Authors: Russell Blake
“How long have you been doing this?”
“Three more years than you have, I’d guess. And in this business, that makes me a seasoned pro. Trust me, if you last this long, you’ll be one too. By the time you’re twenty-two you’ll have seen everything…at least twice.”
Maya studied the other woman’s face, noting the steel in her gaze.
“I’m not going to ask.”
Natasha smiled. “I wouldn’t tell you if you did.”
They split up an hour before they were scheduled to meet Carla and the rest of the girls at the Qatar Air departure lounge for their flight to Singapore. Maya wandered the international terminal and checked her reflection in the restroom before making her way to the gate.
Carla was easy to spot. Natasha was standing next to her, flashing megawatt smiles at the waiting pilots. Maya approached Carla and introduced herself, pretending not to know Natasha, as agreed. The older woman appraised Maya like an art dealer eyeing a purported Rembrandt, and then nodded once.
“Welcome. Nice to have you with us. I’m Carla, and this is Susan, Natasha, Angela, and Courtney. The others should be here shortly, and then we’ll board together. Everyone’s in business class, so the cabin will be mostly us.”
The women all had a distinctive look, a tautness to their physiques that didn’t come from any gym but rather the genetic gift of a fickle universe coupled with careful dieting and designer pharmaceuticals, Maya guessed. Five minutes later the final two girls appeared: Britney and Mona. Carla led everyone to the gate, and a trail of men’s hungry eyes followed them as they made their way down the Jetway.
Maya declined the offer of preflight champagne, preferring to stick to mineral water as the plane rolled back from the gate. She sneaked a glance at Natasha, who was seated on the opposite side of the cabin, apparently unconcerned and laughing at something Courtney had said.
As the G-force from the jets pushed her back into her seat and the heavy aircraft surged forward, for the first time she wondered whether she had any real idea what she’d gotten herself into and, perhaps more importantly, what her odds were of making it out alive. Her stomach dipped as the big aircraft lifted into the sky, and she closed her eyes, determined to take Natasha’s advice and think only about the objective – a doomsday weapon in the hands of madmen and a nation dependent upon two young women to protect it from the unimaginable.
Chapter 29
Singapore
The sparkling skyline receded into the distance as the big Viking sport fisher cut through the swell in the Singapore Straight, the twin diesels rumbling beneath the deck as Maya took shelter from the wind in the boat’s plush cabin. Three of the girls had gone up to the flybridge with the captain and mate, but Maya preferred to stay on the deck level, even if under Carla’s watchful eye.
The yacht seemed out of place as it roared by the scores of cargo ships waiting in the channel outside the harbor mouth, steel behemoths lined up in an aquatic traffic jam. Soon the Viking was leaving the clog of tankers and making for the Riau Straight, between the green rises of Pulau Bintan and Pulau Batam jutting from the sea. They passed a ferry plowing its way to Tanjung Pinan City, a catamaran with enclosed decks, and Maya could make out the ghostly faces of passengers eying the sport fisher through the commuter’s windows.
“How far is the island from Singapore?” Maya asked, making conversation.
Carla frowned. “As the crow flies, about a hundred kilometers. But by sea it takes longer. We’ll be sailing for about three hours. Less if it stays flat. Which is a fifty-fifty proposition – it can get pretty rough in parts.”
“You sound like you’ve done the trip a lot,” Natasha said.
Carla gave her a sour look. “I’ve done it enough.”
The mate came down the ladder and entered the cabin. He said something to Carla that Maya couldn’t decipher, and she translated for everyone’s benefit.
“There’s water, beer, and champagne in the fridge. Whatever you want.”
Natasha went with champagne again, and Maya did as well, not wanting to stand out among the party girls. The mate opened a magnum of Mumm’s Cordon Rouge and poured everyone plastic flutes full before executing a small bow and going back to the flybridge.
Maya sipped the effervescent nectar sparingly and, when she went to the bathroom, poured most of her drink down the toilet. When she returned to the salon, Carla was lecturing the girls.
