He frowned as the Englishman turned right and walked out in front of the traffic, trusting that the vehicles would make way for him. The man’s whole body language screamed confidence, and he appeared angry.
Abbas smiled. The loss of the boat had evidently soured the man’s mood, at least.
Dan slowed, checked his watch, and began to walk up the steps that led into the building that took up the whole side of the block.
Abbas moved into the shadow of an awning outside a café and pulled a mobile phone from his robe. He scowled at a teenager that passed him, the youngster dressed in Western clothing complete with a fake American university-emblazoned t-shirt, and hit the speed dial.
His call was answered within three rings.
He didn’t bother with introductions. It wouldn’t be appreciated by his superior at the other end of the line.
‘He wasn’t on the boat when the explosives detonated.’
‘What went wrong?’
‘He received a phone call as he entered the harbour area. It delayed his arrival back at the vessel.’
‘That is unfortunate.’ A pause. ‘Did anyone see you?’
‘No.’
‘Where are you now?’
‘Outside the Argan Hotel. He left the harbour and just arrived here.’
‘Checking in?’
‘Hard to tell. Wasn’t carrying anything, but then everything he owned was on that boat.’
‘Monitor the situation. Follow him if he leaves, and report back. Kill him if the opportunity arises. Our plans proceed regardless, but it would be better if Mr Taylor wasn’t around to try to stop us.’
‘I understand.’
Abbas ended the call and tucked the phone away. He checked his surroundings to make sure his conversation hadn’t been overheard, and then wandered along to a café under the awning, ordered a coffee, and settled at one of the tables, his eyes focused on the doors to the hotel.
He was prepared for a long wait.
CHAPTER 4
Dan gave the uniformed doorman a curt nod as he stalked across the threshold of the five-star hotel and into the coolness of the reception area.
The hotel’s owners had renovated a set of four traditional three-storey houses that enclosed a tranquil courtyard, the main feature of which was a fountain set in the middle of the mosaic floor tiles. Next to it, a gnarled argan tree presided, its elderly branches providing shade during the noon hours when the sun beat overhead.
The reception desk had been positioned to the left of the front door, vine leaves sprawling from the terraces above providing an unusual but effective backdrop to the space.
Dan’s boots smacked the surface of the marble-tiled floor, and he waved away the man who slipped from behind the reception desk to approach him, his smile fading under Dan’s withering glare.
Dan hooked his sunglasses over the collar of his t-shirt while he gauged the layout of the hotel, and then spotted the marble staircase set into the rear corner of the space.
By the time he reached the second floor, he was beginning to wonder if he was making a mistake.
What if it was a trap? What if David was planning to have him arrested and spirited back to the UK?
And who the hell had destroyed his boat?
As the stairs ended on the third landing, he stepped into a wide corridor, its marble floor dappled with sunlight from openings carved out of the walls. The stonework lent a coolness to the space, which resonated with a quiet serenity that jarred with the heat and bustle he’d left outside.
From his position, he had a clear view of the reception desk and front door. The rest of the hotel seemed to be deserted while its tourist guests were out exploring for the day.
He checked his watch. It had taken him twenty minutes to reach the hotel, and he wondered how his life might change within the next hour. If he was going to have second thoughts, it was now or never.
The sound of a door opening behind him interrupted his thoughts, and he turned, ready to fight, and then relaxed.
‘Mel.’
‘Hey.’
Tall, blonde, Melissa Harper was a top-notch analyst and, if she was here with David, had added “field agent” to her extensive list of skills as well.
Dan gave her a brief hug. ‘You’ve lost the hat and the piercings.’
A faint smile crossed her lips as she glanced down at her jeans and t-shirt. ‘A compromise,’ she said, and shrugged.
Dan nodded. No doubt the twenty-something was settling in well at the Energy Protection Group. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Not here,’ she said, indicating the doors to the other hotel suites. ‘Too many ears. Come on.’
She led the way back towards the open door from which she’d appeared, waited for Dan to join her, and then closed it behind them.
A man turned away from the window, a little shorter than Dan, his hair showing the first flecks of grey. He held out his hand.
‘Dan.’
‘David.’
The head of the Energy Protection Group gestured to a dining table that had been set up as a temporary command post. ‘Shall we sit?’
Dan folded his arms across his chest. ‘I’d prefer not to.’
His eyes swept the room, taking in the Moroccan style of furnishings – sofas with kilim cushions for guests to curl up on, a colourful glass tea service set out on a low square table, and bright rugs covering the stone floor.
He ignored it all and stalked across the room to the window, edged to one side, and twitched the curtain.
The building opposite housed cafés and an international fast-food chain on the lower level, the tables and chairs filled with both locals and tourists, while another hotel took up the next two levels. Dan ran a practiced eye over the windows across from his position and noted they were all sealed.
‘I’m surprised you’ve got no-one covering your back,’ said Dan.
‘You’re a wanted man in some circles, Taylor, not a threat.’
‘Who’s brilliant idea was this? Yours?’
‘Like I said before, it was the general who suggested you. The Prime Minister agreed.’
