by Craig Reed
"That well, huh?" the British spy said. "Why don’t you and your partner come up. There's been a few developments you should hear about. Might give you a wedge against our friend, there."
"All right, we're on our way." Tanner hung up and turned to Stephen.
"We need to get upstairs."
He glanced at the Zulu guard. "Put the hood on him. We'll be back in a few minutes."
The African nodded, stepped forward and slipped the hood back over Hassan's head. Hassan started cursing in English, Arabic and Afrikaner.
Tanner and Stephen climbed the stairs into the kitchen, where Ashcroft sat, but instead of his book, he was looking at photos spread out across the table.
"What do you have?" Tanner asked, pulling the balaclava off his head.
"A few things. After my conversation with Stephen and Naomi yesterday, I contacted some of my old sources at the airport and told them to keep an eye out for any suspicious groups flying in."
He flipped around one of the photos and pushed it across the table to Tanner. "These gentlemen arrived this morning by business jet from Turkey."
A sequence of photos depicted a dozen young men in good physical shape walking in small groups toward the camera. Tanner noticed that they didn't look like weary businessmen. Their eyes were alert, each scanning in a different direction, generally looking as if they were on high alert.
"Military-trained," he said.
Ashcroft nodded. "Stephen," he said, handing the former CIA agent a photo. "I think you'll recognize this gentleman leading the group."
Stephen took the photo, looked at it, and nodded. "Colonel Ramin Rezael, senior member of the Iranian Quds Force. Their best field commander."
"Which means we must be dealing with more than the usual cargo."
Ashcroft nodded. "He's here to find out what happened with the Northstar Venture, and he's not going to be very bloody happy when he finds out what happened. I think it might be a good time for your team to…as they say in the American cinema…'get the hell out of Dodge.'"
Tanner shook his head. "Not just yet. What else do you have?"
"The police are looking for Hassan, and not only because he was kidnapped. Seems that one of the few structures you didn't destroy on your little midnight walk contained enough heroin and cocaine to overdose every single man, woman and child within a fifty-kilometer radius. Street value, in American dollars, is between six and seven hundred million dollars. No telling what else they'll find."
"That's not going to endear him to his 'friends,'" Stephen said.
"Oh no, they'll run from him like scalded dogs," said Ashcroft cheerfully. "Assuming he manages to escape your clutches, he's going to be a hunted man, by both the Iranians and the South African Police. He'll have no friends, no money, and no power. Couldn't happen to a more deserving chap!"
Tanner frowned. Stephen looked at him. "What's wrong?"
"I think I know how to make him open up." He pointed to the pictures and eyed Ashcroft.
"Can I borrow these, a TV, the police scanner, and a tape recorder?"
* * *
Tanner and Stephen returned to the basement an hour later, this time along with Liam. Wearing a balaclava like the others, he carried a small table. Stephen had a small TV from an upstairs room, while Tanner brought a manila folder. He looked at the guard and motioned for him to remove Hassan’s hood. The African snatched off the hood before retreating into his corner.
Hassan blinked and smiled at Tanner. "Ready to let me go?"
"Not yet," Tanner replied. He turned to consider the basement, then spoke to Liam and Stephen. "Put the table over there and the TV on top of it.”
"Do I get entertainment?" Hassan asked.
"Actually, you are the entertainment right now," Tanner said. "And I will be making a one-time special offer that you're going to take. But first, an update on what's going on since your unfortunate disappearance. Take a look."
The TV displayed an aerial view of Hassan's estate, with a news crawler running along the bottom and a graphic above the crawler reading, "DRUG WAR."
The uncertainty was back in Hassan's eyes. "What did you do?"
Tanner turned up the volume and stepped aside. The female reporter doing the voice over sounded breathless."…men killed and fifteen wounded. We have been told by several SAPS sources that the drugs were found in a bunker-like building located on the estate grounds, and that it has since been removed and stored in a secured location for further investigation and processing. Police are not providing details on what happened here overnight, only to say that it appears a drug war has started between two rival gangs. The police are asking for any information on Kamal Hassan's whereabouts. Anyone with any information is asked to call—"
Tanner muted the TV and faced Hassan. "You’re a wanted man.”
