He settled back against the sidewalls of the pickup bed and started to close his eyes. Maybe it was possible to sleep after all if you were tired enough.
A spark of light flickered in front of him. The Bedouin with the sunglasses was smoking a cigarette. He offered Balagh one.
As was custom, Balagh refused twice before finally accepting one. He wasn’t sure if he smoked or not, but it would be impolite to turn down his new friend.
He stuck the cigarette between his lips. The Bedouin man gave him a lighter. Balagh lit the cigarette and inhaled. The warmth spread down into his lungs with each breath, a strange calm filling him.
Maybe he was a smoker after all.
His thoughts seemed to settle, the worries clamoring for attention growing quieter.
“May I hold onto this for a moment?” Balagh asked the Bedouin man, gesturing to the lighter.
“Of course, my brother.”
Balagh flicked the lighter on and used the dim glow of its meager flame to illuminate the notebook again. What did this clearly religious reference have to do with whatever was happening to him?
Maybe he had missed something in the other pages.
He flipped through the notebook. The flame on the lighter went out. He flicked it again, the flame dancing back to life.
The truck bumped over a rivet in the road. Balagh nearly fell sideways, the lighter coming dangerously close to the notebook. As it did, black marks appeared on the page. For a second, he feared he had lit the thing on fire, and with it, his tenuous connection to his past would be lost.
As the truck settled back into its rhythmic bumping over the desert highway, Balagh moved the lighter in front of the notebook again. He waved it over the page to see what damage he’d caused.
The black marks he had thought were burns had distinct shapes to them. He blinked. Was his mind playing tricks on him?
He held the flame closer again. Letters and numbers began to appear. His heart nearly climbed up his throat. Good lord, was this Solomon and his invisible demons writing on the page? Or was there more than tobacco in that cigarette the Bedouin had given him?
He tried to control his breathing.
“My brother, are you okay?” the Bedouin man asked.
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“You look like you’ve seen a spirit.”
“I’m afraid I might have.”
“I’m not surprised,” the man said, settling back against the bulkhead of the truck, hands behind his head. “The desert is filled with Allah’s presence.”
Balagh’s eyes flicked over the words he had revealed. “That it is.”
Maybe he wasn’t crazy. Maybe he was totally lucid after all. He traced every page of the notebook with the lighter, but only the first had changed. The ink must have been heat sensitive. It wasn’t magic or mysterious. Rather, a simple way to hide a message.
And as he studied the numbers and letters, his nerves exploded with electricity. He fought to prevent himself from yelling in victory right there in the back of that truck as he realized exactly what he was looking at.
For the first time, he knew exactly where he could find the answers he’d been looking for.
Alex shoved Jaber down onto the couch and patted the guy down again. He had already smashed the man’s cell phone and tossed it into a trash can on their way here. Now that night had settled over the city, he wanted to make sure he hadn’t missed anything that their pursuers could use to track the guy to this cramped apartment.
“Seems like he’s clean,” Alex said.
“Unless they forced him to swallow something,” Skylar said. She shot Jaber a look.
He shook his head. “I don’t remember swallowing anything.”
“You sure?” she asked.
He rubbed his temple. “I don’t know. Everything is so confusing.”
“Great,” Skylar said, slumping down onto a couch embroidered with roses.
The safe house was decorated garishly as if to capture the opulence of the royal family’s palace. Overstuffed couches, huge fake marble statues, and gold-plated fixtures gave the living room a creeping, claustrophobic feel.
Alex had no intentions of staying there long. This was just their temporary safe house, a place to get their bearings and move on.
Skylar laid out her weapons on the couch next to her. She began cleaning the rifle and pistol.
Sirens echoed from somewhere in the city. The TV in the corner of the room reported a disturbance near the Amman Citadel. The news reporter claimed a couple of terrorists from Iraq had been threatening to shoot up a market. No one had died thanks to the brave actions of the local police.
“They’re already twisting the story,” Alex said.
“Propaganda wastes no time,” Skylar said. “But that’s good for us.”
Jaber looked between them as if he didn’t understand.
“That means the public won’t be looking for us, even if your friends are,” Alex said.
Jaber used a towel to mop up the sweat from his forehead. “They are not my friends. I swear to you, I don’t know who they are.”
“I actually believe the guy,” Skylar said, putting her rifle away again. “Should have seen his face when I got him out of that van.” She pulled the slide back on her pistol. “Which leads me to the question of what the hell were they doing with you? I saw that guy with a gas mask.”
Jaber put his head into his palms, elbows resting on his knees. “I don’t know. They tried to inject me with something.”
“Tried?”
“Yes, they had a plastic syringe. At least, I think they were trying to inject me with it. That was when the van crashed, and”—he combed his fingers through his thinning hair—“everything just went black for a while. I barely remember getting here.”
Alex stood in front of Jaber with his arms crossed. “They were probably trying to sedate you. Lucky for us, Skylar got to you before they did.”
Skylar holstered her pistol and winked at Jaber. His face paled at her expression.
