The Faithful Spy

Again Wells waited. Still Tarik said nothing. Finally Wells asked, as smoothly as he could: “They? There’s more than one package? How many?”

“I’m not allowed to talk about this.”

“Where’d they come from? Who delivered them?”

“Jalal, please.”

“Is there another courier, Tarik?”

But Tarik shook his head and said nothing.

set the hook and don’t say too much, Khadri had told Tarik. I don’t care what he thinks is happening. As long as he has the package when he leaves. k h a d r i wa s p l ay i n g games, Wells thought. As usual. Why hadn’t he sent the packages, whatever they were, straight to the United States? Why use this kid, who looked like he wanted to vomit? Why multiple couriers?

Tarik sat rigidly in the driver’s seat, his hands clenching the wheel. Wells could see that he was done talking, unless Wells put a knife to his throat. And as much as Wells wanted to take control, force the situation, he had to be patient. Tarik was only a courier. Wells would take the package, cross the border, and wait for Khadri. the sun was low in the sky when they reached Montreal. Tarik turned off the highway into a run-down neighborhood. They passed a brightly lit Muslim community center with signs in English, French, and Arabic. A few minutes later Tarik turned into the parking lot of a run-down motel.

“Wait,” he said, and got out. He walked into room 104. Wells figured Tarik had rented the room for a night as a place to store the mysterious package. A dummy location, one Wells couldn’t trace. Smart.

Wells looked around for any signs they were being watched. He saw nothing. The street was quiet. No helicopters floating overhead, no UPS trucks cruising by, no Ford Crown Victorias parked away. On the other hand, if this really was a sting operation, the cops — or the agency — would wait until he had taken the package from Tarik. They might even wait until he got back to Quebec City.

So arrest me, Wells thought. Let this madness be the agency’s doing. At least I’ll know that Langley’s a step ahead of me, and close to catching Khadri. But as he looked around again, he felt sure the agency was nowhere near him. Or Khadri.

Tarik reappeared from room 104 carrying a soft-sided blue travel bag, large enough to hold a week’s worth of clothes, small enough to fit in an airplane’s overhead bin. He carefully placed the bag in the back of the minivan. “It has a briefcase inside. Don’t open it.”

“What if they search it at the border?”

“Omar said that’s up to you. He said he was sure you’d think of something.”

“I’m glad he has so much confidence in me,” Wells said. Tarik said nothing more on the long drive back to Quebec City, and Wells didn’t press him.

the garage in Quebec City was almost empty when they rolled up to the little white pickup. Wells had never been so glad to see the truck. He stepped out of the minivan. To his surprise, Tarik followed. “May Allah smile upon you, Jalal,” Tarik said in Arabic. He tapped his heart. Wells responded in kind.

“On you as well, Tarik.”

“And may he make us victorious.”

“Inshallah.”

Wells offered Tarik his hand. Instead the smaller man gave him an awkward hug. Wells pulled the blue bag out of the Windstar and set it in his pickup. He waved once to Tarik, then leaned against his truck and watched the minivan disappear.

When the Windstar was gone Wells slid behind the wheel of the pickup, but he didn’t bother to start the Ranger for a while. If this was a sting, he’d give the cops plenty of time to arrest him without a fight. But the garage stayed empty, and finally Wells turned the key and rolled out of Quebec City and into the night.

.

it was 1:04 a.m. by the Ranger’s clock when Wells rolled up to the deserted border crossing. He felt as if he’d been driving forever, but in truth he’d just begun the journey home.

The guard took a long look at his license. “You have a passport?”

“No sir.”

“When’d you cross into Canada?”

“Just yesterday morning.”

“You from Georgia?”

“Atlanta.”

“Long way for such a short trip.”

“I was visiting a girl in Quebec City,” Wells said. “Met her on the Internet. It didn’t work out so good. She was about twice as big as the picture she sent.”

“Too bad, man.” The guard laughed. “You can never trust those Canadians.” He looked down at the Ranger’s passenger seat. “What’s in your bags?”

“Just clothes. I was hoping to stay a while. Took the week off.”

“No drugs, guns, nothing like that.”

“No sir.”

“Well, better luck next time.” The guard handed Wells back his license. “Welcome home. Drive safe.” Just that easily he was back. a h a l f h o u r later Wells pulled over and pissed by the side of the highway, looking up at the night sky. This far north there wasn’t much pollution. The glow of the stars reminded Wells of Afghanistan. He wondered if he’d ever see those mountains again, or what he would think if he did. Maybe he and Exley would vacation there one day. Adventure tourism. He found his phone and punched in a number Khadri had e-mailed the previous day. “Leave a message,” Khadri’s voice said.