‘He really doesn’t want me to make it back to the UK alive, does he?’
‘It’s not like that, Dan. He’s trying to help. Despite what happened, I think he realises that what his predecessor did to you was wrong.’
‘Good grief, a politician with a conscience?’
David sighed. ‘Don’t be sarcastic.’
Dan stared through the window down to the pavement below and watched a pair of girls, likely European tourists judging by their bare legs, walk past the hotel. ‘What has all this got to do with me?’
‘The current Prime Minister is the only one who holds the key to overthrowing any criminal conviction against you,’ explained David. ‘Everyone else has to go by the official record. He knows what you’re capable of, and the circumstances that you left the country under.’
‘So he’s bribing me to help him?’
‘Face it, Dan. He’s your only chance. You didn’t help matters by running.’
Dan swore. ‘If I do this, can you find out who destroyed my boat?’
‘You concentrate on that when you’ve got Anna, and she’s on a plane back to the United States and her father.’ He ignored the disbelieving look Dan shot him. ‘I’ll have a word, see if I can get someone here to start an investigation while you’re away. It’ll give you a head start, okay?’
Dan closed his eyes, willing himself not to curse out loud with exasperation. David had him in a corner, and he knew it.
‘Look, it’ll be good PR for the Energy Protection Group, too,’ David continued. ‘It’ll show that we can operate as Tier One contractors, rather than a section tied to the government.’
Great, thought Dan. More black ops.
He groaned and turned away from the bright sunlight, then blinked to adjust his eyesight to the subdued hues of the hotel room. ‘Okay, you win. I’ll do it,’ he said.
&n
bsp; ‘Excellent. I’ll let the PM know.’
‘I’m only doing this because it’s the general’s daughter, mind.’
‘Right-o.’
‘Guys? Can we stop the bickering?’ Mel interrupted. ‘There’s a damsel in distress to be rescued.’
Dan turned and arched his eyebrow at her. ‘I’ll have you know Anna Collins is one of the best civilian sharpshooters I’ve seen,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t call her a “damsel in distress.”’
‘Whatever,’ said Mel, and pointed at her computer screen. ‘Get over here and check out this briefing information I’ve pulled together for you.’
Dan pulled out a chair and sat down with an exasperated sigh. He wanted to help Anna, but he wished he was dealing directly with the general, not having to take orders from David quite so soon; the way the man handed out information in a piecemeal fashion had begun to grate on his nerves last time they’d worked together, and it seemed that nothing had changed in the interim.
Mel spun her laptop screen round so Dan could see it. ‘Three weeks ago, Anna Collins and her colleague, Benji van Wyk, arrived in Western Sahara and drove from the Laâyoune International Airport to this new mine development a hundred miles east of the city.’
‘What’s there?’
‘A new phosphate mine,’ said David. ‘Extremely controversial, given that Morocco has awarded an American contractor a mining lease on land it illegally occupies, according to international law.’
‘The mining lease was granted on the basis that the Moroccan government would use any profit to benefit the Sahrawi people that live in Moroccan-occupied Western Sahara,’ added Mel. ‘But if past history is any indicator, they’ll probably use it to bolster their military presence in the territory instead.’
‘So why were Anna and her colleague there?’
‘Anna works for a forensic accounting and IT organisation based in Rotterdam,’ said David. ‘She’s been there since leaving university. The organisation carries out investigations into fraud and financial theft from companies all around the world.’
‘I spoke with her manager,’ said Mel. ‘The mining contractor who’s developing the phosphate mine had orders in for long-lead time equipment needed for the mining operation. Specifically, a multi-million dollar dragline that would be used to scrape the earth and rocks away from the open-cut mine face to expose the phosphate vein.’
‘What happened?’
‘The mining company’s computer system was hacked, and unfortunately they didn’t realise until it was too late,’ said Mel. ‘When they issued the second milestone payment for the equipment, it never arrived in the supplier’s bank account.’
‘That happened two months ago,’ said David. ‘By the time the different accounting departments in each company realised what had happened, it was too late. The mining contractor contacted their insurers and the FBI to report the theft.’
‘How did Anna get involved?’ said Dan.
‘The mining company’s insurers contracted their investigation out to Anna’s employers,’ said David. ‘They’re considered experts in their field. Anna and Benji were tasked with following the money to try and expose where it had gone, including which financial institutions might have been used to flush the funds through. Part of their investigation was to visit the mine and interview the personnel involved, to help build a timeline and to find out how the system had been breached. Van Wyk is the technical guru; Anna manages the financial side of the investigation.’
‘Why on earth did she end up on the run?’
‘The General received a voicemail message from Anna earlier today, just after oh nine hundred hours local time. He picked up the message thirty minutes later. All Anna could tell him was that she was in trouble. Mel – have you got a copy of the original voicemail message?’
‘Sure.’ The analyst moved her mouse across the screen and selected a file, then pressed the “play” button.
Dan’s breath caught in his chest at the sound of Anna’s voice.
‘Benji and I found something, and I think we’re in trouble. A lot of trouble. I really need to talk to you, Dad.’
