They would be looking for the one who’s body wasn’t in the count. That would be our ‘new’ old friend here, Terry Kincaid. When they found him, or vice versa, they would want a story that they would believe, nothing less.
I had to get back into it just to save them from themselves.
“Colonel, I don’t want to rain on your parade, so to speak, but if Terry doesn’t surface soon, well, he might don't want to be surfacing anywhere except on the witness stand. They’ll need to see him tonight. He was the one who reported the location, remember. Enrico acted on it, but as far as he’s concerned, if I were him, and one of my newly turned agents called in a location for my quarry I set it up so that it couldn’t fail, and then three of my men get killed, including two that were supposedly kill proof—you see what I’m getting at here?
As far as our Ms. Meir getting involved over this, maybe tomorrow. Certainly not tonight. And I have to say, ladies and gentleman, that I would stand on my head right now and spit nickels if I believed that she had any control whatsoever over the violent side of this game at all. That leaves Enrico.”
I let my eyes slip to the face of the Omega watch I always wore on mission, noting that it was now just past 1:00 AM.
“Terry has to contact him before the end of the hour, and he needs a story that will work, or he can say goodbye to this cruel world of ours. Not before giving us up, though, because if this Enrico guy is the kind of person he appears to be, he’ll assume the worst, and he’ll want to know, for certain, that he’s clear, and that the organization is clear.
If anybody is going to contact our Ms. Meir, he probably will. After he figures out what happened tonight and this morning, let’s not forget that little kerfuffle.
Enrico will be in a rage. They failed today, twice. I think that’s probably the first time that his people have turned up stripped and dead at the end of a firefight. It’s safe to assume that they want us very, very badly. How did we stop them? Who are we, really? That’s what they’ll want to know. All they’ll find out is what they already know.”
I nodded at the Colonel, “They’ll know you, and your team, from the leak back at the office. But they don’t know me. As you’ve discovered, the file is bullshit and doesn’t say one valid thing that can be used to their advantage in a fight of any kind.
They’ve been playing the game with total impunity so far. Country to country here in Europe, and not a single failure. Then someone, read ‘Brazil’, got the bright idea that Toronto would be a good spot for the next job. Meir had just been there and they had the routine down pat. They infiltrated the system at Citecorp, the same way they did with all of their other victims, picked up the data they wanted, and set the job in motion. As soon as the job went down, J.D. started putting two and two together. I mean, he could add, after all he was a banker. Then his brother calls in the middle of the night, when for sure J.D. is asleep. He kept extremely regular habits according to his character profile. Therese was there the night Ted called. The dirt had already started hitting the fan, and he wanted to warn his little brother. Very touching, but there was more to that call than met the eye. Ted was in an extremely agitated mood, that much could be discerned from J.D.’s half of the conversation. Then he had to go and start his home-office system to get ready for a file transfer. What was so important that it had to be done in the middle of the night, and why didn’t J.D. pay any attention to the danger? Because he thought he was safe? Because of what he knew about the robbery?
Now, unless he was really dumb, he had some knowledge that we haven’t attributed to him, or yet acquired. Knowledge that made him feel safe. In hindsight, he may have overestimated his ace-in-the-hole by a fatal margin, but that’s the way it goes sometimes.
Anyway, that’s where they went wrong, when they did the Toronto Citecorp job, and shot one of their own along with three of ours. The problem with that was twofold for them.
The first part of the problem for them was that George took that particular robbery/murder incident quite personally, being in his town and all. I know George, he’d keep that file open until the day he retired.
The second part of the problem they created for themselves that day was the team member that got left behind. Dead. They killed him, for some reason, and it turned out that he was married to an Al Rashid. It was his wife that called from their home in Beirut and arranged for his body to be sent home right away, so that they could follow their religious rituals properly. Of course, nobody paid any attention to the request, but everyone was suddenly very interested in this guy’s family for any connections that may have tied to leads in the case.
Well, the name of Al Rashid may not stand for much to westerners in general, but I can assure you that in Saudi Arabia, especially the north-eastern area of the Arabian Peninsula, the Al Rashids are given much respect by the people. The Al Rashids are one of the original founding families of Saudi Arabia as we know it today.
All it took was one phone call from the Patriarch of the family, the old man. The body was shipped within the hour, no questions asked. The Patriarch of the Al Rashid family was from the ‘walk softly, and carry a big stick’ school, and with the kind of money that the family had, it went beyond influence, all the way to Power.
I’d just managed to put all of this together in the last two days, because I’d had no access to any of this information prior to… well, now. What the guys in grey didn’t know was that I was on very close personal terms with one of the Al Rashid sons, Mujahed Adi-Kareem Al Rashid, or, as he was known to his friends at Oxford, just Adi. He and I went a lot deeper than most of the people he called ‘friend’, so the bad guys have given me an opening they didn’t even know about. Without a doubt, the top of this thing was going to be in Brazil, where they wouldn’t be likely to recognize the significance of the family connection.
