The Somali Deception (Cameron Kincaid Book 2)

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The Somali Deception (Cameron Kincaid Book 2) Page 11

by Daniel Arthur Smith


  “Yeah, funny things, electronics,” said Cameron. He reached into his thobe and removed a small object, which he then tossed to the Saudi.

  The Saudi opened his clasped hands enough to catch the object, “What is this?”

  “Just a piece of electronics.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You see, I know why you are running out of here so quick. I mean, ahead of everyone else.” Cameron raised his hand and extended his finger, an insult alone, and then he began to wave his finger, a further insult. “You made a wager, didn’t you? And you lost that wager.”

  “How do you know?” asked the Saudi.

  “Oh, I know.” Cameron nodded at Pepe. “Tell him.”

  “He knows,” said Pepe.

  “You made a huge bet that you cannot cover,” said Cameron.

  “You do not know what you are talking about. Gambling is forbidden here,” said the Saudi.

  “Maybe so, maybe so.”

  “No maybe. Forbidden, I am no fool.”

  “I have a feeling that you are in a position to make a deal and give us Abbo,” said Cameron, “and that little piece of electronics tells me so.”

  “What are you saying? What is this?” The Saudi held the small piece up, a black plastic cube with small pins protruding from one side.

  “That there is the device, or like the device that tells me you are in trouble. Or maybe that is the device or like the device that tells your camel he is in trouble.”

  The Saudi’s eyes now pierced Cameron. “Did you tamper with my robot?”

  “Doesn’t matter, you lost and you owe and we are the only friends you have,” said Cameron.

  Pepe smiled at the Saudi, “What do you say we take a moment. Things have changed from half an hour ago. Our mutual friend will not be happy with you. Maybe you see things our way now.”

  The Saudi closed his eyes briefly again, “Perhaps you’re right. Meet me tonight.” From his bag, he retrieved a card. “Here, call this number this evening and I will tell you where I can meet you.”

  “That’s not necessary,” said Cameron. “All we need to know is how to get to Abbo and your problems and our problems are solved.”

  The Saudi composed himself and for the first time signaled his driver to step forward.

  “Call me,” said the Saudi. “We will eat, start over.”

  Cameron took another step forward, “I would rather—”

  The Saudi threw up his hand in a gesture for Cameron to stop and the driver slipped his hand into his thobe and revealed the top half of a submachine gun.

  Cameron threw his hands up and stepped back, “Okay, okay. Dinner then.”

  “Dinner then,” said the Saudi.

  Cameron and Pepe stepped from behind the Maybach to allow the Saudi into his car without further discussion. The luxury car backed out of the parking space.

  “What was that electronic thing you gave him?” asked Pepe.

  The car slowly moved past the two men. Cameron and Pepe smiled, offered a gentle wave, and then bowed their heads at the dark tinted windows of the Maybach.

  “Part of the electric eye sensor from the concession entrance. I figured that would throw him.”

  “Clever. I believe you succeeded.”

  “Thank you, I think so too,” said Cameron, he lifted the key fob Rehan had given him and tapped a button. The taillights of the Mercedes flashed.

  “You know,” said Pepe. “He is going to try to make a deal with Abbo to trade us for his debt.”

  “Well, he thinks he is,” said Cameron. “We are about to talk him out of doing such a foolish thing.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 26

  Al Marmoom Camel Racetrack, Dubai

  Cameron let the Mercedes idle in the shaded entrance of the parking structure as he and Pepe watched the Saudi’s Maybach follow the service road out of the Al Marmoom Camel Racetrack. When the Maybach reached the first grandstand near the complex edge, Cameron accelerated into the sunlight.

  Pepe leaned over the front seat, “How far do you want to follow him?”

  “Not far,” said Cameron. “Clear of the racetrack, before the Dubai Highway.”

  “How about that stadium over there, behind us? The entrance is on the left, right before the Highway 77 ramp.”

  Cameron glanced into the rearview mirror. “You want to get him into that large stadium back there?”

  “That’s the Sevens rugby stadium. The place was empty when we came in.”