“Nahir, our host, won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon. He’s in Macau, and when he arrives, you’re to show him every form of hospitality. There will be over a hundred guests, many of them his close friends and associates, and if he decides to make a gift of one of you, you’re to smile and agree without question. You’ll be on the island for one week, during which time you’ll be restricted to the villa grounds, which consist of the main house and three guest bungalows, each with eight guest rooms.”
“Where are the guests staying?” Angela asked, in a pronounced German accent.
“The party will go on all night, and at dawn seaplanes and helicopters will begin taking guests back to Singapore. I would expect a fair number to stay on the island, however, if the last few big parties are any indication, and you’re to make yourselves available as instructed by either Nahir or myself. The villa has twelve bedrooms, and the guest bungalows a combined sixteen, so it’s entirely likely that the festivities will continue into the following evening.”
The girls absorbed the information, and Carla continued.
“Nahir is a stickler for security, so for your own protection you’re not to venture off the compound grounds. He has armed guards, and you don’t want to learn the hard way that they’re under instructions to fire at anything they deem suspicious.” The girls’ eyes widened. “This can be a dangerous area of the world, and it’s for your protection. Needless to say, with this many important guests the security will be extra vigilant. There are pirates and bandits in the region, so better safe than sorry.”
Carla gave everyone more to think about as the yacht breezed past the large islands, waves washing up on the shore of the closest, where a series of otherworldly sand dunes rose from the sea. On the nights following the party they would dine in the main house with Nahir, and whenever they were in attendance at a meal, they were to wear one of the formal evening gowns that would await their arrival in the guest bungalow closets. During the day, from the morning of the party until they left the island, they were limited to thong bikinis and were expected to spend the daylight hours by the Olympic-sized pool, where refreshments would be continually served.
“I know I don’t have to say it, but I will anyway. Anything Nahir wants, and I mean anything, he gets. You’re being paid handsomely and will make him nothing but happy, or you’ll never work the circuit again. He’s an extremely powerful man with many friends, and you’ll want to stay in his good graces. He’s also been known to be very generous, so it would behoove you to be memorable and amenable at all times. I’ll be around until the evening following the party. If you have any questions, come to me, not him.”
When she was finished with the orientation, she went up top to repeat her admonishments to the remaining women. More champagne spilled into their glasses on the mate’s next visit as the boat changed course and cruised by several small, uninhabited islands surrounded by shallow reefs.
The seas got larger when the straight widened, and the yacht slowed from its blistering pace as it negotiated the three- and four-foot rollers. Eventually they neared Pulau Numbing, and the captain backed off the throttles. A series of banners fluttered from poles along the white sandy shore as they approached a breakwater, the water dazzlingly blue, the green of the jungle glowing in the afternoon sun. Once the boat entered the harbor, the surface was glassy, and within minutes the sport fisher was making its way to a wooden pier that extended over the water. Several small skiffs tugged lazily at their tethers near the beach, an idyllic expanse of postcard perfection.
A retinue of armed guards dressed in crisp white pants and shirts waited on the pier. The mate tossed a bowline to the nearest, and Carla indicated the metal ladder leading from the water’s edge.
“Take your shoes off, ladies. If you’re wearing pumps, you’ll lose them if you don’t.”
The group scrambled up the steel rungs and onto the pier, where they waited in the sun for Carla to disembark. She managed the ladder with grace while one of the security detail gathered their passports and assured them that their luggage would be offloaded shortly. The girls exchanged worried glances but complied, and then they were being escorted to the walled compound a hundred meters down the stretch of sand.
As they neared the complex, the villa towered over the grounds. Its massive terraces looked out over the pool to the sea beyond as the surrounding tropical flowers wavered in the balmy breeze.
The bungalows turned out to be long white buildings with thatched roofs, equipped with ceiling fans and rustic furnishings, with plentiful windows for ventilation. When the door closed behind her, Maya threw herself on the bed and gazed up at the wooden crossbeams, already plotting escape routes from her room – the biggest problem being that on an island every road led to the water, so unless you had a boat you had no options.
