“How are the last of our plans, shaping up?” Adib asked.
Malook looked at the man sitting across from him in the small, dim coffee lounge. He waited for an answer as his business associate leaned forward in his seat.
“I’m happy to report that things are progressing along quite well. Our plans are in the last stages of implementation. I was able to confirm with one of our contacts in the United States that he has just the right people to finish tying up the loose ends.”
“That’s excellent to hear. Make sure that there are no more screw ups.”
“Yes sir.”
“What about our other project?”
“Well, we were able to procure the needed samples. They’re being tweaked as we speak. It should be ready for dissemination in a few weeks.”
“Which lab are we using?”
“We were able to procure the needed samples and they are currently being protected by our associates in a laboratory in Sokol. Dr. Adil is already there on site and he is starting the process to weaponize the samples and prepare the altered samples for transfer.”
“Good. Make contact again with the security personnel there at the laboratory. I want to schedule a meeting with them for early next week. I want to make sure that everyone is on the same page about our expectations for this venture going forward.”
“Once the initial batches are complete,” Malook continued, “we will have to do a ‘trial’ run of some sort. Then we will have to repackage the items for shipping.”
“Very well sir, I will speak with them immediately.”
Malook watched as the other man got up from the table and bowed slightly before exiting the building. Malook understood that thousands of people were going to die once their plans were fully implemented. That was all but certain.
Malook didn’t like to think of himself as a monster. However, the lives of a thousand infidels were worth far less than the life of even one of his people. And for Malook, his people’s lives were the only lives that he cared about. He was confident that his plan was the only way to right the wrong done to his people by the Americans and to forge a new future for his home country.
Malook had sat by for too many years while a foreign country had ravaged his homeland. It was disgusting. What was even more disgusting was the way that the Western media attempted to portray his brothers who were fighting the good fight with him in this cause. They were being portrayed as common thugs who raped and pillaged.
Be it Al-Qaeda or the Taliban or the Haqqai network, the goal was clear. To liberate their homeland from foreign invaders. To unite their people against a common threat. Malook would have thought that the United States would have taken heed to the hard learned lessons that the Soviets had gained with they invaded Afghanistan in the 1980s. But no, the U.S. hadn’t and now its citizens were going to pay, greatly. The Haqqai network would not show any weakness or mercy.
Chapter Ten
V
ictoria’s posture and smile exuded confidence—even if she didn’t really feel all that confident—as she walked into the lobby area of Hotel Catalina in downtown Dallas.
She was wearing her favorite “power suit”—a black Versace skirt-suit that she had managed to buy last year after scraping up savings for about two years. However, to watchful eyes Victoria’s suit was at least three seasons out of fashion by now.
The Hotel Catalina was a historical landmark, having been built at the turn of the twentieth century. The outside façade of the building consisted of a classical, tan pewter stone with intricate floral designs and pillars. The inside of the hotel had a characteristically European feel. The golden chandelier at the entrance of the hotel gave the building a distinctively “old money” air.
The fragrant smell of yellow roses greeted patrons as soon as they walked through the front doors of the famed hotel. The roses sat in expensive vases that decorated most of the tabletops of the foyer in the hotel. The floors on the inside of the hotel were an expensive Italian marble. Impressive marble columns also stunned customers as they entered.
Hotel Catalina had fourteen floors altogether and even the smallest, least expensive room cost over two hundred dollars per night. The hotel sported a grand ballroom circa 1920 that was still used for the formal galas and fundraising events attended by the Dallas elite.
The Catalina Café was located on the Mezzanine level of the hotel and was a world-renowned, five-star restaurant with a Paris-taught executive chef. The Catalina Café was an on-site restaurant that mainly catered to the guests of the hotel, but also was open to the public. Well at least those members of the public who could afford the sky-high prices.
The hotel restaurant was known throughout the business community as a great place to take prospective clients or to hash out the details of a last minute deal. However, the intimate seating inside of the café was also the perfect place to take a romantic date.
It was the hotel of choice for Hollywood actors who were vacationing in the Lone Star state, international dignitaries, and the native Texas elite. In one of the happier times in their relationship, Joshua had even surprised her one Valentine’s Day with an expensive night out on the town including a stay at the Hotel Catalina.
It was now close to eleven thirty in the morning, and Victoria was fifteen minutes early for her lunch meeting with Richard Henning. He had insisted on meeting her at the hotel instead of his office in downtown Dallas.
Walking through the gold-plated double doors, Victoria walked into the restaurant. The hostess was standing at the stand at the front entrance.
“Good Morning. Welcome to the Hotel Catalina. Do you have reservations for today?” the young girl asked in the perkiest of voices. She was a young, twenty-something, brown haired girl who was probably a college co-ed at UT-Dallas.
“Yes. Reservations for two under Sanchez,” Victoria said. She waited patiently while the hostess pulled up the reservation in the computer system.
