The room stirred to life.
“You said you think you have a hit,” said Alton. “How certain are you it’s him?”
“We’re never completely certain, especially with a fifteen-year-old photograph, but it looks pretty good.” Vega brought up a grainy photo of a clean-shaven man in tan, linen clothing. “Safi—or Delatam Tahir, as he now calls himself—was hired by Dhayban Therapeutics, Incorporated—‘DTI’ for short.”
“Never heard of them,” said David.
“Their website says they ‘produce venom-based drug therapies.’ In other words, they use venom to create medicines.”
“Say what?” exclaimed Silva.
“Venom is used to produce lots of drugs,” said Gilbert. “And not just venom, but other substances that are normally toxic—mold, bacteria, fungi…that sort of thing.”
“That’s right,” said Mallory. “When my mom came out of knee surgery a few years ago, they gave her Coumadin so she wouldn’t get blood clots from lying in bed all day. The pharmacist told me it’s made from the same stuff as rat poison.”
“No shit! Really?” said Silva.
Gilbert nodded and smiled. “See, there’s a good side to toxicology, too.”
Mastana spoke for the first time. “The work of DTI…it fits even more with the Tears of God legend. In the myth, the tears kill in order to bring about a better change: the cleansing of the earth. Isn’t this company, DTI, doing the same thing? Aren’t they using poisonous substances to bring about a better change—the cure for diseases?”
“Yes,” said Alton. “DTI has that objective, but the question is whether Safi himself shares this honorable motive. None of the research in the two Pasha Tech R&D boxes points to the formulation of antidotes or medicines. It only discusses the development of powerful poisons.”
“Which leads to another question,” said Mallory with a look of determination. “Why would DTI hire someone with Safi’s shady background?”
“It’s not surprising, really,” said Alton, rubbing a hand through his hair. “That’s what the U.S. did after World War Two. Wernher von Braun developed V-two rockets for the Nazis, but we hired him after the war to kick start our nascent space program. We overlooked his evil background because we needed his technical expertise. If you’re DTI, and you just found out one of the most esteemed toxicologists on the planet is looking for a job, you’re not going to examine his citizenship record too closely. Besides, going strictly off public records, no one can prove Safi did anything wrong.” Alton leaned back in his chair. “I assume as a next step, we’ll need to pay them a visit?”
“Yes,” said Vega. “We have the standard dossier on DTI, but my analysts are digging into the company’s background at a deeper level as we speak. We’re looking to see who their customers are, and who their customers’ customers are. This’ll tell us about the true nature of their business.”
“I’d like to do some checking from my end,” said Mallory. “Following the accounting trail is my expertise. You said company’s full name is ‘Dhayban’ Therapeutics, right?
“Yes.”
“That’s kind of a weird name, if you ask me,” said Silva. “Is it named after the guy who started the company?”
“No,” replied Vega. “‘Dhayban’ is the aboriginal name for the inland taipan, the world’s most venomous snake.”
“Wait,” said Alton. “Aboriginal…as in Australian?”
Vega chuckled. “You have an objection to heading down under?”
“If that’s where Farid Safi is,” cut in Mallory, “we have no objection at all.”
CHAPTER 39
The Director took measured strides along the cement path of the company’s interior grounds. With the sun sinking to the horizon, the temperature had cooled enough to enjoy a pleasant walk.
Rala Vaziri exited the backside lobby doors and headed towards him with her usual supple grace. For once, she wore her hair down rather than the tightly bunched look she typically sported on the job.
She arrived and slowed to match her manager’s pace. “I thought I might find you here.”
“Indeed,” replied the Director. “Daily exercise is good for the body and mind.”
They navigated in silence along a series of paths, moving from concrete onto a trail of red dirt. Straggly tufts of Buffel Grass surrounded a group of corkwood trees and a half-dozen Silver Cassias, meter-high shrubs capable of withstanding the desert’s extreme conditions. The cry of a budgie, a species of small parrot, carried in the warm evening breeze.
