by David Archer
“Aha!” Starling said in a loud whisper. “I have you now, Commander Zodo!”
The secretary glanced up at him, amused, and Starling looked sheepish. “Sorry,” he said. “Sometimes I really get into the game.”
“It's all right,” she said. “I have a brother who is the same way.” She returned her attention to her own computer.
Inside the office, President Habib rose from behind his desk and came forward to shake Morgenstern's hand. “Ambassador Morgenstern,” he said, “I cannot tell you how much it means to me that your country is willing to help in this terrible situation.” He released the ambassador's hand and extended his own to Colson.
“President Habib,” Morgenstern said, “may I present Mister Alexander Colson. Mister Colson is one of my country's most trusted agents, and a specialist in the elimination of threats. He has been sent here specifically to try to locate and rescue your daughter, and make sure that those responsible are brought to justice.”
Habib nodded. “Then let us sit, gentlemen, and discuss what must be done.” He started walking toward the conference area, where several overstuffed chairs surrounded a low table.
“Mister President, would it be acceptable to you for us to discuss these matters alone? It is quite possible that Ambassador Morgenstern might overhear information that could leave him in a compromised position if it is ever necessary to deny my involvement.”
Habib stopped and looked at both men, then nodded brusquely. “Ambassador, if you would excuse us?”
Morgenstern bowed his head for a split second. “Of course, Mister President.” He turned and walked out the same door he had entered through.
Habib eyed Colson coolly. “A specialist in the elimination of threats,” he repeated, a slight question mark in his voice. “May I speak frankly?”
Colson smiled as he shook the president's hand. “Please do, Mister President.”
The president hesitated for only a second. “Mister Colson, the only justice that will suffice in this matter is if those responsible are removed from the world. Is that within the parameters of your mission?”
Colson inclined his head toward the president. “Mister President, that is specifically within the parameters of my mission. My orders are to locate and retrieve your daughter safely, and to destroy those who have threatened her and yourself.”
Habib and Colson sat down in chairs facing one another, and the president motioned for the blonde man to continue.
Colson reached into an inside pocket of his jacket and withdrew a small leather case, then passed it without a word to President Habib, who opened it cautiously. The president's eyes scanned the cards inside the case, and his eyebrows lifted by a quarter inch. He closed the little folder and passed it back.
“That is an interesting proposition,” Habib said. “And one that I am most willing to accept, if you can deliver on your country's promises.”
Colson smiled. “At this point, Mister President, all I can tell you is that I will do everything in my power to find your daughter and get her home to you safely, and as you just saw, I'm authorized to commandeer any resources my country has to offer.”
Habib licked his lips. “Ambassador Morgenstern tells me that if anyone can do this, it will be you. What do you need from me?”
“If you can tell me what you know about your daughter's disappearance, I can begin developing my plans. I understand that you only learned about the situation two weeks ago?”
Habib nodded again. “Yes. My daughter's name is Selah, and she is seventeen years old. She left our home two weeks ago, to go on a shopping holiday with some of her friends. She was to meet them at the Women's Bazaar, but did not arrive there when she was supposed to. I did not know this at the time, of course, but late that afternoon I received a telephone call. A man who had represented himself to the palace switchboard as an associate of the Syrian embassy informed me that my daughter had been taken as a hostage, and that in order to see her returned, I must convince the Prime Minister to enter into an alliance with the Russian and Syrian governments. Russia has been trying to entice us into this alliance for many years, but we have always been an ally of the United States. For this reason, we have consistently refused any cooperation with Russia, other than in the areas of trade. Now, suddenly, the Russian ambassador has informed me that I must either accept the alliance, or face what he terms to be dire consequences. He has made threats about economic sanctions, and possibly even military action against my country, but I do not believe that any of these threats are real. It is my opinion, after consulting with my advisers, that the only true threat I face is the one made against my daughter's life. The rest, I believe, only exist to suggest a public reason for our agreement to the alliance.”
He fell silent, and Colson leaned forward. “Mister President, did the caller give you any information that might suggest where she is being held? Or anything that might indicate who is specifically behind this?”
Habib shrugged. “He told me that Selah has been taken out of the country, and that I can have her back in one of two ways: either intact and alive, or in pieces and dead. He also told me that I have only until our next summit meeting with Syria and Russia on the twenty-third day of this month to agree to the alliance. I asked him for a way to contact him, so that we might possibly negotiate, but he refused. He said the only way to contact him was by notifying Russia's ambassador of our agreement. If the alliance is not in place by the twenty-third, then I will begin receiving pieces of my daughter in the mail.” He rubbed a hand across his eyes, and then looked at Colson again. “I have discussed the matter with the Prime Minister, and he is in agreement with me. If the situation is not resolved by the twenty-second, he will notify the Russian ambassador that we agree to their terms, and we will make a public announcement during the summit.”
“The twenty-second?” Colson asked. “That only gives us sixteen days.” He looked at the president for a moment. “Let's concentrate on the caller for a moment. Did he have a specific accent?”