  “Sounds good,” said Cameron. “Hold tight.” They turned toward the Alain-Dubai road. “This will only take a minute.” The engine revved as Cameron punched the pedals, shifting to a higher gear.

  To reach Dubai Highway, Highway 77, vehicles turned right out of the racetrack complex onto the Al Marmoom service road, traveled the opposite direction of the highway a few hundred meters, and then turned to cross the parallel two-lane Alain-Dubai road, properly Highway 66, to reverse back.

  The Maybach would be turning onto Highway 66 in seconds and driving directly back toward the Mercedes. If Cameron’s timing was correct, he would be turning right onto the service road at the precise time the Maybach exited, giving him the opportunity to catch up before his quarry turned back. Cameron’s timing was almost always correct. He evaded out of habit rather than necessity. Providing an evasive pursuit out on this stretch of road really did not matter. The black Mercedes Cameron was driving could have been any one of the many from the parking structure or on the highway. The only vehicles more numerous than the luxury sedans this far from the city were the myriad of high-end four-by-fours.

  In less than a minute, the Mercedes was on Highway 66 behind the Maybach and closing fast.

  “Are we clear?” asked Pepe.

  “Not another car on the road,” said Cameron.

  “This will be like the Algarve job then?”

  “Right, I will pinch the quarter and you—”

  “Close the deal.”

  “Vive la Légion,” said Cameron.

  Pepe responded, “The Legion is our strength.”

  The driver of the Maybach would not know what was happening until it was too late, if he ever realized at all. Cameron’s years of training and experience made the deadly task effortless in execution, and essentially that is what the maneuver was, an execution. In a country notorious for reckless speeding, the driver of the Maybach most likely took no notice of the black Mercedes rapidly approaching from behind to pass on his right. He probably could have responded better than to jerk the steering wheel to the left when the black car cut him off by too quickly moving into his lane, had his head not been removed from his body by two gun blasts from the other vehicle’s rear window. Odds are he never saw Pepe or the muzzle flash, both appearing in the brief instance that the corner of the Maybach’s windscreen aligned with the back seat of the Mercedes.

  Cameron was surprised as well. The maneuver anticipated bulletproof glass and was meant to jar the driver into a wheelhouse jerk of the steering wheel. Despite the overkill, the Maybach went exactly where Cameron and Pepe had wanted, a billiard ball to Pepe’s bullet cue, right into the stadium side pocket. One thing that Cameron and Pepe had not anticipated was that there was no exit to the Sevens rugby stadium from their far lane. This portion of the Alain-Dubai road was a proper multi-directional highway split by a median. Fortunately, there were no dividers of any kind, so coupled with luck, the Maybach made the journey across the median, over the other lane, and onto the Sevens Stadium service road.

  Cameron spun the Mercedes around and crossed the median to follow their target. The Maybach traveled a few hundred meters toward the stadium, eventually slowed, and then finally came to a full stop.

  “He’s going to run,” said Pepe, again leaning over the front seat, his handgun dangling in his clutch.

  “They always run,” said Cameron. “That was an amazing shot.”

  A light grunt was the only sound Pepe made.

  Mere me
ters away the rear door of the Maybach flung open and the Saudi awkwardly poured himself out of the car.

  “There he is,” said Cameron. Cameron tapped the accelerator to shorten the tedious task of apprehending the Saudi.

  “Oui,” said Pepe, “please make this quick. He is tripping over his thobe. Very pitiful.”

  The Mercedes swerved up next to the Saudi. Pepe swung open the rear door in front of the man. The Saudi, his pristine white thobe now sprayed bright crimson, threw up both of his arms and stumbled backward, then dropped to his knees.

  “Calm down,” said Pepe.

  The Saudi veered up at Pepe and then projected thick vomit onto the asphalt.

  “Oh, that is disgusting,” said Pepe. “Listen, I promise you I will not shoot. See? I give the gun to my friend.”

  Cameron reached up behind his head to take the handgun from Pepe.

  “Are you sure?” asked the Saudi, his face also speckled with bright red spatter.

  “Very sure, now get in before I change my mind.”

