The Scientist (Max Doerr Book 2)

by Jay Deb

  There was a knock on the door. The minister said, “It’s open. Come in.”

  The door opened and a forty-something man came in, a manila folder in his hand. Javed threw a curious look at the man, wondering who he might be.

  “This is Ahmad,” Navid said. “From now on he’ll be assisting you with things.”

  “I already have a few assistants,” Javed said in feeble protest as he watched Ahmad take a seat on the chair next to Navid and lay down his manila folder on the table.

  “He’ll be a little more than an assistant. He will be with you at your office. He will make suggestions. And he reports progress to me.”

  Realizing what was going on, Javed looked down. Ahmad was being put in place to keep an eye on Javed, control Javed’s power inside the nuclear program, clip his wings. Javed felt a shake in his feet. “There is really no need for another person to spend time on the program’s matters. I’ve got it under control.” Javed knew his words were futile. He knew Navid had already marked him for removal, and now he was just putting the crosshair on Javed’s head.

  “If you have everything under control, then how come Golshan died?” Navid asked.

  “If I may, can I remind you that security was not my responsibility. I handle the operations.”

  “I think the time has come for you to take some rest, enjoy life.” A crooked smile appeared on Navid’s face. “You have done enough for the country and we’re all grateful for that.”

  The minister was making a declaration to remove Javed from power. But Javed would rather die than give up power. “I talked to the president yesterday and he wants me to continue my job as long as I can – carry out Allah’s wish.” Javed waited to see a change in Navid’s facial expression, but it didn’t happen. Javed had spoken to the president, but it had been a short ‘hi-hello’ type phone call. In Javed’s mind that was an indication the president desired to keep Javed in his position, and it was worth throwing it to the minister. But it didn’t work.

  “I talked to the president today,” said Navid. “He is very disappointed with Golshan’s death. Yes, he wants you to continue and I’ve been asked to keep a close eye on what’s going on inside the program.”

  Javed sighed and realized it would be best to comply with whatever Navid was asking him to do, for now. The rest could be managed later. “With blessings from the president and support from you, we can do this. We’ll get an able chief for the program, even better than Golshan, who was really a stubborn man. And I didn’t really like him much. He–”

  The minister interrupted. “At what enrichment level are we now?”

  “Seventeen point four.” Twenty was the nuclear enrichment level needed to make a weapon and 3.5 for nuclear power generation, which had already been achieved.

  “Tell me, how long are you going to take to get a new man at the nuclear program?”

  Javed thought for two seconds. “Give me three to four months. I’ll get the best–”

  “You have two weeks, Javed,” Navid balked. “Two weeks! And learn to take responsibility.”

  “Two weeks? Two weeks is just too short, sir, if I may say. In two weeks, we can’t even draft a list of potential candidates.” Javed addressed the minister as sir for the first time ever.

  “Didn’t you say you already made a list?”

  Javed swallowed, caught in his own lie. “Yes, but we have to add more experts to the list. And we may have to travel–”

  “Enough.” The minister raised his hand, looking furious. “I’ve heard enough today. We need someone to keep the work going. We can’t lose time like this and let the progress made by Golshan go to waste. Now if you will excuse me.” The minister stood up. “I have important business to attend to.” Turning to Ahmad, who had been sitting and listening silently so far, Navid said, “Go work with Javed. Send me a progress report every fucking morning.”

  The minister slammed the door on his way out.

  BACK IN HIS office, alone, sitting on the chair, mulling, pondering about his next course of action, Javed kept thinking. He looked at the three phones lying on his table; the phones that had been ringing less and less in the last couple of days. Apparently, his friends also realized that he was a sinking ship.

  Javed stood up and walked to the window. He looked down and watched the people happily pacing by the roadside.

  Would it be wise to just resign and become a regular person? Happy but no power. Is it worth the risk to stick to power and risk losing my life? What are the chances that I can find a suitable chief within two weeks? If I resign, Navid will likely leave me alone. On the other hand, if I can find an able man within two weeks, maybe I can still survive.