Habib nodded. “Yes, that was something I noticed. His accent seemed to be American, perhaps from the southern part of your country. He initially spoke to me in Arabic, but his accent made him difficult to understand. I suggested French, but he changed to English. That made his accent even more identifiable.”
Colson steepled his fingers at his chin, his eyes half closed in thought. “Interesting,” he said. “Of course, it could be a ruse, an attempt to throw you off, but there are certainly a lot of Americans involved in international crime, espionage and such.” He opened his eyes and looked at the president again. “Were there any background noises, any sounds you could hear through the phone that stuck in your memory?”
Habib leaned back in the chair and closed his own eyes as he thought about his answer. “There was a roaring sound in the background, not close, but some distance away. It got louder at times, then seemed to fade away before it came back again.” He held up a hand to indicate that Colson should wait, that there was more. “There was also someone speaking not far from the caller, someone standing nearby. I could not make out exactly what he was saying, but I caught a few words that I'm sure were in English. I would say that his accent seemed to be British, or perhaps Welsh.” He opened his eyes and looked at Colson. “That is all I can remember.”
“That's excellent, Mister President. The second person you mentioned, the one who was speaking in the background, did it sound like he was speaking to the caller?”
“No, no, I don't think he had anything to do with the caller. He seemed to be speaking to someone else, perhaps a child. There was a scolding tone to his voice.”
“How did the caller convince you that he was telling the truth? That he really had your daughter?”
Habib let his eyes fall to the floor, and when he spoke, it was softly. “We are a Muslim people,” he said. “As such, it is important to us that our women are modest. Unlike the women in your country, our women do not ever display certain parts of t
heir bodies. For this reason, when the caller described to me in great detail a specific mark on Selah's skin, a birthmark on the back of her thigh that no one would ever see, I believed him to be telling me the truth.”
“Have you heard anything more from the caller since then?”
Habib hesitated. “I—I have. I did not tell the ambassador, but someone has sent me emails, with photos of my daughter. They show her wearing what appears to be some sort of coverall, in a room with only a bed, a chair and a television.”
“May I see the photos?” Colson asked.
Habib smiled, and reached into his own inner pocket. He withdrew a manila envelope and passed it to Colson. “I printed these to carry with me. You may have them. I can print myself more of them. Perhaps they will help.”
Colson opened the envelope and looked through the fourteen photos inside. Selah was a pretty girl, with long, dark hair. She appeared to be upset in a few of the pictures, and seemed to be praying in others. Colson scanned them, but did not see anything specific that he considered a clue to where she was being held.
“Thank you, Mister President,” he said, as he slipped the envelope into his own pocket. “Is there anything else you can tell me? Please, I don't mean to be pushy, but if my time is that limited, I need to get started.”
Habib gave a sigh. “The caller did tell me that he was not an agent of the Russian government, but only an independent contractor who had been hired to secure our cooperation. He alluded to successes that he had in similar assignments in the past, but gave me no details.” The man seemed defeated, and Colson reached across the intervening space to lay a hand on his arm.
“Mister President, I'm going to take this and put it to work.” He reached into a pocket and produced a small card, which he passed to the president. “This is a special number that comes directly to me. If you call it, I will either answer or I will return your call within a short time. If you think of anything or learn anything that may help me to find your daughter, call me as soon as you can. The phone is scrambled, and cannot be tapped.” He rose to his feet. “There is one other thing,” he said. “I've been cautioned that there is absolutely no way for us to know who in your government might be involved in this or compromised in some way. I'm going to ask that what we have spoken of today remains between us. Our ambassador only knows that I was sent here to investigate this case from our end, but he will not know any details. I'd like you to keep your people completely in the dark about me, as well.”
Habib nodded. “I understand. I will tell no one, not even the Prime Minister, unless your mission fails or I run out of time.”
Noah extended a hand, and the president took it. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with me. I'll leave now and get started, and send word to Morgenstern when I have something to report. All he will do is suggest that you call his friend, which is me, of course. Do you understand?”
The president shook his hand, and Noah could see the tears that wanted to spill over. “Of course, yes. Thank you, Mister Colson, and may Allah go with you.”
Colson walked out of the office, and found Morgenstern sitting next to the young man called Starling. The ambassador was carefully looking down at the floor, making certain that his eyes never touched the computer monitor on Starling's lap. When Colson appeared, he leapt to his feet.
Colson looked to Starling. “Hey, you ready to go? Pause your game, or whatever?”
Starling looked up and grinned. “Actually, I just won the game, so I'm ready whenever you are.” He closed the laptop and unfolded himself from the chair.
“Everything go okay?” Morgenstern asked.
“Went great,” Colson said. “I think we can make this work.”
Morgenstern looked at him for a few seconds, then nodded and turned to walk out of the office. Colson and Starling followed, and they were met immediately by Mahmoud, who escorted them back out of the building, and was careful to reclaim the temporary IDs he had given to Colson and Starling.