“Who are you people?” Jaber said.
Skylar let out a harsh laugh. “Everyone always wants to know. But you’re not really in a position to be asking us questions right now.”
“You nearly got me killed,” Jaber said. “I deserve to know.”
“I have a feeling someone’s already got a bounty on your head,” Alex said. “We saved you.”
“What about my family?” Jaber asked.
“Skylar, you want to take care of that with Command?” Alex asked.
Skylar nodded and stood. She retreated to another room to call Kasim.
The United States and Jordan’s relationship was amicable enough. All kinds of American organizations were on the ground there, from private contractors to spy agencies. Alex had no doubt Kasim could work out some kind of deal with the State Department to provide protective custody for Jaber’s family now that the guy’s cover was blown.
Even as he made this promise to Jaber, he could not help thinking of the same promise he had made to a Russian scientist in Vector’s first major op. They had been unable to do anything to save her family in time. The monsters in Moscow had been too quick.
He chose not to share that story with Jaber.
“Look, we might not have much time.” Alex sat on the coffee table in front of Jaber. “I need you to talk. If you do not tell me everything—and I mean everything—I can’t protect you or your family. Do you understand?”
Jaber looked up from his palms and nodded. “I will talk.”
“Good. Start with why you were working with Ballard.”
“He approached me. He knew… he knew…”
“Go on.”
Jaber ground his palms into his eyes. “He knew I was taking bribes to allow people from Iraq and Syria to cross our borders with their shipments.”
“Who were these people?”
“I never asked.”
“But you must have some idea.”
Jaber’s
bottom lip trembled as he met Alex’s gaze again. “There were all types, I’m sure. Daesh, Taliban, Al-Qaeda, many more.”
“What were they shipping?”
“I don’t know. As I told you, I looked the other way. I was not paid to ask questions.”
“You have no idea?”
“What do you think?” Jaber said. “Weapons, no doubt.”
Alex kept pressing him. “What types?”
“The kinds you use to kill people.” Jaber erupted in anger, standing now. “I brought shame to my family, my country. But once I accepted that first payment, I could not stop. They threatened to kill me. To kill my family. Everyone I loved if I did not keep doing this.”
“You could have reported them to your government,” Alex said. “But you didn’t.”
He watched Jaber struggle with the cognitive dissonance no doubt thrashing his mind. Finally, the man sat again, playing with the big gold watch on his wrist.
Alex wanted to drive the point home. To let him know how despicable his actions were. How many innocents had died because of the weapons and goods Jaber had let pass through his country’s borders?
But that begged another question.
“Why would these groups try to transport weapons through Jordan?” Alex asked. “Iraq and Syria share a border. It would be safer to avoid Jordan altogether.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “The only answer I can think of…”
Now Alex certainly felt no sympathy for the man. “These groups, whoever you were helping, were planning something here.”
“Maybe,” Jaber said, “but I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so? Or you don’t want to believe it?”
“Truthfully, both. But often they paid me to ignore shipments coming in from Iraq then ensured they crossed into Syria safely. Or the reverse route. But rarely did any shipments stay or originate from within my country.”
“Do you have proof of these shipments? Logs somewhere?”
Jaber shook his head. “I ensured no records existed.”
“This still doesn’t tell me how you met Ballard,” Alex said.
“He met me,” Jaber began. “He knew about all these shipments. Of the bribes I accepted, and he threatened to reveal them all to my superiors.”
“And what exactly did Ballard want from you?”
Jaber shot him a bemused look. “You worked with him. Don’t you know?”
“I need you to verify this,” Alex said.
The wail of police sirens approached the apartment. Alex stood, his hand creeping toward the gun holstered at the small of his back. He only relaxed when the sirens passed.
“What did Ballard want?” Alex asked again. “Did he want you to stop these shipments?”
Jaber shook his head then rubbed at the sweat covering his scalp again. “He simply made me tell him about all the shipments I was letting through. Just when they happened. That’s all.”
“What did he do with that information?”
“I don’t know. He never told me.”
From the intel they had, Alex guessed Ballard hadn’t told the CIA, either. “You don’t have any guesses?”
“I thought maybe he was trying to intercept the shipments. I feared that by giving him this information, the groups paying me off might realize I had betrayed them. But no one came after me. They never seemed to suspect anything.”
Ballard must have had a good reason for letting these shipments go. If they did indeed contain biological or chemical weapons, stopping a single shipment wasn’t going to do any good. He was doing what Alex would’ve done. Keep track of all that information, all those routes, shadowing whoever was shipping these goods to find where they were coming from.
Who was in charge.
Instead of going after street-corner drug dealers, maybe Ballard wanted to go after the cartel head running the operations.
“I need more than this,” Alex said. “Think. There must be something you overheard. Something that you can tell me.”
Jaber leaned against the armrest of the couch. He looked away as if in thought.
“Go on. Tell me.”
“You will not believe me.”
“Try me.”