Adi probably knew as much about these guys as anyone on the case. For the Al Rashids, The Holy Koran pointed the way clearly. The killer of the husband would have to pay the full price. If there was someone above the killer who ordered it, then they would pay as well. The price was a life for a life, or many lives for one if it was a group effort. Simple.
That’s the way the old man ran the family. One day Adi would take over. He’d been chosen at a young age to be the ‘one’ who took over the steering when the old man let go of the wheel. That would have been about the same time it was demonstrated that Adi had a brilliance for corporate finance and control. He was about ten years old, and he’d been listening to his father do business since he was old enough to be mobile and understand a basic vocabulary. But he was like a human sponge, and after a while it had to start to show. When his father had first realized how interested Adi was in business, he began to test him, a little here, a little there, a question now and then. This went on for a couple of years, until his father decided to show the family what they had. He turned his entire portfolio and all of his companies over to the decision-making process of his son for a period of ninety days.
When he showed up at the next Quarterly Review, he brought Adi, because he wasn’t sure how to explain the sudden and sustained spike in the overall family fortunes for the previous quarter. When Adi was done with his presentation, he was asked to leave the room.
The tea-boy came, responding to the bell from the Boardroom. The boardroom was on the twenty-ninth floor of the Rashid Building in downtown Dhahran, sort of. It was on the Gulf Road, next to the water, with a view of the whole harbour and the Gulf itself, as the boardroom was on the northeast corner of the building, not by chance, and the exterior walls were completely made of reflective glass.
Adi stood in the hallway, watching, and waiting. Doing what the family had directed him to do.
Thirty minutes later his father opened the door of the boardroom, and instructed him to return to the room, but as an observer only, and he was to sit in one of the few straight back armless chairs that dotted the bare area of the inside wall. He was asked back on these same terms every c
hance that arose. Every chance that arose, he went.
Basically, he was a genius, but a hell of a great guy as well. It was a wonder that we hooked up at all, but we ended up on the same cricket team at university, and became fast friends the first day. He had the morals of a saint, never did a thing without reason, and was a genius. We still became friends. Go figure.
Okay, so here’s the plan. We put you out on the street by the Limmatquai. You call in right away, say you just got your wits back, you need a pickup. What happened? You were unconscious during the fire fight. You don’t know what happened. I’ll fix that part for you, it’ll be believable, don’t worry. Then you ask him what more you can do tonight. He may think he wants you to do something, he may not. After he sees you, you’ll get sent home to rest. What we do until tomorrow is run with that, make it work. What we want is you to be back in the fold, and for us to know where the boys call home. When you get sent home to bed, don’t argue, go. We’ll pick you up tomorrow after we know that the meeting with Meir is set. You’ll get your instructions for that communique tomorrow.”
The only plan I could see that would get Meir involved at this stage would be a large investment. Large is relative, but usually people tended to agree that one million dollars was still a lot of money. Granted, it won’t buy what it used to, but it’s still a nice round high figure. Today I’d made nine million or there-abouts in Canadian dollars. That was what Sam had gifted me with.
I hadn’t had an opportunity to contemplate it yet, but when I did get the time it would probably be spent in church, with my head bowed in prayer for the small boy I saw killed all those years ago. The image that was seared into my mind, of the last few seconds before the child died, when my team leader had showed his true colours.
The first time I’d gone into ‘Slow Time’, and what had resulted from that night. I had finally managed to get Sam and his family out alive, except for his first-born. The money was not mine, the money was for good works, the way I saw it just then. But, like I said, I hadn’t had a chance to contemplate it all just yet. I knew this, these people were ruthless and deserving of the penalties coming their way. Like a snowball dropped on the top of the Matterhorn, it was all gathering momentum, and rolling faster. Day by day, it was closing in on them.
‘And they knew not the face of the Angel who appeared before them, saying: ‘You are now Judged, and there shall be no reversal, no reprieve, no passage to freedom. Look on My Countenance and see that your fate is sealed for Eternity.’
“The meeting is if you wanted to put more money in, not complain about returns on what you’ve already invested. You’ll have come up with another million, no questions asked, from Mark. The only thing Mark had insisted on was not knowing anything, for ultimate deniability, and that the cash changed hands as cash. No records, no hassles. All Mark wants is twenty-five percent ROI, return on investment, in the first year, and the option to buy in with one more million in the second year, or to leave his investment as it stood at the end of the first year, with the following four years ROI to hit twenty-five per cent minimum, and no chance to lose his original investment. When the five years were up he’d be rolling in it, and that’s all he really wants. Got it?”
Terry nodded his head like a puppy looking for love. Ronnie looked at me like I was nuts. Everybody is different in some fundamental way.
“Major, I don’t want to rain on your parade, but where in the hell do you expect to get one million dollars in cash?”
The look on her face was priceless when I said, “From the head office of the RegisBanke, in Krugerrands.” I’ve never met anyone who wasn’t fascinated with large amounts of gold.
“Krugerrands?”
“Yeah. South African coin of the realm. Solid gold. Works like a charm.”
I turned to Terry.
“Have you followed all of this?”
“Yes, sir, I have.”
“Do you have any questions?”
