the time Jennifer finally left the hotel, walked briskly along the riverbank, and turned onto the same bridge they had driven across on her way to Red Square. Possibly there was another telegraph office than the one she had already discovered near the east wing of the Hotel Rossiya, but it would save time to head directly toward the familiar one. As she walked, she thought how to word the telegram: “Returned to Moscow. Hotel Bucharest.” That part was easy. Then what? “Jazz with Ella” and maybe she’d better add…

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The Circle

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important areas of support for the regime, along with the rest of the surrounding
region called “The Sunni Triangle”. Many inhabitants were Sunni and were
employees and supporters of Saddam’s government. During the same era,
Falluza became an industrial center with many large factories. About half the
houses were destroyed in the war, and most of them have still not been rebuilt.
Indeed, this city still looks like a war zone. A lot of the houses are only
half-standing. Others are leaning against one another as if supporting one other,
yet people sit around in the coffee bars drinking their special tea or coffee, and
one can see they take life in stride. It seems they know this is the way things work
out when you stand up and try to claim who you are, against people who think
they know who you are and insist on telling you so.
So, the inhabitants of this forsaken place sit stoically, with a perseverance that
defies even the strongest of wills, knowing deep in their hearts that what goes
around comes around. They know deep in their hearts that what you throw out
there in the balance of the cosmos comes back and hits you on the head at
another time or place without exceptions. People sit with all the anguish of the
world on their shoulders, a world that has gone wrong, a world that defies their
right to be alive, to be with their flesh and blood, with their wants and dreams
and expectations of life. They sit and don’t care that their homes have been
destroyed, since they know they will rebuild sooner or later. They will deploy all
their efforts again to rebuild what human madness has destroyed.
Rassan goes around and asks for Talal’s family and is told they need to go a
few blocks down the road and turn to the right to find Talal’s grandparents.’
house. Two minutes later they are outside what they expect is the house. Rassan
gets out and yells from the top of the yard door to the inside of the yard; a young
man about fifteen comes to see who is calling. Talal gets out of the car and sees
his younger brother, Abdul Aziz, coming through the gate to the road.
“Abdul, my little brother,” Talal approaches him with open arms. Abdul
looks at him and realizes this man is his brother.
“Talal, what a surprise this is!” he says, and his eyes fill with tears.
Talal is crying as well and among the sobs asks, “Where’s everybody?
Where are Aesha and our grandfather?”
“Grandfather is at the coffee bar for a while; our grandmother died four
months ago. Aesha is here; come in, come inside.” He urges all of them to come
in and leads the way.
Emily and Talal walk together through the gate and Rassan follows; they find
Aesha working in the kitchen. She is so surprised to see Talal after being away for
seven years that she hugs and kisses him, throws herself in his arms sobbing with joy.
Talal introduces Emily.

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The Circle

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The next morning the sun has risen ten feet above the horizon when Emily opens
her eyes and sees Talal standing on the balcony, listening to the birds in the trees
and shrubs in the grounds below. The sun is very bright, and she has to cover her
eyes for a while until she gets used to the brilliance. The sky is blue and clear; she
gets up and walks to the door and hugs him from behind.
“You are up, sweetie; slept okay?”
“Yes, my love, I slept well. I’m thinking of my family; we are going to visit
them soon. I wonder how they’ll look after seven years. I wonder whether they
will recognize me. I feel so much apprehension and such a strong feeling of
anticipation to see them.”
“Oh, Talal. Of course, they’ll recognize you! What a thing to say.”
He turns and hugs her; they kiss and it seems as if the birds in the shrubs and
trees sound louder than before.
“It’s so bright,” she says, cuddling in his arms like a little chick under the
wings of her mother.
“Welcome to Iraq, my love. This is the brightness we fall in love with until
there comes a time when one wishes some clouds would come and relieve us of
it. When we go to the water I assure you that that is going to be the best
experience you’ll ever have.”
“Scuba diving?”
“I can’t promise you scuba diving.However, I promise you a very pleasant day.”
Emily notices another separate building to the left and asks, “What’s that
building used for, Talal?”
“That is the maids’ quarters and perhaps the guards’.”
The villa sits on a huge portion of land located in the northern part of
Baghdad in an exclusive area, with many villa-style homes for the most affluent
of Iraq. Ibrahim and Mara have been living here for over thirty years; they built it
during the Saddam years.
Their day unfolds slowly and lazily, exactly as they feel after the long trip. All
the beautiful, different images have gradually unfolded since the previous
afternoon when they landed in Bagdhad. Emily absorbs everything deep into her
memory, knowing well these images will stay with her for the rest of her life. Yet,
something inside tells her she will come again to this country and that the next
time it will be for a longer period. And that somehow makes her feel okay; it
doesn’t upset her as it would have at the beginning of her relationship with Talal.
She is, after all, prepared to go to the end of the earth with this man, and even if at
some time they part, and a younger woman steals him from her embrace, he’ll
remain with her forever as a sweet memory, exactly as all these beautiful images
that are unfolding before her.

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Jazz with Ella

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Was he not getting on this very plane to Moscow looking like one of the foreign tourists and wearing a handsome leather jacket? On the other hand, what if they had tricked him into doing something illegal? The authorities could revoke all his travel privileges. Normally, he wouldn’t have any qualms about sidestepping the authorities but it was just so important that he go to Moscow right now.
All these thoughts and more passed through Sergei Ivanovich’s brain as the group from Canada traipsed slowly across the tarmac.
★
“The first thing I’m doing when we reach the hotel is to find a telegraph office and send a message to Volodya,” said Jennifer, seated behind David and Maria on the tour bus, her chin hanging over the headrest. The teacher-student wall had completely crumbled; they were her friends. She was grateful for their help.
“I thought you’d already done that,” answered David. Maria’s head was nodding, more concerned with sleep than planning. “You mean you didn’t wire him from Kazan?”
“No. You saw how Chopyk dogged us the whole time, plus I couldn’t confirm anything. What if, all of a sudden, they’d decided to take us out of the country through Kiev instead of Moscow? You know there’s no logic to the itinerary.”
“It’s always Moscow. I told you that,” David said. “We’re here for less than two days. That’s not long enough to get Volodya from Leningrad and up to speed.”
“There’s the rest of today…”
“Oh, no, not at all,” interrupted Maria suddenly, her eyes still closed. “According to Natasha we have an action-packed evening ahead.” She looked around quickly as if expecting their tour guide to hear her name. But while the group had been given a late lunch in the airport dining room, Natasha had gone on ahead to make arrangements and would meet them at the hotel. “After check-in, we’re to squeeze in dinner and some of us have tickets for the ballet. And remember when we were in Moscow last time you said that the juniors would be having a last lesson here and maybe taking a guided tour of St. Basil’s Cathedral?”
David’s grin waned. Jennifer sighed.There was another thought nagging at her.

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