Zain took a deep breath. He agreed. He agreed. The two then pulled up to the police station. They went inside. Inspector Pasquer was surprisingly friendly, and they were conducted not to the interrogation room but to another more spacious office.
“This is my chief of Security,” said Zain as he introduced Ferdash.
“He might know more of Mr. Pamplona than me.”
“Here is his picture,”
Pasquer showed a photo. Ferdash identified the man without hesitation.
“I think you can find him north of Bondy. He goes to this old 16th-century mansion there. At least, that’s what I heard him say when I escorted him to his car the other night.”
Pasquer was surprised.
“Monsieur, how come you did not communicate this to me sooner?”
“We had a lot of guests. It’s hard to keep track of the names. I only remember faces,” said Ferdash.
“There is only one 16th-century mansion in Bondy,” said Pasquer.
“Yes, a good venue to accommodate mistresses,” Ferdash laughed.
“Maybe if your men take a look there, they’ll find him. If not, look at the video footage we have sent you. That sure would help.”
“We will look into it, Monsieur. We will be in contact with you if Monsieur Pamplona is still missing by the end of the week.”
“Is that all?” asked Zain.
“Now, if you can only hand over the dead body your staff is holding captive, we can finish what we first started,” said Pasquer.
╔ ——————————————— ╗
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
╚ ——————————————— ╝
“I see you finally made time for me, Zain.”
Herzl wasn’t upset. She wanted to reach a simple understanding of how to move forward.
“Why am I here, Galeet?” Zain asked.
“I hear you have been cajoled into “fixing” something that is not yours to fix.”
Zain sensed Herzl knew. Much of what was under discussion was Herzl’s secretive talks with her boss at her own Foreign Ministry to support Zain’s nuclear deal when the vast majority of their cabinet was against it. She had received instructions to get assurances from Zain and his government that if the nuclear deal went through, the benefits the deal would bring and especially the profits would not be diverted in the form of aid that would harm Herzl or her government’s security across its borders. Zain continued to provide private assurances, but he could not formalize his remarks because his Prime Minister was in a precarious situation.
“Yes, Galeet, I went to Calais and saw for it myself.”
“That’s not my concern, and why are you wasting your time. You do know there is nothing you can do about it?” said Herzl.
Zain was happy that he could at least get one family out of that camp and onto a safe place with their family.
“I was thinking of facilitating something,” he said.
Herzl shook her head but wasn’t surprised.
“Stop right there. I’m not covertly financing non-profits to lorry out refugees.”
Zain sat back.
“Don’t get comfortable, Zain. You do know that you’re going to need my help in a few months to do what your submarines can’t do.”
“We aren’t going to be in a war or aid one,” he said.
“Then why is Ambassador Bagratuni entertaining these massive arms deals?”
“Well, he certainly may have lined them up, but to my knowledge, nothing has been purchased yet—at least that’s what I last heard.”
Herzl thought to herself. She knew Zain would not play her to a false narrative, but the possibility that Bagratuni would get his way, in the end, worried her.
“Can you give me any guarantees, Zain?” she asked.
“At this time,”
Zain nervously said, “no.”
Herzl noticed Zain staring at the same photo on her desk that he always did, her graduation photo with her parents and grandparents in the background.
“Why do you always stare at that?” she asked, annoyed.
“I just love the greens of Maryland. Bet everyone thinks it’s somewhere in New England.”
Zain picked up the photo.
“Isn’t it wonderful to have a family, Galeet?”
Zain asked in a sorrowful tone. Herzl knew of Zain’s difficult family life and could see how it had made him to the mellow do-gooder he was, always searching for happiness and had never found it.
“I need a guarantee that Bagratuni will not go ahead with his arms acquisitions, Zain.”
Herzl knew Zain would provide an unofficial assurance, but this time she needed a formal one to take some steam away from the hawks in her own government.
The firing of rockets from outside the borders by rebels and into key population city centers had posed a huge security problem for her government. Several anti-rocket defense systems had shielded them against most of these rockets, but some still penetrated and killed civilians. As CEO, Zain, with a coalition of companies, in the past, worked out the financing and development of an antimissile shield project that led to a better and more secure shield.
More than four hundred rockets were halted. A few managed to pass by it. Herzl feared Bagratuni would sell nuclear warheads to rogue groups who were far less educated on the substantive and long-term damages and much more lurid on their hate for the government.
“$200 million, Zain.”
Zain rolled his eyes.
“Money alone will not solve the problem, Galeet!”
“You didn’t let me finish. $200 million-plus another $400 million in private offshore funding for your government to stay afloat until your nuclear deal goes through.”
“No way my government can’t agree to this.”
“Who said anything about getting your government to agree? You knew very well what I meant.”
Zain knew Herzl meant the Generals in the army. As Zain’s government was captive in their own economic policies and seeing little to no growth, the army did what it had done many times before: have the generals covertly take the reins in running the country. This time it was both. All members of the parliament, in turn, had either rubbed elbows with the Generals or been ousted by it. Zain wondered what if Herzl would back out if something went wrong.
