Chapter 25
When the elevator doors opened, Cameron Sheffield, a man in his thirties, always proud of his appearance and good looks, noticed Muhammad Sadir sitting in one of the chairs of the reception hall. He looked up at Cameron over the rim of his newspaper and returned to his reading. He was far from expecting Agent Sheffield to stop in front of him. He put down the paper in his lap and raised his eyes again.
“Thomas couldn’t make it,” Cameron said, “he’s busy tracking your friend…, so I thought you wouldn’t mind having lunch with me instead.”
Muhammad was stunned. This wasn’t good. He extracted himself from the chair, dropped the paper on it and grunted, “Sure…, by all means, why don’t we…?”
Leading the way out of the building, Cameron turned to the waddling agent and opened the door for him. “Where are we going?”
The two men headed in the direction of Sadir’s car.
“I had in mind to take Thomas to the Chinese place around the corner. Would that be okay with you?”
“Sure, and that seems to be a good place to start…,” Cameron replied, climbing in the front seat.
“Start what?” Sadir brushed a puzzled face past his colleague, as he turned on the ignition. He had no idea how much the man knew or how much he was authorized to tell him. He would have to tread carefully. Say as little as possible, he thought.
“Your vacation... I hear you’re going to Seattle…, nice place. I’ve been there a few times when I was working in Canada.”
“You did? I mean you worked in Canada. I didn’t know that.”
“Yes…, actually I was on assignment in Hong Kong in ’97 when the colony was returned to the Chinese government. Vancouver was my home-base for about a year then.”
“I see,” said Sadir, although he didn’t see at all where this was going. Both men fell silent for a moment.
“They’ve got a large Asian community in Vancouver; did you know that?” Cameron said.
“Yes, I’ve heard. But what’s that got to do with me?”
“Oh, plenty, Agent Sadir, plenty...”
Muhammad was at a total loss. He had no idea what this meant. He had only alerted Van Dams of his intention of leaving on vacation an hour ago. “What does that mean?” He pulled into the mall’s parking lot.
Cameron waited until they were at the restaurant’s doorsteps to say anything. “Let’s go in, shall we?” He opened the door of the establishment and let Sadir pass ahead of him.
A little Chinese woman escorted both men to a table in a corner, poured some tea in their cups, and retreated quickly after she handed them the menu.
By this time, Sadir was worried. He wanted to know where he stood, or what Cameron had heard. “Okay, let’s have it. What’s going on?”
Cameron shrugged, not lifting his eyes from the menu.
“Come on, Sheffield…, what have you heard?”
“I haven’t heard anything, Agent Sadir. I’ve simply been advised that you were going on an extended vacation to China, Shanghai to be precise.”
Sadir’s face passed through the colours of the rainbow in a matter of seconds. He was floored. The Deputy Director must have been on to him, or was that a Mossad move. He felt like a trapped animal.
“Don’t worry, though,” Cameron went on, “China is quite interesting—lots of things to see. Only one thing, though, they don’t like Arabs too much I’m told.”
That was the last drop; the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. Muhammad got up in a brutal rustle of the chair and walked out of the restaurant. Cameron shrugged, waved at the little waitress and ordered lunch.