“There, I’ve found it. Right this way, please,” the hostess gestured, leading Victoria down the aisle to a large booth in the middle section of the restaurant. The booth was located near a row of windows that showed passerbys on the outside street. It was about noon, so the café was hopping with guests who were trying to grab a quick lunch before their daily activities.
Victoria waited for another thirty minutes at the booth, and she was almost certain that Henning just wasn’t going to show. She half-expected that he might phone her or just send one of his senior aides to let her know that he had been detained by some other important matter.
Victoria removed her Blackberry from her purse and opened up her email account. She might as well try to get some work done while she was waiting. She sent a quick email to the IT department at the news station to remind them to check out her laptop computer that had been having problems connecting to the newspaper’s Citrix server.
She then checked her inbox and discovered that she had two new messages. The first was a companywide email reminder about the “Casual Friday” charity drive that was taking place during the last week of the month.
The second email was from an acquaintance who was a member of the Dallas Police Department. Since she was the “local crime” reporter, Victoria had decided that she should make at least some effort to follow up on the store robberies. She had reached out to Detective Devin Sage who was handling the case, and whom she had contacted for information on previous stories. Unfortunately, Detective Sage did not have any new developments to report—other than what had already been disclosed to the public.
Putting away her phone, Victoria glanced out of the window. Businessmen and women in fancy suits bustled around the street, hailing cabs and walking hurriedly to their destinations.
The avenue on which the hotel was located was in the center of the business district, and so it always had a lot of activity on the weekdays as people scurried to and from work. She watched as a young mother walked two twin towheaded babies in a double-basket stroller across
the street. A girl who was dressed in a punk-rocker type look—complete with multiple piercings and tattoos—was also walking on the street. She was walking hand-in-hand with what appeared to be her girlfriend, who was also similarly dressed.
It was a perfect day to enjoy a leisurely stroll around the city. The weather in Dallas could be a bit peculiar in the winter. Most non-residents of Texas assumed that Texas remained at 100 degrees Fahrenheit throughout the entire year, but that really wasn’t the case.
While it was true that Dallas didn’t have the typical four seasons, during winter months the possibility of snow wasn’t altogether nonexistent. In addition, some of the winter days could bring with it a torrent of rain—though not lately, they had been in a serious drought for the past year. Today, however, it was a balmy 60 degrees and nice and sunny outside, which made it perfect weather to go boating on White Rock Lake.
“Well hello there, Ms. Sanchez,” a male voice boomed. Victoria looked away from the window and up at Richard Henning in all his glory. Stately really was the best word to describe him. He was wearing what had to have been a three thousand dollar tailored, navy-blue Dolce & Gabbana suit paired with gold cufflinks. Ever the consummate businessman, he had already extended his hand for a handshake. Victoria stood up from her seat and grasped Richard Henning’s hand.
Victoria believed that you could tell a lot about a person’s handshake. Some people gave even keeled, firm handshakes that were some indicator of their well-balanced approach to life. Some people preferred to give notoriously limp handshakes, which at the very best appeared that the person was laidback or at the very worst gave the impression that that person was weak.
Others liked a Herculean shake, which she thought was their attempt to display their strength (either mentally or physically) by trying to break all of the bones in the other party’s right hand. Richard Henning’s shake fell squarely into the latter category.
There were three other burly men who were dressed in suits and who sat in the booth directly behind them. Obviously, they were with Henning and she was guessing that they were his bodyguards. Given his recent predicament, that wasn’t surprising.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Henning. Thank you for speaking with me today.” As soon as they both sat down, a young waiter came over to their table to see if they were ready to order. Victoria selected a small salad and a cup of coffee. She couldn’t have cared less about eating lunch—she just wanted her questions answered. The waiter left almost as quickly as he came with both of their lunch orders.
“The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Sanchez.
“Do you mind if I record our conversation?” she asked, taking out her tape recorder.
“No, I do not have a reason to object to your recording of our conversation. I’ve read some of your articles in the Dallas Star Gazette. You have quite the talent for clearly reporting the facts. I trust that you won’t take anything that is said here today out of context.”
“Thank you. I take pride in bringing important news events to the attention of the citizens of Dallas. I wanted to meet with you today to talk about your harrowing ordeal in Pakistan this past year.”
“Yes, of course. As you can expect, it was an extremely difficult situation.”
“What do you believe motivated your kidnappers? Some have speculated that you were just at the wrong place at the wrong time?”
Henning cleared his throat before answering, “Well in a more general context, U.S. lawmakers, and government officials thought that we were making progress in the region, which prompted the ending of the Iraq and Afghanistan wars. The U.S. troop withdrawals from Afghanistan, however, have had an unintended effect on the stability in the region. As I’m sure you are aware, the Middle East as a whole has had the reputation of being somewhat of a hotbed for warring tribal factions and insurgency. We thought that we had left a stable foundation for democratic governance in Afghanistan, which is why we decreased the troop level dramatically. But the difficulties that we’ve encountered due to what can be called as power vacuum has taken us by surprise.” Henning paused, watching Victoria write down some notes on her legal pad.
