28
Dattar stepped off the freighter onto the dock, squinting against the sun. He wouldn’t normally have disembarked in the daytime, but he was anxious to leave the ship and he could see the bodyguards he routinely used when in Cyprus lounging by a large SUV parked parallel to the landing. They were well-trained mercenaries and though they appeared relaxed and held their machine guns downward, he knew they would annihilate anyone who dared to threaten him. Rajiid stood at his right shoulder holding a duffle containing their clothes and fielding a phone call from their contact in the States. The Pakistani captain of the freighter walked up to them both, but kept his eyes on Dattar, his expression grim.
“I just learned that no funds have been wired into my account. I presume this is a simple oversight on your part?”
Rajiid stopped talking and flicked a glance at Dattar.
“I have been maintaining phone and Internet silence while on the ship. It’s safer that way.” Dattar hoped the lie would calm the man. Instead the captain grabbed Dattar by the shirtfront, bunching it in his large hands and pulling Dattar forward. Before Dattar could respond, Rajiid had a gun out and pointed at the captain’s head and the two mercenaries snapped to attention, with their own guns trained on the captain. “How dare you touch me!” Dattar’s rage, which was never far from the surface, exploded. “I’ll have them take you away and boil you alive.” To Dattar’s great surprise, the captain didn’t appear afraid, nor did he release his grasp on the shirt.
“I work for Amir. You harm me and the only one who’ll boil alive will be you. Tell your dogs to lower their weapons.”
Dattar had a sour taste in his mouth. Amir was a warlord who ruled a vast drug operation from his hilltop villa in Cyprus. Few knew his name, even those who had lived on the small island for years, and the fact that this lowly ship captain invoked it turned him from a mere lackey to a formidable foe in seconds. Dattar glanced at Rajiid, and nodded. Rajiid lowered his weapon.
“Don’t shoot,” Dattar yelled at his soldiers. They, too, lowered their guns. “Pay him,” Dattar told Rajiid.
“But—”
“Now.”
Rajiid shoved the pistol back into the shoulder holster under his olive-colored linen shirt and removed the tablet computer from the outside pocket of the duffle. He dropped the luggage on the ground while he tapped on the screen.
“I want to see it,” the captain said. Rajiid didn’t look up, but simply nodded as he worked. After a moment he walked to the captain and handed him the computer. The captain peered at the screen, moving it out of the sun’s glare. He gave it back to Rajiid.
“Don’t ever try to rob me again,” he said to Dattar. He spun and stomped back up the ramp to his freighter. Rajiid moved in close.
“That was the last of it.”
“The credit cards?” Dattar said.
“Frozen by the banks when you were taken into custody.”
“The latest from the mine?”
Rajiid shook his head. “Also frozen. And Jain, who regularly siphons from the site, has disappeared.”
“Deploy the weapon.”
“I’m still waiting for the results of the test, but I expect it will work,” Rajiid said.
“Deploy it on the freighter. I want that captain dead.”
“It may not work.”
“Deploy it,” Dattar said.
Rajiid nodded.
Dattar stalked to the SUV, doing his best to ignore the speculative glances from his soldiers. That he had allowed a stinking freighter captain to manhandle him in such a fashion and not retaliated had shocked them. Once he was inside and Rajiid next to him, he had come to a decision.
“Take me to Amir’s.”
“Why?”
“Just get me there!” Dattar shrieked at Rajiid. The driver threw the car into gear and hit the gas, making the wheels squeal on the pavement.
Twenty minutes later they were at the gates of Amir’s high-security compound.
Three guards strolled out, one holding a checkpoint mirror on a pole. He extended the mirror under the car and began scanning for bombs. The second guard indicated that they should step out while the third began a thorough search of the vehicle’s interior. The second had a pockmarked face and wary dark eyes.
“You don’t have an appointment,” he said to Dattar.
