The Sirani Connection

by Estelle Ryan

  “Escape, find refugee status in another country and try to live a normal life.”

  “Natálie.” So many things were falling into place. I looked at Francine. “I wonder if we could find out if Natálie worked with women from Iran.”

  “She did.” Ivan sighed. “She helped Sahar resettle. After the Americans smuggled her out.”

  “After they ‘killed’ her.” Bree bit down on her bottom lip. “You said being beaten by Shahab was only one reason she left. What are the other reasons?”

  “Her father.” His discomfort was increasing. “He’s the reason the West bent over backwards to accommodate Sahar. Reza Alikhani.”

  “Holy bloody hellfire!”

  “Who’s he?” Roxy asked.

  “One of the most notorious terrorists still at large,” Ivan said. “He’s known as the architect of at least eleven bombings that we know of. He’s also wanted for conspiring to destroy the embassies of numerous Western countries and a lot more. He’s the devil.”

  “Talk about jumping from the frying pan into the fire. From her dad to Shahab. Poor Sahar.” Bree shuddered.

  “The moment she contacted the NGO, the US got involved. The intel Sahar could give on her father was far too valuable to let slip through their fingers.”

  “Then how did she end up here?” Phillip asked.

  “She wanted to be here. She had no interest in going to the US. Her father and then Shahab never allowed her to travel anywhere. But she’d had unlimited access to the internet, so she said she travelled to all the places in the world. And Prague was the city she fell in love with from the first photo she saw.

  “Since we are allies, NATO partners and generally have a good relationship with the US, they agreed to let her settle here as long as one of theirs could sit in on debriefings.” Ivan looked at me. “That’s how Sahar Hatami died and Klára Bittová came to life.”

  “That’s pretty much everything I discovered as well.” Francine raised both eyebrows when Manny swore and Ivan looked at her, his mouth wide open. “What? You thought I was just joking about hacking your police database to find out what was happening?” She shrugged. “I got into it this morning and poked around. I found a few emails between your bosses, showing how worried they are that they will lose their precious asset. I must say I don’t like the way they talk about Klára. It’s like they think she’s a nice little chess piece they can use to get the US to do just what they want. I wonder if she knows how she’s being used.” She turned to Ivan, her face tight with anger. “Did you know?”

  He raised both hands, palms out. “Not these details. I swear. I knew about Sahar. I knew she became Klára. I knew who her father is, but that’s it. I knew the basics of the agreement between the US and us, but the rest of these details I only learned since you guys joined. Most of Shahab’s crimes I only learned of in the last few days.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and glanced at Francine. “Please tell me no one will ever know you hacked our system.”

  “As if.” She relaxed back into the sofa. “Your guys are good, but I’m much, much, much better.”

  “I’m a little lost here.” Roxy looked around. “Did I miss some part of the story?”

  “I’ll bullet-point it for you.” Bree counted on her fingers. “Shahab marries Sahar. Around ten years ago Shahab is passed over for promotion and loses his shit. He starts his narcotics import and export business. He also starts beating poor Sahar. Seven years ago, the bomb in Chabahar gives the US and Czech the chance to get Sahar here and pump her for intel on her terrorist dad. Then a few years later—I don’t know how many—Shahab sees Sahar on a travel documentary about Prague. He loses his shit even more.”

  “Do you know if this is true?” Colin asked Ivan.

  “Yes. We checked that documentary and Sahar was on Charles Bridge staring up at the tower.” His expression softened. “She looked so happy.”

  “Do you know when this was?” Colin asked.

  “About three and a half years ago.”

  Immediately I saw where Colin was going with his question. “Sirani’s Venus and Cupid was stolen from the Zemans three years ago.”

  Colin nodded. “Somehow Shahab must’ve gotten intel that Natálie had helped Sahar here in Prague. And he wanted something to use against them or against her to make them tell him where Sahar was.”

  “They wouldn’t have told him.” Francine’s hair glided over her shoulders as she shook her head. “Everything I’ve read about them told me they would rather have lost everything they owned than help a psychopath find his wife.”

