“Well, that’s a lucky break.” She looked at her watch. “We have plenty of time before I need to be at the attorney’s. Let’s grab something at one of the bigger restaurants around here, and then I want to get Hannah some more clothes. That will kill some time, and she’ll need them.”
“I’m here to serve. Do you have any suggestions?”
“Sure. There are some places as we get closer to the town center that are very good.”
“All right. You just tell me where to go, and I’m all over it. I’m ready.”
“We’ll need another few minutes. Hannah’s hair takes a while to dry and brush tangle-free.”
Half an hour later they were in the car, rolling along the waterfront.
“Look. There’s a parking place, over by that van,” Jet pointed – a lucky catch, only a few dozen yards from one of the restaurants she’d recommended. He signaled and tried to switch lanes, and was greeted by an annoyed horn burst from a taxi who had decided that he owned the right hand lane and wasn’t going to allow anyone in. Jet exchanged glances with Alan and shrugged – driving in South America was an acquired taste, she knew, as much about honor and machismo as about getting from point A to point B. Alan suffered the angry gesture from the taxi without emotion, and then pulled over and parked where Jet had indicated.
They got a table by the window in the busy restaurant, and a waitress came by and took their drink orders, dropping off two menus and taking a moment to smile at Hannah, who beamed back at the young woman with a movie star grin. When she returned with their coffee and orange juice Jet ordered for the table, and then they people-watched as the noisy crowd went about its innocent way, unaware that Uruguay’s most wanted killers were sitting within spitting distance.
“You think you’ll have any issues at the attorney’s?” Alan asked, making conversation.
“No. Shouldn’t think so. He seemed pretty competent yesterday, and this is a straightforward arrangement, at least as far as he described it. I would say we should be done by one, allowing for everything to take longer, just because.”
“And then we head out?”
“The sooner, the better, I’d say. I seriously doubt we’ll have any trouble leaving the city, but this sort of crime is unheard of here, so I don’t know how the cops are going to respond.”
“Let’s hope that nobody called in an anonymous tip. It’s been known to happen.”
“I don’t get the sense that these guys want me caught by the police any more than I want to be. I’d say they had a different fate picked out.”
That stopped the conversation. They busied themselves with watching Hannah scrawl something resembling a bird on the paper placemat using a pencil Jet had found in her purse while they waited for breakfast, which was a long time coming due to the number of diners.
Alan gazed out at the water, and Jet studied his profile as the sun warmed it. He looked worried but relaxed. And something else: prepared. He had that same look of being ready for anything that Jet had. It had been a long time since she’d seen it – a long time since she’d been around anyone as adept as she was. The Americans she’d been with in Thailand were seasoned, but with a completely different level of skill than the members of her team – she had almost forgotten how hyper-competent they had been.
Although except for herself and Alan, not competent enough to stay alive.
Something to keep in mind if over-confidence reared its head.
All had been the very best. And all were dead.
Breakfast arrived and they devoured it, each lost in their own private reverie, wondering what would come next. The first salvo from the newest threat to present itself had been successfully rebuffed, but she didn’t kid herself that it was over. History had shown that with the Russians, this sort of conflict was a cage fight, with only one combatant emerging alive.
Which is why she needed to get her daughter to safety and then bring the war to Grigenko.
If he wanted a fight, he’d come to the right place.
Watching Hannah push her food around her plate, she made the silent commitment to bury the Russian, hitting him before he had a chance to react. There was no way she was going to allow anyone to endanger her baby. He might have inherited a fortune, but all he’d managed to do was buy himself a death sentence.
As he would soon discover.
And then there would be hell to pay.
Chapter 15
Present day, Northern Yemen
“No. Please. I have done nothing. I swear. Nothing...”
The young man was filthy, wearing barely more than rags, and the two men who dragged him into the room were almost double his weight. His wrists and ankles were bound with cheap rope, stained from oil and grime from a prior life helping to bind a trailer to the rear bumper of a dilapidated truck.
“Shut up, dog. We know of your treachery. But fear not. Your failings as a human will still serve a noble purpose for the cause,” the thinner of the two captors spat, then secured the prisoner’s leg restraint to an old iron ring set in the concrete floor. The frantic captive continued to beg for mercy and insist on his innocence, but to no avail.
The two men moved to the steel door and walked out, making way for a third man to enter.
The new arrival held a Styrofoam container and was dressed differently, in a twenty-year-old hazmat suit of Iranian manufacture left over from the Iraq/Iran war. When the prisoner saw him he renewed his efforts to twist free, all the while pleading for mercy. The figure in the suit regarded him through the glass of the mask, then shook his head and glanced up at the ceiling, where a small camera was mounted in the far corner, its light a steady green. He moved to the edge of the rough cot positioned next to a bucket and extracted a vial from the container and inspected it. Satisfied, he held it up so the camera could get a good shot of it, then moved to the door.
