In his mind, it all fell rapidly into place. The elaborate trap set for their man in London. The bogus file that they had retrieved from Gilbert’s computer. Gilbert’s disappearance in London and his failure to get in touch with them. They were being played. Gilbert had hacked their communications. He sprang from his chair, raced out of his office to the T3 internet connection and jerked it out of the wall. He turned to see everyone in the open office staring at him.
“Jabbar, shut down the LAN,” he barked. “Keep Hamdi, Remzi and Abu here; send everyone else to our back-up location on Al Dokka. No one is to use anything but satellite phones until told otherwise. I want our two best IT men running diagnostics on the entire system. We’ve been hacked with some sort of spyware, probably a key-logger. Find out if it is replicating itself across the network and how compromised we are. I want a status report in half an hour.”
He walked back to his office, picked up the phone and called the bank president seven floors down.
“Nazim, we have an emergency here. This morning, a transfer for sixty-two million dollars and change was made from one of our holding companies, Waqf International Trading Ltd., to a Bermudan account. I need you to file a fraudulent wire report, cancel that transfer and retrieve the funds.”
“For the love of Allah, what are you talking about?” asked the president.
“I don’t have time to explain. Just file the fraudulent wire report, call the bank in Bermuda and get back to me in five minutes.”
He hung up the phone. Five minutes was asking for the impossible, but that is what he expected of people and the president knew that. Next, he picked up the secure satellite phone to call Salih, but set it back down when he looked through his office window and saw Jabbar running towards him. He burst through the door.
“Sir, ten minutes ago, Gilbert left a message on Kiyomi’s phone. She called him back. I just sent the audio recording to your phone.”
Ahmet took out his phone, found the file, opened it and listened intently. When it was over, he simply said.
“He’s in Istanbul, isn’t he?”
Jabbar merely nodded.
“Damn it! We’ve been tearing the UK apart trying to find the son of a donkey, and he’s been right under our noses. Zeki is either with them or orchestrating it from the States. The man is bound to have a network of friends from his days with the agency. I know the brothers are smart, but there is no way they could have managed the fake identification papers so quickly on their own.”
He reached for his satellite phone and punched in Salih’s number. While he was waiting for it to ring, he turned to Jabbar and began rattling off orders. Jabbar listened with most of his brain, but in a remote corner of his cerebrum, he contemplated with astonishment the man’s intellect. This was why Ahmet ran the office and not someone else.
“Get Istanbul on this. I want the man’s approximate location in the next five minutes. This bastard just transferred sixty-two million dollars out of one of our accounts. Set up a secure line. We’ll need to talk to O’Brien. Call Vienna and cancel the op. We have to assume it’s compromised. Put a rush on the deal with Sudan. Someone might try to sabotage that. Also, you need to personally verify that protocol was rigorously followed in all communications with our hostage team. Otherwise, their location may be compromised.”
“Yes, sir!”
Jabbar turned to go.
Ahmet called out behind him, “For now, you and I are the only ones who need to know about the stolen money.”
“Yes, of course.”
Ahmet spun around in his chair to face the wall. It helped him concentrate. London picked up.
“Salih, our office is down for the next twelve to twenty-four hours. I’m going to have to ask you to assume the lead on this operation until we are up again.”
There was no traditional greeting of peace, and Salih could feel the tension in Ahmet’s voice.
“What do you mean ‘down’? What happened?”
Ahmet could feel searing, red hot anger rising in his belly.
“Remember the file that you retrieved from Gilbert’s hotel room?”
“Of course.”
“Did you run any diagnostics on it before you sent it to us?”
Salih didn’t like the tone Ahmet was using.
“The IT intercept team handled that. I would have to ask them.”
“You shouldn’t have to ask them. It should be protocol, or does the team you lead know what protocol is?”
Salih wanted to remind Ahmet that every office was responsible for its own security due diligence, and so the team in Cairo should have checked the file as well, but he knew it would only make things worse. Ahmet continued.
“The file you sent us installed spyware of some sort and we don’t even know how badly compromised we are yet.”
“That means we are compromised too,” responded Salih, panic beginning to set in.
“Yes, it does, but we can’t afford to be down without any ears or eyes, so
you’ll have to keep operating until our office here is up and running. Make sure there is absolutely no sensitive information sent out and that the IT-intercept team continues monitoring high priority targets. Do not, I repeat, do not allow any other outgoing communication via the computer network. Call me on the satellite phone if there are any developments.”
He terminated the call and looked up to find Jabbar. The man was already weaving through the desks, heading back to Ahmet’s office. His face was grim.
“First, the good news. The hostage team is not compromised. There were a few text messages sent, but they contained no identifying information except for the name of the city. The Sudanese courier with the bonds and the MOU is waiting downstairs.”