  Bree raised another finger. “So three years ago, Shahab steals the Sirani, but his blackmail plan doesn’t work, so he starts working on another plan. His opioid weapon.”

  “I’m guessing it was too expensive, so he waited a bit to make more money.” Roxy drummed her fingers on the kitchenette counter. “I told you guys such research equipment is very expensive.”

  “This could be where Seppo-Tommi comes in.” Francine tapped her index finger on her lips. “Shahab withdrew money from Seppo-Tommi in Finland as well as use his own income from his drug dealing.”

  “But last year, we upended his plans when we froze all his assets.” Phillip nodded. “That might have... No, I don’t have a plausible explanation for the opioid weapon.”

  I thought about it. “The people he’d killed in Strasbourg last year were a threat to his drug business. The people he’s been killing here in Prague were all in some way connected to Sahar or shelters for women. This doesn’t give us any indication of what he plans to do with this weapon.”

  “If I were to guess at his motivation”—Francine smiled at me—“I know you don’t like it, but it seems very logical that Shahab would want to take revenge on Sahar for betraying him.”

  I looked at Roxy. “What did you learn from Doctor Novotný’s journal?”

  “That he’s a genius.” She closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath before looking at me. “He created a weapon from an opioid analogue that is insanely potent. When Shahab tested the delivery system and the opioid, he’d used only one five hundred thousandth of its strength. At full strength, you can spray it into a crowd and be pretty sure that everyone within a hundred-and-fifty-metre radius will be dead within a minute. Not enough time for ambulances or to get to a hospital.”

  “Any antidote?” I asked.

  “No.” She hugged herself. “Naloxone won’t work for this. The opioid analogue is too strong. You would have to up the Naloxone dosage many times for it to counter the effects of this drug. And I think there’s not enough Naloxone in Europe to treat even a hundred people who have been exposed to it.”

  “Doc, you were going to read the last pages of that journal. Anything there?”

  I swallowed and crossed my arms. I didn’t want to recall those pages.

  “Doctor Novotný’s last two pages were the most difficult to read.” Roxy nodded at me. “It’s filled with regret. He’s heartbroken that this will be his legacy. Not the work he’s done helping people his whole life. Not the cure for opioid addiction he was about to finalise. This. Creating a weapon that will kill people and destroy families. And not being strong enough to kill himself before Shahab got him to successfully create this weapon. There’s a lot of self-hate and sadness on those pages.”

  His words about his lack of courage to kill himself and remove the possibility of his skills being used had disturbed me greatly. The way he had phrased his emotions had revealed the conflicting logical and irrationally emotional sides of him I’d seen represented throughout the journal. I seldom made decisions based on emotions, rationality winning out almost always. It had to be great inner torment to be torn between two such strong motivators.

  “There...” My voice was hoarse from the stress of remembering those pages. I cleared my throat. “There were a few things that weren’t clear.”

  “Yeah, for me too.” Roxy nodded, her curls bobbing over her shoulders. “Are you talking about the ra
mblings on last moments?”

  I nodded and looked at the others. “It started on the second-last page, which was written thirteen days before his death. Doctor Novotný sounded incoherent, but he wrote that Shahab wouldn’t last much longer. He hoped that the person who was reading his journal would see that in the end he had to do the one thing he never thought he would do—use his science against a human being.”

  “Was he talking about Shahab’s opioid weapon?” Daniel asked.

  “I don’t know.” And I didn’t want to speculate. “I’d rather you read that section and decide for yourself.”

  “Good idea.” Francine handed me the tablet I’d used to read Doctor Novotný’s journal. “You can read it for us.”

  I looked at the tablet for a few seconds before I took it. I didn’t know if I wanted to read Doctor Novotný’s last thoughts again. I swiped the screen, found the right passage and cleared my throat. “‘Shahab found out. I know this. He hasn’t said anything, but he’s changed completely towards me since last night. He knows about the cloud, but I don’t think he knows what I’ve been uploading. I’m writing this because this might be my last opportunity to express my deep regret for everything I’ve done in the last months of my life.