‘Not long after that, Anna managed to get hold of her father and speak to him,’ said Mel. ‘He told her to get away as soon as possible and head for the airport. Later, the general received another message.’
‘Dad? Tell Mom I’m sorry. I love you.’
‘Obviously, whoever she was scared of was close by, which is why she’s whispering,’ said David. His eyes hardened as he watched Dan. ‘The general wouldn’t call us if he didn’t think Anna’s life was in danger.’
‘Shit,’ said Mel, her hand covering her mouse as she clicked through a series of windows, flicking from one to the other at speed.
‘What’s going on?’ David moved closer, his eyebrows knitting together.
‘I’m getting reports through the local police channels that the camp’s been attacked by militants,’ said Mel. ‘They’re saying there are casualties, but not how many – or whether any ex-pats are involved.’
‘Shit.’ Dan’s heartbeat ratcheted up a notch. ‘Anna wasn’t kidding when she said she was in trouble, was she? What else is there?’
‘By the time the staff at the camp managed to get hold of the police, the armed group that ambushed the camp was long gone.’
‘Any sighting of Anna with them?’
‘Negative. The staff members were all hiding under desks and anywhere else they could after they heard the gunfire. No-one saw anything.’
Dan frowned. ‘That means she either wasn’t there, or they haven’t found her. Nor have the police.’
‘Exactly,’ said Mel.
Dan’s pulse quickened, his mind already creating scenarios, planning what he’d need to do the moment he arrived in Western Sahara. He turned his attention to Mel.
‘How soon can you get me on a plane to Laâyoune?’
She grinned and held up a printed flight manifest. ‘Plane leaves in one hour. Best pack.’
Dan glared at her. ‘I’m travelling light. My clothes are at the bottom of Essaouria harbour, remember?’
Mel’s grin disappeared, her face flushing before she gathered herself and reached across to a leather pouch embossed with the seal of Her Majesty’s Government. She flipped it open, rummaged through the contents, and passed him a credit card.
‘Best go shopping, then,’ she said, keeping her tone light. ‘Just remember who’s picking up the bill.’
Dan snatched the flight manifest and credit card. ‘My passport was on the boat.’
Mel reached into the leather pouch and withdrew a new EU passport and passed it to him.
Curious, he opened it and checked the photograph inside. ‘This is an old one.’
‘Good thing you age well.’ She stuck her tongue out at him.
His mouth quirked. He knew he was being an asshole, but right now he didn’t care.
‘Anything else?’
David handed him a mobile phone. ‘Satellite capability. The phone and internet reception in Western Sahara are non-existent in places. Keep us posted, and if you need help, call.’ He shrugged. ‘There won’t be much we can do, but at least we’ll know where you are.’
‘Great, that’s reassuring to know.’
‘You’re going to have to come up with a reason for your being there,’ said David. ‘The place will be crawling with police now, and most likely the military as well.’
‘Any idea who the militants are?’
‘Two possibilities,’ said Mel. ‘Either a contingent of Sahrawi or a possible Al Qaeda-linked cell.’
Dan cursed under his breath. ‘Great. Just great. I come out of retirement and take on Al Qaeda single-handed.’
The sarcasm was lost on Mel. ‘If it is Al Qaeda, it’ll be one of the smaller groups that are rumoured to be operating in the area. You’ve got to bear in mind, though, that the phosphate mining is extremely controversial, so it could be a local group with no links to recognised terrorism group
s.’
‘Spoilt for choice, then,’ Dan muttered.
CHAPTER 5
Laâyoune, Western Sahara
Dan hissed through his teeth as the afternoon sunlight bathing the tarmac under the aircraft assaulted his eyes. He pulled his sunglasses out of his new backpack and descended the steps from the fuselage.
The flight had been uneventful, a short one-hour trip from Morocco into the occupied territory that gave him time to read through the short dossier Mel had handed to him.
He’d shopped for clothes at the airport in Essaouria, buying a pair of lightweight trekking boots, a long-sleeved shirt, plain navy blue sweatshirt, clean underwear, and a pair of jeans.
Dan had declined a plastic shopping bag for his purchases and instead, to the bemusement of the girl serving him, proceeded to rip the tags from the clothes and shove them into his backpack.
He’d glanced at the jewellery store on his way to the departure gate, tempted to pick up a new dive watch and do some real damage to Her Majesty’s credit card, but decided against it. If he took liberties, he was in no doubt that Mel would cancel the card – and he didn’t yet know what he was facing, or what he might need to find Anna Collins and get her to safety.
Now, as he followed the other passengers across the tarmac towards the customs building, he began to run through what would be his immediate plans.
Once the customs formalities were complete and his new passport scrutinised, he was waved through the gates and entered the arrivals area. He found the car rental company kiosk with ease; there was only one, and the queue was beginning to grow as he took his place.
After thirty minutes of shuffling forward a fraction at a time, he finally reached the desk and the harassed rental company salesman, arranged and paid for a current year’s model SUV, and ventured out through the front doors of the arrivals area.
Behind the Wire (A Dan Taylor thriller) Page 3