by Ian Walkley
“Ah, yes. I was going to call you. The body has been sent yesterday to England for burial in his home town.”
“What? Where will the funeral be held? And when?”
There was a rustling of paper at Bohameed’s end. “I spell it for you. C-H-I-L-W-O-R-T-H. I don’t know the date or place, but the funeral is being arranged by H. Morton and Sons.”
Ziad wrote down the details on the Riston Hotel stationery. “Thank you, Fareed. One more thing... The two people who left Dubai with the Fanning woman. Do you have photographs?”
“I have hotel and airport security images. My apologies, brother. I didn’t realise that you wanted them.”
“Neither did I. Please email them to me, Fareed.”
After he rang off, Ziad considered what steps they might take to stop those two—probably Israeli spies. They were getting too close, and they were dangerous. He called Yuri, a broker he sometimes used. Yuri had the best assassins in Europe on his books. He would have someone who could teach the Jews not to sniff around where they weren’t wanted. And he knew where they might show their faces next.
~ * ~
56
The daily exercise routine Dr. Xi had set out for Sophia was becoming tedious. Six laps jogging or walking up and down the beach escorted by two guards, and then locked in her room for the rest of the day, with only her music and satellite movie channels and a beautiful picture window out across the crater bay. No magazines or books. No iPhone. Worst of all, no news about her family, if they were okay, or what they might be doing to try to rescue her. Her dad would be putting pressure on the cops. But how could they find her here? Her godfather, who she called Uncle Mac, was in the army. The Special Forces or something. Sounded exciting. Dad had been his basketball coach and had helped him when he was younger, and they were still very close. Dad would have told him about this. But would Uncle Mac be able to help her? Would they send in the army just for her? Probably not, she decided.
Her thoughts drifted to poor Danni, out there somewhere with some wrinkly old Sheik forcing himself on her, and she shivered. Dr. Xi glanced at her.
“You may put your clothes back on, Sophia. I’m happy with that weight gain this week. Almost back to normal.”
Back to normal? She didn’t feel it. Sophia began to get dressed. “Could I go to Kimba market again? Maybe there’s a bookstore there? I have nothing to read. No other kids to talk to.”
“Mmm. I doubt there’d be books in English. I’ll have someone check. There are some others arriving soon, but I think you’ll be gone before they get here.”
Sophia felt a sense of relief. Dr. Xi had at least treated her decently, allowing her to leave her underwear on, unlike the sleazy Dr. Gammal on board the Princess Aliya. She decided to ask what had been on her mind for some days. “Why are you here, Dr. Xi? You know I’ve been kidnapped, right?” Sophia said.
“Of course... I’m here because the Chinese Government took away my position in Beijing. I was very successful surgeon. But my brother, he offend a Han Chinese who had senior position in Xinjiang province. I given poorly paid post in remote town. Not enough money to get my son into university.”
“You are Muslim?”
He nodded. “And His Highness pay me enough so I can get my family out of China in one year, maybe two. Send my son to university in America. And my wife will be able to have second child.”
“But what about the kids that Khalid buys and sells as slaves? Don’t you care about us?”
“Ah, I have nothing against you personally. But, Sophia, how many people you think there are in the world?”
“About six billion, I think. But that doesn’t make anyone any less valuable?”
“Well, no. Some it actually make more valuable. But the answer is seven billion. It will be ten billion in fifty years. This not sustainable.”
“I don’t understand. What’s—”
“Nothing matter, Sophia. Nothing! The only thing that matter is survival. Think of it as nature. You have the predator and the prey. For the time being, the governments keep things under control. But not for much longer. Eventually, those with power and wealth must destroy the weak, just to survive. I was given no choice. And so I opt for the side of power, not weakness. That’s all.” He shrugged and finished writing some notes on her file.
“What is this place, Dr. Xi? It’s like a hotel. And yet, it’s not.”
“It is a hotel, but of a unique kind.” Dr. Xi explained that the resort was a luxury rehabilitation centre for wealthy people, which was why most of the people employed there were doctors or nurses.
“But why keep slaves here? In a luxury resort?”
“Slave not usually kept here.”
“So why am I being held here?”
“Because Sheik Khalid wanted you to be more comfortable than you’d be around at the maintenance compound. He feel kind for you.”
Sophia rubbed her forehead. “Why would he give me special treatment? And why haven’t I been sold?”
Dr. Xi chuckled. “Ah, but Sophia you have been sold. To a very powerful man. He coming to collect you in one week. Six days, in fact.”
A sharp worm of fear squirmed inside Sophia’s stomach.
Dr. Xi called her two attendants, who took her out for a walk along the beach before escorting her back to her room, then locking her in.
Sophia didn’t like the thought of being treated like a predator’s prey. Surely humanity must be above that, she thought, as she tried to figure out what Dr. Xi had meant. Whatever, she had less than a week left before she’d be taken somewhere, no doubt as some ugly old man’s sex slave. It only made her even more determined to escape. She would not let any opportunity slip by.
