Authors: Russell Blake
“I can question Weinstein, you know.”
“Yes, I know you can, but that won’t be necessary. I have a specialist who’s probably the most persuasive of his kind we have. He’ll do well. And depending on how much Weinstein knows, I have an idea of how he can be used to discover what it is they’re planning. I don’t need you for that, although the offer’s appreciated.”
“Are you sure? I’ve got a few tricks you might not have seen, and I’m not officially with your organization, so there’s deniability…”
“It’s an attractive offer, but I’ll pass. Get some rest, and I’ll notify you once we’ve got a lead,” the director said, putting an end to the subject.
Jet nodded and made her way to the door. “Good luck.”
“Thanks. Hopefully we won’t need any, but I’ll still take it.”
Chapter 25
Doha, Qatar
Solomon Horowitz walked cautiously down the jetway to the customs area, the flight from Tripoli via Cairo having taken seemingly forever. An annoyed businessman bumped him as he pushed past in the narrow walkway, causing Solomon to wince and nearly pass out from pain before his vision cleared and he got control of himself. The gunshot wound to his shoulder wasn’t terminal, but it was still extremely painful, made worse by the butchery performed by the doctor who had dug the slug out and stitched him up.
The attack on the house had come as a complete surprise, occurring as it had in the dead of night while he and his brother had been asleep. The thought of his sibling, Peter, now dead from an attacker’s bullet, nearly stopped him in the jetway, but then he forced himself to continue putting one foot in front of the other. He couldn’t afford to break down or attract attention to himself – not when they were at the final stage of an operation that had been a decade in the making. He picked up his pace and emerged into the passenger area, and then made his way to immigration, where his Egyptian passport was duly stamped by a less-than-interested official before he was waved through to the arrivals section.
Taking his time as he rolled his carry-on bag behind him, he emerged from the strikingly modern terminal into the harsh glare of the late afternoon sun, where he stopped at the curb and shielded his eyes with his good hand. A rented Fiat pulled to a halt a few minutes later and he walked to the trunk, which the driver had opened from inside the car, and stowed his bag before circling to the passenger seat, pulling the door closed after him.
The driver, a mid-thirties man with a goatee and a shaved head, nodded at him as he slid the transmission into gear and wheeled into traffic.
“I’m sorry about Peter. He’ll be missed,” the driver said, his voice quiet.
“Thank you. He was a good man.”
The driver shifted gears and accelerated past an overloaded bus that was lumbering in the slow lane. “What happened?” he asked.
“We were fast asleep, and then a gun battle erupted in the street in front of the house. By the time we were up and armed, the walls had been breached and there were shooters in the courtyard. It all happened very fast. Peter got shot within two minutes of the fight’s start, so I took evasive action. Lobbed a grenade, then slipped out through the tunnel. I blew the house, so hopefully I took some of the bastards with it.”
“Was it an attack on us, or something random?”
“I’ve been thinking about that. I don’t know. My gut says it wasn’t random, but then why the gunfight out in front? If it was an attack on us specifically, they would have come in hard and fast. I’ve thought about it a lot, but other than speculation, nothing makes a lot of sense. But I think we have to assume that they were after us – in which case, they got nothing, and the trail ends at the house.”
Both men sat in silence for a few minutes as they jockeyed their way through the stream of cars.
“Well, you’re here now. You mentioned you were wounded?”
“Yes. A doctor tended to it. I’m fine,” Solomon said. “How is everything set here?”
“All is ready. Tomorrow night we need to go in and get the device, but other than that, everything is awaiting the arrival of the targets. I’ve selected a perfect site and come up with a viable mechanism for ensuring maximum destruction – the likes of which nobody will ever forget.”
“Excellent. Soon the world as we know it will have completely changed. It’s been a long time, my friend. I wish my brother had lived to see it, but that wasn’t meant to be. Now tell me about the cargo container – the location, the security, and the plan to retrieve the bomb.”