Once the men were safely inside the limousine, the ambassador looked at Colson. “I'm actually very surprised that the president was willing to meet with you alone. That's quite unlike him.”
Colson shook his head. “Not really,” he said. “It might be out of character for President Habib, but it's not a bit unusual for Papa Habib. When we walked in together, we met the leader of the country. When you stepped out of the room, I met with a frightened, worried father. Unfortunately, that worried father is in a position to do serious damage to American relations with Africa, and if I can't allay his fears, he's going to. He and the Prime Minister have already agreed that if they don't have Selah back by the day before the deadline, they're going to give in.”
Morgenstern let out a sigh. “If the Russian president gets a strong enough foothold in Mauritania, he'll sweep through the rest of Africa like the proverbial plague of locusts. Can you imagine what would happen if Russia gets control of all of the potential military power present on this continent?”
Colson shrugged. “I don't have to imagine it, that's for diplomats like you. All I've got to do is find the bastards who took this girl, and kill them.”
Starling suddenly grinned. “And now we get into the real game,” he said. “Just wait till I show you the pieces I managed to score while we were there.”
Morgenstern rolled his eyes. “That's another thing,” he said. “I can't believe you actually hacked into their computer network while you were visiting with the president of the country. Do you have any idea what would've happened to all of us if they had detected your little computer intrusion?”
“That's why I brought Neil—I mean, Starling. He's the best there is, and nobody detects what he's doing.”
“Yeah,” said the skinny kid. “I could've hacked them from the hotel, and they'd never have known. The trouble is that they have multiple Wi-Fi networks in that building, and some of them are about as close to hack-proof as you can get. Getting into them from outside would take forever, but every network has some sort of back door built into it, so that the IT people can get in even if some idiot manages to change the password and forget it. Back doors are hard to find, unless you're a true IT expert, like me. Once I found it, I just tried some of the most common IT passwords. These guys almost always use one of them, just in case something happens to them and another one has to take over. I went through half a dozen of them and got in. Then it was just a matter of copying the files from every computer on the network. Oh, and that included the president's computers, both the official one and the personal one that he probably keeps hidden somewhere in the office.”
Colson nodded. “You can show me what you got after we get back to the hotel. I don't want to compromise Ambassador Morgenstern any more than we already have.”
Morgenstern's eyes bulged. “Compromise me any more? Are you kidding? The stuff you got on that computer needs to be gone through by my intelligence people at the embassy.”
Colson shook his head. “That's not within my orders,” he said. “You can put in a request to my boss for a copy of it all, but I don't know if that will work.”
Morgenstern, his eyes still bugged out, stared at him for a moment. “Colson, no one will even tell me who your boss is! Hell, I don't have a clue who you work for. How do I put in a request for a copy?”
Colson shrugged. “Okay, I see your point. I'll put the request in for you.”
TWO
22 Hours Earlier
“Okay, here's what we've got,” Donald Jefferson said. One of the senior executives of E & E, it was his job to be sure that each team leader was as prepared as possible for his or her missions, and this often included delivering the briefings himself. “President Habib of Mauritania has a daughter who has been kidnapped. Her name is Selah, and she is seventeen. That's a photo of her on the screen behind me. Apparently, the president was informed that if his country does not enter into an alliance with Russia, one that they've been resisting for a long time, his daughter will be dismembe
red and killed. Mr. Habib told our ambassador about the kidnapping a couple of days ago, who sent it up the line until our own president heard about it, and he dumped it in our laps. Your mission is to track down who took the girl, kill the sons of bitches and bring her back safely. Sounds fairly easy and straightforward, right? The problem is that we have absolutely no idea who took the girl or where she might be held. You're going to have to find her on your own.”
The four people sitting there listening to him all glanced at one another, but only the blonde-haired man spoke. “We talked about this,” he said. “None of us have any actual investigative experience. I'm curious why we are being sent on this mission, rather than a team that's done this sort of thing before.”
The woman sitting beside Jefferson leaned forward. “I'm sending you because you're the best we've got. Noah, this mission is so important that it has to be handled by someone who won't hesitate. That's you, as we all know. And while you may not have experience in investigations, you have a mind that works like a computer. I'm quite confident that if anyone can find this girl in time to save her life and save the day, it will be you.”
Noah Wolf nodded, and stayed silent. After a moment, Jefferson began again.
“You're flying out tonight for Mauritania. Our embassy there has been briefed through diplomatic parcel on your arrival. I'll be giving each of you temporary identity kits, so as always, be sure you learn your names and don't mess up. The initial phase of the mission is two-fold: Noah, you'll meet with President Habib and question him about the situation. Try to get him to dig deep in his memory of the phone call that told him about his daughter. There might be something there that will help you figure out where to start.” He turned to look at Neil Blessing, Team Camelot's computer expert. “Meanwhile, Neil can be working his way into the computers in the Presidential Palace. Somewhere in those computers should be a recording of that call, and you want to find it and listen to it.”