Instigator (Strike Force: An Iniquus Romantic Suspense Mystery Thriller Book 3)

by Fiona Quinn

  Christen swallowed hard. She tried to let that conversation sink in. Karl was so blasé over her death. She knew he didn’t like her, but this sounded like he was ordering a sandwich. And her dad. Her dad was sick? Dying? What the heck!

  “Okay great, let’s put a pin in that for a second,” Lynx said. “It seems that Karl put a target on his father’s back and that he knew Momo Bourhan. Momo was involved in the Bowman’s kidnapping and was in charge of the Ngorongoro attack. Right now, I want to layer this conversation with one Christen and Red picked up in the limo on the way to the airport, Nutsbe, if you would.” Lynx turned her head in his direction.

  Nutsbe played the tape.

  “My father was jumped by four men and saved by his security team,” Karl said.

  “Do you know the names of the men he was meeting with?” Nadir asked.

  “He’s still trying to find the right players, the right pressure points,” Karl responded.

  “Momo Burhan was not at that meeting, I can assure you.”

  “How exactly do you know that?” Karl asked.

  “He is dead.”

  “Momo’s dead?” Karl asked. “How? When? Wait, how do you know that?” There was panic in his voice that Christen hadn’t picked up at the time.

  Nadir answered, “Sources. In terms of your ongoing negotiations, now that the eco-pawn is off the chess board, we can get some work accomplished.”

  “The problem with the Bowmans,” Karl said, “followed by the attack in Ngorongoro Crater means that this region will be considered a hot spot. The men who come to work for us will want hazard pay. The cost of business will go up.”

  “Experts, yes,” Nadir said. “Of course, these incidences will also effect the local economy as tourism falls away, that means the locals will be desperate for new jobs and their wages will fall. It might end up that this works in your economic favor.”

  “Even if this is so, the businesses will have to be extremely lucrative to follow through. Our continual cooperation is the only way to make this happen. I’m glad you were able to join our little adventure. Thank you for coming.”

  “Now,” Lynx said. “We believe it was Karl who called the meeting together. Because of this exchange Karl had with Lula.”

  Nutsbe played another recording.

  “Well, no. I had brought these businessmen together, we, Father and I had planned a business gathering, and so we had just invited the men.”

  “But why was Christen endangered? What would the purpose be? She wasn’t targeted for kidnapping but murder,” Johnna said.

  “Nutsbe was able to hack into William Davidson’s cloud as he approached his island in international waters.”

  Christen thought Lynx was being very specific to make sure that everyone knew they hadn’t broken any laws in procuring the information.

  “FYI,” Nutsbe cut in. “There was a break in cloud cover, and I just downloaded the recordings from Gator and Christen’s devices. I’m scrolling to the end to see the last things you both saw before you went overboard. With my fist glimpses, we’ll need computer enhancement for this. I’m putting them into the parameters of those we know are on the boat. We should have our suspects in just a moment, hopefully.”

  Christen felt like she’d been doused with a bucket of ice water, pain started at the top of her head and flooded down.

  Lynx, looked at her and nodded then cleared her throat. “Here’s another interesting conversation Christen picked up.”

  “Christen for someone not in the industry you’re batting a thousand,” Johnna said.

  Lynx turned to the board and pointed to a written conversation she’d posted there in her tight neat handwriting. “Gregor Zoric asked, ‘Do you know someone who has a team to get the job done?’ he’s talking about getting a replacement team for Momo Bourhan. Nadir then asks the sheik, ‘Properly?’ He continues, ‘Momo’s activities failed three times in a row. He was not the professional he led us to believe he was.’” Lynx turned and let her gaze sweep over everyone then rest on the camera looking at the group huddled in Singapore. “Again, three possible activities that we might assign to that conversation: one, he might have sent the extremists to train in Paraguay where the Zoric’s held Suz and her students; two, the Bowmans were kidnapped but rescued; three the attack on Ngorongoro and the kidnapped scientists including Meg Finley and Honey Honig. ‘I do. I’ll handle it,’ the Saudi replied.”