An hour later a knock announced the arrival of her bag. The guard who dropped it off ogled her like she was lunch, and she fought to keep her expression placid, offering him a gentle smile as she turned to wheel her carry-on into the room. Maya almost jumped when he grabbed her buttock and squeezed it, but she resisted the urge to break his jaw, instead offering him no reaction. He stood in the doorway for several tense seconds and then grunted and walked off, leaving her to unpack. She forced herself to take deep breaths as she moved to the door and slammed the bolt home, remaining outwardly calm even as she seethed with quiet rage.
Maya shook off the incident and focused on the task at hand, which would first consist of sweeping the room for surveillance equipment. Ten minutes after she began, using a small coin to unscrew the sockets, she was reassured that the place was clean. When she unzipped her bag, she could tell it had been searched, but it took her three tries to get the hidden panel open. She retrieved the carbon fiber knife incorporated into the handle mechanism, satisfied that it had remained undetected. And after unpacking the hygiene case, she verified that the moisturizer and makeup containers that concealed the thermite charges had also done their job – they were intact.
Maya slipped off her cowboy boots, twisted the heels, and retrieved the detonators for the grenades and a microtransmitter from the compartments. Five minutes later she’d assembled two incendiary devices that would burn at over 2500 degrees Celsius, obliterating anything in their proximity. She inspected the compact charges and then switched on the radio and murmured into it, but got no response. Natasha probably hadn’t been able to activate hers yet, but given the number of gunmen prowling the grounds, they wouldn’t be able to do anything during the day, so Maya resolved to be patient.
She removed the rest of her things from the carry-on and hung them up. Finished, she activated the fan and lay back down on the bed, her weapons stashed in the secret luggage compartment, and considered how she and Natasha could search the island while effectively locked down and surrounded. No matter what scenarios she invented, it appeared hopeless, and when she closed her eyes, drifting off after a long, sleepless night on the rough flight, her last thought was that they had embarked on a suicide mission, their survival chances slimmer than their odds of finding the bioweapons, which were already as bleak as she could imagine.
Chapter 30
Dinner was served outdoors on the pool deck, a delicious mix of fresh fish and vegetarian fare accompanied by plentiful helpings of champagne. Being an international terrorist facilitator and arms dealer certainly paid better than being a Mossad operative chartered with stopping them, Maya mused, as a private chef in full regalia, his stovepipe hat embossed with the villa’s crest, attended to their requests.
Earlier that evening she’d tried on the short black sequined dress in her closet earmarked for the soirée, an Italian Lycra design with a plunging neckline and nonexistent back that clung to her like a second skin, and had realized that she was only hours from having to perform as a prostitute. Her motivation to locate the nerve agent had been turbo-charged by the thought, and she’d questioned whether she could go through with it – too late, she admitted to herself. Maya had resolved not to dwell on it, but denial only carried her so far, and as the reality of her situation sank in, her stomach twisted into knots.
After picking through dinner, Maya joined the others poolside, listening as they traded stories about their wealthiest patrons with matter-of-fact candor. They spoke English, the international language of high-end escorts, and everyone had a passable grasp of it, though some more than others. Britney finished recounting a story about an infamous head of state who had offered her ten thousand dollars to forego a condom, which she’d declined, enraging him and earning a beating. She described the brutality in flat tones and waved it off as an occupational hazard.
“Needless to say I was sent packing the next day, bruised and bloody, but good riddance. It’s my life, and I’m not going to risk AIDS for ten grand. I don’t care how powerful the john is – he’s not going to lie in the hospital bed for me and die in my place, so it wasn’t negotiable.”
“Did it wind up leaving any scars? The beating?” Mona asked.
Britney shook her head. “No, although I couldn’t work for two weeks. But that’s okay. I was getting a hundred grand a month, so it wasn’t like I was strapped for cash. Although the bastards didn’t give me the bonus they’d promised. One of my friends wound up leaving with a quarter million bucks of jewelry in addition to her pay.”
“Wow. Where do I find a gig like that?” Courtney joked.