Read WASHINGTON DC: The Sadir Affair (The Puppets of Washington Book 1) for Free Online Page B

a drivers’ license fell out. He picked up both from the floor and read the note. He then tore it to pieces and went to flush it down the toilet.
    This sort of game didn’t appeal to Khalid. He had to get out now. He packed his carrying case quickly, went down to the lobby and checked out. Once in the street, he hailed a cab and directed the driver to take him to the international airport, departure level.
    Inside he bought a one-way ticket to Ottawa at the Air Canada counter. If for some reason he decided this was not the time to go to meet the subject of his revenge, he would have a fallback position, whereby he would return to Ottawa and from there either go back to Paris or make his way to Vancouver. He had no confidence in Sadir’s purpose behind the words. The hissing snake came to mind again. After checking his luggage on the night flight to Ottawa, he ambled from store to store, made a couple of purchases and sat down for a coffee in one of the cafeterias. He then took the escalator down to the arrivals’ level and went out. He took another cab and this time told the driver to take him to the Hyatt. He registered and went up to his room. An hour later, he was ready. He walked out, cell phone in hand.
    Down in the reception hall, he sat down, flipped his cell phone open and dialled Muhammad Sadir. Their conversation was short and to the point; Khalid told the CIA man he was on his way Downunder and that he could find his ‘other passport’ in the desk drawer of his room at the Hyatt. As soon as he closed the phone, Khalid got up from the chair, walked to the men’s room and smashed it under his heel before throwing the remains into the rubbish container.
    At 4:00PM, a handsomely dressed executive in his 50s climbed out of a cab in front of the American Airlines departure level, paid the driver, and walked to the business-class check-in counter, an overnight bag and laptop case in the one hand and rolling a brown suitcase behind him.
    As he stood in line, someone tapped him on the shoulder.
    “I thought it was you,” the young man said. Khalid spun on his heels and stared. “How are you, Professor?”
    “Oh, fine…,” the gentleman replied, still stunned, but all smiles now. “…I’m sorry…, but I can’t place you... Your name escapes me for the moment, I’m sorry… Age, you see, it plays tricks on me from time to time.”
    “It’s Sylvan, Sylvan Esteban. I was in your class last year at the Sorbonne in Paris…”
    “Oh, of course, you were quite annoyed with my expose on dissidence… I remember now… yes, of course… How are you?”
    The two men shook hands and Sylvan discreetly slipped an envelope into the professor’s hand.
    Then, to the older man’s added surprise, Sylvan bid him a good trip and walked away without another word.
    Not wanting to attract attention by calling him back, Professor William Dickson turned away and looked into the envelope, took out the tickets and wondered when he would see Sylvan again. He didn’t know that they were on the same flights all the way to Sydney but Sylvan was travelling economy while the professor was in business class to San Francisco and in first for the rest of the trip.

Chapter 12
     
    When Samuel closed his laptop, he sat looking into space absentmindedly. He had just learned from his source in Paris that Khalid was on the move. He had been followed from Ottawa to Washington D.C. and then he suddenly disappeared from their radar. That bit of intel unsettled the Mossad agent. Knowing what your adversary looks like is of prime importance when your assignment calls for the elimination of the party concerned. Moreover, he didn’t know when his target would land in Sydney, if that was indeed his destination.
    He wiped his face with his hand, got up and decided to go for a swim at his favourite beach. He grabbed a discarded towel from the back of the chair in front of the fireplace and walked out, slamming the front door behind him. As he