"Perhaps we should talk . . ."
"I couldn't agree more. Have you listened to the news this morning, or have you had your head buried in the sand, buying stock with my money?"
Amin's perplexed look gave him away. He had no idea what his partner was talking about.
The man continued. "Where is Zarif Safwan?"
"He's in Texas. He's doing some work for me . . ."
Zayed slammed his fist on Amin's desk so hard that his laptop crashed to the floor.
"Did you hear the news yesterday about the shooting at that hotel in Dallas? Do you remember they called it something about national security? The police wouldn't reveal why it happened or who did it."
Suddenly Amin was nervous. He had told his man to find Brian Sadler, but the news story from Dallas hadn't mentioned Zarif's name. In the exhilaration of preparing to spend billions of dollars, he hadn't given the story much thought, except that it didn't seem to be related to Amin's mission.
"A shooting in Dallas? It had nothing to do with me. Why are you bringing that up? And why are you so upset? What have I done except what we agreed? We now own control of the largest oil company in the world. Doesn't that excite you?" He forced a smile.
"You fool! You've locked yourself in your office and ignored the world around you. Are you ready for the news? Your man was the shooter at that Dallas hotel. He's being held by the CIA in a secret location somewhere in America. While you were sitting here spending my money – my fifty billion dollars – the national newscasts were broadcasting your picture around the world. Amin Hassan – the owner of Hassan Group – just got approval from President Parkes to buy Exxon. Zarif's picture is there too. Hassan Group's security chief – a trusted high-level individual in Hassan Group – tried to kill someone – someone yet unidentified but obviously someone important – in that hotel in Dallas yesterday."
Amin was genuinely scared now. This could be bad – really bad. He wanted to get this man out of here so he could think.
"Zayed, they can't possibly tie you . . ."
His backer spoke calmly and evenly. "You think not? My picture was on the news too. You sent your man to commit murder, to kill someone on American soil, and suddenly I'm involved. Everyone in the entire world knows I'm your business partner. What idiocy! What were you thinking? The Exxon deal is over. Sell the stock and return my money. Now."
His mind was racing. How could he sell the stock literally hours after he'd bought it? The price would drastically plummet if he dumped the stock. He'd lose millions, billions maybe – money he didn't have and couldn't repay. He would lose everything he'd built during his entire life. If he did what his partner was demanding, Hassan Group would be finished. It would be bankrupt; its creditors would seize what they could and dump everything else, leaving him with nothing. Amin and his company were mortgaged to the hilt, and if that happened, the world would think he wasn't as smart or as rich as he had pretended to be. He'd look like a fool to every business magnate in the world, and he couldn't allow that to happen.
"You loaned me the money. You have no legal right to demand it back like this. And you know what would happen if I do what you ask. You saw how the price went up while I was buying. The same thing would happen in reverse when I dump six hundred million shares on the market. The price will collapse and you'll lose billions."
"Why would you think that?" Zayed responded. "I loaned you fifty billion dollars on a demand note. I have the right to call the loan at any time and that's exactly what I'm doing. It makes no difference what you did with the money I loaned you, but now that you're dragging me into the spotlight, I want out. Maybe you don't have to sell the stock, Amin. Maybe you can repay me from other assets." He smiled cruelly. "But you can't, can you? You borrowed every penny you could to buy more shares, didn't you?"
He stood. "Keep this in mind. I'm your partner and I know the banks from whom you borrowed your money. It would take me just minutes to call each one and explain that I'm demanding repayment of my fifty billion dollars. They'd be in a panic – they'd call your loans before I was off the phone.
"Twenty-four hours. Wire my funds back by noon tomorrow or I'm taking you and your little empire down."
"Don't threaten me, Zayed. If you carry out this threat, you'll never get your money back. My banks would dump the stock and come out whole, but you wouldn't."
"I have plenty more where that fifty billion came from," he replied with that same twisted smile. "But you don't. See you tomorrow."