With a final look at the prisoner, he tossed the glass vial into the air and then slammed the door shut, bolting it from the outside. The fragile tube shattered on the ground near the prisoner, glass shards scattering as the horrified man screamed in vain.
In an adjacent room, a technician adjusted the lens of the camera remotely, zooming and panning to ensure a good shot of the broken vial on the floor, then returned to a wide-angle view. Hamid, the second-in-command, and one other man sat watching the feed on an old color television set on a weathered stand in the corner. Both leapt to their feet when their robed, bearded leader entered, and they clamored to get him a seat in front of the screen.
“It is done, sir,” the technician said in a hushed voice.
“Very good. And you followed my instructions exactly?”
“Yes, sir. We have him captured on film, begging like a child. Good footage of the suit and the vial. It is all as you detailed.”
“Excellent. So now we just have to wait for the full effect of the agent to be captured on video. I want at least two of these, for release a few days apart for maximum effect. I will film the statements that go with them at the same time. Later today. You have the required items?” the robed man asked, scowling at the technician.
“Of course. Everything is set up.”
“And what about the website?”
Hamid stood and cleared his throat. “It will go live when the first of these examples is sent to the media. It is untraceable, and will be hosted on servers all over the world. We will only need it to stay live for a few hours. Once it goes viral, the web will do our work for us. It will be posted and reposted everywhere, and there will be no way to control its dissemination.”
“And the first salvo?”
“We have already sent a warning and a demand. It will be ignored, of course, but it has started the clock. It is similar to our demand from a month ago, threatening dire consequences if the U.S. doesn’t immediately cease all support for Israel. That got no attention. Perhaps this one with a specific threat will be taken more seriously?”
“I doubt it, but once we have the footage, that wil
l change everything. The point to any terrorism is not to wreak maximum damage, but rather to create maximum fear in the population. That’s where our brethren have strayed with their ludicrous suicide martyrdom efforts. After decades of young men and women blowing themselves up, everyone is desensitized to the effect, and it goes ignored even a few days after the act. It’s a waste, and it forgets lessons that we have fought hard to learn. If you want an enemy to respect you, you need to scare the hell out of everyone, to the point where they are afraid to leave the house. Only then do you have leverage.” The robed man nodded, finished with his monologue, pleased that his men were taking this seriously. They would follow his instructions to the letter, blindly, like good sheep, never questioning what they were doing or asking what the ultimate effect would be.
He stood, and with a final look at the prisoner on the flickering screen, moved back to the door. “You have battery back-ups and the generator fueled, in case we get hit with a blackout or a power surge?” he asked. The power in this remote area of Yemen was notoriously unreliable.
“Just as you ordered, sir.”
“Very well, then. I will go prepare myself for filming the statements. This will be the most watched footage in the history of the world, so I want to ensure that everything is perfect,” he said, absently stroking his luxuriant beard. “Good work, all of you. Have the next prisoner ready to go in once this one is dead. Leave the body in there to add to the effect of the subsequent release.”
The technician and his two companions nodded together. Their leader, Saif al-Diin, a relatively new bright light in the struggle, would be a household name within a week, and would be remembered for all time as the man who had brought America, the great Satan, to its trembling knees. They were all honored to have been chosen to participate in his jihad. Unlike so many of the others, he was thinking globally, and had put into motion the required steps to rid the world of Israel once and for all, as well as purge the region of the arrogant Americans, who thought they could do what they liked in a land where they were interlopers. Soon they would discover the hard way that the price for angering the people whose rightful place was on the land the Americans coveted for its oil would be disastrously high – so high that they would lose interest in playing invader and meddling with his people’s self-determination.
The door closed and everyone sat back down to watch the long show playing out on camera.
~ ~ ~
“That’s it, then. The funds should be in the account by the close of business today, and then all this, um, Magdalena needs to do is give our branch in Maldonado instructions on how she would like the money distributed every month. I will give you two copies of all the paperwork so that she has one and you do too, in case she has any questions.” The attorney regarded her quietly. “See, I told you this would be relatively painless. Sorry it took so long. Sometimes even the simplest things take more time than one would hope.”
“Yes, I know how that goes. Will you accompany me to the bank for the transfer, just so there’s no confusion?” Jet requested.
“Of course. Let’s go right now. I will have my secretary prepare your copies of the documents so that when we get back, everything will be in order.”
“And the funds will be available on the first of every month?”
“Yes. Presuming it is not a bank holiday or a weekend. If so, then they will be released on the next business day.”
“And the payout – fifteen hundred dollars monthly. That’s more than adequate, right?”
“As I said yesterday, the average person here is living on a lot less. Just a little over nine thousand dollars annually. Plus, the way the interest is calculated, the amount will increase whenever rates move from their historical lows. The bank is getting a great deal. They pay four percent and lend at sixteen. Once things get better, she may see more like two thousand a month, which would be a very comfortable lifestyle in Maldonado, as long as she doesn’t go crazy with her expenses.”
Jet stood, anxious to get the final piece of the transaction done so they could hit the road. All of her errands were completed except for the final part at the bank, and she wanted to be out of Montevideo as soon as humanly possible.
