Payback (44 page)

O’Hagan glanced around the suite to ensure they’d left nothing of importance, then walked across to Hussein. He pulled a length of tape from a roll and fastened it across the police
officer’s mouth to silence him.

‘It’s been a pleasure doing business here in Dubai, Inspector,’ he said. ‘We’re leaving now, but before we go I’d like to tell you a little story.

‘In 2001, none of us here even knew each other. We were all ex-military or ex-Agency, and were living and working in New York. It was hot in the summer and cold in the winter, but
it’s a great city for the most part. All that changed on the eleventh of September that year when a bunch of Arab fanatics steered a couple of hijacked aircraft into the World Trade Center
buildings. Nearly three thousand innocent people died in that attack, but what’s more important is that the four of us on this mission and the two pilots waiting at the airport lost close
family members who happened to be inside those two buildings. When the dust finally settled, three of us had lost wives, two brothers, and I’d lost both my sons as well. My whole family
destroyed in just a few seconds. And all because a bunch of
fucking Arab lunatics
decided to declare war on America.’

He paused as if to calm himself, and then continued. ‘This, you see, is the first real counter-attack. Forget Afghanistan – that was just a knee-jerk reaction by a bunch of
politicians. And Iraq was nothing to do with Al-Qaeda – that whole operation was just so Uncle Sam could get his hands on Saddam’s oilfields, nothing else. But this little party? This
is the real thing. When we’re done, the Burj Al-Arab will be a pile of radioactive rubble sitting at the end of a melted causeway. You knock our towers down, and we’ll knock yours down,
and Dubai will be finished for ever. An eye for an eye, all that kind of thing. As a good Muslim, you should understand that.’

Hussein’s eyes were wide and desperate, his head shaking from side to side.

O’Hagan smiled at him. ‘Your government believes we’ve set the timer for four hours, but I actually set it for sixty minutes. And they think we’ll transmit the abort
code, but we won’t, because we have no clue what the code is, or even if there is one. Now we’ve activated the weapon, there’s nothing anyone can do to stop it exploding. In about
fifty-five minutes you’ll find out if Allah really is waiting for you. My guess is that he isn’t, but I’m just a crude infidel, so what do I know?’ O’Hagan smiled
briefly and turned away.

Petrucci had positioned a wad of plastic explosive on one of the double doors, and thrust into it was a spring-loaded wire, hanging down from a battery-powered delayed-action detonator.

O’Hagan flicked a switch on the detonator, looped the end of the wire over the other door’s handle, and pulled the door closed behind him. Ten seconds later the charge was
automatically armed, and would explode the moment the wire was pulled more than a couple of millimetres out of the detonator by, for example, somebody opening the suite door.

Police headquarters, Dubai

‘I’ve just heard from the Burj Al-Arab,’ Ghul announced, returning to the interview room. ‘The Americans are about to leave the hotel.’

‘Any news about that helicopter?’

‘Yes. It should be here in less than ten minutes.’

Burj Al-Arab Hotel, Dubai

O’Hagan stepped out of the elevator and looked round. The lobby was virtually empty, with only a handful of management staff, including Salim Barzani, waiting
there.

Without a word, the four Americans walked out of the hotel. A white Rolls-Royce Silver Seraph limousine stood waiting outside, engine running, rear doors open. They were about thirty kilometres
from the airport, almost home and dry.

The car pulled away in virtual silence, heading along the causeway leading to the mainland.

‘I could get used to this,’ Petrucci remarked, sinking back in the leather seat.

‘There’s no reason why you shouldn’t,’ O’Hagan replied, ‘but we’re not through with this yet, so stay sharp.’

Al-Etihad Street, Dubai

The Bell landed on the tarmac outside police headquarters, as Ghul, Richter and Jackson stood watching. The pilot signalled them to approach, and they crossed the road
towards the aircraft.

The minigun was mounted inside the rear cabin, beside the open doorway. They climbed inside, sat down and put on seatbelts and headsets. Immediately, the noise of the two Pratt and Whitney
turbine engines dropped to a more bearable level.

Moments later, the helicopter lifted off and swung round to port, climbing rapidly as the pilot started the transit to Jumeirah Beach.