  The Saudi moved toward the Mercedes, slowly at first, and then scampered into the backseat with Pepe, perchance for safety.

  “Excuse me,” said Pepe, as he reached over the man to close the door, trying not to rest his own thobe against the blood on the Saudi’s.

  “We all in?” asked Cameron.

  “Oui,” said Pepe. “Uh, take us around the back of the stadium where we can talk in private.” He furrowed his brow to the Saudi, “Relax, we are only going up here a bit. Maybe we should buckle you in.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 27

  Sevens Rugby Stadium, Dubai

  Cameron glanced into the Mercedes’ rearview mirror. The Saudi had undergone a metamorphosis. Caustic and threatening at the track, he had become something altogether different.

  The Saudi rested with his eyes closed, letting his face and jaw go completely lax. He appeared ill, his facial pallor accentuated by brilliant crimson spatter. He drew in a deep breath through his nose that did not give rise to his chest, his body rejecting the cooler air of the Mercedes. His full upper body quivered.

  “He’s going to wretch again,” said Cameron.

  “No,” said Pepe in a soft voice. “No, he is calming. Go ahead and breathe.”

  The Saudi began to rapidly mouth some words, a mantra, a prayer, again and again, silently at first, then at a whisper. From the front seat, Cameron could make out the mantra clearly, “A-ozu billahi mena shaitaan Arrajeem, A-ozu billahi mena shaitaan Arrajeem.” Cameron understood Arabic; it was a Muslim phrase, mainly used when one was feeling unsafe or when scared by something. Roughly translated, the phrase meant, ‘I seek refuge in Allah from the cursed Satan.’ Pepe also understood the meaning of this phrase. The overall meaning was that the Saudi was right where they wanted him.

  In a still soothing tone, Pepe spoke again, “You pray for Allah to be with you.” Pepe nodded his head, “The great Allah is with you. My friend and I, we are not the cursed Satan. Do not feel unsafe, do not feel scared, try to relax.”

  The Saudi opened his eyes, large and round, wanting to escape Pepe. “Relax?” he said. “You could have killed me. You killed Faheem! You could have killed me!”

  “Whoa, whoa, ‘could have’ is not the same as did,” said Pepe. “I did not wish to kill Faheem.”

  “Then why did you shoot him in the head?”

  “My goal was to scare him off the road. You did not have bulletproof glass. Who does not have bulletproof glass? I cannot believe you did not have bulletproof glass.” Pepe lifted his hands in frustration, sighed, clasped his hands, and then continued, “Very unnecessary, you know, we have bulletproof glass. This is only a rental.”

  The Saudi sank into his seat, now appearing more a boy and less a man. The blood sprayed upon him was already beginning to dry in the cool air of the Mercedes.

  Cameron found a loading dock behind the stadium and pulled the Mercedes down the concrete ramp. The Mercedes lowered from the surrounding view. He stepped out of the car, closed the door, and inspected the bay. With the loading bay doors closed, they were essentially parked in a concrete box. Above, Cameron spied two cameras. Someone could be watching. They would need to be prudent. He walked to the rear door of the Mercedes and pulled the handle.

  The Saudi did not move.

  “Go on,” said Pepe from inside the car. “Out of the car.”

  The Saudi sat stolid, staring at the headrest in front of him per chance Cameron and the open door would disappear.

  Pepe’s voice softened further, his always-calming deep accent possessed an additional quality of assurance and he placed his hand onto the Saudi’s, “It is okay, Taufiq.”

  In a meek voice, Taufiq replied, “You are going to shoot me now.”

  “No, my friend,” said Pepe soothingly, “I promised I will not shoot you.”

  “Then your friend will,” Taufiq closed his eyes again. “A-ozu billahi mena shaitaan Arrajeem, A-ozu billahi mena—”

  “Now, now. Do not be silly,” said Pepe. “Neither of us will shoot you. We need your help. We only want to talk to you.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. Now, let’s go.”

