No Remorse

by Ian Walkley

  Staying well back in the shadows, he aimed the camera and zoomed in, taking several close-ups as he followed them, passing a small alley that served as an emergency exit.

  Crack.

  Black.

  ~ * ~

  33

  After the simple graveside service in Ad Dammam’s main cemetery, Khalid strolled over to speak with his brothers, Hakim and Tariq. Out of courtesy, not affection. To Khalid, his brothers were do-nothings who sponged off their country’s wealth and contributed nothing to change Saudi Arabia for the better. Hakim, his elder brother, was a highly paid bureaucrat in the Department of Health who twiddled his thumbs while foreigners ran the hospitals. Tariq was one of the many vice presidents of a government-owned oil subsidiary, paid to shake the hands of foreigners and pretend he had an important role, when in reality he was just one of the royal rent-a-crowd.

  “Ah, the exiled playboy makes an appearance. I’m surprised they would permit you to enter the Kingdom, given your crimes,” Hakim said, lighting a cigarette. “Perhaps they intend to arrest you.”

  “I have a twenty-four-hour entry permit. It would not have been necessary had you allowed our father to be buried in Dubai as he wished.”

  Hakim and Tariq had different mothers to Khalid, and looked nothing like him, or each other. Hakim was tall and carried himself with the haughty superiority of an eldest son. His chin, with its neatly trimmed beard, was thrust forward so that he looked down his nose at everyone. Tariq, conveniently, was shorter.

  “Why did you come? You dishonoured our family and your father,” said Tariq.

  “On the contrary.” He turned to Hakim. “In fact, father told me that you didn’t even visit him when he was in one of your hospitals for treatment. He heard you were afraid of catching his illness.”

  Hakim’s eyes flickered for a moment and Khalid knew the allegation was true. “That is a lie. I’m a busy man, with important projects.”

  Tariq nudged Hakim and gestured at Ibrahim. “Why is father’s bodyguard with you, Khalid?”

  “Ibrahim began working for me at the request of our father. He was making the arrangements for father’s permanent move to Dubai.”

  “What nonsense! He never mentioned this to mother,” said Tariq.

  “He hadn’t slept in the same bed as your mother for twenty years,” Khalid said, and turned to Hakim. “Ah, I see that you knew, brother.”

  Hakim merely shrugged. “It is of little relevance now. What’s important is that as an exile, you’re not entitled to any of father’s estate. It will be divided between Tariq and me,” he said, with a malicious smirk.

  Khalid shrugged. He recalled his father’s warning not to tell his brothers, but couldn’t resist provoking them. “You need not be concerned, brothers. Our father has provided more than adequately for his favourite son. Inshallah.”

  Tariq’s forehead creased and he turned to Hakim, who briefly frowned. As Khalid turned away from them, Hakim grabbed him and leaned close. “If you think that you can get away with stealing what is ours by the law of the Kingdom, you should think again, brother. I have influence in the Ministry. Our Department of Public Security will track you down and bury you in the sand as we did with that whore of yours, Muna.”

  Khalid’s face darkened. It was a deliberate provocation by Hakim, but he could not allow it to go unpunished. His hand moved to the khanjar at his waist. Tariq stepped back, glancing around for his bodyguards, but Hakim took up the challenge and grabbed the handle of his khanjar, ready to fight.

  At the first sign of a physical confrontation, Ibrahim and Masoud had begun to jog towards them and now four bodyguards belonging to Hakim and Tariq moved to intercept them. The fighting was over in seconds. Ibrahim and Masoud quickly rushed to Khalid’s side, leaving the four other bodyguards on the ground. Ibrahim grabbed Tariq’s arm and shook his head at Hakim.

  “You are a traitor, Ibrahim. You will regret this,” Hakim said.

  Tariq stepped further back and uttered a choking sound, clearly terrified of Ibrahim.

  “Come, Highness. Now is not the time,” Ibrahim said to Khalid quietly. “Hakim is trying to have you arrested.”

