BEIRUT, LEBANON
Mitch and Ridley were at a safe house waiting for their source to give them information about Mitch's team as well as indirectly letting him know Aayat's location.
The name of their source is Levon Petrosian who had finally arrived at the safe house.
Petrosian walked over to Ridley, grabbed him by the shoulders, and kissed the American on both cheeks, and then, refusing to let go, he stared into Ridley's eyes and spoke to him "Is this the one?"
Ridley nodded.
Petrosian sized Mitch up and then announced, "I must shake your hand."
The man spoke perfect English, but with one of those clipped heavy Russian accents. Mitch couldn't come up with a single good reason why this man would want to shake his hand, but he stuck his right hand out as a polite reflex.
In a voice only the two of them could hear he said, "I have hated that Turkish pig Adem Uzuner for almost twenty years. I want to thank you for putting a bullet in his black heart. When I heard he was dead I wept tears of joy."
Mitch's own heart began to beat a little faster. How in hell did this man know he had killed Sharif? Mitch tilted his head to the left to so he could get a look at Ridley. The man shrugged his shoulders as if to say he was sorry. So much for secrecy.
"I am very sorry about Bill."
Mitch had to remind himself that to these people, Stan Hurley was Bill Sherman. "Thank you. Have you found any information that may help us?"
He winced as if disappointed in himself. "I'm not sure if it will help, but maybe. I confirmed that it was the police that picked our friend up in front of his hotel this morning. In fact it was the police chief, that pig Gabir Haddad."
"Haddad is not a bad man," Ridley said for Mitch's benefit. "Just extremely corrupt. He works with us sometimes."
"He works with anyone if they have enough money," Petrosian said.
"So this Haddad," Mitch said, "who gave him the order?"
"I am fairly certain it was your friends from Islamic Jihad, but I will know more later. I am having dinner with Haddad this evening."
"His idea or yours?" Ridley asked.
"His ... He is afraid he has offended me, which he has, of course. He knows he cannot simply come into my neighborhood and grab my friends. It would have been nice if you had told me Bill was coming. All of this could have been avoided."
"I know ... I already told you I was sorry. He was planning on seeing you today. He didn't want word getting out that he was back."
"And how did that work out for him?"
"I know ... but just be careful with Haddad. We can't afford to lose you."
"I am always careful. It will be at a restaurant of my choosing, and I will make sure the street is blocked off. Trust me ... he's the one who needs to be nervous."
"That's what worries me. What if he's desperate?"
"He has always been a desperate little man. He knows what he did this morning was wrong. He will be full of fear, and I will play on that fear to get every last piece of information from him."
"Any idea where they took him?" Mitch asked.
"That is the question, isn't it? Where did they take him?" Petrosian shuffled across the stone floor and out onto the veranda. "Beirut is not a small city. It is not like your New York or Chicago, but it is not small. Have you figured out how they found him?"
"No," Ridley said. "He flew in last night shortly after nine. That's all we know."
Petrosian thought for a while before asking "Have you heard about this standoff at Martys' Square?"
"I heard a little something yesterday, but not much."
"It is a funny thing," Petrosian said while looking off into the distance.
"What you talking about?" Mitch asked.
Ridley pointed to the north. "Follow the scar to the sea ... one block short, you can see an open area. That's Martyrs' Square."
"Before the war it was a beautiful place. Full of life," Petrosian said in a sad voice.
"It was the scene of some of the heaviest fighting during the war," Ridley added. "The buildings are all empty shells now."
"Now that the cease-fire has held, certain groups have gotten the idea that it is time to grab land while they still can. The Maronites started earlier in the week and they began occupying the buildings along the east side of the square. The Muslims got word and started moving their people into a building on the west side."
Mitch looked at the spit of land. He guessed it was around two miles away. "Does that mean a fight is brewing?"
"Part of me wishes they would all just kill each other so the rest of us can pick up the pieces and get back to where we were before this mess started, but I know that this is not the answer. We need the peace to hold."
"And how does this Martyrs' Square situation figure into our other problem?"
"It might not, but then again manpower is an issue."
"Manpower?" Mitch asked, not understanding.
"These groups are like any organization. They have limited resources. They have to collect garbage, collect taxes, man their roadblocks, punish those who aren't behaving ... the list goes on and on. The point is, if they are forced to hold the west end of Martyrs' Square they will be weak in other places."
Mitch wondered how he could use that to his advantage. As the sun moved across the afternoon sky he got the sinking feeling that they were losing an opportunity. That if they didn't act, didn't do something bold and do it soon, they would lose Richard, Rupert and Hurley.
And he would lose Aayat forever.