  “‘Yes, I think these are my last days, my last moments. Shahab will return from his outing today and kill me. He hasn’t said as much, but I’m sure he killed my Patrik. Every day Shahab would remind me that Patrik’s life depended on me. He hasn’t done that since the day before yesterday. The shame is becoming too much for me to bear. In my last honest moments, I’m awaiting the bliss of death, hoping for a reprieve from this burden of my sins. How low I’ve gone to destroy my life’s work in only six months.

  “‘I hope you who are reading my words will make sure that Shahab will not do this terrorist deed. I tried to outsmart him, but that didn’t work. I considered building a failsafe into the delivery system, but Shahab was testing all the time. So I did something else. Something not forced on me by a psychopathic terrorist, but something I decided to do. I only hope that it’s not too late.

  “‘I wish I could tell you where the laboratory is. I don’t know. I wish I could tell you how to counter the effects of this weapon. I can’t, because there is no agent that will act fast enough against the power of this evil that I created.

  “‘I’ve seen what Shahab is capable of when he wants something. The way he broke my poor Patrik’s body. I fear that is what’s waiting for me. I will embrace that pain as the punishment I deserve. And I will wait for death to end not only my selfish guilt, but also my own abilities that I have now shown to be as evil as the man who plotted all this. May the world forgive me for what I have done.’”

  It was quiet in our hotel living area. My throat hurt. Not from reading these words aloud, but from the anguish I felt on Doctor Novotný’s behalf. I put the tablet down and forced my thoughts back to the case. There was a lot to consider. A lot of elements whose roles and importance in Shahab’s plan still hadn’t been completely identified. I agreed with Roxy. We knew the weapon Shahab planned to use, we knew the delivery system, but we didn’t know the when or where.

  We also didn’t know the why. And more often than not the reason driving someone to such brutal acts was key to stopping him. I looked at Ivan. “I want to speak to Sahar. Klára.”

  “I think she would prefer being called Klára.” Ivan looked at Manny. “My bosses won’t allow it.”

  “Ninnies.” Manny took his smartphone from his pocket. “Let’s get the presidents involved. These petty bleeding fights are going to get people killed.”

  Chapter NINETEEN

  “I’M GOING TO TELL MY wife she has competition.” Ivan rubbed his stomach and smiled at Vinnie. “This was delicious, thank you.”

  “There’s more.” Vinnie nodded towards the two large serving dishes, one with mushroom risotto and one with enough ravioli for a group twice our number. Vinnie had borrowed the dishes from the hotel’s kitchen as well as pots large enough to prepare food for the nine of us. Everyone, including me, had dished up a second time. It pleased Vinnie.

  After Manny had called President Godard, things had fallen into place very quickly. Within five minutes, Ivan had received a call from his bosses, giving him carte blanche on this case. Pressure from the French and Czech presidents and Interpol had been great enough for them to give Ivan access to all case files related to Shahab, Klára and her father Reza Alikhani.

  “Oh, I wish I could fit more in.” Ivan straightened, his hands resting on his torso. “But there’s really no place in my stomach for another bite.”

  “Okay, people.” Manny walked back from their bedroom, his smartphone in his hand. “President Godard has given us permission to share as little or as much as needed with Klára to get information from her.” He looked at me. “He says he trusts you to determine how she will treat top-secret information.”

  “When will she be here?”

  Ivan looked at his watch. “Maybe another ten minutes. My team is bringing her from the spa.”

  Klára had been receiving a spa treatment with a friend when we’d located her. Since we’d been about to eat lunch and her treatment was to take another twenty minutes, Manny had agreed for Ivan’s team only to speak to her once she was finished. They were on their way here and I was impatient to glean information from her about Shahab.

  “That paparazza is going to get herself locked out if she doesn’t show up before them.” Manny sat down next to Francine and took the tea he’d left on the coffee table when he’d taken the call from President Godard.

  “She’ll be here.” Francine took her tablet and tapped the screen. “I gave her all our numbers in case she runs late.”

