The Hand of The Prophet (Adventures of a spymaster Book 4)

by James Ward

  When their discussion was over, the two agents went back upstairs to their room. Roche decided to stay in the lobby for a while to observe.

  It paid off. The Saudis had gathered for tea in the coffee shop. He heard them chatting about their mission. His passing acquaintance with the Arabic language allowed Roche to pick up the gist of their conversation. Within minutes, he had learned that they were uninvited guests to the sale of the item, that they were prepared to pay whatever it took to get it and that they were somehow aware of his presence in Ashgabat. This last bit of information astounded Roche. How would these men know anything about him? Was Taylor pulling some sort of double cross with Roche as the fall guy? Or was someone else closer on his tail than he had reckoned, someone like Bob Steck, for instance?

  After the Saudis had left the coffee shop and walked outside to take in the early winter noonday sun, Roche drifted toward the front door. He caught something familiar out of the corner of his eye. Suddenly turning to his left he stepped behind a wide marble pillar. Suleiman, the young man who had hosted him at Ajir Trading was walking straight across the lobby toward the main desk. The young man asked for the assistant manager, in English.

  Roche strolled to the news kiosk and purchased a copy of Neutralny Turkmenistan. He walked back toward the main desk and sat with the chair back facing the desk. Suleiman approached the assistant manager, greeting him by name. “The boss is out of town. He called me today from his airplane, the showoff.”

  The assistant manager chuckled. “Well, I always say, if you have toys you should play with them. How can I help you Suleiman?”

  Mister Ajir wants to make arrangements for a meeting here at the hotel next Monday. There will be three sets of guests with two or three in each party. He wants three of your best suites for his guests and also a meeting room, perhaps the board room?”

  The assistant manager searched his book. “The board room is available, and for the meal?”

  “Your best food, served in the board room,” declared Suleiman. “I don’t know who is coming yet, but by the sound of the boss’s voice, they are very important.”

  The two men chatted for a while longer. Always trying to promote his hotel and in light of the fact that Suleiman had just booked thousands through him, the assistant offered Suleiman a room and meals for two nights anytime compliments of the hotel. “I will tell my wife,” Suleiman answered enthusiastically. Then he smiled and added, “I should book all of our guests here.”

  “That’s an excellent idea!” the assistant manager exclaimed. Both men laughed.

  Roche had heard enough. The deal would come down next Monday. That gave him only four days at best. The Saudis, being uninvited, would make a play to trump everyone with a massive offer before Monday, he figured. He needed one last piece of information.

  As Suleiman passed by Roche stood and called out to him.

  “Oh, hello, Mister Breen,” Suleiman replied affably, “I thought you were at the Sheraton.”

  “I am meeting a business acquaintance here,” Roche replied. “I’m still interested in purchasing that cotton. When will Mister Ajir return?”

  “He is on the way here today. He should be at our offices tomorrow. Shall I give you a call when he arrives?”

  “Why, yes, please do.” Roche had everything he needed.

  “Until tomorrow, then,” bade Suleiman as he walked toward the front door.

  Roche waved his newspaper. “Cheers.” He strolled slowly around the whole of the vast lobby to give Suleiman the time to drive away. When he was sure the man was gone, Roche hustled out and hailed his driver. Getting into the car, he told the driver “To the Sheraton, and quickly.”

  ________

  The big UH-60 helicopter landed in a cloud of sand and dust beside a tent in the middle of nowhere, Turkmenistan. As Steck waved to the pilot and moved quickly away from the prop wash, he had the feeling that the world was mostly wasteland, at least the parts he had trod lately.

  He was greeted by Grundstrom, who invited him inside the large Yurta, a traditional Turkmen tent on a collapsible wooden frame covered with reeds and fel. This Yurta was rented from a local tribesman. Grundstrom chose it as a means of becoming invisible to satellites and aircraft.