  “Okay,” said Taufiq. He placed his arms by his sides to upright his torso and then swung his feet out of the Mercedes, standing as tall and elegantly as he could to regain stature, to save face. He spread his fingers wide and smoothed the front of his no longer pristine thobe and then, without looking down, indifferently tried to brush away any of the dried rust colored blood that may have gotten onto his hands. Cameron stood tall as well, respectfully holding the door for the Saudi as he exited the Mercedes and performed his little ritual. Pepe opened his own door on the other side of the Mercedes and then slowly joined the two, giving the Saudi a further chance to compose himself.

  His back to Cameron, Taufiq peered forward as if he could see through or over the top of the ramp to the vast parking area and immensely vaster desert beyond.

  “So,” said Pepe, approaching Taufiq from the rear of the Mercedes. “Can we now speak?”

  “Abbo will kill me for telling you his location.”

  “You are telling us Abbo’s location so that we can kill him. Abbo will not be a threat to you.”

  “And,” said Cameron. Startled by a voice from behind, Taufiq spun on his heel to face them both. Cameron was still standing behind the open rear door, leaning forward on one arm. Cameron continued, “Your debts will be clear. Abbo will not have sold them. Your slate will be clean.”

  Taufiq backed away from between the two. He moved toward the sidewall of the loading bay, and then spun on his heel again. He placed a hand flat against the concrete and then faced them, “How do I know you can pull this off?”

  Cameron dropped and shook his head chuckling, then gazed up at Taufiq, “Well, you had a back seat view of what we did out there moments ago and let me tell you, we were not really trying.”

  Taufiq drooped his head, “Oh, yes.” He raised his eyes to Pepe, “Not even trying?”

  Pepe, sauntering toward Taufiq, shook his head, “Not really.”

  “Okay, okay. Yes, I guess that is right.” Suddenly pensive, the Saudi stared at the ground, placed his thumb to his mouth, and bit. Cameron and Pepe let him spin his wheels and a brief moment later, Taufiq lifted his head. His eyes shifted between the two mock Arabs in front of him. “Who are you two? Why do you want Abbo so bad?”

  Pepe stepped closer to Taufiq, “Let’s say Abbo took something that does not belong to him.”

  “And it doesn’t really matter if I want to tell you, does it?”

  “Not really,” said Cameron.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 28

  Sevens Rugby Stadium, Dubai

  Taufiq’s forehead had gained an oily sheen. His attempt to maintain a confident air was compromised by his feeble and distant words. “You’re not going to shoot me?”

  “We are not going to shoot you,” said Pepe. “Thoug
h you can make this easy or hard on yourself.”

  “Yes, I understand clearly. I will tell you, but it will make no difference. You will never be able to get to him.”

  “Try us,” said Cameron.”

  “He is at the Burj Khalifa,” said Taufiq. “You know this place, the world’s tallest building.”

  “Of course we do,” said Pepe. “Can you be more specific?”

  “He has a luxury residence in the Armani Hotel, a huge villa suite there. Like a palace really, up in the air, he is safe like a bird in the sky.”

  “You are sure that is where he is?” asked Pepe. “That does not sound very secure. The Armani is on the lower levels.”

  “And relatively public,” said Cameron. “Like our friend in London.”

  “But you see,” said Taufiq, “he is not in the Armani residences that everyone knows of. He is high like a falcon on the 105th floor. The residences between floor 77 and 110 are very secure. You must be friend or family to access those levels.”

  “Or have a key,” said Cameron.

  The Saudi peered at Cameron.

  “Do you have a key?” asked Pepe.

  “He has a key,” said Cameron. “He has a very special key. Don’t you?”

  “Taufiq,” said Pepe. “Let me see your key.”

  “It will not help you,” said Taufiq.

  “Probably not. Let me see anyway.”

  The Saudi reached his hand into his thobe, removed a golden keycard, and then handed the card to Pepe.

  “Hmm,” said Pepe. “There is an electronic chip in here, and the card is engraved. Do you mind if my friend takes a look?” Pepe held the card out for Cameron to inspect. Taufiq stared at the ground.

  “Well I’ll be, that is nice,” said Cameron. He held the card up in the air, “A little holographic paint, a chip, engraving. Let’s see what this says.” He pulled the card closer, “It says here…wow, you live there. That must be nice.”

 

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