“Why do you believe that the conditions in Afghanistan and Pakistan have regressed backwards since the early 2000s?” Victoria glanced back up at him.
“Well, there are a few explanations—that are speculative in nature of course. Some political analysts point to the domestic instability of Pakistan, restraints on Afghanistan’s access to the regional water supply, and Iran’s attempt to develop a nuclear warhead that has led to increased tensions with the United States. These critical regional issues are posited to be severe regional pressure points of instability that have helped to lead to a resurgence of civil conflicts between warring tribal factions within both Afghanistan and Pakistan. In turn, militant groups have come back into the fray.”
“What about Afghan President Zhubar?” President Zhubar was the newly elected president of Afghanistan who was a Sunni Muslim from one of the dominant Pashtun tribe.
“I met with President Zhubar during my last visit. He is a very intelligent and articulate man who I believe truly has the best interests of his home country at heart. He appears to be making his best efforts to reduce the violence and to promote an enduring sense of national unification, without embracing extremist rhetoric. However, the situation there has disintegrated over the past few years. I’m afraid that my capture will not be the end of the random attacks on foreign officials in the region.”
“But you were taken in Miranshah, Pakistan correct?”
“Well yes, officially. But Miranshah is on the Afghanistan-Pakistan border.”
“What do you believe the United States and other developed countries can do in order to reduce the instability in the region? Is it just an issue that is ceded to the Afghanistan and Pakistan governments?”
“Let me just say that, for any country national sovereignty is obviously of the utmost importance. Any actions that the international community may choose to undertake in assistance to Pakistan and Afghanistan must be just that, assistance. Moreover, any assistance given by the international community must be through an active partnership with the troubled country’s leadership. It should never be the prerogative of the United States or any other Western nation to undermine the ability of the two countries to handle their own state affairs.” Henning glanced away from Victoria as the waiter arrived with their order. Victoria slowly stirred her coffee, watching Henning’s movements as he heartily dived into his sandwich.
“Do you anticipate any future trips to the area?” she asked.
Henning laughed. “Ms. Sanchez, I’m not a clairvoyant, but I can assure you that I have no plans to revisit the area anytime soon.”
Victoria smiled and leaned forward, crossing her legs under the table. “Well, sure that position is very understandable,” she paused before continuing, and Henning glanced at her, “I was curious because my research has uncovered that your recent trip to Afghanistan and Pakistan were not your first visits to the region, correct?”
Henning’s face sobered up a little. He still kept his smile but it was beginning to falter around the edges.
“Yes. You are correct. It wasn’t my first trip to the region.” Henning replied.
“My research indicates that you visited Afghanistan, Pakistan, and Russia in 2010 and 2011.”
“Since my term as a U.S. Congressman, I have still remained active and influential in the international community. Therefore, I still make international trips on occasion. I also visited the United Kingdom, France, Belgium, and Japan during those years as well.”
Bingo, Victoria thought. Richard Henning’s smug smile disappeared from his face. His voice had also changed from the carefree tone that he had affected a few minutes ago to a very measured tenor.
“Right. Of course, other representatives and senators have visited abroad as well. So that’s not unusual. However, none of the other congressmen or former senators owns a multimillio
n dollar company that has a client account that has ties to both Afghanistan and Russia.”
“You seem like a thorough researcher Ms. Sanchez, so you must be aware that I just own stakes in the company,” Henning replied. He leaned back in his seat, his meal long forgotten as his chin rested on the tips of his steepled fingers. “There is separate management for the everyday dealings of the company. I retired as CEO of the Henning Cooper Company when I took office seven years ago. And I’m still unclear as to how any of the clients of a company that I founded is relevant to this interview.”
“Your abduction was quite a significant event in U.S. foreign affairs. I think that you would agree with that statement. The audacity of such a move, even on the part of a terrorist organization, is unprecedented. Which makes some people wonder whether or not there were additional motivations behind the attack other than just a vague anti-U.S. sentiment,” Victoria paused before continuing. Henning was staring at her with an incomprehensible look on his face.
“In addition, Mr. Henning, even though you may be listed as the Chairman Emeritus on your company’s website and legal documents, you still own more than thirty percent of the company’s outstanding common stock. That amount is more than enough to qualify as having control over the company. I can hardly imagine that the Henning Cooper Company would have approved the last deal that your company engaged in without your knowledge and input.”
“And to which ‘deal’ are you referring?” Henning’s jaw clenched tightly, as if he had to force the question out. His eyes narrowed as he stared at her.
“The deal and client that I am referring to is Nava Drug Corp,” Victoria answered calmly, making sure that she kept an even, nonchalant tone of voice. She didn’t want to antagonize him more than was necessary, not when she was still mining for information.
“Nava Drug Corp is a new contract for the Henning Cooper Company. And in any case, I can’t fathom how this line of questioning about the shipping company—that I founded decades ago—bears any relation to the events that transpired in Pakistan. And those are the events that you told me that this meeting was about.”
Pushed to the Edge (SEAL Team 14) Page 12