~ * ~
57
“Why didn’t the Dubai Police get involved and get Bill off the boat?” Tally asked, glancing at Rosco as she carried the coffee over to her computer. They had set up their gear in a room two levels below where Khalid and his retinue were occupying a whole floor of the Riston Hotel in Paris, although at Mac’s insistence they were sleeping a few blocks away at the Hyatt for security reasons. “Did Khalid pay them off?”
“No,” Rosco replied, glancing up from his workstation. “Bill was killed the same night you guys left Dubai. By the time Mai called them to complain, they were trying to find her to inform her of Bill’s death. Khalid and Ziad were in Paris, and the Princess Aliya was en route to Karachi, according to the GPS tracker. It’s working well, by the way, Mac.”
“Great.” Mac was pacing back and forth like a hungry dog.
“Mai must hate us.” Tally said. “I’m amazed she invited us to the funeral.”
“You have to remember that from her perspective, we also saved her life and George’s. And I think she’s a little afraid they might still be in danger.”
“Why would she think that? Unless she knows something. You’ll give her my apologies, won’t you? I really need to stay here with Rosco, and complete the Khalid penetration.”
“Of course. Look, I might go, if you guys don’t need me for a while.”
“I’ll be leaving soon, too,” she said. “The Hyatt bar at seven for dinner?”
“Bet you won’t recognise me.”
“I’ll take that bet,” she said, lifting the mug to her lips.
Mac nodded to Rosco and left.
“You guys seem to be getting on well?” Rosco said, winking.
She raised her eyebrows. Was it that noticeable? “Surprising as it may seem, Rosco, he’s actually a decent, old-fashioned sort of guy. So how’re things back at the ranch?”
“Ha! Palmenter’s team missed out on eighty million from some Malaysian dude. Apparently the target’s bank checked the transfers with the guy and he cancelled them before they’d cleared. Palmenter was pissed off big time about missing the bonus.”
“Did Derek say anything about Ziad’s emails?”
“No. But I’ve been running LEXITIVE and have them all processed. Unfortunately, they tend
to use common, everyday terms. Like pineapples, widescreen TVs, books, engine parts, even body parts. Ziad’s emails to Emil Bladelescu mention apricots and plums. Maybe apricots are females and plums are males. We’ll probably never know for certain.”
Tally leaned over and grabbed his mouse, bringing up the reply to the decrypted email she’d discussed with Derek. “What do you make of this one?”
From: Ziad
To: Rockfire
Subject: Donation
Recovery of cargo understood to be imminent. Will advise further. Confirm donor blood type AB negative is now available. Fee two million US dollars. Upon confirmation, recipient will be scheduled for operation and will advise date.
Rosco studied it for a while. “Who’s this Rockfire, I wonder? Handover of containers seems to have a clear meaning. Looks like he’s selling the containers, or something from the containers, for two mill. But the bit about blood type and donor? I don’t know. Here’s the reply.” He clicked on the related email.
From: Rockfire
Subject: Donation
Price acceptable for liver. Is May 18 available?
Peace be with you, brother.
“May eighteenth? That’s next week!”
“But what’s the liver thing about?” Tally shook her head. “The whole thing is not making sense. Two million for a liver? Do you think liver is just a code word for uranium?”
“Mmm...no, those canisters are worth much more than that,” Rosco said. “You know it’s never easy to interpret a small number of specific emails like this. Maybe it’s a mistranslation by LEXITIVE. I’ll run a few tests, just in case.”
Something tweaked in Tally’s brain. Tests. Blood type. She plunked herself down at her computer and brought up an email she’d previously hacked from Rubi’s computer.
From: Rubi
To: The Hunnafite Foundation
cc: Ziad, Emil Bladelescu
Subject: Orphan Processing
Sheik Khalid will fund a rollout of DNA testing for orphans to build a database of typological markers matching orphans with potential relatives. In the interim, we require blood types of all orphans to be notified in advance of any transport arrangements.
She looked up at Rosco, who was standing behind her shoulder. “What if we assume LEXITIVE is decrypting correctly? We know Khalid is running a slave trade. What if he’s selling the organs from the people he’s abducting?”
Rosco pursed his lips and thought about it for a moment. “I’ve heard of tourists in India being drugged and waking up to find a kidney removed. But people have only got one liver, sweetie. And in any case, who’d pay two million for a liver?”
“Someone very rich I guess...” Tally said, typing madly to check something.
“...And maybe one who has a rare blood type?” Rosco finished the sentence for her. “AB negative?”
“On it.” She sat back and waited, her face flushed with the excitement of the chase. Moments later her search result revealed that blood type AB negative was the rarest, with less than 1% of the population having it. Digging deeper, she discovered that AB negative was five times rarer among Saudi Arabians.
