Free WASHINGTON DC: The Sadir Affair (The Puppets of Washington Book 1) by Lavina Giamusso Page B

into a clam. They still needed him to get to Samuel. They thought of themselves as good officers—and they probably were—but they were not trained to track down a master of deceit or one of Mossad’s more famous spies. Even with the latest technology at their disposal, they were at a loss when it came to chase and capture a slippery customer as Samuel was.
    “All right, Agent Gilford, we understand we’re only two coppers at our Majesty’s stipends, but we’ve got to get to this bloke before he slips through our fingers and vanishes before our eyes.”
    “Okay,” Mark relented, “I know what you’re saying, but I can’t talk to you or even answer your questions or allegations, without talking to my boss first. If you wish, I can go to your office, get on line with him and see what he says. And we can take it from there…, how’s that?”
    Both men nodded. “That’s sounds fair enough,” Damien said, replacing his cap atop his head. “Come on, Strick, let’s get him to headquarters.”
    Strick got up, grabbed his cap from the table, and led the way out of the room.
    Mark felt relieved. He was going to get a low-down on this incredible U-turn. Something must have gone horribly wrong in the agency’s relationship with the CIA for getting everyone turned around so quickly. Did Mossad activate a sleeping cell when they observed Khalid taking off from Ottawa? he wondered. However, he was relatively sure their under-cover movements had not been discovered. They would have been stopped in San Francisco if that had been the case.
    It didn’t take them long to clear customs, security and all the rest of it, and for the three men to be on their way to the New South Wales police headquarters in Sydney. Expecting their new building to be completed in the next few months, their offices were still located somewhere downtown; exactly where, Mark could not say. They were driving on the left side of the road, which, for one thing, scared him. As Mark was getting used to the traffic moving on the “wrong” side of the road and to the car fumes that seemed to choke the city, they arrived at their destination.
    Mark was ushered directly into a large anteroom and asked to sit down in one of the old leather chairs. Damien disappeared into an adjacent room and Strickland sat beside him, cap in his lap this time. The two men remained silent until the door on the far wall opened and an officer in uniform, appeared in the embrasure.
    “Agent Gilford, please come in,” the man stated, waving to Mark to follow him back into the room. “I’m Chief Constable Sorenson.” He extended a hand to Mark, which he took in a firm handshake. “Have a chair.” Mark felt out of place straight away. Not only was the office spacious, well-appointed, but Sorenson’s speech and presence were intimidating. He commanded respect. Mark looked down at his scruffy jeans, his wrinkled T-shirt and would have like to hide under the man’s desk rather than talk to him. He sat down between Damien and Strickland, and opposite Sorenson, feeling totally out of his element.
    “As I understand it from Constable Damien here”—he nodded in his direction—“you are requesting to place a call to your superior in Ottawa, is that correct?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Chief Gibson has explained the matter quite plainly to me, and I believe my constables have transmitted the message in as many details as were pertinent and necessary.” He stopped, frowning and scrutinizing Mark’s face. “So, why would you feel the need to obtain more information at this juncture? Or verify my instructions as it were?”
    Good God, the man has the ego of an elephant and if I start going against his tsunami of orders now, I’ll be unable to move an inch.
    “I have no intention to contravene your instructions or orders, sir, not at all. I wanted to contact Chief Gibson to obtain the latest information on the CIA’s movements and on one person in particular, Agent Sadir.”