  THE NEXT DAY Javed received some good news that made him as happy as a sixteen-year-old boy going on his first ever date. All the details weren’t available, but it appeared an American nuclear scientist, who Iran had done some business with before, had fled from a prison and was hiding somewhere in Europe. Finding Jon Janco may not be easy and convincing him to take over the nuclear program might be a challenge too, but it was the best chance Javed had.

  Exultant, he started praying in his office. He didn’t have much time. Hunt for the scientist must begin immediately, he thought.

  Luckily, he knew the person who could deliver Janco within two weeks – Omar, the Iran-born man who commanded a worldwide network of thugs and terrorists. Omar bribed politicians and paid government officials to get what he needed. Omar could finish just about any job anywhere in the world within forty-eight hours, for the right price. He could kill or kidnap. He could deliver arms to anyone, including terrorists, anywhere in the world within twenty-four hours. He had paid spies in the governments of half the world’s nations. Nothing was out of Omar’s reach.

  WITHIN AN HOUR, Javed found out Omar’s number and called immediately. Omar picked up the phone and the two of them chatted.

  Getting in touch with Omar was immediate and easy. But Omar insisted on a face-to-face meeting and upfront payment. Luckily Omar was located in a friendly nation at that time – Russia.

  Three hours later, Javed boarded a jet provided by the air force, heading for Russia.

  Chapter 28 Moscow

  Omar was waiting in a five-star hotel in Khamovniki, Moscow, overlooking the Moskva River, where the water flowed like a lazy boy walking toward his school, the temperature not yet cold enough to make the river freeze into ice.

  Omar had been born in Iran, and during his college years at the University of Tehran, he’d realized the only way to have the sort of life he desired was to leave his home country. Within months, he’d left for Riyadh and joined a college there. But soon he ran out of money and joined the Riyadh mafia and engaged in visa fraud and transporting men from Pakistan and Iran to Riyadh. Soon, he found killing people for a price was more profitable than transporting them, and since then his business had grown like mushrooms, inside and outside of Saudi Arabia. He was a man of short stature, five feet seven inches, but he told everyone he was five foot ten and no one disputed that in front of him. He had a muscled body weighing seventy-seven kilos and was clean shaven, but wore a beard as a disguise when appropriate. He smoked and drank alcohol profusely.

  For Omar, money was food, alcohol his religion, and women his music and entertainment.

  OMAR WAS IN Moscow taking care of a man who had not paid him the correct percentage for the loot the man had made from an arms deal. The customer was a Nigerian terrorist, who had been introduced to the arms dealer by Omar. Omar wasn’t in Moscow to kill the man himself; that was done by a hired hand from a Moscow gang. Sometimes Omar preferred to be in the city to make sure business was taken care of the proper way.

  The man had been killed in the evening. Assured the job had been done to his satisfaction, Omar was enjoying dinner at an expensive restaurant with vodka, cold okroshka soup, and hot meat-filled pelmeni. Once done with his food, he ordered some more vodka, and then he called an escort service number from his cell phone. He asked
for a twenty-six-year-old petite woman and then hung up. That was when he received the call from Javed. After introductions, Omar wanted Javed to come visit him in Russia. For a new customer, Omar always preferred the first meeting to be face to face, making sure no information got lost in a phone line. If a client didn’t want to meet, it meant the client wasn’t serious about the job Omar would undertake.

  Javed agreed to see Omar in person and take a jet from Tehran to Moscow. It matched perfectly with Omar’s schedule. It was a good thing that Iran and Russia had a cozy relationship and each allowed the other to fly jets into their own airspace on short notice.

  Omar knew Javed’s travel would be fast, crossing the Caspian Sea and the vast land of Russia during the night while Omar would curl up under the bed sheet and enjoy the soft body of a twenty-six-year-old Russian woman.