The Director broke the silence. “You’ve seen Ian Finley?”
“Yes.”
“How did it go?”
“Fine.” His second-in-command scowled.
“I don’t question your competence, Vaziri. I simply need to know where we stand. You delivered the message?”
“Absolutely.” She smiled at the memory.
“Well done. I can always count on you. And now on to other business. Do we have any firm commitments from the customers we’ve been courting?”
“Not yet, but I’m working on the deal we discussed last week.”
“The one with the Carmichael brothers?”
“Yes.”
They turned the loop in the trail and began heading back towards the buildings. The evening breeze blew a strand of Vaziri’s ebony locks across her face. The Director needed all his concentration to focus on the conversation rather than the sultry form before him. “And how is that deal proceeding?”
“Seems to be good so far, but it’s taking longer than the others.”
“That’s not surprising, really. This sale will be an order of magnitude bigger than anything else we’ve done. If we can close the deal, it’ll be worth the wait.”
They reached the concrete path once again and sauntered towards the main building.
“I’ll be headed back to the lab,” said the Director, eyeing an upcoming sidewalk branching off to the right. “Do let me know how the Carmichael deal proceeds, will you?”
“Of course. The product specs are just about worked out. I’ll forward them to you as soon as they’re final.”
“Good. We close this sale, and we’re the biggest name in the business.”
CHAPTER 40
Twenty-four hours after their conversation with Vega, Alton, Mallory, and Mastana traversed the sprawling tarmac of the Kabul International Airport. The rest of the NSA team would follow in twenty-minute intervals.
Unwilling to reveal his team’s presence by booking a military flight to Australia, Alton had placed a call to Jahandar. The arms dealer had been able to arrange for a chartered flight. He’d even been able to load the team’s recently-purchased tactical gear into large, wooden crates and cover it with straw and innocuous farm machinery in case any curious import inspectors decided to examine the cargo. All for a price, of course.
Alton entered the hangar enclosing their charter flight and drew up short. The aircraft’s rusty fuselage and peeling paint did little to inspire confidence in its avionic capabilities.
While Mallory and Mastana made a detour to the bathrooms, Alton approached a man inspecting an open panel on the side of the aging British Aerospace Avro. The tall, lanky fellow sported a bushy mustache and a faded blue hat that looked to be a relic from a bygone career as a commercial pilot.
After introducing himself, Alton asked, “Is this thing fit to fly all the way to Australia?”
The pilot, Rajab Nabi, chuckled. “She is fine. Looking at her, you do not see much, I know. But it is like valuing a friend. You care about what is on the inside, not the outside, right?”
“At the moment, I’m worried about any side needed to keep this thing in the air.”
“She will be fine, my friend. Trust me. I would not put myself in an aircraft I didn’t think was safe.”
“If you say so,” replied Alton. “Is all the cargo aboard?”
“We have two more boxes to load,” said Nabi. “We had to take out some of the rear pas
senger seats to make room, so it is taking a little longer.”
“That’s fine. The rest of the passengers won’t be here for another hour or two anyway.”
“In that case, you can wait in the customer area next to my office. Is there any particular food you would like for the flight?”
“Anything but naan. We’ve had a lot of that in the last few days.”
Alton strolled over to the customer area, a corner space delineated with three-foot-high office dividers and outfitted with an assortment of dilapidated chairs. He waved over Mallory and Mastana, who had just returned.
Mallory raised an eyebrow in the direction of the small jet. “It looks kind of sketchy, doesn’t it?”
Alton shrugged. “The captain assures me it’s fit to fly. But if you see him loading a parachute, I say we switch to plan B.”
Over the next hour, the rest of the NSA team arrived. The captain ushered them aboard and introduced them to the co-pilot. Empty seats outnumbered passengers seven-to-one, affording the team the opportunity to spread out.