Amin Hassan's shining moment – the greatest day in his business career – had ended as quickly as it began. He had to come up with a plan, and the one man he depended on most to get him out of trouble was in the hands of the CIA.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
The minute Amin's wealthy partner left, his executive assistant buzzed him.
"Sir, Amina's called several times. She seems very upset and said it's urgent."
Of course she was calling. She'd obviously heard the news too.
She's the one that got me into all this mess.
"What do you want, Amina?"
"Father! Tell me what I'm hearing isn't true!"
"What, that I now control the largest oil conglomerate on earth? Yes, it's true, my dear."
"I'm talking about Zarif! Did you send him to Dallas to kill Brian?"
"Calm down! There's much about me that you don't know and that you'll never know. I've let you go too far, too fast. Your friend 'Brian,' as you affectionately refer to him, is not a friend at all. He planted listening devices in the receiving room. Brian got a warning from Zarif in Berkeley Square, but he wouldn't stay away. He disappeared for a time, but he came back. I sent Zarif to fix a problem you created, but he made a mistake. Because of your carelessness, my dear, I now have to repair this situation myself."
"How much does he know about you, Father? Can he hurt you?"
Amin shouted, "You stupid, silly girl! You have no idea who's listening to your calls. You didn't even know your new friend bugged your office, but Zarif did. Stop talking about this now! Go back to your lunches and your afternoon teas and I'll handle the real work. No, actually I want you to come here. Book the next available flight and come to me. Fly coach if you have to. It might actually do you good. We have a lot to talk about, my dear."
The last sentence was spoken so menacingly it made Amina shiver.
It also made the computer in the lodge up in the Great Smoky Mountains ding. Zarif's information-gathering systems were still in place. They brought their prisoner out of his room and asked him to check his computer. Five minutes later they listened to the call between enraged father and terrified daughter.
The lead agent called his boss at the CIA. Case in turn called Harry, and they agreed they had to extract Amina before she could go to Dubai. It was likely they'd never see her again otherwise.
A man walked into the bar of the Connaught Hotel, where Amina Hassan was engaged in her Friday afternoon ritual. Her second martini sat in front of her and she looked distraught, he observed as he took the stool next to hers. She glanced at him for a moment; there were plenty of empty seats, but he'd chosen that one. Men did this often, hoping for conversation or something extra, but it never worked. She turned away as the bartender took his order for a club soda.
"You're in grave danger," the person next to her whispered. "Don't look at me, Miss Hassan. Look at what's in my hand." Just below the bar he showed her his CIA ID and a badge.
"What do you want? You're scaring me. All I have to do is shout. The bartender's my friend."
"So am I. Please listen for a moment. The agency heard everything you and your father said during the call an hour ago. We have Zarif Safwan in a safe place, and he has damning information about your father's criminal operations. My boss believes you need protection immediately. Even though Safwan's not here, your father may have other people following you."
This was a risky mission; the CIA had no jurisdiction in situations involving citizens of anoth
er country, but there was no time.
She knew everything this man had said was true, just like the other things she knew in her heart. Her father was a ruthless man, cruelly indifferent to those who weren't important to him, and she had always feared him. She was certain he had ordered men killed, but she had chosen to ignore it. So far she hadn't followed Amin's order to book a flight; instead she came directly here from the office to have a drink and think about things. She honestly was petrified at the thought of going to Dubai. There was no telling what this man – her own father – might do to pay her back. He had to be getting desperate. His name had been all over the news, and now he was tied to the shooting in Dallas.
She whispered, "I'm afraid."
"We'll protect you. Would you allow me to call the CIA director? He wants to explain what we're offering."
The bartender really was her friend. He watched the stranger suddenly engaging in conversation with Amina and saw her look of fear, so he stopped by and said lightly, "Everything okay, Miss Hassan?"
"Everything's fine. This is a friend of a friend I hadn't thought about in years."