She ran another search, this time on Al Qaeda leaders born in Saudi Arabia and Al Qaeda leaders known to have blood type AB negative. After a moment, one name appeared that matched all the criteria: Sheik Abdul Zodhami.
“Zodhami!” she said, pounding the table.
Rosco nodded. “That bastard. Rumoured to be gaining support for the top job. One of the planners of 9/11, according to the files they found in Abbottabad.”
“I know. And he has health problems, according to his file.”
“Well, maybe he’s like, getting himself a new liver on Andaran on the fifth.” Rosco met her gaze. “Possibly from a living donor.”
“Oh, God.” Tally realised she’d been ignoring the other angle, and a worm in her stomach began to turn. She did another search. Their files had no information on the blood type of Sophia or her friend Danni. “Damn!” She stared at the phone number on the screen in front of her. Bob Bennett. If she called him, Mac would find out. How would she explain that? On the other hand, if their assumptions were correct, they needed to get to Andaran to stop the operation.
What would Derek do if she told him? His one priority—their one priority, as he kept reminding her—was to know when Khalid had the nuclear canisters, so they could take action to recover them. Five canisters that could be exploded as dirty bombs relatively easily—or even made into nuclear weapons, if the buyer had the technological sophistication of an Iran or North Korea. Or maybe even Syria. Saddam hadn’t been able to achieve it, which is why he gave the canisters to his friend Abu-Bakr to hide. And now, once Khalid had them, he could auction them to the highest bidder.
What was one life against millions?
She knew Derek wouldn’t want her to do anything. She could hear his voice in her mind: For God’s sake, don’t mention anything to Mac. We don’t want him on the warpath. If he thinks there’s even a remote possibility of his precious Sophia being cut up, he’ll probably go crazy and kill Khalid. Then the canisters will disappear and one’ll turn up in Manhattan. Think big picture here, Tall
She closed her eyes and cocooned her face in her hands.
“You okay?” Rosco asked, getting up and filling the kettle. “Wanna coffee?”
She shook her head. No. She couldn’t do this. She punched the numbers on her cell phone. Her thumb hovered above the red button.
A weary male voice answered. “Hello? Bob here.”
She pressed the red button. She couldn’t ask. It would only cause the Bennetts more pain. And in any case, they needed to stop the operation regardless of who the donor would be.
She called Derek.
“Wisebaum.”
“Hi Derek. You okay to talk?”
“Yeah. Hey, Tal. We’re having a barbeque down by the lake. Beautiful day here. How’s Gay Paree? And by that, I don’t mean the night spots Rosco might take you to.”
She gave a quick laugh. “Derek, I think we’ve found further proof of Khalid’s Al Qaeda connections. An email from someone called Rockfire has asked him to arrange a liver transplant for a recipient who is an important member. We think it’s Zodhami. The transplant is due to take place in Andaran on the eighteenth. It seems like they’re intending to use one of the abducted children as a living donor. We have one week, Derek.”
There was a long pause, and she wished she could see Derek’s face to understand what he was thinking. “Derek? You there?”
“Sorry, just had to get away from the others. Have you told Mac? He’ll go fucking ballistic!”
“Of course not. That’s why I called you. Have you managed to trace this Rockfire yet?”
“Tried. The link’s untraceable. We’ll keep trying. Anything else?”
“No.”
There was a silence. She could hear Derek’s hand blocking the microphone, as though he were talking to someone.
Finally, he spoke. “Sorry. The Director wants to see me, Tal.”
“You think I should tell Mac our real mission? I believe he trusts me now.”
“Well, I told you he would if you played him right. Where’s he now?”
“He’s at a hair salon. He’s worried Khalid will have photos of us from Dubai. We’re having our hair dyed and cut.”
“Good idea. Look, just keep him close. And whatever you do, don’t tell him anything he doesn’t need to know. That includes our real mission.”
The connection was terminated.
Rosco sat back and stretched. “Ah, thank Christ. I’m in at last.”
Tally stood up and watched over his shoulder as he navigated his way through the hotel’s server and copied the files for the internet portal. “Great job, Rosco. Anything I can do to help?”
“No, sweetie. I’ll send this over to Montreal and they can work on it overnight. Tomorrow, we should have our phishing site ready to intercept Khalid.”
�
��Well, I’m off to the stylist then. See you at seven.”
Rosco pulled a face. “Would you really, really mind if I don’t come along? I might just eat in. Want to make sure I get things tidied up before tomorrow. Besides, you two honeymooners deserve a night off after wiggling your bottoms at Colonel Boroni. Ha! I would’ve loved to have seen that, sweetie.” He winked at her. “Mac’s bottom, I mean. Go on, lovey. I’ll call if things heat up here. You need to let your hair down, so to speak...”
“Thanks, Rosco. You know what? I think I do.”
~ * ~
58
Ibrahim’s voice was a little scratchy through his cell phone. “We have just departed Jeddah on the Alamohamadi, Highness. Making a steady twelve knots. The weather is fair. We should arrive in four days.”