by HN Wake
She didn’t respond. What could she say?
“Plus, you got satellite images in a few hours.”
She remained silent. He would see through a lie.
“And you know how to fix a broken nose.” His voice was barely above a whisper, “You’re CIA, aren’t you?”
The red edge of the sun emerged on the horizon.
“Cause I’m pretty sure you report to some kind of government agency.” He stared ahead as well. “Who are the ones pulling the strings on this particular job, Mac? I’m pretty sure you’re here undercover as a bank employee, but doing CIA shit.”
Her jaw tensed. She had no options. If she lied, he would know. But she couldn’t tell him the truth—it went against all her training, against all Agency protocols.
“Am I close, Mac?” He turned to her. “I think I’m dead on. What does the CIA want with Alghaba?”
Nothing. The CIA doesn’t want anything to do with Alghaba. Josh fucking Halloway was involved in Alghaba and I’m here to try to rescue him.
Her eyes remained on the sunrise. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that we take care of Azly.”
He banged his hands on the steering wheel again. “How are we going to take of Azly? He’s in a small town jail cell being tortured. How are we going to help him, Mac?”
“I’m going to take care of it.”
“How?” he asked.
She finally looked at him, her expression blank. “Asking questions gets people killed around here. You sure you want to ask questions?”
He paused, surprise on his face. Then he turned the key in the ignition and the motor rumbled to life. Before dropping it into gear, he asked, “Why did you leave Jakarta?”
The question caught her off guard. She closed her eyes as if in pain. Her heart thumped loudly, her stomach knotted. In her mind, red blood inched toward her across white tile.
“Did something happen there?”
He knew it all. This determined, dogged man had correctly identified she was a CIA operative and had deciphered that Jakarta held painful memories.
The word emerged on it’s own, passing her lips before she could retrieve it. “Yes.” She wasn’t sure why she had told him, why she trusted him. She hissed to cover the surprise, the pain. “Don’t think you know me now, Johnson.” Her head shook as if the thought was repugnant. “You don’t know me.”
He shifted the Land Rover into drive, letting it roll slowly away from the police station and squinted in the sun. “You’re right. I don’t know you. I’m not sure I want to.”
33
Foggy Bottom, DC
Isaac’s lanky frame settled into the passenger seat of the air-conditioned Toyota with a smile and a Starbucks and shut the door. “Black, right?”
Joyce grinned. “Good morning to you too!” She took the coffee cup. “Yes, exactly! You’ve got a keen eye and a good memory.”
“Funny, all the girls say that.”
She laughed loudly to make up for his awkwardness. She guided the car into the heavy morning traffic, honked as someone in a BMW cut them off, and shrugged at Isaac. “So, any luck on that search for Malay Petro Reliance?”
“Funny, I didn’t get much back. It’s registered in Indonesia. That’s all I could find out. But I ran a new search last night and hopefully there will be something in my inbox when we get in. Everything still okay with your boss? He’s still in the dark, right?”
She nodded. “Yeah, I had a tough meeting with him yesterday. I tried to get him to let me do some more research but he totally put the kibosh on that. He’s just not impressed with anything about Malaysia.” She looked over at him. “It’s all about the terrorists.”
“I hear you.”
She flipped on the radio to a pop station as she changed lanes for the Parkway. She felt him watching her. Seventy-five percent, she thought.
He cleared his throat. “So, uhm, do you like movies?”
“I do.” Her heart clamored.
“Any chance you like sci fi movies?”
“Aliens 2 is the best film of all time. I like Bladerunner too. But Aliens just has the whole package: suspense, terror, aliens, and a bad-ass Sigourney Weaver.”
“Right?!”
“I mean when she’s in that huge crane-body-thing—“
“It’s a power loader.”
“Right! So, when she’s fighting the queen alien at the end—that’s sick. I mean, she’s got this girl cowering and the planet is on fire and the platform is burning. Then she’s all about shooting and mouthing off with Bishop coming to get her…sorry, am I talking too much?”
“No! Are you kidding? You’re talking about Aliens! I’m loving it.”
She laughed. “You might be the first person to ever say that about my babbling.”
He looked at her, “No, it’s good. So, uhm, I saw there are some sci fi’s playing at the cinema near us. Maybe we could catch something this weekend?”
She looked over at him, nearly side-swiping a car. “Absolutely.”
She made it across the Hive with a huge grin. Anatoli was already tapping on his keyboard when she stepped to her desk. She looked over the top at him and winked.
“What?” he asked. “What is that for?”
“I have a date.”
“Are you going out with the IT nerd?”
“Totally. To the movies.”
“Priceless,” he said then turned back to his screen.
Someone had placed a fax on her desk. Her heart raced.
The fax was only two pages. The first was a cover note addressed to her with no identified sender. Across the bottom was the same number Hassan Talib had used yesterday.
She flipped to the second page. It was an official bank account statement. Across the top the account name was Petro Malay Reliance. There were only two transactions listed in the last month:
Deposit: MYR 7,368,010
Withdrawal: MYR 7,368,010
She pulled out a calculator and punched in the exchange rate. The last deposit and withdrawal was for a huge amount: exactly $2 million in US dollars.