  Inside, Brandt and eighteen others were busy cleaning and checking weapons, loading clips and checking gear. They were packed tightly in the Yurta, but they seemed a cheerful and close-knit group. Steck wondered how they would be in combat then relaxed about it remembering the impressive training he had observed at Free Nation’s post in Wyoming. Grundstrom set up a satellite phone for Steck, who was anxious to communicate with Langley.

  An old Turkmen woman was busy laying out food and drink for the men including chicken, rice, vegetables, tea and even a few bottles of Turkmen beer. Her husband, the owner of the Yurta tended a herd of horses outside. The man was proud of his horses, a real sign of wealth in these parts. Steck chatted with the man for a few minutes, patting one of the horses on the flanks and snout. He appreciated good horseflesh and it was clear that the old Turkmen had done a good job of breeding. The man invited him to ride the steed. Steck was tempted but needed to get to business.

  On the secure line, Steck received lots of new information. First, the Canadians had staged a team of specialists to the south-west of Steck’s position. They were at the Afghan border, as close to Iran as possible. They were well trained in extraction of personnel from hot zones. Steck copied their co-ordinates and radio contact information. Ryall Morgan reported that the Saudis were one of the interested parties and could be a player. Tracking Ajir’s airplane for the last three days, CENTCOM had reported known flights to Mosul, Teheran and Islamabad. “That would indicate,” Morgan announced, “possibly the Kurds, the Iranians and the Pakistanis could be part of whatever deal Ajir was putting together.”

  “Great stuff,” Steck acknowledged. “I’m concerned that we’re late getting to Ashgabat. This thing might be over before we get there and I haven’t got much for resources on the ground.”

  “I’ve got that covered, if you want to use it,” Morgan replied. “Bob MacFergus has two agents on the ground in Ashgabat. They’re tourists traveling on Canadian passports. They were inserted a few weeks ago, just a routine observation mission. MacFergus says they’re well trained field agents and are available to you if you want them.”

  “Any combat experience? Steck asked.

  “Yes. One of them was a Canadian army regular and has served in Iraq. The other has been under fire in a few incidents near Tora Bora.”

  “I’ll take them,” Steck replied. “How do I contact them?

  “You can reach them at the President hotel in Ashgabat.”

  Steck was pleased to have others to work with, in case the Free Nation guys became unreliable. “What else do you have for me, Ryall? I would really like to have some more of our guys involved as well.”

  “Negative, Bob. We don’t have much going on in that country and insertion now would be risky.”

  “I’ll have to make do,” Steck grumbled. “Have you got any direction what to do if I can’t capture the item?”

  Morgan paused. “Bob, as a last resort we have authorization to use the Predator system to conduct a strike directed by you alone. If that becomes necessary, you will notify me first. I will give you the means to initiate it. You must understand that this option is only to be used if there is no other way to keep the item from being used in the two specific scenarios we have discussed. Is that clear?”

  “Clear,” replied Steck.

  “I think you better get to Ashgabat right away, Bob.” Morgan sounded tense, but confident in his man.

  “I’m on my way,” Steck replied, “wish me luck.”

  Steck clicked off the satphone. He turned to Gunny and the others and said, “Hey guys, listen-up. We have work to do and we have our orders. We’re going to Ashgabat tonight.”

  ________

  Ajir pondered his plans for security as the Falcon flew
over rugged mountains toward Dushanbe, Tajikistan. From there, the pilot would vector across the desert wastes to home base at Ashgabat.

  The security forces ferried to Ashgabat from Yemen by Ajir’s airplane were housed in a small hotel about five miles from Ajir’s office. He would move them into place tomorrow, and they would keep 24 hour guard until after the sale. They would have to stay inside the building. The Government forces would get curious if armed guards appeared outside.

  He wondered how soon Chris Taylor would figure out who had beaten him. Taylor was sure to try to regain his item. That’s why the sale must be completed within days. Satisfied that he had it all arranged, Ajir decided to take a nap during the rest of the flight.

  ________

  Steck communicated with his two agents at the American Embassy. They agreed to set up a room for him at the President Hotel under a name the embassy had cleared as an American tourist. They reported about their tail on Roche over the past two days. It was clear to Steck that Roche was ready to make the heist. He worried that it might already have happened.