The agent handed his phone to her and she listened. Five minutes later she paid the tab, decided to trust these people and walked out of her father's life forever.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
The agents interrogating Zarif knew all about his mission in Dallas. Amina's father, enraged about the bugs in her office and concerned that his daughter was getting too close to Brian and Nicole, ordered his trusted lieutenant to eliminate him. Zarif intended to create a diversion with the smoke bomb in the lobby. Then he'd go into the bar where Brian was sitting, kill him and disappear in the confusion.
When he walked in and tossed the grenade, he was more surprised than anyone to see a dozen pistols suddenly aimed in his direction. He got off two wild shots before what appeared to be tourists, business people and employees took him to the floor. Two of them fired back, but he wasn't hit.
Zarif had far more to offer the United States government than the discussion about Brian Sadler. He had everything on Amin Hassan and he negotiated for hours with Don Case. He traded his cooperation for Case's promise to ask for leniency. Zarif knew he'd be in prison for years, but it seemed logical to finally get something for the material he'd always kept as his final bargaining tool. And at least he wouldn't die for what he'd done.
All afternoon he answered questions and accessed an unbelievable cache of documents on a laptop they had provided. Case could see the computer screen and hear the conversation via remote access and a speakerphone. There were others watching and listening too – ones only Case knew about. A group of dead people – Harry and his team – was elated by what Zarif had. This would make Operation Clawback happen much faster than they'd thought. As they listened, each was beginning to realize he would be going home soon.
In the years he'd worked for Amin Hassan, Safwan had created his own life insurance policy. As head of security, he knew everything about Hassan Group's infrastructure. He knew all the passwords and all the secrets. From his office in London Zarif could access everything in the Dubai headquarters; he spent hours every day archiving things that might be useful in the future. Before the cloud, he stored things – pictures, emails, documents and the like – on USB flash drives and he recorded hundreds of phone calls. When cloud storage became available, everything was much easier, and now he had a vast collection of his employer's secrets.
Safwan linked Hassan to the Falcons of Islam. He demonstrated that Amin deposited fifty million dollars in the jihadist leader's account immediately following the disappearance of the planes. Cham Parkes's ten-million-dollar payment was there too. He followed the trail from the Falcons to the mosque in suburban DC. He showed them pictures of Ali and Mo, the two operatives who had recruited Joe Kaya, and gave them the conversations that tied Kaya to Master Sergeant Jeremy Lail in the plot. Amin Hassan had kept detailed records of everything. Blackmail was part of Amin's arsenal, and secrets were the catalyst for blackmail.
They didn't spend a lot of time on any one subject because the information was simply too vast. They got enough here and there to ensure they had what they needed to proceed with Operation Clawback. For every question they asked, their prisoner had a response that was perfect. For instance, there had been Case's question about what specific information might tie Amin Hassan to President Parkes.
Zarif laughed boisterously. "Where do I begin?" He clicked until he located a folder that held every communication between Parkes and Hassan, arranged by month and year. It was all there.
Next he talked about Lou Breaux. Amin had padded the Vice President's pockets too. He was a Louisiana senator, and there was a lot of oil in Louisiana. Hassan Group had bought up pipelines, offshore drilling companies and production rights thanks to insider information from a friendly source in Congress, a man who'd profited handsomely in return. Thanks to Amin Hassan, Lou Breaux also had offshore bank accounts, and Zarif knew where they were.
They had them both! This damning information was so hot that the director once again admonished the agents around Zarif about the confidentiality of what they were hearing. Secrecy was absolutely essential now. If this got out too soon, everything could be compromised.
It was time for Zarif to have some rest. He had handed the CIA everything it needed to implement the next phase. Case spoke privately with Harry and got approval for Operation Clawback to continue. It would take only one phone call to open the floodgates, and Case was really excited to be at this point. He picked up the phone.
