“China! Why would they interfere?”
“Economics, my friend. The Americans have bought the Chinese, and the communists are now fearful of what a bankrupt America would do to their own finances.”
Almasi’s eyes appeared to vibrate in their sockets as he fought desperately for the words that would salvage the conversation. “I understand what you say, Kareem, and I also know you receive much of your support from Iran. But I can assure you of a new benefactor if you do proceed, and one even more powerful than Iran.”
“You speak of Russia. Yes, I am aware of your collusion with President Marko and his supporters.”
“Then you know they are willing to finance your operations well into the future.”
There was another long pause on the phone before Kareem responded. “We both know how the Russians operate. They would support us so long as it remained socially and politically acceptable to do so. However, Iran supports us out of ideology, not by political whim. I cannot afford to alienate my longest and most-loyal supporter for something that could only be temporary and with too many conditions attached. The Iranians are aware of your ties to Marko, and have warned me against taking such action. I am sorry, Abdul, but my part of this operation is over.”
“But we are so close! Only a few more days and then America will no longer by a force within the world. We will be free of her threats and her interference. Kareem, you have always desired your own country, along with permission to deal with the Israeli situation as you see fit. With America gone, you can do that.”
“I have also been told to cease our aggression against the Zionists, at least in the interim.”
Now it was Almasi’s turn to grow silent. He was stunned — and scared — scared that others would fall sway to the same pressure from their handlers. “We must not succumb to outside influences, Kareem. Our cause is just. It is Allah’s will. We fight for Allah, not for politicians, no matter where they may be located.”
“It is over, Almasi. Our organizations can only exist with help from others, and when presented with the alternatives, I must obey. I will obey. Goodbye, Abdul. Please do not contact me again.”
The connection went dead.
Out of panic and desperation, Almasi checked again to see if any of the other scheduled attacks had commenced by now, but none had. So it wasn’t only Kareem, it was all the others within his coalition who had succumbed to the backdoor pressure and threats from their host nations. The Zionist pigs running America had used their financial influence to pressure China, and in turn North Korea, Iran, Syria and possibly even Pakistan were making calls and issuing their own threats and warnings.
His plan was collapsing right before his manic eyes — at least that part of the plan.
He dialed another number. The phone rang several times before a strange voice answered.
“Who is this?” Almasi demanded.
“Who is this? the deep voice echoed.
“Almasi.”
“Forgive me, Abdul-Shahid, it is Faisal Haddad, with the surveillance team on Jonas Lemon.”
“Why are you answering the phone?”
“We received instructions to watch Lemon closely. We assumed it came from you.”
“It did. I believed he was planning something.”
“Your suspicions were correct. We caught him leaving the Burj Kahlifa through a service entrance and in disguise.”
“Was he harmed?” Almasi’s heart skipped a beat as he awaited the answer.
“No, he’s fine. He is here with me if you wish to speak with him.”
“Give him the phone.”
“Yo, Abdul!” Jonas Lemon said a few seconds later. “I guess there’s no outfoxing the fox.”
“I have dealt with merchants of information before. You have done nothing that hasn’t been tried before.”
“So no hard feelings? I was just looking to cover my ass—”
“Shut up! We have a problem.”
“We?”
“Yes, we. Our plan is falling apart.”
When Jonas spoke next his voice was serious and lacking his normal flippant attitude.
“Moore is still alive?”
“This is much worse than your obsession with Xander Moore. The other groups are abandoning their missions and withdrawing from the operation.”
“Why in the hell would they do that?”
“Pressure brought forth from China has forced their host nations to threaten the coalition with loss of support if the assaults on America continue.”
“Because China fears for their precious investments in the United States,” Jonas said, finishing the line of thought. “And they’re going along with the demands, of course.”
“Most are, and others will follow once they see the operation failing.”
“Dammit!” Jonas yelled through the phone. “I gave you America on a silver platter — all of you — and now none of you bastards have the balls to see it through.”
“I am committed,” Almasi said between clenched teeth.
“You’re just one small organization, and you weren’t planning on having to pick up the slack. I told you we only have a narrow timeframe to win this war. Without America brought all the way to her knees, we’ve gained nothing.”
“There’s still one operation that can be carried out.”
The long silence on the phone told Almasi that Lemon knew what he was talking about.
“You’ll need the transponder codes for that.”
“That’s right, Jonas, and I am through playing games with you. Give me the codes so we can salvage what we can from all our efforts.”
“But Moore is still alive.”
“Fuck Moore! He does not matter at this point. Your revenge can come later, yet mine is still possible. Now give me the damn codes… or do I order my men there to bring your head to me on a silver platter?”
“Don’t threaten me, Almasi,” Jonas growled.
“Give me the codes!”
“Transfer the money, and then call off your men.”
“Give me the codes first. I will keep my word. What happens to you after this, I do not care. Your death will provide me with no satisfaction, no redemption, yet along my other path I will find both. I will give you your money. Now give me the codes.”
A few tense heartbeats passed. “All right, but transfer the money now, and have your goons get me a computer with Internet access.”
“Return the phone to Faisal.”
Ten minutes later, Jonas Lemon had confirmation of the funds transfer and emailed Abdul-Shahid Almasi a file containing an algorithmic series of numbers.
“These will work?”
“They should. The modified master frequency generator you have will be able to reverse the process and broadcast a blast once the channel is open. After the new bounce-back codes are accepted, the rest will fall into place. You’ll have no problem gaining access, and at that point you won’t need any of the others from your cowardly coalition of the unwilling.”
“With how this day has progressed, I cannot share in your confidence that the codes will work. You should know that if this information is found to be false or unworkable, I will seek you out — even on your South Pacific island hideaway. You see, Jonas, there are no secrets you can keep from me.”
“Only the transponder codes, and trust me, they are good. Just make sure you have at least forty-five seconds for the initial upload. Once started, the signal will lock and begin to filter throughout the entire grid. It’s the ultimate computer virus…”