“Mr. Weinstein, time’s wasting. Your office will begin wondering where you are soon, and that could trigger a defensive reaction within your group if they have you under surveillance, which they very well might. So it’s decision time. Do you help us put an end to this craziness, or do you suffer the unspeakable and then die a pointless death? Oh, and just in case you’re feeling virtuous, you should know that while you were drugged you divulged the names of the other members of your little circle. So if you decide that you’re not going to play ball, we’ll be moving to the next in line, and they’ll get the offer…and you’ll get the bullet. At this point all you’ll be doing is saving us a little time. It won’t affect the outcome at all. Because one of them will talk – just as you did – and then we’ll still have the information we need, only you’ll be history. This is your only chance. Choose wisely.” She fixed him with an unwavering stare. “Make your decision – what’s it going to be?”
Jacob closed his eyes as if in prayer, and then gazed up at her with the look of the eternally damned, a haunted expression on his face, no defiance left in him.
“How is this going to work?”
Chapter 28
The restaurant was closed for a private event, the owner having given the staff the night off when he’d received the call late that morning requesting the premises for a meeting. The rule was that if any of the nine members of The Council wanted to meet, the others had to make arrangements to do so as soon as possible. When Jacob had made the calls, agreement had been assumed, and it had merely been an issue of timing. The event had been set for five p.m., and as the hour approached a steady stream of expensive vehicles arrived at the rear door, disgorging their occupants before disappearing so as not to attract untoward attention.
Jacob was the last to arrive, and he had fortified himself with several single malt Scotches and a half a Xanax before having his car take him to the restaurant – one of dozens owned by a prominent Council member, who also controlled a significant portion of the local commercial fishing fleet. Jacob strode purposefully to the service entrance, as had the others, and the surveillance group a block away in a hastily commandeered office could detect the clicking of his heels as he made his way into the recesses of the brick building to a private dining room on the second floor.
Jacob nodded to the assembled men when he entered the room, and then took a seat at the large round table. He examined their faces, studying them, and saw both resolve and fatigue – men whose lives had been long battles, with no quarter offered nor expected, a Who’s Who of the financial might of the nation. David wasn’t among them – Jacob had brought him into the information loop many years ago, but he wasn’t an official member of The Council, lacking the experience – and the bankroll – to be an equal.
“Gentlemen, a meeting has been convened due to the special request of one of our group. As the member calling the meeting, Jacob will now address the gathering. Jacob?” the oldest member, Eli, said in a gruff voice that still resonated with authority, honed over an illustrious career as one of the most famous attorneys in the land, and later, one of the larger residential real estate landowners.
“Thank you all for coming. I wanted this meeting because it occurred to me that we’re now very close to our ultimate ambition coming to fruition, and yet I have literally no idea what it is, precisely, that we’re about to do. I know, as do you all, that it involves the detonation of the second device, but beyond that and assurances that it’s for our mutual good, I’m in the dark, and I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night, unsure that I’m comfortable with not knowing what’s planned. Therefore, I’m proposing that the security committee brief us all – today, at this meeting – so that we know what to expect and how our money has been spent. Given that last week we were told that the event, whatever it is, is imminent, I can see no reason to keep the inner circle out of the loop any longer. So I propose a vote, by a show of hands. I want to know what’s being done in my name.”
“Before everyone votes, I should let you know that our contractors – no, our partners in this affair – were attacked in Libya only hours ago,” Saul, the head of the security committee, said, sotto voce.
“Attacked? Related to our matter?” Jacob demanded. “And when were we going to be informed?”
“Jacob. Relax. We don’t know that it had anything to do with this. Early reports suggest it might have been insurgents – the house was in Benghazi, and that’s seen more than its share of violence in recent months,” Saul assured him, sounding reasonable. “There’s no hint that this involves our operation. But it is an indication of how vulnerable we all are, even now.”
“What it tells me is that these men shouldn’t have been living in a war zone,” Jacob snapped back. “Yet another aspect we knew nothing about. I had a phone number for them, but if the security committee had told me that they were in Benghazi, I would have told them to move – immediately. Saul, I’m saying that the time for silence is over.”
“Until the detonation, I think it’s a poor idea for anyone to know more than they do,” Bernard, another security committee member, said. Bernard was a perennial curmudgeon, so nobody took his grumbling tone personally. “We’ve waited this long. What’s a few more days?”
“Bernard, what harm could possibly come from you sharing with the members when and where the detonation is to take place, now that it’s practically happened? Don’t you trust us? Is there anyone here whose loyalty or ability to keep a secret is in question?” asked Rubin, one of the other members, bristling at the implication.
“It’s not about secrecy, necessarily. If someone did something stupid, like taking large options positions in anticipation of a major disruption of oil supplies, it could be backtracked to them and endanger our existence moving forward – at a time when our solidarity will be even more necessary than ever,” Saul said.