~ ~ ~
Bangkok, Thailand
Matt boarded the plane for Phuket and shuffled with the rest of the passengers down the aisle until he found his seat, and then stowed his bag under the seat in front of him. His trip to the bank to deposit the cash had been uneventful, and he’d decided to stay in the hotel for dinner, eating in the room. The meal had been excellent, as he’d expected, given the hotel’s reputation, and he’d spent his evening checking on flights for exotic locations, deciding finally on the relatively large beach destination for ease of travel and its host of creature comforts.
Once he arrived, he took a taxi south to his hotel, a five-star resort on the beach, and checked in. The bungalow room was opulent but understated, in keeping with the eco-conscious theme of the area, and he immediately felt more relaxed, the sound of the surf outside his glass patio door hypnotic. He packed the diamonds into the room safe and then changed into beach attire, locked the door, and padded across the sand to one of the three restaurants, his stomach protesting the lack of breakfast that morning in the interests of making the flight.
The day proceeded peacefully, with Matt reclining in a chaise longue in the shade of an oversized beach umbrella, watching other guests explore the water in the cove, no agenda in mind and no pressure to do anything but study his navel. The soft ocean breeze brought with it all the exotic scents he loved about Thailand – flowers, jungle, the sea, suntan oil – and as he settled into the plush cushion, he felt himself relaxing, which was just what he felt he needed most. He’d bought a book in Bangkok the prior day and was halfway through it by the time dusk arrived, alternating his reading with an occasional nap, and when he rose and pulled his white linen short-sleeved shirt on he felt ten years younger, ready for a shower and then a foray into town.
A Thai couple strolled along the sand, she a beauty, watching him make his way back to his room, and Matt hardly registered them as he went inside and tossed his book onto the bed. The pair exchanged glances, and the man slipped a cell phone from his shirt pocket and made a call. Without pausing further, they continued down the beach, apparently celebrating the natural beauty of the island’s famous seashore and the miracle of young love.
Matt showered and dried himself, and after brushing his hair back with his fingers, donned shorts and a crème-colored linen shirt. He ran a hand over the two-day growth on his face and considered shaving, but when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror he decided that he didn’t look half bad, all things considered, and opted to forego the exercise until the next day. Scanning the room, he slipped his wallet and passport into his shirt pocket, locked the patio door, and exited through the main entry, taking his time as he ambled along the rock path to the main lobby, where he’d easily find a cab. The complex was only half full, the season having not yet gotten underway, and it had a rarefied feeling of secluded privilege that made him feel just a little spoiled, especially after having grown accustomed to living in the jungle.
Maybe civilization wasn’t so bad after all
, he reasoned as he reached the main hotel building, a pair of musicians strumming a tune in the lobby to the delight of a trio of guests sipping cocktails as they waited for friends. He stood listening for a few minutes, declining the server’s offer of a drink, and then cursed silently when he felt in his pockets and realized he’d left his cell phone in the room. He looked around the lobby, debating whether to go back and get it, and his thoughts turned to Jet – he didn’t want to miss her if she called. Matt reluctantly began the long trudge back to his bungalow, tiki torches illuminating the way. A mouthwatering aroma wafted across the expanse from the formal restaurant, where a band was just revving up an Asian-tinged jazz set that could only fly in Thailand.
Matt reached the room door and was slipping the card key into the lock when he heard an unexpected sound from inside – the muted sound of a power tool. He stopped dead, his head cocked as he stood frozen in place, and then he heard it again, along with the unmistakable noise of metal on metal. His mind raced as he swung around, searching for anything he could use as a weapon, till he spied a pile of beach umbrellas lying a few yards away. Eyes roving over the area in case whoever was inside had an accomplice, he moved to the umbrellas and grabbed one of the wooden rod shafts and jerked it free, then jammed it between a concrete planter and the retaining wall and wrenched it. The shaft snapped, leaving him with a four-foot section in his hand. He returned to the door, where he could hear the clamor still emanating from within.
The card key slipped into place with a soft click, and he twisted the lever handle with his free hand and then burst into the room, surprising the man kneeling in front of the room safe with an industrial drill clenched in his grip. Before the intruder could get to his feet Matt had covered the distance between them. The man twisted and brought the drill up to fend off a blow from the rod aimed at his head. He parried, the pole striking a glancing blow, and Matt swung again, trying to break the thief’s grip on the drill.