He took out a digital voice recorder and turned it on. "Here’s what's on the police channels."
The first transmission was an SAPS officer asking for additional crime scene technicians and officers to search the estate and to guard the "massive amount of drugs" that had been located. The second communication was a detailed description of Hassan, wanted for questioning in connection with the attack on his estate, as well as the disturbance at the Cape Africa Hotel. The third highlighted a report that Hassan was seen at the Capetown airport.
Tanner turned the recorder off. "You're public enemy number one."
"You fake that," Hassan said, voice quavering with uncertainty.
"No need to. The police know you're a drug lord."
"You planted that evidence!"
"Bullshit. They found your warehouse, Kamal, with tons of cocaine and heroin. We didn't get a chance to blow it up, so the police found it when they went through the place looking for bodies.”
Hassan began straining against his bonds. "I have powerful friends."
"Who have suddenly forgotten your name," Stephen joined in. "Right now, you are radioactive."
"But the police are not the only ones who want to talk to you," Tanner said. He opened the folder and pulled out a photo. "Does he look familiar?"
Hassan leaned forward, eyeballed the photo and went rigid. "Y-you're bluffing!"
Tanner smiled. He knew full well that Hassan was perfectly capable of keeping his emotions in check. For this photo to elicit such unmasked sentiment from the hardened criminal could only mean one thing.
"Colonel Rezael scares the shit out of you, doesn’t he?”
The room remained silent until Stephen added, “He and a dozen of his men landed in Capetown this morning. They're out there right now, looking for you."
Hassan shook his head, struggling to regain his composure. "I don't believe you."
"Rezael's here to find out what happened to his cargo, and thanks to you, you're the only person alive who can tell him."
"He'll kill me!"
"Probably," Tanner said. "But if you don't tell us what we want to know right now, we're going to drop you off in one of the worse neighborhoods in Capetown, then take bets on who gets to you first after we make calls to the police and Colonel Rezael."
Hassan’s eyes bulged from their sockets. "What happens if I do tell you everything?"
"Then we drop you off in a better neighborhood, wait twelve hours before calling the police and Rezael. What happens to you after that I don't give a damn about. But you’d at least have a chance."
"We could shoot him once in the leg for every answer we don't like before we let him go," Liam suggested.
"Or we could give him a hundred rand for every helpful answer he gives us," Stephen said. "I don't think his normal revenue sources are open to him."
"That sound fair to you, Kamal?" Tanner asked.
"I don't trust you.”
"The feeling is mutual," Tanner said. "But I dare say that's a better deal then you'll get from Rezael or the police."
"It's not that simple," Hassan said. "If I betray these people, they will kill me. Maybe not today, not next week, but th
ey will."
"I agree you don't have too many good choices," Liam said. "You can end up going to the police and spend years in prison, you can suffer ‘enhanced interrogation’ at the hands of Rezael and his fanatics… Your associates will kill you if you talk…As far as I can see, we're the only people giving you any chance to escape."
"Some chance.” At last, Hassan’s voice held a tone of defeat. Tanner seized the moment.
"You're a businessman. Which is the best deal?" A beat, then, "We'll give you a few minutes to think about it. Meanwhile, Rezael’s people are no doubt spreading through the city, turning more and more of your contacts against you, offering them tempting rewards for information…"
Tanner turned toward the stairs, but Hassan's sharp, "Wait!" stopped him.
"Made up your mind?"
"I will take your deal, with a couple of conditions. First, I choose which neighborhood I get dropped off in, and second, I want a quarter of a million American dollars in unmarked, non-sequential bills."
"No problem with the first one. The second may be more difficult, but I’ll see what I can do."