“Then let’s pass a resolution barring any of our members from investing based on the knowledge. That’s simple. I trust my fellow Council members to honor that. The question is, do you, and if not, why not?” Jacob said, turning the objection around on Saul. He could sense the sentiment in the room going his way; he didn’t want to belabor the point, so he decided to close with his strongest argument. “Look, I’ve been a member of The Council for over twenty years. We’ve never had a security breach, and all the members have always conducted themselves in a manner that’s above reproach. I, for one, am confident that everyone in this room will preserve our secret. That being the case, I dislike being treated like an idiot child who can’t be trusted to know the truth. Especially after putting millions of my own money into the project. Frankly, I understood the need for compartmentalization before, but at this juncture, the reasoning is just insulting.”
He sat down, his point made, and then cleared his throat and tapped his pen against the side of his bottle of Perrier water, calling for attention.
“I propose a vote. First, on banning any investment based on foreknowledge. All in favor?”
The vote was unanimous.
“Before we vote on the security issue, may I just remind everyone how close we are to a success we’ve all been waiting for over thirteen years to achieve? Why endanger it now? Be patient for just a little while longer. I urge you all to take the high road on this,” Saul said, trying to turn the tide.
“Right. Because only Saul, Bernard, and Russ can be trusted,” Jacob said, naming the three members who knew all the details – effectively driving a wedge between them and the other members. Framed in that manner, how could the others not be insulted, especially when their money had flowed generously, and without question? Jacob sensed his win, and tapped the bottle again.
“And now, a show of hands. All those in favor of the security committee informing us of the details of the impending detonation?” Six hands shot up, with the three members of the security committee abstaining. Under the rules of The Council, a majority of seven would be required, and for a moment Jacob’s hea
rt sank. Then, slowly, Russ’ hand rose, passing the vote.
“There. It’s decided. Saul, time to spill the beans. What are you up to?” Jacob asked, the moment of his ultimate betrayal at hand.
Saul shook his head in defeat. “I think it’s a terrible idea to tell you anything,” he protested.
“We understand that. But the vote has been cast. Now tell us,” Jacob pressed.
“Very well. Tomorrow, at ten-thirty a.m. local time in Qatar, the device will be detonated at a brunch that kicks off the annual Arab League meeting – a special assembly attended by not just the delegates but the heads of many of the countries, including Saudi Arabia and Iran. The leaders of virtually every Muslim country will be there, so in one fell swoop the funders of global terrorism will be eradicated. This will accomplish two things – first, it will disrupt the flow of money to those who have been working to destroy us – Hamas, Hezbollah, and all the rest. And second, it will create a situation where we will likely be blamed, irrationally, of course – forcing at least a limited war with our belligerent neighbors in which we can seize necessary territory and deal swiftly and finally with those who would love to see our beloved nation destroyed. It will create a new order for the region, and enable us to take a leadership role.”
The room was silent at the audacity of the undertaking. Most had been imagining a strategic strike, perhaps against Iran, but to kill all their adversaries in one blow… The Council was composed of ultra-hard liners for whom there was no middle ground. Most had been in combat, defending the country, and had little patience for the diplomacy that had, in their view, eradicated the nation’s resolve. The plan made perfect sense – if one condoned butchering tens of thousands as well as assassinating the heads of state of virtually every other country in the region.
“How will it be done? What’s the mechanism?” Jacob asked in a hushed voice.
“I don’t know. Nobody does. Our partners in this were adamant that they control that part of it, in complete secrecy. We had to agree on the target and fund them, but beyond that, they’re the implementation side, and the less we know, the better,” Saul explained, and Bernard nodded beside him.
Jacob’s stomach did a flip at the information.
Nobody knew how to stop the bomb.
And it was going to go off tomorrow morning.
~ ~ ~
The director gasped as he heard Saul describe in calm tones the insane scheme that would throw the Middle East into chaos. He turned to Jet, afraid to miss even a single syllable as the meeting was broadcast to headquarters from the surveillance point, and listened in horror as Saul described how the actual details weren’t known to anyone in the room.
“They’re mad. Absolute lunatics. If this succeeds it’ll ignite the region and mean war – possibly world war,” he whispered.
“Yes, the most dangerous thing in the world is a bunch of rich old men who feel that many dying is an acceptable tradeoff for whatever their agenda is.”
“It has to be stopped.”
Jet nodded. “I agree. But have you noticed how those advocating killing always believe that God is on their side, and that they’re just doing what has to be done to combat an even greater evil?”
“All due respect, spare me the philosophy. We have to stop this. Whatever it takes. Good Lord…it’s happening tomorrow…I need you to get ready to fly to Qatar. I’ll assemble a support team. Lou, get the situation room briefed and ready – find out what assets we have in Qatar, and the best way to get a team in without alerting the locals,” the director said, turning to his second in command.
“You need to tell Qatar,” Jet said flatly. “This completely changes the stakes.”
“I’ll brief the cabinet within the hour. I don’t disagree, but there’s more to this than just warning Qatar. For one thing, they hate us. For another, it will achieve almost the same effect even if they abort the summit – we’ll look like monsters, even though this is a rogue group and in no way officially sanctioned. We’ll be painted with the same brush and demonized in the eyes of much of the world. There are a lot of things to take into account…”
“Wait. You mean to tell me you’re going to consider the political fallout, instead of just the actual fallout of allowing a nuke to take out the entire Arab world’s leadership? Tell me how that’s any less insane than planting the nuke in the first place?” she fired back, momentarily forgetting who she was talking to in the heat of her outrage.