  “So who do you think tried to kill me?” Christen asked. Surreal. These last few days were the poster child for the word surreal.

  “Here, we go,” Nutsbe said as he put up a grainy video. “This is what Gator saw. Two seconds.” He tapped at his computer, up came the images, side by side, incontrovertible. She knew it was coming. But still, it was a body blow. “Daniel and Karl,” she whispered. “Karl,” she said again.

  Johnna came over and wrapped her arms around Christen but all Christen wanted was to bury her head against Gator’s shoulder. He got up, went to the kitchen, and brought her a glass of water.

  “Thanks,” she said. For nothing. What the hell was wrong with Gator?

  “The Slovakian Zoric family is helping Middle Eastern terrorists because the terrorists have illegal channels of distribution – art and drugs, some sex trafficking. Those are the three big money makers for the Zorics.” She began, walking to the board and picking up a magic marker. “The Zorics, especially Gregor, are about money and power. Terrorism helps them develop political power, and the Zorics, in return, help the terrorists to manipulate the political dynamic. As far as I can tell religious or other ideology plays no role. These attachments are strictly business dealings. It’s a game of three-dimensional chess.”

  “You were taking a look into helium,” Johnna said.

  “We have some interesting folks when it comes to helium, for sure. Right now, those who want a helium crisis to bolster helium prices, need Qatar to shut down their delivery of goods.” As she discussed a point on her board, she’d check it off. She wasn’t going in sequence, but she was painting a pretty clear picture. “Qatar created a problem by aligning with terror groups. Why would they want that? It seems counterintuitive. But having that connection meant someone else could use it as a reason to shut down their port. In steps Saudi Arabia. The dynamic means that industries are reliant on the US which is far away, with helium reserves that are depleting quickly. The price of helium will go up.”

  “If the price of helium goes up then the Russians and the Qatari’s will make more money when they distribute their gas,” Nutsbe said.

  “The Tanzanians, where the new gas discoveries have occurred, doesn’t have the ability to develop their own helium fields. The government doesn’t want to enter into contracts with the Russians even through Slovakia, but they will consider contracts with Americans. Enter Gregor Zoric and his manipulation of William Davidson.” Lynx circled that point, then drew an arrow to her father’s name. “Davidson wanted the contracts – the Tanzanian government doesn’t want that. They were hoping for contracts with Hesston Oil which would mean sustainable energy and a boost to their eco-tourism trade.”

  “Which would put more helium in the market, by a group who was not-for-profit,” Red was massaging her thumb along her jaw line as she considered the data in front of them. “That wasn’t going to wash with Russia, the US, or Qatar. The helium industry needed to get Bowman out of the way.”

  “It would make sense then for someone to arrange for Bowman with Hesston Oil to be kidnapped. Hesston steps away from the poker table, once Bowman retires. Now the field is open there are few other companies that could compete with Davidson for the contracts. All they need is to get everything signed. A few crises in the area will scare scientists off working for environmental stability and also drive away competition. It’s not going exactly as planned but close enough.”

  Everyone was frowning as the enormity of the collusion was laid out.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Christen

  M
onday, Safe House, Singapore

  There was a knock at the door and another man showed up in the room.

  “Special Agent Steve Finley – FBI Terror. Lynx asked me to stop by.”

  “Perfect timing,” Lynx said.

  Christen saw Johnna shifting in her seat. She wondered if Johnna thought the FBI might be treading on her territory.”

  Lynx turned to the camera. “Steve is a Zoric expert.” She looked back at Steve.

  “We already made Zoric connections to the Paraguay kidnapping. And now it looks like Momo Bourhan was a Zoric tool for the other two attacks. All that happened under a black Islamic extremist flag, but currently it’s looking more like a political play. A lot of time, money, and manpower is being invested. This must be something big,” Steve said.

