A crew member materialized out of the dark to Dattar’s left, and he motioned both Dattar and Rajiid to follow. He led them to a large cabin. A small table was bolted to the floor in the middle of the room, and a steel lamp swung on a chain above it. On the far wall was a bunk, and to the left a long counter held a telephone and a computer with a monitor. A desk lamp bathed the area in light. Rajiid picked up the phone and dialed a number. When the man on the other end answered, he handed the phone to Dattar.
“Smith is alive. Why?” Dattar said without preamble.
He heard the man on the other side breathing heavily into the receiver. “You shouldn’t be calling me.”
“I paid quite a bit of money to ensure that Smith would die. I’m told that it was the CIA who shot my men. Is this true?”
“Yes, but I’ll make up for that. Smith works out of Fort Detrick in Maryland. I’ve already arranged to take him out once he arrives Stateside.”
“How did they manage to get a man in place? That was part of the payment, to ensure that the agency was crippled.”
“There’s a new head of the European division. Don’t worry, she’s temporary, and I’ll handle it as well.”
“You’d better. The coolers arrive in six hours. In twenty-four we go live. I expect no more mistakes.”
“There won’t be.”
“Did you run the test?”
“That will happen in the next two hours. We’re not using the actual weapon, but even this less potent version should give an idea of the viability. I’ll let you know if it’s successful.”
“You do that.” Dattar hung up.
He heard the freighter groan to life as the turbines began to churn. Rajiid sat down at the computer and logged on. Dattar sat at the table and watched the e-mail program light up.
“Any news?” he said.
Rajiid nodded. “A message from Khalil. He received ours regarding Smith, and he wants to know how hard a target he may be.” Rajiid gazed at Dattar, who was taking slow breaths in order to calm himself.
“Tell Khalil that Smith is best handled at a distance, with a gunshot to the head. He becomes more dangerous the closer you get. Also, warn him that Smith is a microbiologist. Khalil should neither eat nor drink anything in the man’s presence. He’s a coward and will attempt to poison him, as he did me.”
Rajiid typed the response into the computer. After a moment a pinging sound indicated that another message had been received. Rajiid opened the link and read out loud.
“He wants to know how much more he will be paid, and when.” Rajiid shot Dattar a look full of worry. “Should I tell him that he must wait? Stall him while we work on unfreezing the accounts?”
Dattar shook his head. “No. No one must know about the freeze order. Besides, I consider the problem to be temporary. Ask him first if the American is dead.”
Rajiid typed, waited, and the responding ping came quickly.
“He says the American just returned to the United States. He is waiting for the precise moment to do the deed to ensure that there are no witnesses. He says not to worry about the American and to tell him when he will receive the deposit for Smith.” Dattar hesitated. He weighed the cost of doubling up on Smith, but his US contact had already failed once. Better have two aiming at the same target than one that continued to fail. “Tell Khalil that he will be paid the same amount for Smith as the others, but his deposit may be delayed due to the fact that I can’t access my accounts from this computer.”
Rajiid looked doubtful. “He might not believe that.”
“Tell him!” Dattar snapped. Rajiid turned to the keypad and typed for a moment. At the return ping he peered at the screen.
“He says that his focus is currently on the American, but planning the attack on Smith will begin immediately and may take some hours. He hopes that you will have access to the money soon,” Rajiid shot Dattar a look of warning, “and assures you that Smith is no match for him. He will die.”
Dattar smiled. “Yes, that’s right. Smith was the recipient of some good luck back at the hotel. His luck will run thin now that Khalil is after him.”
“No one beats Khalil,” Rajiid said.
Dattar nodded. It was true.
11
Russell clocked the tail halfway through her drive home. It kept a modest two vehicles behind, but turned each time she did, breaking the usual rule of thumb that when you see the same car a third time, it’s not a coincidence. She turned again in a direction that led away from her home and stopped at a red light. Four seconds later the black Ford sedan appeared in her rearview mirror. She sighed. She was tired and didn’t really feel like a confrontation at the moment, but it was clear she was going to have one. Her gun nestled in the console between the front seats of her car. Russell popped open the lid and pulled out the weapon, placing it next to her right thigh.
While in the States, Russell had acquired a supercharged Audi A4. It had the advantage of being less flashy than some of the more obvious sports models, but it still packed a lot of torque under the hood for those moments when she might need it. At the moment, though, she was in a CIA-authorized vehicle. That auto, a sedan also chosen for its standardized appearance, had half the guts of her private car and weighed twice as much. The agency vehicle came equipped with a GPS tracking system that allowed the CIA to keep tabs on it at all times. What the car didn’t have was Bluetooth capability, because the wireless feature left a phone vulnerable to hacking. She put her cell phone’s hands-free unit into her right ear and scrolled through her contacts list. She wouldn’t call Cromwell to address such a field problem — as a director he didn’t deal with day-to-day street operations — but Harcourt had offered his assistance and had the added advantage of perspective because he’d held the position that Russell now filled. She dialed his number, and he answered on the third ring. Russell didn’t bother with preliminaries, but jumped right into the problem.
“I’m being tailed. Black Ford four-door. Maybe a Taurus, but I can’t tell in the dark. Can you send an intercept and let me know when to expect it?”
Harcourt hesitated a beat. “Of course. Where are you?” Russell named the upcoming intersection.
“That’s five miles from here. It’s going to take twenty minutes at least. Unless you want me to notify the authorities.”
“No, I don’t need the jurisdictional hassles right now. I’ll keep them on the hook and turn around while you send backup. Can you lock onto the GPS?”
“Will do. Sit tight.” Harcourt rang off and Russell took another turn. The Ford appeared ten seconds later. One more turn and Russell was on her way back to headquarters. She watched for the sedan. Ten seconds passed, twenty, then thirty. She kept flicking her eyes to the rearview mirror and back to the road, but the sedan was gone.
“Damn,” she whispered to herself.
Three turns again and she picked out the second tail. Her phone rang.
“My guys are behind you in a silver SUV. They don’t see a black Ford,” Harcourt said.
“It’s gone. Followed me one more turn and then broke away.”
“That’s some bad luck. Sorry. Wish we could have gotten there sooner. Any idea why you might be tailed?”