Within thirty minutes, they had departed the airport and soared into a brilliant, blue sky. Mastana stayed glued to a window, watching Kabul disappear in the background. David sat next to his adopted daughter and responded to her occasional questions.
Alton and Mallory had taken seats near the front of the cabin. The jet reached cruising altitude, prompting Alton to remove his seatbelt and walk a bit. The practice kept his leg—and the rest of him, for that matter—from becoming too sore.
He spotted Gilbert and took a seat next to him. “How are you holding up?”
The toxicologist produced a wan smile. “Okay, I guess. The combat was terrifying, I have to admit. But that’s not what’s wearing me down. It’s the schedule—not enough sleep, always on the go, mentally and physically. I guess I’m a little old for this.”
“You’re doing great,” said Alton. “And now that we’re on a fourteen–hour flight, we’ll all have a chance to catch up on our sleep.” He realized he knew little about the man. “So what’s your story, Gilbert? How’d you get in with the NSA?”
The man’s eyes took on a reflective quality. “There’s not much to tell, really. I got a biochemistry degree from the University of Arizona. That’s where I met Sheree, my ex. She was studying pharmacology, so we had a lot of the same classes. Anyway, we got married during our senior year. I worked for a couple of private companies right out of school. Then I heard the NSA was hiring. It always sounded like a cool job, so I applied. And here I am. Been here nineteen years now.”
“You must like the work.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty cool. It’s been kind of therapeutic at times.”
“What do you mean?” asked Alton.
“Sheree and I broke up not long after we had Julie, our daughter. It wasn’t too bad being single as long as Julie was around, but she’s in college now, so I don’t see her as often as I’d like. This job keeps my mind from wandering too much.”
“Do you have any relatives in the Washington area?”
“My only sister is in a group home,” said Gilbert. “The house is pretty quiet now.” He paused. “I think that’s why I volunteered for this mission. It’s a chance to feel like I’m doing something important.”
“You are,” said Alton. “We couldn’t execute our mission without your expertise. And I’m sure we’ll be calling on it in Australia.”
Gilbert smiled. The motion accentuated fatigue lines framing his eyes.
“I’ll let you rest,” said Alton. “We’ll have a team briefing when we’re an hour or two out of Alice Springs. Until then, happy dreams.”
Alton rose and made his way towards the rear of the plane. Silva sat on an aisle seat, staring at the ceiling with unblinking eyes. Alton approached and took a seat across the aisle.
Silva nodded to him but said nothing.
“How do you feel the mission’s going so far?” asked Alton. “Anything you’d do differently?”
Silva turned a skeptical eye in his direction but answered the question. “On a good note, you were right in bringing Mastana. We’d have been up the creek without her.”
“And on a bad note?”
“You and Gilbert both slow us down,” replied Silva. “No offense—just keeping it real.”
“None taken. Are there any changes to our tactical approach you’d recommend, or are you just making an observation?”
Silva considered the question. “Just an observation. We need you both. Leaving either one of you behind would jeopardize the mission.”
Alton nodded. Remembering Silva’s concern at the initial mission briefing about having a male leader, he decided asking about her background would be a bad idea. He rose to leave. “If you have any ideas, don’t hesitate to tell me.”
“And you’ll use them, just like that?” She snapped her fingers.
“I can’t promise I’ll use every idea you propose, but I can promise I’ll consider them all.”
Alton returned to his seat and found Mallory asleep. She had raised the armrests to three adjacent seats and lay sprawled across them. Alton pulled a navy blanket from an overhead compartment and covered her with it, then made a similar arrangement for himself in the next row.
Within moments, the steady roar of the airplane lulled him into a deep, dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER 41
Alton awoke to discover Rajab Nabi staring down at him.
“You want some dinner?” asked the pilot.
“Yeah. I’m pretty hungry,” said Alton, pushing himself upright in his seat. “Where are we?”
“Over the Indian Ocean.”
“How long ‘til we arrive?”
“We’ll be over land in about thirty minutes. We won’t be in Alice Springs for another two and a half hours.”