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Omar sipped vodka mixed with orange juice in his hotel room, where he’d been paying seven hundred dollars per night for this plush room with expensive furniture and shiny floors.

  He watched TV for a while, and then walked to the window, and he could see the spire on the Kremlin’s top. He returned to the fridge and poured another shot of vodka into a glass.

  Omar heard a knock on his door, and he opened it. As expected, Javed stood there, the bulky man looking exhausted.

  “Come in,” said Omar in Farsi.

  Javed walked in and sat down on a chair. Wearing a gray business suit, the long-bearded Javed looked like a wired man from a Harry Potter movie.

  Omar sat on a red velvet-covered chair facing Javed. “Do you want coffee, juice or water?”

  Javed shook his head. “Don’t have much time. Let’s get to business. As I explained over the phone–”

  Omar interrupted. “There is something I need to do before we can talk.” Omar stood up, opened one of his suitcases, and pulled out an electronic device that looked like a wand. “I use this to make sure there is no recorder, listening instrument or relaying equipment. Just a safety measure. Making sure I’m not speaking to a snitch from a government or a rival gang. Can you stand up, please?”

  Appearing annoyed, Javed stood up and grumbled, “I’m not wearing anything.”

  “I know.” Omar moved the electric scanner all around Javed’s body and his briefcase. “It’s just a security process I go through with all my clients. Not just you.”

  The wand beeped when it was near Javed’s wristwatch, but other than that it was silent.

  “We’re good.” Omar threw the wand on the bed and sat down. “Please continue.”

  “As I said before on the phone, there is an American nuclear scientist missing, probably hiding in Europe. And we must have him. We’ve got to bring him to Tehran.”

  “Why do you need him?”

  “I thought you don’t ask questions. You just do what you’re directed to do.”

  Omar nodded. “I have just a few questions to understand my job. But if you don’t want to answer, that’s fine.”

  “Well, our chief of nuclear operations has been assassinated. We think it’s the Israeli Zionists and we’ll punish them for their deed. But right now my country has to continue our work and achieve what we need.”

  Omar understood what work meant. Make the big bomb. Obliterate cities. “What’s it called? Enriched uranium, isn’t it?” This was not the first time a country approached him with an issue having something to do with nuclear weapons. “Why don’t you buy some from Russia or the Pakis?”

  “Some think enriched uranium is just like rice. Put ’em in a bag and then send it to someone. That’s not how it works.” Javed paused and then spoke again. “Let’s not waste time on that. Anyway I don’t know how that stuff works and that’s why I need you to bring Janco to me. Now, how long do you think it’ll take?”

  “Not sure,” said Omar and took a sip from his glass.

  “What do you mean? Over the phone, you said you can bring Janco to Tehran in two days.”

  “No, that’s not what I said over the phone. I said I can bring Janco to Tehran within two days if we can find him.”

  “Is there any chance of locating Janco in five, six days?” Javed unhooked a button on his suit. “I believe the CIA has been looking for him for a few weeks already.”

  “I can do better. The CIA has money. And I have money, intelligence, and people working for me. Gangs, governments everywhere. I got everything. It might take a few days to find him. But I’ll find him unless he is dead already.”

  “If I don’t have him in two weeks,” Javed said almost to himself, “then he’s as good as dead to me.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Omar and tapped Javed’s shoulder. “I’ll deliver him. In two weeks and work will begin as soon as I receive half my fee.”

  “Fee?” Javed let out a sigh. “How much is your fee?”

  “Eight million US dollars.” Omar looked Javed in the eye. “Four million before I start. Another four right before I deliver Janco to you. If I can’t, then I return the four million minus the expenses.”

  Javed scratched his head. “I was hoping for a much lower fee.”

  “I don’t work for free.”

  “I’m not asking for free. Can’t you work for less?”