They went downstairs and were greeted like visiting dignitaries by the bank manager, and after fifteen more minutes the transfer was done and the trust was funded. Jet’s hope was that she would only have to be away from Hannah for a week or two, at which point Magdalena would have effectively won the lottery in exchange for disappearing from Montevideo and staying gone. Still, she was asking a lot of the woman, and with over sixty million dollars, Jet could afford to be generous.
“Now, to the matter of the will...”
“Obviously I hope that it won’t be necessary to go down that road. But as you drafted it, my daughter will get a hundred percent of the money when she comes of age, as well as the contents of the various safe deposit boxes, correct?”
“Yes. And as you stipulated, a million dollars will be earmarked for your daughter’s expenses and education, with me acting as the trustee to ensure funds are being used on her behalf. I’ll run a quick copy for you, and then our business is concluded – although may I say that if you have any other needs, I stand ready to attend to them.”
“Let’s go sign the will. That should take care of everything, for now.”
Back in the office, she affixed her signature to the required pages, and true to his word, the attorney made copies and gave her one, along with the two copies of the trust. They shook hands and he studied her, unsure what to make of such a wealthy young woman coming in off the street and handing him such an impressive piece of business, but when all was said and done, he was an attorney, so he knew better than to probe too deeply.
Jet exited the building and made a right, walked to the end of the block, and turned the corner. Alan and Hannah were sitting in the car, Hannah playing with one of her toys while Alan listened to the radio. She rapped on the window and Hannah’s face lit up. Alan punched the stereo button and popped the electric door locks so Jet could get in.
“Everything go as planned?” he asked.
“No surprises, including the longer-than-anticipated wait. But we’re done now.”
“That’s a relief. What’s next on the agenda?”
“We get out of town. And I call Magdalena.”
He started the engine. “Sounds like a plan. Which way?”
“Head to the waterfront and then when we hit Avenida Italia, head east, up the coast. It’s pretty hard to miss,” Jet said, and then extracted a cell phone from her purse and called Magdalena, who told her that she had rented a two-bedroom condo and would be awaiting their arrival.
When they crossed over the Carrasco Arroyo, Jet cautioned Alan to veer right, and soon they were making good speed on the wide highway. She was just getting ready to tell him that they were out of the worst of it when a sea of red lights greeted them, and traffic ground to a halt.
“What’s this?” Alan asked.
“Accident?” she said doubtfully.
“I don’t know. Could be a roadblock.”
“Looking for what? A car full of killers in black, toting assault rifles?”
“The police have to appear to be doing something. The outrage over the killings is all over the radio. It’s the biggest thing to happen here in a while, to hear the announcers,” Alan said.
“Just look innocent and we should be fine.”
“I’ll try to remember that.”
They pulled up to the checkpoint and coasted to a stop. Two truckloads of soldiers were standing in a rough line, weapons at the ready, looking prepared for a full-scale land assault at any moment. Up ahead four policemen were stopping every vehicle and pulling anything that they felt looked suspect over for a more in-depth inspection.
As they pulled up to the officers, Alan lowered his window. The policeman’s face was stony, and he looked like he was under pressure, a tiny bead of sweat working its way down his neck eve
n in the cool afternoon breeze. He fired off a series of rapid questions, each sounding increasingly accusatory, then stepped away from the car, hand on the butt of his gun, and pointed for Alan to pull the car over into another line where more soldiers were searching the vehicles.
As he complied, rolling slowly to where he had been instructed to go, his eyes met Jet’s in the rearview mirror.
“Looks like we have a problem.”
Chapter 16
Sergei Grigenko’s fingers clenched reflexively as he studied the missile in the wooden crate, Russian army markings stenciled neatly on its sides in black. He didn’t realize that the automatic habit was a giveaway to anyone negotiating with him – the nervous movement an indication that he wanted something, developed as a child while clasping for toys or a bottle to indicated desire. His hands spasmed again and the muscles in his jaw clenched.
“How many can you get, and how soon?”
“Up to twenty, with a few days’ notice,” replied Feodor, a furtive little man with oily strands of black hair brushed across his mostly bald pate. “They’re new in the box, as you can see,” he added with a smile.
“What about a volume discount?”
Feodor’s eyes twinkled, the diminutive gnome bouncing on the balls of his feet, positively giddy with happiness at the question. “The price I quoted you was a volume discount. But if you wanted all twenty, I’m sure we could arrange for a further price drop...say, ten percent on the lot?”
“Sir. There’s a phone call for you.” One of Grigenko’s bodyguards held up a cell phone. Grigenko didn’t like to carry them – he had read extensively about possible connections with the radiation they emitted and cellular damage, so he limited his use to brief discussions and kept them away from his body to the extent possible.
“Not now,” he hissed, angry at the interruption.
“It’s important, sir,” the now-hesitant guard insisted. “It’s Grigori.”
Jet 03: Vengeance Page 10