“Yes, sir, just one.”
“Well don’t beat around the bush, man. Out with it.”
“Tomorrow, I’m supposed to call Heidi Meir and ask for a meeting, right?”
“You don’t do a damn thing about Heidi Meir until I personally tell you to. Concentrate on living until tomorrow, and tomorrow will take care of itself. First, we have to get you back with this Enrico fellow. On the right terms. Are you ready for that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Fine.”
I leaned over beside the end of the sofa, and reaching into my bag, I pulled out the silencer for the H&K. Right away Terry started to tense up.
“Terry, look at me.”
He was looking at the silencer, but he was turned towards me at least. I drew the silencer slowly up to my face, and his eyes followed it until he realized we were looking right at each other.
“It’s going to be a hell of a headache, but that’s all. Now come over here and sit on the end of the sofa.”
I was almost surprised when he did what I had asked of him.
“Now, the story goes like this. You went into the pub, and both you and Eduardo were met by Big Bob. He tells you that we’re in the back room. You go in first to identify me, say hello, and get the drop on us. Describe the tabletop full of guns. Go with what the setup was, don’t lie! If you start to lie about the little things, the big ones get harder to maintain. Eduardo comes in on your heels, to finish us off. You’re standing there in the back room, which is closed, with the drop on us. After Eduardo came in, there was a firefight. That’s all you remember. Nothing else, until you came to with the sound of sirens at the front door. Eduardo was dead on the floor next to you. You saw the A/C opening, and took it as a way out. You staggered up the street until you found an alley to duck into. Which you did, and then promptly passed out behind a large recycling bin. You woke up again, right about now. A few minutes from now, actually, and the first thing you did was call in for help. Do you follow?”
“Yes, sir.”
He was beginning to look a little pale. All the while I’d been speaking I’d been attaching the silencer to the H&K .45 pistol. Evie came out just then and taking in the scene, commented, “So, you’re leaving us Terry.”
Just lovely. Terry began to shake. I needed him rock steady. “Get your shirt and put it back on. Don’t worry, there’s not going to be anything serious happening here. Remember Terry, we’re both on the same side now. You know what that means to me personally?”
He thought about that one for a minute or so before answering. But he got it right, and that settled him down.
“Yes, sir. It means that I’m one of your team, and you always look out for your team first, and everything else second.”
“That’s right, Terry. Very good. Now I’m going to give you a few moments to become poised. Remember this, when you wake up, you’ll be all right, but you’ll look bad enough to back up your story, understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. The transceiver you had will still be with you, but the microphone pickup wire will be cut. All you have to do is re-solder the main wires, and you’ll be back on-line. With us as well as them. We’re going to look after you Terry. It’s going to be fine.”
Evie had gone and gotten Terry’s shirt, as he seemed to be frozen to the sofa. When she handed it to him he seemed to snap out of it, and he quickly changed back into his own shirt, and put his jacket back on.
“I’m ready sir.”
“Good. Now check all of your pockets.”
“What?”
I spelled it out for him.
“Verify that you still have everything you had when this started. If you’re missing something, tell me what it is.”
He quickly patted himself down.
“I have everything sir. Except my gun.”
I thought about that for a moment, but no. All of the others had been dis-armed. Why not Terry?
“Rightly so. We must have taken that from you when you were out like a light, right?”
/> “Yes, sir.”
“Final instructions—call Enrico from the first payphone you can find when you come to. Think consciously of how you hate us now, and you wanted to help take us down, but somehow, and you don’t know how because you were my first target, it all went wrong. Remember to say that there were only two of us, and remember who the Colonel is. Talk about her. Talk about me. Say anything you might remember from the old days if you want, just make it convincing, because your life hangs in the balance, laddie. The boys in grey, trained or not, are just soldiers. Enrico is a stone killer. There’s a big difference between the two.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Colonel, do you have Enrico’s number?”
“Yes, Major.”
“Fine. Okay, Terry. Remember this now. Mars Bar. Like the chocolate bar, Okay? Repeat it.”
“Mars Bar.”
“That’s good. That means you’re in trouble, and you need to be extricated. Like S.O.S., Okay?”
I was standing about five feet away from him now, with the H&K held down at my right side.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Ready?”
“Yes, sir. I’m ready.”
As he uttered those words the H&K jumped in my hand, while Terry’s head snapped back to hit the sofa, and a small spray of blood hit the wall behind him with the bullet. The silencer was good. I doubt if anyone outside of the suite could have heard it fire. I’d grazed his scalp just enough to require hospital treatment, which Terry had access to without the usual red tape. He’d be fine, but he was going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning. Being a scalp wound, it bled fiercely at first, giving the appearance of a deadly wound barely averted, when all he needed was a stitch or five, and a few day’s rest. He’d get the stitches, but he wouldn’t get the rest.
Therese slowly opened the door to her room, and took one step into the sitting room. She scanned the room, starting at me, then Terry, then everything else. There was a sleepy confusion on her face.
The Diamond Dust on Dragonfly Wings: A Jeffry Claxton Mystery Novel Page 61