She sat back. Holy shit, she thought. I’ve found something. I’ve actually found something.
She leaned back up and read the fine print next to the MYR 7,368,010 deposit.
WT MA 203099938749382749723 HONG KONG, A /ORG=1/HKONLINE SRF# MA 203099938749382749723 TRN#34747390020 RFB# MA2942398572389723
She squinted. It appeared that the deposit had arrived via an international electronic transfer from Hong Kong. “Anatoli?”
“Yeah?”
“I think I may be in trouble.”
“Why? What happened?”
“You know that Malaysian shelf company?”
“Yeah, the one you were supposed to no longer be looking into?”
“That one.”
“Okay?”
“It turns out they got paid two million dollars two weeks ago.”
34
Miri, Sarawak Province, Malaysia
An hour later, Mac sat alone in the Land Rover on a side street across from the menacing Alghaba headquarters building, four floors of cement and glass. Through the telephoto lens of binoculars, she focused on a second floor window. Beyond the glass, the hulking Eddy Mudzaffar sat at a large desk reading his computer screen, smooth and languid as always.
Her rage was under control but it was simmering just below the surface. She wanted to see Mudzaffar suffer, but she needed answers.
On a burner phone, she dialed a number.
A receptionist answered sweetly, “Alghaba Timber, good morning.”
“Mr. Eddy Mudzaffar, please.”
Two clicks later a rough voice answered, “Hallo?”
It was the first time she had heard his voice. It was gruff, unfriendly.
She felt her limbs tingle as her muscles tensed. The game was on.
“Hi, Eddy,” she said serenely and slowly.
“Who is this?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
&nb
sp; He paused, then asked belligerently, “What do you want?”
Fucker. She thought, it’s not going to take you long to lose that attitude. She clamped down again on her anger. She used a soft, feminine voice. “I’m sending you an email.”
Through the window, she watched him. Every bully she’d ever met used intimidation to make up for deeply rooted insecurity. She suspected Mudzaffar was no different. At his desk, she imagined he heard the chime of a newly arriving email. He clicked his mouse. She imagined the video popping up on his screen. He hit play.
She held the binoculars on his face.
His eyes widened, then blinked rapidly. Mudzaffar was like any other bully. Put them in a corner, show them up, and the fear comes through.
She said softly, “I edited the boring stuff. I only left the bits where you were involved. You know, personally.”
He remained frozen, watching the video on his screen. When it ended, he blinked rapidly again.
She said, “Not bad resolution for a local police station video.”
He stared at the screen, immobile.
She continued, “I’m sure the Alghaba donations helped with the police IT purchases. And I’m sure the company’s contributions helped big time in allowing you to participate…hmm…what shall we call that…suspect interrogation?”
He hadn’t moved.
“Or…maybe we just call it for what it is?” she said smoothly. “Torture, perhaps?”
He sat back against the black leather of his chair.
“Eddy, I’ve got some other stuff too. From up at the blockade. You. The police officers. And some innocent, nonviolent Penan. And then there you go again, getting all worked up. You’ve got a pretty mean left hook. But I thought the kick in the stomach was going way too far.” She paused. “It’s all pretty unpleasant. It would make superb international news. Those Penan are so…helpless.”
His gaze jerked toward the window. He stood and walked toward it, his movements quick.
“Then I’ve got you on video hitting my motorbike. But you know about that.”
His gaze darted up and down the street. “What do you want?”
She ignored him. “I’ve got some good information about Dominick French—the med student and environmentalist—too. And his murderer who took a professional tap to the back of the head.”
Mudzaffar stopped scanning the street, he was all ears.
Yeah, she thought. Let that sink in. “You can sit back down. It will be easier to hear what I’m going to tell you.”
That startled him. His gaze jerked up and down the street, across into the dusty, fallow field.
“Go ahead, Eddy.” Her voice was silky. “Sit back down. Take it easy. Take a load off. We’ve got some business to discuss.”
Slowly he sat, but his eyes scanned the street. He noticed the Land Rover—white with dark, tinted windows--parked among the other cars. She could almost feel his shark eyes penetrating the dark glass.
She said, “I’m going to take some educated guesses about you, Eddy. Because I’ve seen your kind, many times. You’re former Special Ops--probably Malaysian Special Branch—“
He squinted at the Land Rover.
“They probably kicked you out. What was it for, Eddy? Conduct unbecoming?”
His eyes glowered at the Land Rover.
“You’re the type that thinks you’re better than everyone else.” She cracked her neck, it was getting stiff from staring at him. “You think you’re somehow connected to some royal line or some such shit. What do they have here, Sultanates? I dunno, up north maybe? So down here, in the sticks, you think you’re something special.”
In the office, he was ramrod straight.
“So,” she continued, “the Special Branch kicks you out and you land this cushy job with Alghaba probably because of your family connections. They want you to ensure they stay out of trouble.” Her eyes were watering. “Eddy, the power has gone to your head. You’ve started crossing lines because you think you’re special. You think you’re important to Alghaba.