“Perfect,” said Alton. “Just enough time to eat and make sure we’re ready.”
The jet streaked across a brilliantly lit sky, transporting Alton and his teammates into the heart of Australia’s famed outback. Unlike the majority of Australia’s foremost cities, Alice Springs lay squarely in the continent’s center, over 900 miles from the closest ocean.
Alton moved down the aisle and nudged Gilbert and David, the only two who had not yet awoke. “Chow time!”
Nabi brought out a dilapidated airline foot cart. On top, a heaping ceramic bowl of chicken and rice steamed from a recent visit to the microwave, while an adjacent bowl contained a large salad. Nabi passed out slightly cracked china plates and prewrapped, plastic cutlery.
“Nothing but first class for us,” said David as he poked a fork through the plastic wrap.
“Sorry I don’t have any cheeseburgers,” said Nabi. “They don’t keep so good in the refrigerator.”
Alton scooped some of the food from both serving bowls onto his plate. He brought a bite of chicken and rice towards his mouth but hesitated. Was there any chance Pasha Tech had discovered the identity of their pilot and gotten to him before the flight? Adding poison to this meal could take out the entire NSA team in one fell swoop. Alton eyed the others and shook his head ever so slightly.
“Is everything okay?” asked Nabi as he dropped a generous portion onto his own plate. “It’s good. I promise. It is my mother’s recipe.” He shoveled a heaping bite into his mouth. After following it up with a portion of salad, he looked up and grinned. “Bon appetit!”
Alton nodded to the rest of the team. Having not eaten in hours, they attacked the simple meal without delay.
“You’re right,” said Mastana, smiling at the pilot. “This is good.”
“Thank you,” said Nabi, beaming. He rose, his plate still in his hands. “I must go back to the cockpit now. I can’t leave Zarzi all alone up there for too long. I hope you will enjoy my humble meal. Help yourself to seconds.” He left to rejoin his copilot.
The team passed around the salad bowl. It ended with David, who laughed to himself as he scooped out a portion.
“What’s so funny?�
�� asked Mallory.
“This bowl reminds me of one of my first dates. We went to an Italian restaurant, one of those places that brings a big bowl of salad for everyone. Well, my date didn’t use the tongs. She ate right out of the bowl. And I don’t mean she picked out a slice of tomato. We’re talking full-on grubbing.”
Mallory laughed. “I’m guessing there wasn’t a second date?”
“Nope. I’m not the pickiest guy in the world, but really?”
After a few chuckles, everyone settled down to eat their first meal in hours.
Alton scarfed his portion so he could lead the discussion while the others finished their meal. “Everyone feel rested?”
Nods and grins answered the question.
“Good. I know we discussed next steps back in Kabul, but that was the better part of a day ago. Let’s confirm one more time so we can hit the ground running.
“David and Gilbert, you’ll both use Gilbert’s geologist cover story from before. Make sure you know which part of Australia you’re ostensibly visiting, in case anyone asks.
“Regarding lodging, we’ll split up to different hotels again but with somewhat different arrangements. In case Safi got wind of our little operation at his former site, Gilbert will bunk with David, and Mastana will stay with Silva. This will keep a seasoned veteran with the two folks who lack combat experience.”
“Sounds like a plan, boss,” said David.
“I have to admit, that’d put my mind at ease a bit,” said Gilbert.
“No problem. I have some new jokes I’ve been dying to try out. This’ll be the perfect opportunity.” He cleared his throat. “Why don’t they play poker in the jungle?”
Gilbert shrugged.
“Too many cheetahs,” said David, chuckling to himself. “Get it? Cheetahs.”
Gilbert groaned. “Seems like it’d be the African savannah, not a jungle.”
Alton turned to the toxicologist and cracked a smile. “If you want out of the room-sharing arrangement, now’s your chance. David’s jokes have been known to break down stronger men than you.”
Tears of God (The Blackwell Files Book 7) Page 14