“Galeet, let me give you another scenario. Send the $400 million to me, and I’ll send it through various channels to WTC. I’ll put a stop to Bagratuni.”
Zain estimated that Bagratuni was two to three weeks away from making the large acquisition and obtaining the materials and capabilities to transport them. Yes, despite increased sanctions and volatility in the global finance market, there was some ongoing activity.
“Wait, why WTC?”
WTC, the non-profit organization, ran operations throughout the English Channel to rescue drowning refugees at sea.
“They can put that money to good use, and I know they will,” he said.
Herzl objected,
“I don’t see how sending money to a non-profit can help when we are battling rogue terror groups.”
“Oh, it will,” said Zain.
He explained that by taking the refugee problem out of the equation, the Republique government would have no choice but to agree to his deal. Zain, however, had a request. He took out his Meisterstuck pen. Zain wrote something on a piece of paper and handed the pen and the paper to Herzl.
“This is my price, and I’m sure it’s considerably less than what you had in mind. And yes, that is my assurance to you, Galeet.”
Herzl looked at the piece of paper.
“This is a lot of work!” said Herzl as she held the paper up.
“I can’t trust my men to do this, and I need you to find the details of this, Brianna Blakensoff,” Zain said.
Herzl knew she had a decent understanding for the time being.
“If I do this, will you help me,” she asked.
“I
would have no choice but to,” replied Zain.
Zain began to walk.
“There is one more thing…”
He turned around.
“Isn’t there always?” he asked.
“We want our scientists to access your nuclear facilities.”
Zain laughed at the request. There was no way the Generals would stand for it. A covert working relationship beyond these walls would be detrimental to the regime’s key financiers, who, for their part, did not believe in the right for Herzl’s government to exist.
“I’m going to need a minute to process this.” Zain continued to laugh.
Zain thought that it was a good bargain. For providing access to the nuclear facilities to Herzl’s scientists, Zain and his government, the military, and its intelligence could potentially enjoy other accesses. The alliance over nuclear technology could turn his country’s image from a nuclear pariah, and additional shared intelligence would benefit both countries.
At the very least, companies that manufactured or regulated textiles, agriculture, electrical appliances, water, fertilizers, construction, aviation, shipping, gas, tires, microchips, and spare parts could cooperate in revitalizing the economy. Zain thought all this could be done without formal diplomatic ties, through a secret office much like how he was currently conducting business. The caveat would be having a few select intelligence members with more formal and direct contacts with Herzl’s government.
He replied, “For whatever reason, to avoid proxy conflict at all costs is my only plea. As long as the guns remain silent,” said Zain, “Whatever this is can go on. If you accommodate my request, Galeet, I’ll accommodate yours.”
“You sure you can do this, Zain?”
“You taught me the saying,
‘Whoever saves one life saves the entire world.’ You believe that, don’t you?"
Herzl sighed. “I used to.”
“But unlike you, I still do,” smiled Zain.
╔ ——————————————— ╗
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
╚ ——————————————— ╝
An SUV was following them. Berzad was sure of it. He would have gone after it too if Ferdash had not instructed him not to. But that didn’t stop Berzad from observing the driver’s patterns without alarming anyone, including Mazaar, especially Zain, who appeared nervous. Berzad kept a log in his mind on the way the car moved. Mazaar drove in the clear Paris night, and Berzad watched the car. But Berzad feared that the people who were tailing them were using mobile devices. Thus maintaining a long-range distance from their car. He wasn’t paranoid.
“Turn right, turn right,”
Berzad said to Mazaar. By now, Mazaar had stopped questioning these directions and just went along with it. They bypassed several alleys and parking lots, as Berzad kept a close eye on the car. He said he would watch for cars hanging around the mansion, and he could take them on from there. For now, he just had to make sure no suspicion arose. But Mazaar read his mind and took a detour followed by a U-turn. Berzad was relieved when they pulled up at Solstice and on time. But if Salima discovered Zain was gone for too long, she would target Mazaar first. Zain didn’t want that.
“Leave me here, and I’ll find my way back,”
Zain said as he climbed out of the car. But Berzad insisted that they stay, and Zain did not protest. Zain was led to the wine distillery room in the cellar.
“Good that you are here.”
Kamikazed noticed that Zain was alone.
“And I can see Salima has no tail on you. That’s an improvement.”
“How can you tell?”
“I have a good sense of tails.” She smirked.
Kamikazed led Zain deeper into the cellar, and he thought to himself it wasn’t a place he’d want to be on a rainy night. Its two-story center and a motor pool looked like an active and functioning control center. The room largely reminded him of a secretive room he himself had always desired but never realized. He thought to himself how nice it would be if his mansion had one of these. But after the recent events and bad publicity, it would have to be years until such a thought could come to fruition.