  “Agreed,” Lynx said. “Ever since your sister Meg was talking about helium, I’ve been playing with that idea. The market is worth billions, and it is held in few hands. If there were a crisis that ‘B’ in billions could quickly become a ‘T’ in trillions.” She turned to face the FBI guy. “One of my questions is about the Paraguayan kidnapping. The two young boys were taken to press the grandfather to make sure a vote moved through his subcommittee. Can you tell us what the vote was about?”

  Steve Finley hesitated.

  “Let me tell you what I think it was,” If it was classified, Lynx could probably get a yes or no out of Steve before she could get all of the information, Christen absolutely was understanding now the power and high esteem that this woman enjoyed from those around her. “Last month, at the time of the children’s kidnapping, we were focused on upcoming legislation that was supposed to go through the senate arms committee, thinking that was the impetus. However, he’s also a high-ranking member of the Senate Energy and Natural Resources Committee. When I looked at the tasks they had taken up, there was legislation that concerned fracking and natural gas. The industry wanted to expand its operations. And this didn’t pass out of the subcommittee to a vote by the Senate. Natural gas operations are also helium operations. Is that the vote, the push, the influence that the kidnappers wanted exercised? Because that legislation had received a ton of public backlash and looked like it was dead in the water.”

  “Yes,” Finley said. “That’s it.”

  “And at the same time the Bowmans were dragged off their yacht in the Red Sea,” Lynx said.

  “Well isn’t this interesting?” Johnna scooted to the edge of the sofa.

  “Please,” Christen stared into the little lens on top of the TV that she assumed was sending their images back to the meeting room. “My father is ill? What do you know about that?”

  Johnna turned to her and put her hand on Christen’s shoulder. “Your dad was diagnosed with a brain tumor, they did a biopsy. The doctors’ first thought was that it looked like it might be a glioblastoma, which is an aggressive form of brain cancer. There are a few things they could try, but if he were kidnapped and didn’t get the interventions, it would be a death sentence. Besides the baby-making with London, getting the lab reports back was one of the reasons your dad stayed in Singapore.”

  “Benign,” Nutsbe said. “Lula sent that information yesterday morning. He needs an operation to remove the pressure and stop his headaches but other than that he’s good.” The computer dinged. “‘Karl and Gregor have left the building. Check video,” he read.

  “Check video for what?” Johnna asked. “Is Blaze following them?”

  “No, ma’am,” Striker said. “He has a concussion and has been ordered to stand down.” He turned to Nutsbe. “Can you put the video up on the screen?”

  “Satellite’s still intermittent. I’ll let you know when it comes through.”

  “D-day,” Lynx said. “Christen,” she said gently. “What a terrible experience you’ve been through. And here, we’re handing you a lot of very upsetting information. You’ll need to let us know if you need a break.”

  “Where’s my dad?”

  “He’s on Davidson Realm. He went with Lula and his security team on the helicopter. The weather didn’t show up as a concern until after they left, and they arrived before there were any issues. The helicopter came back and took London north of the city to see a friend. She’s expected back by this evening,” Lynx said.

  “Without outside comms they may not know how bad the weather got on the north end of Sumatra. They are probably just now expecting the yacht to pull into the harbor,” Gator said.

  “And now I have a question for you, D-day. Why is it best for Karl if you died before your dad?”

  Christen blinked.

  “I’m imagining it has something to do with wills. If he died before you did, you would receive your inheritance. Then if you died it would go to whomever you indicated in your will.”

  “In my will I leave everything to the Fisher House – my trust fund and what have you.”

  “If your dad died first you would have inherited from him,” Lynx nodded, trying to direct her down a thought path.

  Christen thought it through. “Well, there are four of us kids, and we’d divide things up equally. That would be one less. Unless, London was successful in getting knocked up but then that would be par for the…”

  “There,” Lynx said, “That thought. What was it.”