  Steck instructed the American agents to meet him at the President Hotel at seven-thirty pm sharp.

  He contacted the senior Canadian agent, who was registered under the name Remick at the hotel. Steck was surprised when a woman answered. He found out they were traveling as a husband and wife, tourists from Toronto. He took their room number and told them to be available at seven-thirty pm.

  Steck and Grundstrom briefed the men on the next phase of their mission. They would travel to Ashgabat in a bus acquired from a remote Turkmen army outpost two days ago. They would hold in an area near the President Hotel that was a parking area for military vehicles in transit. Steck would contact them after he had met with the two American and two Canadian agents at the hotel. A telephone call to the American embassy arranged for lodging of Grundstrom’s crew at the outskirts of the city in a hotel run by ‘friendlies.’

  “The rest,” Steck said, “will unfold as we go along.”

  “What do we do after the mission is complete?” asked one of the men. “Like, how do we get out of the country?”

  “There are two planned ways out, announced Steck. One is to come back here. In case that cannot be in the bus, each of you has the coordinates in your GPS. You all know how to call your friends in Masr E Sharif to come get you. The other is to make your way to a point where the Afghan, Iranian and Turkmen borders come together. I’ll give you the coordinates to install as a waypoint in your GPS. They are monitoring secure channel eight sixty-six on your hand-held radios. At that location is a Canadian special services extraction team. They will get you out.”

  One of the men mounted a horse and rode, along with their Turkmen host to the place where the bus had been stashed. He returned in the bus with a full load of fuel, ready to travel.

  As the men and equipment loaded onto the bus, Steck contemplated the final option discussed with Ryall Morgan. The Predator system was a unique tool that the CIA had used with great success for some years. It consisted of an unmanned aerial vehicle or UAV, a remotely piloted drone that carried a very special set of radar sensors and hellfire missiles mounted under the wings. The full system included a detachment of fifty support people, some at the basing point for the airplane, others in support roles elsewhere. The plane was piloted via remote control by a flight crew sitting at Langley.

  Steck decided to confide in Grundstrom, but keep this final option from the men for the time being.

  The bus finally rolled away from the Yurta, rumbling along a dirt road. The Turkmen horseman and his wife waved goodbye, as the man counted the cash he had earned for the past few days. It would buy a lot of horses.

  A few kilometers later, they reached the M37 highway and struck out for the city of Ashgabat.

  CHAPTER 34

  Mohammed Al Kafajy could not remember ever feeling as anxious as he did at this moment. Several millions had been invested in hopes of making over a hundred million. Now any prospect of return was in the hands of Christian Taylor. If Taylor failed, Al Kafajy would have to fire him in order to save face. If so, he would lose the best manager he had and the only one he trusted to run the company for the benefit of the family after he died.

  He had just returned from his weekly visit to the Parisian doctor who had followed his deteriorating health for several years. The news was not encouraging. A rare parasitic infection picked up as a child while swimming in the Nile had haunted him all his life. Weekly treatments with massive doses of expensive drugs kept him going for many years. Now even the latest super drugs were having less and less effect. Without some miracle, he would be dead within months, a year at best.

  Al Kafajy kept the seriousness of his condition from his family and from his colleagues. His wife thought the disease was only a nuisance that her husband had to endure. Her children just thought daddy got sick every so often. Only he and his doctor knew the real story.

  “A hundred million,” he uttered staring at his visage in the mirror. It could provide for his family forever in one transaction. Then he would not need the Al Kafajy Trading Company.

  Al Kafajy went to his study, unlocked a cabinet behind some books and withdrew a bottle of Napoleon brandy and a glass. He poured himself a stiff one, something he would never do in public being prominent in the Muslim community. He downed it in one gulp then poured another. After the third, he placed the bottle and glass back into the cabinet and locked it, replacing the books that covered the door.