"When I get the money, I will tell you anything you want to know."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Somali Coast
The sound of a low-flying helicopter woke Saleh Narsai from a light sleep. He sat up, his eyelids feeling like someone had put weights on them, his mouth was dry, and his head was pounding. It was only when he swung his feet over the edge of his bunk that the early morning light registered on his weary eyes. Slipping his feet into his shoes, he stood, grabbed his pistol from the bunk and left his cabin.
As he climbed the stairs to the bridge, he glanced at his watch and saw that he'd gotten about four hours of sleep. Rubbing the grit from his eyes, he walked onto the bridge and asked what was going on.
"The colonel's back," said the helmsman on duty. He motioned to the coastline. "He's just landing."
Narsai squinted at the coast in time to see the blocky shape of an MIL MI-2 helicopter landing on the cliffs overlooking the beach. He inhaled deeply.
"I'm going to get something to eat. Notify me when the colonel's boat is approaching the ship."
"Will do, sir."
Narsai went down into the galley and piled some food on a plate. He took a mug of coffee and found a place to sit. While he ate, he mentally reviewed the current state of the operation. The first launcher was nearly ready, while the second was a few hours behind schedule. As for the missiles and the warheads, Dr. Masood had assured him that both would be ready by the time the launchers were completed.
Narsai was finishing his meal when the intercom rattled with the helmsman’s voice. "Captain requested to the deck, boat arriving."
By the time Narsai got topside, Colonel Riyad had climbed onboard with his bodyguard and a couple of Yabaal's men.
Narsai saluted the Colonel. "Welcome back sir.”
"Thank you Saleh. Any problems?"
"No sir, we are ready—"
He cut himself short when Yabaal climbed aboard. The Somali leader glared at Narsai before addressing Rezael. "We shall continue our discussion," he demanded, his tone hostile.
Riyad shot Yabaal a cold look. "The job is not finished.”
"I need those weapons now," Yabaal pressed. "A third of my army lacks sufficient firepower, and there are reports that Abada's men are on the move."
"Abada?" Narsai asked.
"Another warlord," Riyad said. "One that doesn't like the General here. When will Abada's force be here?"
"Two, three days," Yabaal replied.
Riyad studied his ally for a few seconds. "Done. I will talk to Captain Kashgari about unloading the weapons. Bring your men here in a couple of hours."
Yabaal smiled at Riyad, then turned and shouted at his bodyguards. They started back down the down the ladder to their boat. Narsai leaned over the side and watched the Somalis and their leader head for shore.
Once they were away from the ship, Narsai looked at his colonel with a troubled expression.
"Is something wrong?" Riyad asked.
"Sir, is it wise to give those weapons to a man like that?"
"In the long run? No. But after we leave, he'll be someone else's problem. Right now, we still need his men for cover."
Narsai remained unconvinced. "What's going to stop him from trying to take over this ship? You know he's greedy."
"Why would he do that?" Riyad motioned around him. "This ship is no good to him. It’s just a big fat target that he can't use. You allowed him to plunder all the containers in the central hold, correct?"
"Yes sir. He got a king's ransom out of those containers."
"And he'll try to negotiate with whoever is now in charge of SeaStar for those hostages the company thinks they have."
Riyad looked toward shore. "Besides, I'm going to give Yabaal the weapons here, and at the same time, send the ammo ashore. I will keep my end of the bargain." He glanced at his watch. "How close is Dr. Masood to completing his work?"
"The launchers will be finished by this evening. The launch panel is set up in the Second Mate's cabin and is being tested by Masood's team. He assures me that will also be ready this evening. He says once we're underway, he can have both missiles ready for launch in two to three hours."
Riyad smiled. "If everything stays on schedule, I want you underway within thirty-six hours."
"Of course, sir."
Riyad headed for the bridge door. "I need to see Captain Kashgari and have him start unloading the weapons. I'll be back before Yabaal shows up again."
"Sir? What about the Americans Ilshu reported in South Africa?"