“Good. What about O’Brien?”
“We have the Intelligence Bureau Station in Istanbul tracking him, but he’s obviously in a car, maybe a taxi, driving erratically around the city. He’s too smart for us to catch this way. He’ll probably be changing taxis at random intervals or even walking through crowded shopping areas. If we don’t call soon, he will suspect we are trying to pinpoint his location, and he’ll leave the phone under the seat in a taxi sending us on a wild goose chase. The call is set up and ready whenever you are.”
“And Vienna?”
“The line was busy. He didn’t answer.”
CHAPTER
64
I
STANBUL
Ginger and Shelly sat in the darkness fighting back their fear, hoping against hope that the door at the other end of the container would stay shut. To pass the time, Ginger was telling the kids how Horatius had single-handedly held the bridge against the Etruscans. A story of victory against all odds was what she needed to hear. She knew it was as much for her as it was for the kids. Shelly listened until she finished and then put her hand on Ginger’s shoulder.
“Come over here,” whispered Shelly. “I want to tell you something.”
Ginger turned towards the children she could not see in the pitch black and said,
“I’ll be right back. Shelly and I need to talk for a minute.”
Shelly took Ginger’s hand, and they both felt their way along the wall. Ginger could feel Shelly’s hand shaking violently. When they had gone almost the length of the container, Shelly whispered in a halting voice, “Listen, I’m not going to let them do this to you in front of your children. When they come, I’ll tell them to take me outside. That is the best thing to do.”
“Are you out of your mind?” said Ginger in a hoarse whisper. “How can you even suggest such a thing? Besides, they probably won’t even come back after what we’ve done to ourselves.”
“But, if they do?” insisted Shelly.
“That was an empty threat. Just intimidation,” Ginger replied, wondering if she even believed her own words. “We are going to stick together, and they are not going to touch us. God will protect us.”
“And if they come back and He doesn’t protect us?” asked Shelly.
“If they come back, we stick together. I’m not going to listen to you talk like this.”
Ginger started to pull away, but Shelly grabbed her arm.
“Listen, I’ve lived in a dream world for much of my life, Ginger. You’ve helped me see that. You’ve been strong for us these last few days. You’ve shown me the meaning of faith. You’ve kept our spirits and our chins up, but you’re not facing the facts. If it weren’t dark, I’d tell you to look at your little girl. You wouldn’t be talking like this if you were looking at her face. Do you want them to touch her? Would you have your sons watch them violate you?”
“Will you just shut up!” said Ginger angrily.
“Yes, I will,” replied Shelly softy. “Because there’s nothing left to say. You know I’m right and the only reason I’m telling you now is so that when they come you won’t interfere.”
Ginger shuddered at the thought. Shelly was right. She was refusing to face this very real possibility.
“But, what if they come back and humiliate me and my daughter anyway? What difference will it have made?”
“We will have tried,” replied Shelly.
“It’s not going to come to that,” Ginger said again, unable to even consider what Shelly was proposing.
“Remember the stories about the coliseum you told the kids a couple of days ago? Well, sometimes the lions are allowed to roar even if only for a short time. It’s not how we die but how we live that matters, and this is my decision. Besides, if our positions were reversed, I know you would do exactly the same thing. In fact, that is how I realized what I must do, by asking myself what you would do.”
She grabbed Ginger’s hand and started to lead her back towards the children. This time she wasn’t shaking at all.
They had just sat down when she heard the familiar crunch of boots on gravel. Seconds later, the creaking of the container door as it swung open and drove the darkness out with an evil light confirmed their worst fear. The man stepped inside carrying a bucket of water and two towels.
><><><
When the phone rang, Gilbert was crossing the Golden Horn toward Topkapi Palace. He looked at the number. Caller ID was blocked. He took a deep breath.
This is it
.
“Hello.”
“Is this Gilbert O’Brien?”
“Yes, it is. With whom am I speaking?”
“Let’s just say that I am a collector of rare documents,” said the man on the other end.
Gilbert had been thinking about how this conversation would go for days.
“Listen, I just want my family back safe and sound.”
“And, I wanted a particular document, but now I’ll need sixty-two million dollars to go with it. Your theft has only complicated things.”
“I’m afraid I can’t return a life insurance policy unless, of course, you can bring my father back from the dead.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone. Gilbert hoped this was a good sign.
“Mr. O’Brien, I have your family. You have a document and money that belongs to my organization. There is no reason for us to make things more difficult than they need to be. I think this ordeal has been hard enough already. We are going to have to trust each other if we are to resolve this satisfactorily.”
The man’s voice was smooth, deep and disarming. For a moment, Gilbert imagined that the man was actually sorry for what had happened.