Dubai

The Seraph was accelerating steadily along Al-Jumeirah Road when the driver saw brake lights in front of him and slowed down.

‘What’s wrong?’ O’Hagan growled.

‘An accident, sir. It happens all the time. People drive too fast along this road, even though we’ve got a lot of slow-moving trucks because of the building work.’

The Rolls-Royce stopped completely, and they peered through the windscreen. A cement lorry had pulled out to overtake another vehicle of the same type, and somehow the two trucks had collided.
In fact, they seemed to have become virtually welded together, completely blocking the road. Two men in bright blue overalls, obviously the drivers, were standing beside the vehicles yelling at
each other. It was clearly going to take some time to clear the road.

‘That’s all we needed,’ Wilson muttered darkly.

‘I don’t like this,’ O’Hagan said. ‘This could be deliberate, to delay us.’ He glanced at the traffic behind them. ‘I don’t care how you do it,
but get us out of here.’

‘But there’s nowhere to go, sir.’ The driver gestured at the chaos.

O’Hagan pulled out his pistol and waved it in front of the man’s face. ‘Find a way,’ he snapped, ‘or I’ll shoot you and drive the fucking car
myself.’

Ten minutes later, the Rolls-Royce was edging along a side street just to the south of Al-Jumeirah Road. It was still caught in a queue of traffic, because other drivers had had exactly the same
idea, but at least it was moving.

O’Hagan was pleased. If the accident back there
had
been an attempt to stop them reaching the airport, it had failed. They would get there a little later than planned, but that was
all.

Burj Al-Arab Hotel, Dubai

The hotel looked almost as impressive from the air as it did from the ground, but none of them had any interest in its aesthetic appeal. They were staring down at the
helipad on the twenty-eighth floor, which looked about the same size – and just about as fragile – as a dinner plate.

Even when the Bell touched down on it, the helipad still seemed tiny. Two men were waiting by the steps, Ghul having used his mobile to warn the hotel they would be landing.

‘Chief Inspector Ghul? My name’s Salim Barzani, and I’m the manager. I was told no action was to be taken until after the Americans had left Dubai.’

‘I’ve been given new orders,’ Ghul said. ‘We must get into the suite as soon as possible. How many entrances does it have?’

‘You can’t use any of the doors,’ Barzani said firmly. ‘They’re wired with explosives. We must wait until we receive instructions from the Americans on how to open
them.’

‘We can’t,’ Richter said. ‘We just don’t have time. The suite’s three floors below us – right?’ Barzani nodded. ‘OK. I’ll get
ready.’

‘Have you done this before? Climbing and abseiling, I mean?’ Jackson asked uncertainly.

‘Only a little,’ Richter admitted, ‘but I know the technique.’

‘You’re mad,’ she said, as the two of them headed back to the Bell.

‘Probably, but right now we’re pretty much out of options. Here, give me a hand putting on this gear.’

‘What is it?’ Jackson asked, looking at the harnesses.

‘It’s called a Mitchell Climbing System. The problem with abseiling is that it’s very good at descents, but climbing back up the rope is a bitch. With one of these, I can come
up as fast as I go down.’

Richter pulled out his notebook and put it in his trouser pocket. He then buckled on the two harnesses and ran the long ascender cord through the rollers on the chest plate, leaving the cord and
its two attachments – the Stiff Step at the lower end, and the Ultrascender at the other – dangling free in front of him.

‘Barzani’s just told me there are two maintenance cradles you can use,’ Ghul said, walking over to the helicopter, ‘but they’re both down at the base of the
tower.’

For a moment Richter looked interested, then shook his head. ‘They’ll take too long to get up here. I’ll have to use the rope. Secure it to the staircase supports on the lower
level.’

Ghul took one end of the rope and tied it round a thick steel stanchion supporting the staircase, jerking it several times to make sure it was secure.

Richter ran the rope through the other bearing on the chest plate and tossed the free end over the edge of the roof. He stepped across to the parapet and looked down. The artificial island on
which the Burj Al-Arab stood was a mind-numbing seven hundred feet below him. But if he slipped, he wouldn’t fall straight to the ground: the curved front elevation of the building would mean
he’d slide down it for most of the way, but he’d still be just as dead at the end of it.