  “I’m in charge of the twins shares until they turn thirty. That’s eleven years away. I have seventy-five percent of the vote.”

  “Why would your dad do that?”

  “I think he thought I’d be more conservative and hold Karl back until the twins were wise enough to help make decisions. I never gave it much thought. I never thought he’d die before everyone was the right age and then, like I said, I’d arrange for someone else to manage my shares and give the money to Fisher House as they take care of wounded veteran’s families. I have zero interest in the business or the money.”

  “With you out of the picture, your father would have to change his will or your older brother would have a hundred percent control?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Here we go,” Nutsbe said. He touched a key and the lights went out.

  The two men, Karl and Gregor, stood in the hallway. Blaze was watching from behind the crack of a door.

  “I need to call my father and let him know all the guests and security is fine, but that Christen went overboard.”

  “He’ll ask if there is a search,” Gregor said, this time they were speaking in English.

  “It was a typhoon. He won’t be so idiotic. I didn’t make it out with a phone. May I use yours?”

  Gregor pulled it from his pocket and handed it over. “You won’t be able to get through. Your father was worried about the Fivey allies intercepting what was happening on his island this weekend, so his security team put up scramblers. No signal could go in or out. It won’t stop satellite images from being taken. They could see us if we were on the grounds, but that won’t give them anything interesting. Have you checked in on the others?”

  “The security force is fine except the new guys. Gator went overboard trying to save Christen. Blaze got conked over the head and has a concussion.”

  “By debris?”

  “Impossible to tell,” Karl smiled widely and gave every indication that it had been done on purpose.

  “Mark that,” Lynx said.

  “Roger.” Nutsbe tapped the keyboard.

  “The other guests are being looked at by the doctors – we all got pretty banged up. Dehydration and nerves. Taro had to be sedated. We’ll have to try this again when everyone is steady.” Karl handed the phone back to Gregor. “You’re right, nothing went through. I’m going to take security with me and head out to the island.”

  “How?”

  “Boat. London has the helicopter. I talked with the airport.”

  They leaned in and spoke inaudibly, then the two men shook hands.

  “Hey,” Lynx called out. “It looked like Gregor was palming something. Can you get in on the handshake? His lips were moving, I
didn’t hear that last part, but given Karl ’s reaction, it was important.” Christen saw nothing like what Lynx described. Not a reaction, not something being passed between the two…

  Nutsbe’s fingers moved over the keyboard. “Here we go – you caught it, Lynx. He’s palming a white screw top bottle that looks like it might be eye drops. Christen saw it now too as Lynx pointed at the screen to help them all focus on the right spot. The computer is working to isolate that conversation and scrub the ambient noise. Two seconds, please.”

  Nutsbe put the video back at the beginning again. He tapped the arrow to make it play and they heard Gregor say, “You have yourself in a difficult spot my friend. With your sister dead, your father will write a new will. We do not know what that will could say, to whom your father will pass power. I believe that you are the one rightful heir. You have been his right hand all these many years. You know the business. You have the contacts that have made all of this work. If it weren’t for you, the whole global helium crisis would not exist. It has taken you years of plotting. Years of developing. Years of perseverance. You deserve to steer the ship as you take your place at the global table of prestige.”

  “Thank you. I can’t say I don’t disagree.” Karl frowned. “I’m afraid I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.” He reached out to shake Gregor’s hand. Surprise and curiosity filled Karl ’s gaze. He jerked his head back and to the left. Their hands held as Gregor leaned in.

  Nope. No one could understand what was whispered. Nutsbe rewound to that point fussed with his controls and let it play again.

  “This in his cocktail and by morning you will find your father succumbed to a heart attack while he slept. An autopsy, if one is required, will show only natural cause.”

  Karl smiled slyly, sliding his hand into his pocket. “Thank you.”

  “What is that? What was that?” Christen was on her feet.