  Omar was used to this kind of negotiation. Clients always tried to haggle. “I can do it for six million. That’s my last price. I have to pay my own guys and bribe many. And some are in governments. Actually six mil is kind of low. But I’ll do it for you.”

  “Work with me, Omar. We both are from the greatest nation that ever existed. Do you know we once built the largest empire in human history? Ruled them for over two hundred years till Alexander the great ended it? If Alexander wasn’t born, we’d still be ruling the world and those Americans and the Zionists would be working for us. And the entire world would be speaking Farsi and following Islam.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Omar frowned.

  “Yes, I’m sure,” said Javed. “Just check the history books. We ruled the world for hundreds of years. And these Americans think they are a superpower after dominating for just a few years. We need to break them with a couple of those bombs.”

  Omar started feeling irritated. He didn’t have any wish to listen to an egotist’s lecture. All he cared about was money. “How would a couple of bombs change everything?”

  “All we need is two bombs. Drop one in Washington and another in New York, maybe one more for Tel Aviv. They will be done and we’ll rule again.”

  “How can you drop bombs in New York and Washington?”

  “With Allah’s blessing we can do everything. You know how Alexander died?”

  “How?”

  “He drank a pitcher full of wine. The Kafirs will always be punished one way or the other. Before they can enjoy their loot. That’s my point.”

  “Don’t waste my time, Mr. Esfahani.” Omar started wondering if Javed came to Moscow just to give him a lecture on what a great nation he was from. Omar took a sip of his vodka. “Can you pay six million for your job or not?”

  “Yes, I can. I want you to do this job for me. But I just have a few queries.”

  “Make it quick.” It wasn’t uncommon for a client to ask a ton of questions, but Omar was having serious doubts if Javed really had a job for him. “I have other business to attend.”

  “Where did you study, Omar?” Javed asked.

  “In Riyadh.”

  “No. I mean in Iran where did you study?”

  “In a school near Tehran.”

  “What’s the name of the place?”

  “Is that important? Can we get back to business here?”

  “Yes, yes. Of course. Let’s get back to work. Let me just say this – we’ve traced about forty of your close relatives. Just to make sure that they are doing fine. And we have told them that you’re soon going to make them proud by doing something for the country that hardly anyone else on earth can do.”

  A strange feeling ran down Omar’s spine. A few of his old rel
ative’s faces flashed in his brain – his aunts and uncles and their kids. It was now just a distant memory. His mother had died from sickness and his father had simply disappeared one day, supposedly picked up by the secret police. His five brothers had immigrated to Saudi Arabia, two of whom joined his business, working as his assistants, and the other three brothers were doing legitimate jobs in Riyadh.

  Omar knew why Javed was saying all that. A threat. If he didn’t do the job on Javed’s terms, then there would be consequences. He picked up his glass of vodka and took a big gulp. Someone threatening to harm his relatives back in Iran, that was new; no one had done that before. “I haven’t really decided that I’m the one who’ll do the actual job. Sometimes I delegate.”

  “But you’re going to do it yourself, aren’t you? I want you to do it.”

  “Yes, I’ll be actively involved,” Omar said carefully. “But the price will be six mil. You have to understand that the CIA is going to be on my tail. Interpol and police will be after my men. You don’t know how many officials I have to bribe and how many snitches I’ve got to pay.”

  “Two million dollars is what I can pay, Omar. If you don’t do the job…” Javed gave Omar a meaningful look.

  “If I don’t do the job…” Omar looked at Javed’s eyes with the unspoken question – what will you do if I don’t pull this job off?

  “If you don’t do the job…your relatives,” Javed said slowly. “They will be disappointed. Very disappointed when we inform them. Some of them might even commit suicide.”

  Omar knew what Javed was trying to say. Some of Omar’s relatives would be murdered, and some would be injured to carry the pain for the rest of their lives; women perhaps would be raped. But Omar hardly cared.

  “You can cut my relatives into pieces and feed them to dogs,” Omar said. “The price is still the same – six mil.”