The intruder lunged forward, now using the long drill bit as a weapon, with which he narrowly missed gutting Matt. Avoiding the attempt, Matt dodged out of the way and then slammed the staff against the man’s shoulder – he grunted in pain, but didn’t drop the drill, instead feinting to the left and throwing it at Matt with all his might. The heavy steel tool slammed into Matt’s abdomen, momentarily winding him and buying the thief a few seconds, which was all he needed. He swept Matt’s legs, knocking them from under him, and as Matt tumbled backwards, the burglar leapt up and bolted for the door. Matt fell against the sofa and quickly pushed himself up, but by then the intruder was through the door and sprinting into the darkness. Matt weighed giving chase, but then decided prudence should rule the night, and instead moved to the door, removed the key card, and slammed it shut, taking care to lock it. Gazing around the room, he turned and approached the sliding glass patio door and spotted the thin steel blade the thief had used to jimmy the lock open.
Matt slid it closed and re-locked it, and then, weighing the pole in his hand, leaned down and jammed it into the sliding track, creating an effective block against the door being opened. Breathing heavily, he pulled the drapes together and then strode to the room safe. The drill had mangled the steel but hadn’t made it through to the lock. Eyeing the keypad, he punched in the combination he’d chosen and removed the diamonds, then slipped the velour sack into one of the side pockets of his shorts before reaching back into the safe and removing his second passport and a wad of hundred dollar bills. With another glance at the door, he pulled the shirts off the closet hangers and quickly packed his bag, and after two minutes was ready to go.
Staying at the hotel any longer was out of the question – he couldn’t afford the scrutiny that a complaint would bring, even though he was the victim. And more alarmingly, one of his identities had been compromised – whoever had planned this incursion had done their homework, which didn’t imply anything good. He racked his brain for possible slip-ups on his part, and decided that the only answer was that Niran had anticipated he might be carrying more diamonds and had put someone on to him. The greedy prick hadn’t been happy with the outsized profit he was making, and had decided to up his percentage with a little larceny. It was always a danger when dealing with big numbers, but Matt had thought Niran was above that sort of conniving.
Apparently not.
A much more distant possibility was that it was random, but he didn’t think so. The thief had been waiting for him to leave, which wasn’t typical of the crooks that preyed on tourists. That implied patience and planning, whereas most room robberies, he knew, were with the help of an accomplice working at the hotel, fingering the high rollers, looking for easy scores. Nothing Matt had done could have hinted at an easy money burglary, so unless it had been just bad dumb luck, this was something more.
Whatever it was, he had no interest in sticking around and waiting for the other shoe to drop. It could be that it was over and done with – or the thief could be back to try again, and this time with a gun, or a friend, or both. Matt didn’t feel like seeing which, so he picked up the room phone and called the front desk and requested a bellman to come down immediately to help him with his bag, explaining that he’d received an emergency call and had to check out. The concierge was suitably concerned and assured him that a man would be down shortly, and Matt took the intervening minutes to stash the drill out of sight and close the wooden shuttered doors to the closet, concealing the safe behind them.
A polite knock sounded from the entry. Matt hoisted his bag and walked to the small foyer, then looked through the peephole and confirmed that it was a member of the hotel staff. Three minutes later he was signing out as the bellman carried his things to a waiting taxi, and when Matt turned to follow him out he realized that he had no idea where he was going to go. The driver put Matt’s bag into the trunk and then slipped behind the wheel, and Matt dropped onto the rear seat and mentioned the name of a famous resort several miles away. The driver nodded and grinned, displaying a spectacular set of decaying teeth, and, then with a wave to the bellman, pointed the cab down the drive.
Matt watched the side mirror for any indication that he was being followed, but the taxi was the only car on the private access way. When they turned onto the beachfront road the driver pulled into the steady stream of traffic, and Matt exhaled, satisfied that he’d gotten away clean. He impulsively changed his mind when they were halfway to the resort and told the driver to take him into town instead, and then considered his options. Maybe it would be a better idea to get the hell out of town, now, instead of lingering. Part of him was still uneasy, and questioned whether it would be smart to remain in Phuket.