“I hope this isn’t a waste of our time,” said Kamikazed.
Zain positioned himself in one of the two chairs and Kamikazed took the other. Her phone pinged with a text message. She seemed alarmed.
“Someone was following you?” she asked.
“No,” Zain said without hesitation.
“The car is parked a few blocks away; I’ll have my men check it out.”
Kamikazed shrugged and barked some orders into the phone. She watched Zain as she did so. Something was clearly eating him up.
“Zain, calm down. My guys are on it.”
He clenched his hands into a fist.
“On a different note, what were you doing in Calais?”
“Why am I not surprised that you know about that?”
“People talk,” she said.
“We’ll talk about that later. Let’s get to the reason I’m here.” Zain rubbed his hands against his face.
“I spoke to Denis.”
Kamikazed’s phone rang.
“What did you find?” she asked.
“The SUV is waiting for no reason.”
“Put more surveillance on it. If he does anything, you know what to do.”
She received another message in code. Something was wrong. Then Mehdi Touati entered the room, leading someone with him.
“I should have known,”
Zain said, asking himself why he wasn’t surprised.
Touati’s companion had a freckled face, slick red hair, and small glasses framed her hazel eyes. Chiseled cheekbones emphasized the whiteness of her skin. Zain was even more surprised to perceive the blue linen dress and stilettos and realize this woman was Denis Blanchard, the person he was here to see. She looked more like a fashion model than someone who participates in dark business deals behind closed doors. She carried only a phone with her, no handbag or briefcase.
“I’m going to step outside to check the security situation,” Kamikazed said as she excused herself out.
“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Ambassador. I am Denis Blanchard."
"Denis is the CEO of Ascolit,” said Touati.
Without wasting any time, the three got down to business. Blanchard spoke keenly about energy and her company, emphasizing the investments in the form of credit lines and guarantees she’d like to make in Zain’s nuclear deal.
“I understand your nuclear deal is stalled, and that is where my company can help,”
Blanchard told Zain. She further proposed that two subsidiary companies be formed to begin operations to win state contracts that could deliver a much-needed export boost for Zain’s chronically sluggish energy economy. Blanchard did not beat around the bush with flattery and small talk. She was direct. She wanted a signed memorandum of understanding with any state-owned company on possible future cooperation on nuclear technology and related infrastructure development projects that could lead to long-term supplies for her company to manage the nuclear facilities. Her subsidiaries and their appointed responsible managers would work with Zain and his staff very closely with an agreement that she hoped with allow her company, Ascolit, to manage all nuclear technology and build an enterprise for future offshore investments. Blanchard explained that a statement of “framework of cooperation” needed to be honored first, even if it meant getting the military on board or its intelligence units to do the work for them to build reliable transaction lines between her banks in the Caribbean where the transaction could happen outside the jurisdiction of regulators.
“How soon can you transfer the money?” Zain asked.
“You give me your word now, followed by a signed assurance by any member of your government’s cabinet, and I can have $400 million over in ten days,” said Blanchard.
“Can you offer a line of credit?” asked Zain.
Blanchard looked at Touati.
“It will be difficult, but I can put together another $200 million.”
Zain’s forehead wrinkled.
“You know $400 million with a $200 million of credit won’t be enough,” said Zain.
“Initial payment, I thought, is more than generous,” said Blanchard.
“No, that’s not the problem. But ok, I agree to the terms, and I’ll work something out at my end to sweeten the deal, so you have your agreement in forty-eight hours. But I need something else. There are a few troglodytes that have become irritants. Like pests, they need to be eaten up. Do you have access to regulators?”
“Sort of, a few accounting organizations that can possibly begin some kind of process,” she said, skeptical as to how this request would play out.
Zain took out a Meisterstuck from his jacket pocket. He wrote his number down and handed it to Blanchard.
“This is my direct number. You’ll need it to do what I am asking.”
“Sir, what is it that you need?” asked Blanchard.
Zain rubbed his chin and then looked to his wrist. He knew Blanchard was well versed in automation and reactor technology, but he needed her for something more crucial.
“I need you to hire a group of analysts to question the success of a few companies. Most of them are small, but there is one big one, the Evans Group.”
“Isn’t that Ambassador Evans’?” asked Touati.
Zain smiled.
“I want these analysts to issue notices and create a buzz that the Evans group is using unethical means of defrauding its investors and the market,” Zain stated.
“I don’t see the connection here, Sir,” Blanchard stated.
“Trust me, you will, but only in the end,” replied Zain.
Touati protested that such a large campaign might put his government in a difficult spot, given that Evans and his government had crafted a large aid package which led to the beginning of the nuclear deal talks. But Zain had other ideas. He wanted to attack the heart of his nemesis.
“Market volatility is not what you want during such a sensitive time,” warned Blanchard.
“No, but it is good enough of a distraction.”
The Secrets We Live In: A Novel Page 22