  He had promised Christian Taylor not to meddle in his operation, but now he felt driven by new and urgent circumstances to take every possible step to recover The Hand of Mohammed. He sat at his personal desk for half-an-hour lost in intense thought. Under the half-stupor induced by the brandy he finally picked up the phone and called Ahmed.

  _________

  By the time Paul Roche met with his two accomplices at four pm, he had decided that they would act tonight. Certainly the Saudis would pay Ajir a visit early next morning. Their aim would be to offer him enough money to persuade him to cancel the sale. Then they could just leave town with the prize and the game would be over. Roche saw no choice but to go and recover The Hand before that could happen.

  The two men arrived in a Turkmen government car, distinguished by symbols of the army painted on its side and the unique number plate that identified official vehicles.

  Roche was impressed that Urgabat and Gronakat had also made an escape plan and that the arrangements had been completed by Chris Taylor during the day. After recovering the prize, they would drive to a spot about a hundred miles to the west. There they would be met by a small plane that would take them to Krasnovodsk on the Caspian Sea. From there, a Helicopter would ferry them two hundred miles across the Caspian to Baku, Azerbaijan where they could get a flight to Istanbul.

  They spent two hours going over the details of the strike. Darkness fell over Ashgabat at about six-thirty pm this time of year. They would move at seven.

  _________

  Steck and the others in the bus arrived at the vehicle parking lot about six pm. They decided to take a brief ride out to Ajir International Trading Company before dark to get a look at the place. Satellite photos already had been studied, but Steck felt that one good look would be better than a stack of pictures. When they got there, Grundstrom suggested that they leave one man to keep an eye on the place. They found a place of suitable cover and left the man with food, a warm coat, weapons and a hand-held radio.

  Returning to the President Hotel, they dropped Steck then parked again at the military transfer lot just a block away.

  Steck strode across the lobby in a slightly wrinkled business suit and open shirt. He looked like a businessman seeking lodging after a long day. The clock over the main desk rang seven o’clock. Steck went to the house phones and dialed the room number of the Canadians. The man who answered said he would come right down.

  Steck took in the massive lobby. “Not bad,” he thought.
<
br />   The Canadian arrived greeting him with open arms. “So glad to see you, friend,” he said, slipping Steck a passport. “One of your mates gave me this for you,” he added in a whisper.

  Steck returned the greeting then made small talk as he feigned fumbling in his pocket. He came up with the passport which proclaimed him as Mister George Doak. The picture was of himself as a younger man. He figured that the embassy had retrieved it from Langley out of some file shots. A visa card in the name of George Doak was tucked inside.

  Steck presented the passport at the main desk and checked in. During the process, he noticed two men watching him from across the lobby. Those would be the two American agents, he reckoned. One of them came within ear shot as Steck announced to the Canadian, “Let’s meet in my room seven two seven at seven-thirty.” Alone in the elevator, Steck sighed relief. So far, so good, he thought.

  In his room, he hurriedly ditched the suit and dressed in casual slacks, sweater and sneakers.

  At seven-thirty, four people knocked at Steck’s door. The introductions and briefing began immediately. The Americans handed Steck a layout of the interior of the Ajir building. “Good work, guys,” he offered. “How about security locks and the like?”

  “Covered,” one of the men, named Arnie said. The stuff is all pretty simple Russian made junk that I can break in seconds.” He flashed a small electronic box. “You can buy these on the street in Moscow,” he added.

  ________

  At seven pm, Roche and his two companions left the Sheraton and drove the short distance to Ajir International Trading Company.

  “Drive once around the block,” ordered Roche. Gronakat took the car slowly around the four sides of the Ajir lot. Everything looked calm. Roche was surprised to see no guards or watchmen outside the place. Maybe they would be inside.

  Behind a clump of decorative desert bushes, Grundstrom’s man watched the government car circling the building. Since it was the only car he had seen since establishing his watch, he followed it with his small night vision scope. He figured it was some sort of government police patrol, common in Turkmenistan. The car pulled into the front parking area near the entrance of the building and parked. No one got out.