“I’ll be sure to make one in advance next time so that every one of my enemies knows where to find me,” Dattar shot back. “Just frisk me and get it over with. Amir knows me.” The guard raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond. When the search was complete, the pockmarked guard nodded them through. They drove down a long driveway lined with poplars and past olive trees that opened up to the front of a massive villa. The two-story white stone mansion had a decorative façade, with round medallions bearing the faces of Greek and Roman gods, spaced at regular intervals, plastered horizontally along the center. Statues of the same gods lined the drive. Dattar thought the mansion’s design was gaudy and pretentious. To the right the gravel path continued under a portico and disappeared to a separate section of the compound. Stone urns contained flowers that must have been recently purchased because they were in bloom out of season. Two guards carrying semiautomatic weapons stood on each side of the front door and watched their approach. Between them stood Amir’s butler, Najon, a man Dattar had met before. The butler opened the passenger door.
“Mr. Amir is in the garden. I’ll show you there.” Najon headed toward the portico. After a stroll past a long infinity pool, they found Amir sitting at a table shaded by a gazebo. A French press filled with coffee and a platter of small sandwiches were placed on the table before him, along with a smartphone and a tablet computer, their LED lights blinking.
Dattar and Amir had met when Amir was a midlevel dealer in the cartel that he now headed and Dattar was a lowly minister in his country before rising in power. Dattar knew that a rival member of the Russian mafia had ordered Amir’s elimination. There had been three attempts already and in the last attempt, a rocket-propelled grenade had exploded under Amir’s armored limousine, causing nerve damage to his left arm. Amir held that arm in his lap, using his right to bring a cup of coffee to his lips.
“Your presence here surprises me,” Amir said. Dattar glanced at the empty chairs at the table and Amir nodded. “Please, sit, and tell me what brings you to Cyprus and my home so suddenly.” Dattar took a seat. Rajiid took one as well.
“I need a loan.”
Amir’s eyes narrowed. “You? Why?”
Dattar spread his arms wide. “The authorities have frozen my accounts.”
Amir snorted. “So? You have many accounts under aliases, I’m sure. Tap into one of those.” Dattar had known the moment would come that he would be forced to reveal his failings, but he still found himself swallowing his gorge as he did. That a woman had betrayed him made it all that much worse. He took a deep breath.
“My other holdings have been…diverted.” Dattar refused to use the word “stolen.” He would recover the funds.
“Diverted? In what way? And by whom?” Amir’s gaze was pointed.
“By a thieving investment advisor. But don’t worry, I have arranged for the advisor to be shown the error of…his ways.” Dattar noticed that Rajiid’s eyes flicked to the side at the use of the male pronoun, but he remained silent. Nevertheless, Amir seemed to have caught Rajiid’s reaction. He shifted in his seat and sipped the coffee.
“Where is this thief?”
“New York,” Dattar said.
Amir nodded, as if he had expected that answer. “And the one you have hired to school this person?”
“Khalil.”
Amir chuckled. “Ah. I think this thief will soon regret every penny he ever stole. Khalil is the best and ruthless. And so, you require a loan until Khalil completes his mission, am I correct?”
Dattar smiled and relaxed for the first time since leaving the freighter. Amir would loan him the funds and Khalil would find the American. All would b
e well.
“You are.”
“How much?”
Dattar paused. His expenses were building. “Twenty million.”
Amir nodded. “And your collateral?”
“Stones from my sapphire mine.”
Amir frowned. “I heard that scientists may have discovered a new source of sapphires in your region, but that the yield, if any, would be small.”
“Small, but of the highest quality, commanding the highest prices,” Dattar said.
“You just told me your assets were frozen. I presume that includes the mine. No. I require something solid. Firm. Nothing that the United Nations can grasp with its greedy hands in the name of international law.”
Dattar’s mind raced. The Court had frozen it all. He had only his weapon left. He took a deep breath. He needed the money.
“I have something in my possession. It’s a weapon that I intend to use against the countries in the international community who dared to insist that I be arrested and tried for crimes against humanity. I will force their hand.”
Amir sat straighter.