Riyad scowled. "They are of no concern to us. Hassan is watching them, assuming he hasn't killed them already."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Over Tanzania
Andy DeCasta leveled the Gulfstream out at cruising altitude. He was alone in the cockpit, and the plane was quiet. The main cabin was darkened, the shades pulled down and the lights turned low. Most of its occupants were asleep in the reclining chairs.
All except for Tanner Wilson.
The OUTCAST leader reclined in his chair, but he wasn't asleep. Instead, he was thinking about the phone call he had made right before the team had left the safehouse for the last time…
* * *
They were still in the safehouse's basement when Tanner called Casey and broke the news.
"Say that one more time,” Casey demanded. “I need to make sure I’m hearing you right. "
"The North Koreans were shipping two complete nuclear warheads to the Iranians, suitable for Iran’s new Meshkat cruise missile."
"Shit. How many got through?"
"None, according to Hassan." Tanner eyed the crime lord, who was still tied to the chair, his hands were freed so he could eat his sandwich. Tanner stood in one corner of the small cell, far enough away so Hassan couldn't hear him.
"These two were the first run. But it gets even worse. It wasn't Somalis who hijacked the ship, it was the ICA."
"ICA?" Tanner could hear Casey's wheels turning. "That's the Islamic Caliphate Army, right?"
"Right. Hassan is ISIL's main man in South Africa, funneling money, weapons and recruits to both the ICA and ISIL. The guy running this operation is a Colonel Bakir Riyad. Hassan says Riyad hasn't told him what he's going to do with the warheads, but I doubt he's going to sell them."
"What's SeaStar's role in all this?"
"Aswegen was being paid a lot of money to smuggle goods to Iran, with Hassan acting as middleman and paymaster. When the ship was seized, Aswegen panicked and wanted out."
"And the ICA killed him."
"That's about it."
"What's your next move?"
"We're going to release Hassan with a quarter of a million dollars while we head for Somalia."
"You're going to release Hassan?" Casey's voice rose half an octave.
"He's a hunted man, by both the police and the Iranians, who have a team in
town looking for answers."
"So you want to use him to draw off the heat."
"Seems like the best thing to do. But is Hassan is right, we're going to need some technical help, and depending on how many pirates we're dealing with, a few more trigger pullers."
"I'll contact SecDef and see if I can get some assets to back you up. When are you leaving?"
"This afternoon. We're dropping Hassan off in Capetown, then heading for the airport. I promised Hassan I wouldn't call either the police or the Iranians for twelve hours, but our British contact knows of an agent who's in contact with the Iranian team, so as soon as we're wheels up, he'll make a call."
"Think Hassan will escape?"
"Depends on how good he is. Stephen said the Iranian team leader is one of their best field commanders, so the longer Hassan avoids being caught, the better it is for us."
"All right. If I'm going to get you backup, I'd better start now."
"Make sure anybody you send our way knows that my team is lead on this. There’s no room for head-butting."
"I'll make sure they know. Good work so far."
"Until we have the warheads in hand, this isn't over."
"Good luck, Tanner."
* * *
Tanner stared at the Gulfstream’s ceiling. After the phone call to Casey they had been gifted with a quarter of a million dollars from Ashcroft, who revealed the money was counterfeit, from North Korea, of all places.
"Damn near perfect," the retired spy had told them. "Passes most counterfeit checks and has almost all the right watermarks and security strips. It would take someone with a lot of knowledge and experience in legal tender notes to tell they're not real. And let’s face it, most people want them to be real. You see what you want to see, so they don’t always get checked too carefully."
While they were preparing, Danielle, now equipped with Hassan's password, cracked the laptop's hard drive and discovered a treasure trove of data. She made copies, gave one to Ashcroft to be sent to Britain, packaged one to send to Tanner's contact in the SAPS, and gave a third copy to a representative from the U.S. Consulate in Capetown.
Naomi drove Danielle and Dante to the airport while Tanner, Stephen, and Liam drove a blindfolded Hassan to a neighborhood near the University of Capetown and released him back into the wild with the counterfeit cash. Then they met Mandlenkosi in a parking lot and traded vehicles with him for the drive to the airport.