It was four p.m. in Washington, one in Los Angeles. It was show time in Hollywood.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
California had more Democratic delegates than any other state, and its primary was one of the last. That state's election was coming up the first week in June – ten days from now – only eleven weeks before the Democratic convention.
It was becoming more and more likely President Chambliss T. Parkes would be the nominee. He was only a few delegates short of the count he needed, and California's five hundred and forty-eight would put him way over the top. His opponent had suffered six defeats in a row, and he was now dismantling his campaign staff. Two hundred people had been fired, and the remaining ones were in California, desperately seeking to keep Parkes from winning the state and the nomination.
Hollywood had always been a great place for Democratic candidates. The majority of people in the entertainment industry were liberal, left-leaning, politically active individuals who had lots of money and were willing to share it with candidates they liked.
Parkes and his Vice President first learned about Zarif Safwan's detainment on the noon news. They were in the five-room bungalow Cham's campaign had rented at the exclusive Beverly Hills Hotel. Four Hollywood producers who donated a million dollars each to Cham's PAC were invited for lunch with the President. Cham and his guests were sipping mimosas by a private pool when Lou Breaux beckoned him inside, saying, "You're gonna want to see this."
He watched Amin's face on the screen and listened to the newscast. Zarif Safwan had been arrested and detained by the CIA in connection with yesterday's shooting in Dallas. The news was disturbing, to say the least.
The newscaster said, "Zarif Safwan is chief of security for Hassan Group, a company that has been in the news the last few days. Less than twenty-four hours ago the Dubai-based oil conglomerate was given authority to purchase controlling interest in ExxonMobil, the world's largest oil company, by virtue of a bill signed into law by President Chambliss Parkes. Sources at the Stock Exchange tell us Hassan has purchased over seventy billion dollars of Exxon stock this morning. At noon Exxon's shares were up fifty percent from the opening bell just three hours ago."
Another picture now appeared next to Amin's. "Hassan's financial partner is Zayed al-Fulan. A billionaire like Hassan, al-Fulan is believed to be the wealthiest person in the United Arab Emirates. We attempted to contact both men for comments on this story but were unsu
ccessful."
The segment ended with a question about why Safwan had been in Dallas and who he was targeting. The fact that the CIA was involved raised more questions, an analyst said. Safwan was in the CIA's custody – that indicated there was a national security or terrorist angle to the events in Dallas. So far there was no statement from the agency.
Parkes glanced at three Secret Service agents sitting on a couch across the room and said, "Get out." They walked to the patio and kept an eye on Parkes through large windows.
"Goddammit," Parkes muttered through clenched teeth, demonstrating uncharacteristic restraint. He didn't want to alarm his guests. "What the hell's that crazy A-rab thinking, Lou? I set up everything so that Amin's takeover of Exxon would work perfectly. Everything he needed was in place, and everybody performed just like I told them to. Even that damned Michelle Isham came to her senses and kept me from having to work even harder behind the scenes. I did all that, just like I promised I would, and right in the middle of the best-orchestrated plan in history, he sends some gunman to do a contract killing in Dallas. What the hell, Lou? What the hell was he thinking?"
"This isn't going to help you," the Vice President replied without answering the question. "This is really bad, Cham. You just gave this guy carte blanche to buy Exxon, and this morning he did it. Now this attempted murder's tied to him."
"Maybe this Safwan guy was acting on his own. Maybe this has nothing to do with Amin."
Breaux shook his head. "You gotta be realistic. Number one, it does have something to do with Amin. You know that and everybody else knows that. Number two, even if it didn't, there's a shitload of negative publicity that's happening just as your buddy's buying the biggest oil company in the world. You gave him the keys and he drove the car off the cliff."
Cham didn't want to hear Lou's comments anymore. "Why don't you get off my ass? I picked you to be Vice President. Are you already planning how you'll take my place at the convention? You wanna be President, Lou? You can knock that shit off, buddy, because it ain't gonna happen. I go down, you go down too."
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