That got his attention, Dattar thought with satisfaction.
“What is this weapon and how do you intend to use it?”
“I can’t tell you exactly, but I’ll prove to you it works. In less than twenty-four hours I’ll send you a link to a newspaper report that will confirm the results of our first test. Understand that it will be a small test, but it will verify what I say.”
Amir looked intrigued. “Is this weapon yours alone? Or do others have it?”
Dattar shook his head. “It’s not only mine, but I have the delivery method. I needed additional funding to test it, and so I went to certain key players to receive it. The project is financed by a consortium called ‘Janus.’”
“Who else is in this Janus consortium? And don’t tell me it’s that Russian bastard Rapanov.” Rapanov was the arms dealer who had arranged the attack on Amir.
“It’s not Rapanov. He’s a small player. It’s a group of nations that have felt the sting of the UN and their economic sanctions. Of course, they won’t acknowledge their role should the plan fail and they be discovered, but they’re paying just the same.”
“So why not ask them for the money?”
Because I can’t afford to show them any weakness, Dattar thought. He wouldn’t say that to Amir, though.
“They’ve paid their share. It’s up to me to fund the final part of the plan, the release of the weapon. I’m preparing for that now, but my assets are frozen.”
“What nations?” Amir said.
“Why do you care? You sell to them all, don’t you?”
Amir nodded. “Yes, but not all pay their bills. Tell me.”
“Yemen, Syria, and the Sudan.”
Amir snorted. “You’re insane. At least two of those countries will devour Pakistan given half the chance, and your tiny foothold on the border will be taken from you. And Yemen contains training camps for at least ten different terrorist organizations, any one of which would be happy to take your weapon from you by force. You’re dealing with a group that cannot be controlled.”
“You forget that my ‘tiny’ foothold on the border contains a newly discovered precious gem mine and I control the utilities.”
“Everyone knows that you rely on Western technology companies to tap these resources. The royalties they pay you are a fraction of what they take out, and you don’t have the know-how within your country to operate the facilities. You need their help.”
“I’ve confiscated the mine and the utility companies.”
“And when you did, the West acted swiftly to charge you with crimes against humanity.” Amir leaned forward. “A charge that, while true, would never have been made against you had you not taken the action that you did.”
“Exactly. But that didn’t work, now did it? Because here I am. Free. And when I launch the weapon, they will have no choice but to negotiate with me and the others in the Janus consortium. They’ll be falling over their feet to do as we ask.”
“If they don’t kill you first.”
Dattar took a sip of his coffee. “They wouldn’t dare. If they try, I’ll release the weapon throughout their country and they can watch the rest of their population die.”
“And the other snakes in this consortium? What if one of them decides to double-cross you?”
“They won’t.”
Amir gave him a wary look. “Why are you so sure of this?”
“Because I’m the only one who knows how to deliver the payload. Without my unique delivery method, the weapon won’t cause any real harm. Also, they’re cowards. They’re willing to pay for their dirty work to be done, but none have the guts to actually place the weapon. Listen, I’ll pay you back, with interest, once the weapon is released. After it launches, I’ll have the leverage to force the world community to not only release my funds, but to pay me more just to stop.”
Amir sipped his drink and stared at Dattar. “What will the Janus consortium request if the plan succeeds?”
“For every nation in the United Nations to pay a protection fee to the consortium and to cede control of all of their manufacturing and technology holdings to Janus. We take fifty percent of all profits.”
Amir’s face held a mixture of surprise and disbelief. “No country would agree to such a thing. It’s extortion at the highest level. It would make them serfs and Janus king.”
“They’ll do it.”
“Why?”
“Because they’ll die if they don’t.”
Amir shook his head. “It’s crazy. What weapon can force such a result?”
“This one,” Dattar said. Amir watched him for a moment. Dattar waited.
“No. You tell me a tale of a terrible weapon but show no real proof that it exists. I need proof before I give you the money. Once I see the link, I’ll send the funds, but not before. And I want twenty percent interest.”