The director looked like he’d been punched, and then replied frostily.
“Thank you for your thoughts on geo-political realities. I’ll pass them on to the cabinet. Might I suggest that you temper your passion and stick to the mission? We need to stop this event from occurring. That’s the easiest fix.”
“Yes, but right now all we know is that there’s a bomb that will vaporize the Middle East’s leaders that’s set to detonate tomorrow morning, and we know nothing else about it. How would you suggest we go about stopping something that we can’t find?” she snapped back, furious at his arrogance.
“I’d say you should come up with a plan, then. We don’t have much time. You have any and all resources you wish – so make it happen.”
She choked back her anger and nodded. “Fine. First thing, get every satellite under our control focused on Qatar. Do we have any that can detect radiation?” she asked.
“That’s a secret. But yes, we do.”
“Get them pointed at Qatar as well. The more eyes we have on it, the better our odds of spotting something. And if we have any operatives in the capital, let’s have them relay anything they hear, no matter how insignificant. We have about twenty hours to discover a lead and turn it into something we can use.” She gave him a dark look. “You realize that if I go in and can’t stop this from happening, that getting out, assuming I’m not in the blast zone, is going to be close to impossible, right? I didn’t sign up for suicide.”
He studied her face, nodding. “I understand you have a daughter. Don’t ask how I know. Remember, my job is to know things. I can appreciate how you would want to be around for her, but I’m afraid I have to insist you follow this through. At worst, I’ll make a personal commitment to extract you, no matter what the cost. You may have to go to ground there for a little while, but I’ll get you out. You have my word on that.”
“And what about if I’m caught in the blast?”
“Don’t be. If you haven’t stopped the device by ten-fifteen, get the hell away from the meeting zone.”
“That’s cutting it close, isn’t it?”
He checked his watch. “I need to get going. I’ll have my men round up these traitorous Council scum and interrogate them. You don’t need to concern yourself with them anymore. Get ready to move out after you meet with the situation team in…two hours. I’ll need an hour with the cabinet, and then I’ll return. Start without me if I’m not back. Lou, she’s to be accorded every respect. Whatever she says, goes. Clear?”
Lou stiffened, practically saluting. “Yes, sir.”
“Send the men in and take the so-called Council to one of our larger facilities. I don’t want them talking to each other. Put interrogators on the three security committee men and get everything they know. Use whatever means are necessary. I don’t care what you have to do – it’s possible that this ‘Saul,’ or one of the other two, was holding something back. Find out. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need some privacy. I have to make some sensitive calls,” the director said, and moved to the door. “I’ll be in my office if anything comes up.”
“What about Jacob?” Jet asked.
“What about him? I never made any deal with him. You did. He can spend the rest of his life with the others. I’d say he more than earned it,” the director snapped, and then stalked from the room, the stink of nicotine trailing behind him as he left to inform the government that the unthinkable was about to happen.
Chapter 29
Doha, Qatar
The dry air was still, the
aftermath of an afternoon dust storm having left a thin film of grit on everything in its wake. Towering buildings thrust relentlessly into the starry night sky, the glow from their lights illuminating the financial district enough to give Las Vegas at its most garish a run for its money. The city was at rest at one in the morning, the never-ending construction taking a necessary breather; the massive cranes towering above the endless array of skyscrapers were motionless, awaiting the dawn of a new day.
Nearby Dubai was famous for its world class hyper-development, but Doha had similar aspirations and was making up for lost time. An idyllic seaport with white sand beaches, tranquil turquoise Persian Gulf water, and virtually limitless oil revenues, the tiny nation was hell-bent on rising with the dawn of the twenty-first century.
Solomon and Joseph had parked several miles away and stolen an inflatable dinghy with an outboard engine to make their approach to the darkened port. Countless cargo ships and support craft for the oil rigs out in the Gulf hulked along the concrete waterfront embankments, their heavy steel forms pulling gently at the lines securing them as a lazy surge pulsed in the harbor. The throb of the outboard sounded like a jet on takeoff to Solomon, but he knew that his nerves were close the surface and that nobody was likely to pay any attention to it.
Joseph killed the engine as they neared their destination, and then dropped the oar tips into the water and began rowing toward the huge ships. A few minutes later the small craft glided to a stop at the base of a corroded steel ladder rising from the water, and Solomon tied the bow line to it, securing the boat for a quick getaway. They had considered other means to get into the container storage area of the busy port, but ultimately discarded them as too risky – a sea approach was the least likely to be detected.
Solomon pulled himself up the rungs, grimacing at the pain radiating from his wounded shoulder. Joseph followed him up. Both men wore black and were invisible in the darkened yard, where hundreds of shipping containers sat inside, awaiting transport to their ultimate unloading points. Joseph pulled a small device from his pocket and switched it on, waiting a few seconds for the screen to illuminate, and then he zoomed in and studied a blinking dot with coordinates immediately below it.
JET V - Legacy Page 18