  Khalid’s eyes flickered as the words sunk in and he brought his emotions under control. Of course that was Hakim’s intent. And once he was locked up, Hakim would manipulate the system to have him held indefinitely, perhaps even murdered in prison.

  Ibrahim released his grip on Tariq’s arm.

  “They still chop off the right hand of thieves here, you know.” Tariq said weakly, trying to save face.

  Khalid didn’t take his eyes of Hakim. “Perhaps, Tariq, you should learn to control the actions of your own right hand.”

  “I warn you, Khalid, we will take whatever action is necessary to bring the sword of justice down upon you. Be assured of that, brother.” Hakim turned on his heel and marched off, followed by Tariq, struggling to keep up with his brother’s long strides.

  Khalid stormed to his vehicle, physically shaking at the confrontation. He was about to step into the sanctuary of the limousine when his father’s attorney, Muhammed Al-Saheed, appeared from among the group dispersing from the funeral.

  “Salaam alaykum, Muhammed. I was about to call you.”

  Al-Saheed was very short, with a wide nose and eyebrows so bushy that they seemed like they were from a clown’s dresser. They shook hands and touched noses three times, and Al-Saheed expressed his condolences. “May I ride with you? I need to speak with you privately. You can drop me back here after.”

  Once they were underway, Al-Saheed handed him an envelope. “Inside is a key. Of course, you should receive one-sixth of your father’s estate, such as it is, but regrettably Saudi law prevents this.”

  “As my brothers took great pleasure in reminding me.”

  “But, of course, your father made plans to circumvent this. He said that you’d know what to do with the key. I know nothing of its purpose. Only that I was to give it to you privately after he died.” He smiled, but there was a look of melancholy on his face. “Your father had so many secrets, even from me, one of his closest friends. I shall sorely miss him. But it is Allah’s will.”

  After they had dropped Al-Saheed at his car, Khalid asked Ibrahim to join him in the rear of the limousine. He held up the large metal key Al-Saheed had given him. Ibrahim shrugged.

  “Ibrahim, we must move quickly to recover this cargo buried in the desert and get it to the safety of the fortress. I cannot go with you—I risk arrest every minute I remain here in the Kingdom. Take Masoud with you. I will go to Paris to see Jing-Ho. Our enemies will be watching, so I will tell you how we will confound them. And brother, you must tell me now what it is that is so special about this treasure.”

  ~ * ~

  34

  “What the hell happened to you?” Tally asked as Mac staggered past her to the bathroom. “Have you been drinking?”

  Her sharp tone reverberated inside his skull. He’d downed a handful of codeine, but they hadn’t kicked in yet. “Don’t... shout.”

  Whoever had slagged him were pros. His credit cards, passport and cash had not been taken. Only the camera’s memory card. They could have killed him, but for some reason chose not to.

  “Are you okay?” she called through the bathroom door.

  What was he going to tell her? Not that he especially cared what she thought, but it was a trifle embarrassing, especially after giving her a lecture on watching her back. How could he have had such a stupid lapse?

  “I’m fine. Got mugged is all.” He came out with a damp towel around his neck. “Just need to lie down for a bit.”

  She followed him into the bedroom. He flopped onto the bed and held the towel on his forehead. She sat and listened as he explained.

  “You probably should go to get it checked out.” She leaned over and gently felt his skull. “Feels like a bit of a bump here.”

  “I’ll be fine. That bump’s always been there.”

  “Thick sk
ull, I’d say. And I seem to recall you telling me to watch my back.”

  “Your memory is faultless.”

  She pulled a face. “Maybe the women’s bodyguards decided to send you a message?”

  “No, they were with Ziad and the other women. Someone else must have been watching Sheriti, protecting her back.”

  “Mmm. Maybe she doesn’t want Khalid to find out about some affair. He’s got an ego, according to your file. Probably a jealous type.”

  “Or it could be that Sheriti’s not what she seems. Can you do some checking?”