“That’s outrageous!” Dattar said.
Amir shrugged. “No one else is going to lend you twenty million based upon a tale of a weapon. Is it agreed?”
Dattar’s coffee suddenly tasted bitter, but he had little choice in the matter. He decided to negotiate different terms if the latest test worked. “Agreed.”
“Where will you start after your test?”
“I intend to release it in New York City.”
29
Klein got the call about the freighter from the director general of the World Health Organization while he was at a dinner reception for a major contributor to President Castilla’s campaign. He stepped outside the ballroom to take the call.
“Mr. Klein? I’ve been asked to convey this information to you by the president. We’ve discovered a freighter floating off the coast of Syria. It was disabled, and aerial reconnaissance revealed that every member of the crew was dead.”
“Because you’re calling me and not Syrian diplomatic personnel, I presume the deaths were not battle related but disease related?” Klein said.
“We’re not sure. The freighter floated into Syrian waters shortly after our reconnaissance. Syria is refusing us access to the ship.”
Klein walked farther away from the ballroom, nodding at an acquaintance passing in the hall.
“How many crew members?”
“Thirty-three. Their last port of embarkation was Cyprus approximately six hours ago.”
“Were they alive then?”
“Yes. All of them. And they appeared healthy.”
“That has to be a mass shooting. What disease can kill that quickly?”
“Our reconnaissance photos managed to snap pictures of at least fifteen crew members scattered on the boat. We’ve zoomed in on each, and none show any signs of gunshot wounds or blast injuries. Three are lying in pools of vomit.”
“Poison?”
“Doubtful.”
“Why not?”
“Because while Syria is refusing us access, it’s also flatly refusing to send a
medical or forensic crew to it. They intend to fly over and drop a bomb on the ship to destroy it.”
Klein stopped walking. “They’re going to blow the thing out of the water? What in the world is on that ship that they don’t want us to discover? Polonium-210?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Polonium-210 is what the Russians slipped to their unfortunate former spy. He died in a London hospital days later. It’s highly toxic, but requires a lot of expertise to use.”
“I think they’re afraid to set foot on it. I’m concerned that this may have something to do with the missing mutated avian flu strain. The freighter began its journey from the port in Rotterdam.”
“Ah, now I understand,” Klein said. “The attack on the Grand Royal and the coolers.”
“Exactly.”
“How many can a mutated avian flu strain kill?”
“Avian flu is rare, deadly, and carries a fifty percent death rate. The mutation is new and we’re just compiling statistics, but our computer models suggest a mutation that would allow human-to-human transmission could kill up to ninety-seven percent of those infected.”
“Do you think it can kill with the kind of speed that you’re describing? Can someone go from appearing healthy to dead that quickly?”
“I can’t answer your question except to tell you this: During the 1917 Spanish flu that killed over seventeen million people, there was a story of four women in a bridge club who played into the early hours of the morning. They broke up, went home, and three never saw the sun rise.”
Amir learned of his crippled freighter when a member of his crew operating in Syria sent him the intelligence. An hour after that, he received a demand from Dattar to wire the money immediately and without repayment terms. Dattar said that if he did not receive the funds, he would release his weapon in Cyprus.
Amir sent the wire.
30
Khalil knew that Manhar had been captured when the hour struck and he didn’t receive the call that he expected, but it no longer mattered now that he had the American in his control. They crossed town, headed west. The woman stayed silent, her eyes fixed in a forward stare and her hands clutching a tote. Khalil thought she didn’t appear nearly as emotional as he would have expected from a female. But then he’d read that American women were hardened and this one seemed to fit that profile. The car pulled onto a nearby street and stopped in front of a large construction project. A chain-link fence wrapped in green mesh surrounded a gutted three-story building. Temporary lights placed high on metal poles cast a harsh glare over a small area, while shadows danced in the rest. The door next to her opened and Khalil’s man, Ali, wrapped his hand around her arm and yanked her out of the car.
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