Chapter Nine
Yashidda sat in his office on the other side of the world thinking about what Temple said and the words sent clouds of dark fear racing across his mind.
The United States government could easily seize this new technology and use it to force my country to its knees. He shuddered at the thought. I won’t allow this nation’s leaders to become puppets of the infidels in America. They will not blackmail us into slavery.
He knew that he had to not only acquire this technology but he had to eliminate the source of the research as well. He paced the floor nervously, white robes billowing in the draft his agitated movements produced. While he walked, he began to come up with a plan to solve all his problems.
The Americans would pay more for this energy technology than they do for oil. Their own liberal environmentalists would force it down their throats…no matter what the cost.
If he could eliminate the scientist while keeping the design secrets, he could then produce the battery himself and his country would be free from dependence on oil exports forever.
The scientist who developed this technology must disappear, he thought.
He prayed to Allah for strength. If he could secure this new technology for his country, he would be a national hero. If he failed, well, failure wasn't really an option. He knew he must succeed.
The greedy American pigs would finally get what they deserve. Allah be praised!
Yashidda knew he needed someone for the ‘wet work’ this job required. The choice was easy. He could think of only one man suited for such a delicate job on U.S. soil. He punched the buttons on his phone. Majors will get me what I need quickly…and more importantly, quietly.
The phone was ringing. Clenching and unclenching his fists in tension, Yashidda listened to the computer-generate tones, hoping the man was in. He wanted him on the job immediately. This was too important a mission to be left to less than the best. He got an answer on the third ring.
“Hello?”
“Good morning, Clark. This is Abdule.”
Clark Majors pressed the phone to his ear, pacing as he listened. Moving around his Venice, California townhouse, he dragged the phone’s cord behind him, glancing out the window at the stunning view of the man-made canals while the setting sun burnished the sky in pastel hues of red and blue.
A former U.S. Army ranger and demolitions expert, the professional mercenary now hawked his talents on the open market. Today, his potential employer would be Yashidda.
“What do you want?” Majors snapped, the sharp bark designed to put the other man on edge. The tactic was completely successful.
Yashidda spoke, the crisp words betraying none of the man’s boiling inner turmoil. “I have a problem that I need you to handle for me. I want you to bring me a certain piece of scientific research.”
The former army captain hesitated before he answered. Majors possessed a genius, if deviant, mind and reflexes to match. Ruthless and cruel, he could be counted on to deliver, as long as one ignored the means to the end.
“No problem. But why me?”
“If this was an ordinary, how do you Americans put it, smash and grab, then I wouldn't need you, now would I?”
Majors cleared his throat loudly. “You have my attention. Go ahead.”
“I'm sending you a dossier on a research scientist named Ryan, I want you to go to Boston and find out everything she knows about the particle manipulation project she’s working on.
It had taken Yashidda’s men only an hour of Internet searching before they found Jennifer Ryan. His cronies discovered her name in a scientific ‘Who’s Who in America’, along with a paper she published several years ago, detailing her theory of energy transfer from radioactive isotopes.
“What do you want me to do after that?”
“Get the design specifications and prototype for the device and bring them to me.”
“Sounds too easy,” Majors paused for a breath, then continued, the non-committal tone intended as a warning to the other man. “What are you not telling me?”
“Just one minor detail, a little cockroach named Temple is looking for the same thing, so you need to move fast.”
Yashidda’s carefully worded answer elicited a small pause and a tentative reply, one barely perceptible over the telephone’s tenuous connection. “Okay…”
The Arab continued, flavoring his words with the promise of impending wealth, confident greed would overcome the mercenary’s reticence. “He tried to sell me the plans for fifty million of your dollars. If you bring me the plans first, I'll pay you five million U.S. dollars, no negotiations.”
Majors quickly agreed. “Okay. I'll do it. But, as a rhetorical question, what if this Temple gets in my way?”
Knowing Majors was a trained killer, Yashidda told him what he wanted to hear. “I leave the operational details entirely up to you. Use whatever methods you deem necessary, but do it quickly and with the utmost discretion. It can never be known that I or my country was ever involved.”
“Is that all?” Majors asked. “If not, this is the time to say so.”
“Only one more…minor…thing. After you get what I want, dispose of Dr. Ryan…and anyone she told. I can’t have her talking to your CIA or FBI. This technology must disappear…completely.”
“No problem, but this is a complicated job. I’m going to incur certain ‘expenses’,” Majors said. “I’ll need the first half-million up front…non-refundable.”
The line went silent for interminable seconds as Yashidda considered his options. “I am willing to meet your stipulations. However, I must insist that the payment make the contract irrevocable. Any failure to deliver would be grounds for termination.”
The open threat didn’t seem to faze Majors. Abdule assumed the mercenary had been in this business for too many years to even consider reneging on a contract.
“Consider it done,” Majors said. “Deposit the earnest money into my numbered account and I'll call you as soon as I have the goods.”
Immediately after he hung up, his BlackBerry chimed, signaling the arrival of an email.
He opened the attached file, and discovering it contained the complete dossier on Ryan, briefly looked it over, noting the extensive slate of academic achievements.
“What a nerd,” he said to the empty room. “This is going to be a cakewalk.”
He closed the screen and tapped the keys to dial a number he never thought to use again. Nervous energy spiking, he hoped his call would be answered.
“She better pick up.” he groused aloud.
She’s probable still pissed off at me, but for this kind of money, she’ll just have to get over it.
“Hello?” the soft, feminine voice floated over the wireless connection, bringing a flood of memories to his mind.
"Chain Reaction" Power Failure Book I Page 13