  “I’m not sure how relevant, but okay. You want to hear my news?”

  “You’ve hacked your way in?”

  She nodded. “Found a way through the buffer overflow. I’ve managed to create a username with administrator privileges. I can access any user on the Princess Aliya network. All I have to do now is wait until Khalid returns and logs in. Maybe Abu-Bakr himself will show.”

  “You might check Ziad’s computer as well, if he’s the security guy.”

  “I intend to. And the others on board. Also, Derek called. Montreal has completed the processing of Brazhlov’s funds. We did it! Derek sent his congrats and said we’ll each be paid $90,000 bonus, just on that job alone!”

  Mac suddenly felt much better. With that sort of money, he could get Scotty involved again in the search for the girls. He needed to beef up the search. And fast, before the trail disappeared.

  “Let’s just hope you haven’t blown our cover by stalking Sheriti.”

  He held back the urge to bite. “Also, I put the bug on the stem rail. You can monitor the receiver while I rest.” He handed her the device, then lay back, closed his eyes, and was out in seconds.

  ~ * ~

  35

  Ziad practiced his smile as he looked at his reflection on the computer monitor. He was working alone in his cabin on the Princess Aliya while waiting for Sadiq to bring Bill Fanning to him. Time spent alone lessened the chances of one of the annoying migraines. He finished typing an abrupt email to The Frenchman reminding him that he was waiting for confirmation of the dates for the next shipment of young slaves. Emil was being more tardy than usual, and had failed to respond in the last few days. He needed to bring his supplier into line. He clicked the icon to send off the message. The laptop screen flickered for a second and then resumed processing the email.

  In his reflection, Ziad saw the face of triumphant success for a boy who, when barely five years old, had been dumped by his mother at a Karachi madrassa. She had left him and become a street whore after her husband was beheaded for participating in the siege of the Holy Mosque in Mecca in 1979.

  His father’s martyrdom was no excuse for his mother to abandon her young son, and at the madrassa he was treated badly by the mullahs and bullied by other boys because of his father’s “deviant” beliefs. They mocked his first name, Adnan. He worked hard to develop strength and street cunning, and eventually the bullying stopped. He was a brilliant student, and he was awarded a scholarship to study engineering at Karachi University.

  But he didn’t forget. Or forgive.

  Soon after he graduated, he returned to the madrassa and smashed the skull of the cruellest mullah, using a Y steel post. Then he tracked down the leader of the bullies and slashed his throat as the man lay in bed with his terrified wife. After he was done with the bully’s wife, Ziad went out and found his own neglectful mother on the streets and strangled her, smiling as he watched her startled eyes bugging out of her head as she died, fully understanding why.

  That week was the birth of his new life. Now he used only his last name. Ziad was a strong name. His father’s name. And in the eleven years or so since Khalid had first engaged him to organise a half-ton shipment of Afghan heroin, he had become wealthy in his own right.

  His laptop made a soft beep as another email arrived in his inbox. It was from Rockfire, his Al Qaeda contact. He smiled, and moved his mouse to open the email.

  A knock at the door.

  “Enter!” he called out in a buoyant tone, quickly folding his laptop closed. He had been looking forward to this meeting since they had arrived in Dubai. It was time to get rid of the Fanning problem.

  Bill Fanning entered his cabin, followed in by Sadiq, his most trusted security man, who closed the door and locked it. Sadiq rubbed a thick scar that ran from his left eyebrow down his cheek, from having a glass being smashed in his face in a Marseilles bar. It had left him blind in one eye. But the other fellow had come off far worse.

  “You wanted to see me, Ziad?” Fanning asked.

  Good. He didn’t suspect anything. “Ah yes, Bill. I understand you have concerns about not being able to go ashore.” He kept his tone polite but cool.

  “Well, I don’t see—”

  He raised his hand and his lips curled in a smile. “I have exciting news, Bill! Mai is on her way here now, with little George. His Highness is looking forward to greeting them when he returns from the funeral. He has insisted on taking them for a celebratory cruise.”