Jaber turned back toward Alex, whispering in an almost conspiratorial voice. “I once overheard a conversation between two men arranging a shipment into Syria. They mentioned…”
He paused.
“We might not have much time,” Alex said. “This is for your life. Your family.”
“They mentioned that they were transporting something that should not exist. Something from the Quran, the Bible.”
Alex leaned forward. “What is it?”
“They said they had Solomon’s Ring.”
-10-
Skylar joined Alex and Jaber in the living room of the apartment after finishing her call with Command.
“We got our people moving in to pick up your family,” Skylar said. “Even worked out an arrangement to get you into protective custody.” She narrowed her eyes. “Not sure you deserve it, but we made good on our word. Alex?”
Alex stood by the window, scanning the street below, before settling into a chair near Jaber. “He’s getting there.”
Skylar gave her best screw-you look to Jaber. “So we’re clear, just because we arranged protection for you doesn’t mean you’re safe from us.”
Jaber held up his hands in a defensive gesture. “I understand. I will cooperate.”
“Tell me more about this Solomon’s Ring business,” Alex said.
“What?” Skylar folded her arms across her chest. “He’s telling us myths and ghost stories after we risked our asses to save him.”
“No, no, I swear that this is true,” Jaber said. “You must believe me. These are the words of the men that brought a truck of cargo from Jordan into Syria. I did not make this up. I cannot vouch for them, but it is what I heard.” Jaber still hadn’t stopped sweating since Skylar had saved the guy. “They mentioned that they had a supplier for the ring. That they were transporting it from the Red Sea.”
“Is Solomon’s Ring a real thing?” Skylar asked.
“I don’t know,” Jaber said. “If it is, I don’t know what these terrorists would be doing with it.”
“Or what it has to do with biological or chemical weapons Ballard was after,” Alex said. “Maybe they raided some museum, some historic site for artifacts they could sell to fund their operation.”
“But they wouldn’t need to bribe this chump to get a ring out of the country.”
“Maybe it’s more than just a piece of jewelry,” Alex said.
Skylar wandered around the room. She peeked out of a curtained window next to a faux-marble statue. The alley below the second-story apartment was nearly empty except for a pair of older men smoking cigarettes. A cat prowled past them through the shadows. At the end of the alley, cars passed by in blurs of color beneath the dim streetlights.
But she caught sight of a white van parked along the street.
Was that…?
She had blown the tire off the van with Jaber’s kidnappers. This couldn’t be the same van, right?
“Are we sure they didn’t track us here?” she said.
“What?” Jaber said.
“I didn’t see anyone following us,” Alex said.
She wanted to press him. But she knew Alex. He wouldn’t let so much as a flea get past him. The guy was good.
“Do we need to leave?” Jaber said.
Skylar turned back toward him. “I don’t know, but—”
A sudden splitting headache blasted her thoughts away. It felt like a fire was tearing into her brain stem and flooding the rest of her body. She pressed her hands against her skull, stumbling.
“Skylar, are you okay?” Alex asked, standing.
“I’m fine,” she said. Her words came out laced in venom.
She couldn’t help it. She didn’t know why. The pain was so bad, it was making her furious. An urge to start teari
ng the paintings off the wall, throwing the lamps to the floor, overwhelmed her. Skylar was ready to throw the ugly-ass statue straight through the window.
Most of all, she wanted to strangle Jaber.
What had gotten into her?
Breathe, Skylar, she thought. She tried to slow the quick rhythm of her heartbeat. Tried to relax.
The anger only grew hotter.
But then, when she looked at Jaber pushing himself up from the couch with his face twisted into a snarl, she realized she wasn’t the only one feeling this callous rage.
Alex stared at Jaber in alarm.
The man’s eyes dilated. His face turned red. His chest expanded in heaving gasps, and vessels bulged in his neck and forehead. A grinding scrape sounded as his teeth crunched together, jaw gritted.
He looked like an alpha gorilla ready to defend his territory.
“Jaber, what’s wrong?” he asked.
Skylar turned toward him. Her nostrils flared, lips turned back in a snarl. “You don’t feel that?”
“Feel what?” Alex reached toward his gun, his fingers wrapping around the handle.
Something was clearly wrong. But he couldn’t tell what was going on.
“That… that anger!” Skylar said, her voice coming out in a near shout. “I’m fucking furious.”
“Keep it down,” Alex said. “We don’t—”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
“Skylar.”
“I’m… I’m…” She started toward him but stopped, nearly stumbling. Her palm pressed against her forehead.
“Are you—”
Alex never finished his question. Jaber flipped over the coffee table. He stomped on the overturned table until it splintered.
“What are you doing?” Alex asked. He reached out to Jaber, hoping to break the man from whatever spell he was under.
Instead, Jaber thrashed out at him. The back of his hand connected with Alex’s jaw. A wave of bright pain followed. The man was not a fighter, but the unexpected impact nearly sent Alex tumbling backward into the wall.
Demon Mind (Vector Book 2) Page 9