  Bree had left as soon as she could to meet her assistant for lunch. The guilt on her face had been sincere when she’d explained that she’d cancelled lunch with him or had simply not shown up every day since they’d arrived. She planned to stop at their hotel before going to the restaurant. Her brother Gareth had been phoning and sending her messages and she needed to speak to him. She’d looked resigned and unenthused about that call. Colin had asked Ty to make sure she was safe. And not to lose her again.

  “Hey, have any of you seen a photo of Sahar?” Roxy took Phillip’s empty plate and stacked it on a few others. “How old is she?”

  “Give me a sec.” Francine tapped on her tablet screen. “Now that we have access to Ivan’s bosses’ files, I can tell you all her secrets. Hmm. She’s now thirty-seven, as short as you and has the most beautiful chocolate-brown eyes.”

  “I’m not short!” Roxy rolled her eyes when the room filled with chuckles and comments. She was maybe two or three centimetres taller than Bree, but still at the shorter end of the average height for women. She walked to Francine and looked at the tablet screen. “What a beauty.”

  Francine waited for Roxy to walk to the kitchen with the plates and turned the tablet for us to see. “The metadata places this photo as taken just after she arrived in Prague.”

  The woman on the tablet screen was completely covered by a dark blue cloak. Iranian women often wore a chadar when they went out in public. Only her face was visible, her plump cheeks pale against the dark material. Her posture and body language were mostly hidden under the chadar, but the expression captured on her face showed a combination of fear, excitement and sadness.

  Ivan’s phone pinged and he looked at the screen. He frowned as he tapped the screen and held the phone to his ear. He spoke in rapid Czech before ending the call and looking at us. “We are getting results back. Which do you want to hear first? The ME’s findings on the tests he ran or the intel my team got on the Iranian company that traded with Seppo-Tammi?”

  “The ME findings first,” Manny said.

  “The ME is worried. The five victims Shahab killed when he tested his opioid weapon all tested positive for the opioid described in Doctor Novotný’s journal.” He looked at Roxy as she took the last plates to the kitchen. “H
e also asked to thank you for forwarding the information you found in the journal. It helped him identify the opioid. He’s considering sending out a nationwide alert. If this drug hits the streets, it will kill a lot of people.”

  “Hmm.” Roxy walked back from the kitchen and sat down. “Shahab doesn’t need a delivery system to kill people. All he needs to do is sell this to drug dealers. And he has the contacts to do that. He’s been selling drugs in Europe for a decade.”

  I thought about this. “That won’t fit in with Shahab’s behaviour. The people he’s killed... Let me correct myself. The victims we’ve linked to Shahab all had some connection to him. There might be more victims, but we haven’t found any more whose deaths shared any of the similarities. I can’t see Shahab changing his manner of killing to kill without motivation.”

  “Doc is right.” Manny rubbed his head. “His MO hasn’t changed. In Strasbourg his motivation was to protect his business. Here, his motivation seems to be connected to Sahar or Klára or whatever her name is now.” He shook his head. “No. The ME shouldn’t worry about random victims. We should worry about his plan to avenge Sahar leaving him and becoming Klára.”

  “That’s all I have from the ME. The intel on the Iranian company is not surprising.” Ivan tapped his phone. “I’m forwarding this to everyone. This company was established in 1952 by Klára’s maternal grandfather. As soon as Klára’s mother married Reza Alikhani, her father gave the business to them.”

  “What kind of business?” Phillip asked.

  “An extremely successful children’s toys company. They cater for the ridiculously rich in Iran. I mean, we’re talking about four-meter-high, five-meter-wide princess castles for a little girl’s bedroom. And Italian designer clothes for toddlers who will grow out of them in a few months. That kind of crazy rich-people stuff.”

  “I’m on their website.” Francine rolled her eyes. “Ivan is right. These toys are stupid expensive.”

  “But they supply to Tehran’s bazaar, right?” Vinnie looked from Francine to Ivan who nodded. “Hmm. You see, there are some asswipes who took advantage of the economic sanctions against Iran and became extremely rich by controlling import channels. Is there any mention of Reza being one of the bazaris?”