‘I’m getting too old for this kind of thing,’ he muttered, and moved back to where Jackson was standing. ‘If this all goes wrong, you’ve got the number,
right?’

‘One in my bag, and another in my pocket,’ Carole-Anne confirmed. ‘And all you’re going to do now is look through the window?’

‘Yes. If I can see how they’ve rigged the explosives, maybe we can work out how to get inside without getting our heads blown off.’

Jackson rummaged in her handbag and gave him a small pair of binoculars. Richter inspected all the equipment once more, he climbed up onto the parapet and sat down facing inwards. The most
difficult phase of the operation, he had realized as soon as the helicopter had landed, was going to be getting over the parapet – both ways.

‘This isn’t going to be very elegant, but it will be quick.’

He lay flat on his back, checked that the two Ultrascenders were firmly attached, his hands gripping them, his feet firmly lodged in the Stiff Steps, and rolled sideways, out over the edge. For
the briefest of instants he was in free-fall, then the climbing rope snapped taut – the Ultrascenders not moving a fraction of an inch on the rope – and he jerked to a halt, instantly
slamming into the side of the building.

The impact knocked the breath from his body, and for a few seconds he hung there helplessly. He looked up to see Jackson and Ghul staring down at him, nodded with a confidence he honestly
didn’t feel, and took one brief look down. This wasn’t the most sensible of moves as it reminded him forcefully that his life now depended on a hundred metres of eleven-millimetre
climbing rope, a handful of straps and a few mechanical gizmos similar to those he’d last used in the Lake District more than five years earlier.

He took a deep breath, unhitched the upper Ultrascender, lowered his body a cautious foot, then re-attached it. He unclipped the lower one, straightened his leg and then clamped that
Ultrascender back on the rope. He’d never been particularly proficient in the use of this climbing system, but it was virtually foolproof. He tried to relax – not easy when dangling
from a half-inch rope seven hundred feet above the ground – and concentrated on getting down.

Tuesday
Dubai

The delay on the Al-Jumeirah Road had cost them time, but O’Hagan wasn’t concerned. The traffic was moving – if slowly – and he calculated they’d
reach the airport within half an hour.

He called Sutter and quickly explained the situation. ‘Everything clear at your end?’

‘Ready and waiting. We’ll get the first available outbound slot. Just call when you get to the airport.’

Burj Al-Arab Hotel, Dubai

The moment O’Hagan had left the suite, Hussein tried to struggle out of his bonds, but after fifteen minutes’ effort all he’d done was to open up cuts on
his wrists and ankles. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to free himself, but still he tried, because he had no other option.

He was also trying to move the chair around so that it faced Mecca. In the last minutes before the weapon detonated he was determined to recite his prayers. He thought he could probably tip the
chair forward as well, but he was saving that manoeuvre until the end.

Suddenly a shadow caught his eye – a movement where no movement should be – and he snapped his head round to see clearly. Impossibly, the figure of a man was stationary outside one
of the suite windows.

For an instant, Hussein thought he must be hallucinating, then he saw the rope and the harnesses. The man held both hands in front of his face, and Hussein realized he was studying the interior
of the suite through a small pair of binoculars.

With a sudden surge of hope, the inspector thought a rescue operation must have been mounted.

Then he remembered the American’s final words, and realized his only hope of survival was if they could get him out of the building in time. Whatever happened, and whatever anyone did, the
Burj Al-Arab was doomed.

Though small, the binoculars were powerful. Richter had immediately spotted Hussein but ignored him, his sole concern being the doors, and how the Americans had booby-trapped
them.

But he couldn’t see enough. The doors were visible, but he couldn’t see the handles – the obvious place to secure an explosive charge – because of the furniture.

Hanging there any longer would be a waste of time. What he had to do was get inside. He began the climb back up to the roof.

Dubai

The driver was doing well now. Once they’d cleared the chaotic traffic around Al-Jumeirah Road, he’d worked his way successfully through the side streets and
now they were well into Mankhool, heading for the Clock Tower Roundabout. Once they reached it, the airport would almost be in sight.

O’Hagan reckoned they’d reach the Gulfstream within ten minutes, and be airborne ten minutes after that. And then absolutely nothing could stop them.