“But guess what, Eddy? You aren’t special. You’re like every other washed up Special Ops guy I’ve ever known. You got lucky enough to land a good job that pays for his mortgage. But you’re not safe. You’re one paycheck away from being alone and jobless in Miri.
“I’ve seen it around the world, Eddy. Guys like you that aren’t smart enough to know where not to cross the line.”
“Who are you?”
“Guys like you who aren’t smart enough to see the real pros like me coming.”
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Does it matter?” Her voice was velvety. “Right now, does it matter who I am? The point is, that I am better than you are. A lot better. A whole lot better.”
“What do you want?” His stare never left the Land Rover.
“Do you know what happens to dirty security guys who cross the line?”
His hand pushed the phone tighter to his ear.
“Nobody wants a rogue Head of Security, do they? Especially not a huge global conglomerate making billions of dollars doing shady shit. They don’t need extra scrutiny. You know what happens when a rogue security is uncovered?”
She waited. He remained silent.
“You,” she said, “get thrown under the bus. You’re the fall guy.”
He didn’t move.
“And what I’ve got would certainly start high-profile criminal proceedings.”
In his office, he slowly waved his hand from left to right, indicating for her to proceed with the negotiations.
“That’s how I like it, Eddy. I like it when you agree to start playing by my rules.”
He waited.
“This is how it’s going to work. We’ve got three areas of business, you and I. The first is Azly. You’re going to get him released and ensure he lives happily ever after here in Miri, or I release the video to the international press.”
He was mute.
“I’m offering you a nice, uneventful exchange. I bury this video. You leave Azly alone, forever.”
She watched as Mudzaffar sat back and contemplated his fate. She waited him out. It was a long wait, this was one tough cookie.
In the her ear, Mudzaffar finally said, “Yes. I agree.”
“Good. Now, to the second order of business. Did you hire Abdul Izzah to kill Dominick French?”
Silence.
In her line of work, silence almost assuredly implied guilt.
Confirmed: Eddy had taken out the hit on Dominick French. He had hired the thug to make it look like a bar fight. But he was smart enough to not admit this on a call.
He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling.
She said, “You sure are your company lapdog aren’t you? That’s serious business, arranging someone’s death.”
He didn’t protest.
“Now, the last order of business, Eddy, is simple.” She reached into her courier bag and slipped out the plump night officer’s Glock. She expertly cocked it, lifted it, and sighted it on Mudzaffar’s window. For a brief moment, an image of Azly bloodied and shivering crossed her mind and she imagined pulling the trigger then and there. But she needed answers.
Her voice was steady. “You’re going to tell me where Josh Halloway is.”
“I don’t know where Josh Halloway is.”
She whispered, “Let me repeat the question. Where. Is. Josh Halloway?”
“I’m telling you, I don’t know.”
She took the shot.
The bullet hit the glass of the office window with an reverberating ping. Mudzaffar bolted out of his chair with a yelp. A tiny cobweb cracked from the small hole and began to spread, its stripes extending across the large window.
He screamed into the phone, “I don’t know where Halloway is! I lost him two weeks ago.”
His fear was real, his lack of knowledge legitimate.
She wasn’t prepared for this. It was a surprising turn of events.
She
had assumed Alghaba and Mudzaffar were mixed up in Josh’s disappearance.
She insisted, “But you were following him.”
“He spent time with Dominick French. I wanted to know what he knew.”
She lowered the gun and watched him through her binoculars. He was panting--truly afraid. She believed him. Mudzaffar was not involved in Josh’s disappearance. Her mind began spinning. What had she missed? Where was Josh?
He turned away from the window and paced toward the inner wall. “You should know one thing before you leave Miri.”
“Go ahead.”
“I didn’t put Abdul Izzah in the morgue.”
She froze in surprise. Mudzaffar hadn’t killed Abdul Izzah. It wasn’t his shot to the back of the head.
She heard him breathing loudly as she lowered the phone and clicked off.
So Mudzaffar and Alghaba had hired Abdul Izzah to kill Dominick French for hiking up to the gash.
But who had killed Abdul Izzah?
Part Four: Exposure
She was a perpetual outsider, and she liked it that way.
- Rose Lichter-Marck
35
Hong Kong
Mac opened her eyes to the darkness and focused on the air conditioner’s white noise against the deep silence outside the window. She felt sluggish from a night of whirring on a thirty-minute loop between color saturated nightmares and wakefulness. Her chest felt heavy, her eyes dry.
She pushed the duvet off and swung sore legs over the edge of the bed. With a great deal of willpower she sat up, feet feeling for the floor, and pushed off the bed. Her lower back ached and the weight on her feet made them tingle with pinpricks.
In the darkness, she fumbled to the bathroom. She put her hand out to help her navigate the turn, felt the solidness of the wall.
In the sleepy haze, nothing was definitive, everything could be mistaken, interpreted incorrectly. Had it all been a dream? Had Odom called to tell her Josh Halloway was missing? Had she followed Josh across Miri? Had she gone up into the rainforest with Johnson?