  Fanning’s face drained of colour as he broke out in a sweat. The falseness of his awkward smile was evidence enough of his guilt. “That’s wonderful, Ziad. However, if you recall, Mai doesn’t like boats. Perhaps His Highness would allow me to treat us to a few days at the Burj Al Arab?”

  Ziad decided to play along. It amused him to watch Fanning squirm, just as he would soon enjoy watching the man beg for mercy as his wife was tortured in front of his eyes. “Perhaps that can be arranged, Bill. But regardless, His Highness wishes to speak with her. When she arrives, Sadiq will inform you.”

  “But I’ve told you already, my wife knows nothing about the project.”

  “Was I suggesting that she did, Bill?”

  “Well, no, but—”

  “As I recall, your contract requires that you keep no copies of any codes, plans or keys. Assuming you’ve sent nothing to your wife, neither of you has anything to fear, Bill. But I have no intention of playing games. You have contractual obligations and I intend to see them adhered to. So if you haven’t given us full disclosure, now is your last chance to do so without penalties. And let’s be absolutely clear, there will be penalties. Your wife and son are our guarantee that you will provide full disclosure.”

  Fanning swallowed. The threat was clear now. He glanced at the door, as though considering whether to make a run for it. Sadiq crossed his arms like a nightclub bouncer spoiling for a fight.

  “I have nothing to disclose,” Fanning said, on the offensive. “I’ve complied with your confidentiality requirements. I must say I’m deeply offended by these insinuations. Deeply offended! I’ll have something to say to His Highness on this matter when—”

  Ziad felt a sudden spike of pain inside his head and could no longer contain himself at the man’s blustering arrogance. He leapt from his chair and rammed Fanning against the wall. “You fool! We have Sergei monitoring our computers. Do you not understand what a keylogger is?” His nose was almost touching Fanning’s. “We’ve decrypted every email you’ve sent to your Dubai office in the last six months. It makes very interesting reading. But of course, you haven’t always been on board, so there may be gaps in our knowledge. You—and Mai—will fill in those gaps, and return the copies of plans you’ve stolen.”

  Fanning’s face was ashen. His mouth opened, but no words came out.

  This infuriated Ziad even more. He punched Fanning hard in the gut and the engineer crumpled to his knees, dry retching, and curled up on the floor. Ziad stood over him, resisting the urge to kick the fool in the face. “There’s no point in pretending any longer, Bill. It’s not only your life, but your wife and son’s lives that are now at stake.”

  “Believe me, Ziad. I...I had no intention of breaching confidentiality. All I’ve done is to keep a plan so that I can help you access the cavern should something go wrong. Please understand. It’s for your own benefit!”

  Ziad sucked air in deeply and closed his eyes as he ran
his hand along the top of the sofa, calmed by the feel of the soft leather. The thumping pain receded. He had to be careful now. He must give Fanning a glimmer of hope. He opened his eyes and smiled. “Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. But Bill, we don’t require you to second-guess our ability to access the fortress. I am a qualified engineer, as you know. I want all the plans, codes, and duplicate keys you have. I know you’ll keep the fortress secret, for your family’s sake. We can find you anywhere on this earth that you try to hide. Understand?”

  “Yes, yes...” Fanning said, slowly sitting up. He was trembling so badly his words came out in clipped phrases in a hoarse, quivering voice. “I’ll return everything... In return for... your promise to let us go. You’ll need me...”

  The arrogance of the British! Unknown to Fanning, Ziad had recruited two engineers from Egypt to maintain the facility. “You are in no position to bargain, Bill. But certainly, we value your services. I give you my word before Allah that we will let you and your family go once we have everything in our hands. Everything. You will take us now to collect them. Then I will arrange for a suite at the Arabian Castles Hotel. It has better facilities for children than the Burj Al Arab. And there will be no cruise.”