Sandstorm (30 page)

“I think they’re here. Someone’s knocking at the door.” Nora handed him one of the hotel robes as he stepped free of the shower. She followed him out of the bathroom to retrieve her gun and then returned, partially closing the door behind her.

Alex was still dripping wet as he peered through the peephole. There were two men. One was at least four inches taller than the other. Still, they were both shorter than he and would be in for quite a surprise when he opened the door, since they were no doubt expecting the shorter Janko, a.k.a. Mr. Green. He thought about Nora for a second. She wasn’t supposed to still be here, but she could hold her own, and besides, she was armed.

“Can I help you?” Alex shouted, just as they knocked again.

“Mr. Green,” the shorter of the two responded, “we are your transportation.”

Alex unlocked the door and stood behind it as they stepped through. The shorter man, when he was forced to look up, realized it wasn’t Mr. Green who opened the door, and he braced himself. The second man reacted by making a move inside his sport coat, but he paused when the shorter one held out a cautionary hand. He backpedaled as his focus shifted to the sound of running water coming from the bedroom area of the suite. The man turned back to look at Alex and noticed he was wet underneath his robe. The look of disgust was evident on his face.

“Clearly, you are not Mr. Green,” the shorter man observed and then motioned with his head toward the bedroom. “Is he in there? Taking a shower?”

Alex understood what he was thinking. “No, he’s not here.”

“Not here?” The man looked at his watch, annoyed. “There must be some confusion. He knew to expect us.”

“There’s no confusion. Mr. Green had to leave suddenly. A family emergency. He instructed me to take his place.”

“That was not our arrangement.”

“As I said, it was an emergency.”

The taller of two shifted slightly to establish better balance as he waited for instruction. Alex didn’t want to startle them, but he used the moment of indecision to ease within arm’s reach of a heavy lamp he had unplugged on his way to the door.

Before the Iranians could determine a course of action, their attention was once again drawn to the bedroom. This time the bigger of the two produced a sidearm. A woman was singing, and it was getting louder.

“Hey, hey,” Alex protested upon seeing the weapon. “No need for that.” The shorter one wasn’t interested in his protest.

The playful singing was replaced by a gasp as Nora appeared at the entrance to the bedroom, her eyes focused on the gun now pointing at her. The man holding it slowly began lowering the weapon, not registering any danger from the woman wearing only a towel that covered her from the waist down. Even Alex focused on Nora’s bare breasts, glistening from a fresh shower and heaving due to her rapid breathing. Selling her reaction, she took a second to regain her composure, and in doing so, she covered her breasts with her left arm. Her frightened look found its way to Alex, while her right hand never wavered from her side. In an instant she could reach behind her and grab the Walther P99 Compact held in place by the towel draped around her waist. If it became necessary, Alex would distract the gunman for the millisecond required for her to take him out.

Alex positioned himself even closer to the two men as they continued to gaze at Nora. They both were within reach now, and though they didn’t realize it, they no longer had any advantage.

“Please put the gun away,” Alex said, sounding sincere in his request. “You’re making her very nervous.”

The shorter one didn’t take his eyes off Nora. “You are Mr. McBride, is that right?”

“Yes. How do you know that?”

“I was at the airfield last night. In fact, it was you and not Mr. Green who inspected the initial cargo.”

“That’s correct. I’m his associate.”

“Here you are, but no Mr. Green. Much like the Russian, we don’t like surprises.”

Their presence answered one question for Alex. If they were here to transport Janko to Iran, they must not have been party to Nevsky’s attempt to have them killed. Either that was his own call, or someone was tying up loose ends.

Alex decided to force the issue. They were sent for a purpose, and he doubted they wanted to be in a position to explain themselves to superiors.

“I totally understand if you’re disappointed. As far as I’m concerned, my services were rendered last night and I’m done. My girlfriend and I can start our well-deserved vacation.” Alex gave Nora a lover’s smile. “Sweetheart, go and put some clothes on now. That is, if it’s okay with our friends here.”

The little one nodded his approval. “I’m afraid your vacation will have to wait a few days. You will come with us in place of Mr. Green. A guest of the Iranian government. We have a plane waiting for us.”

“You’re sure this is only for a couple of days? And why, exactly, am I coming?”

“Most assuredly a short stay. There are schedules to meet. As to why, Mr. Green has provided invaluable services on several occasions and therefore is very important to my government. His presence is required to insure quality control and to be available, should a question arise. Seeing as you are his associate and, based on last night, a qualified one, you can step in for him. So please, get dressed.”

“Sounds harmless enough. I’ve never been to Iran, so this will be a first. I’ll tell my girlfriend I’ll be back in a couple of days.”

“That won’t be necessary. She’ll be coming with us.”

CHAPTER
59

So far he wasn’t dead, and that was a good thing. It was still early in the day, though.

The caravan of cars and SUVs totaled six, and they were moving at a good clip along the desert highway, heading southwest of Tehran. Civilization had vanished behind them. Alex noted that this stretch of road was devoid of pedestrian traffic. The vehicles passing in the opposite direction appeared to be of an official nature or military. He tried to put on a good front, but this was a bit discomforting. He had been away from this life for too long a stretch. His instincts weren’t what they should have been, because if he’d been thinking clearly, he wouldn’t be in the backseat of a Range Rover tearing through the Iranian desert to destination unknown. He’d committed the cardinal sin of allowing his emotions to guide him. Seeing Dmitri Nevsky alive had sent his world spinning off its axis, and there was only one way to get it back on track.

He couldn’t stomach the image of Nora being hauled away and tortured. That would be her fate if his background didn’t check out, and he was sure the Iranians were checking every facet of their backgrounds, as quickly as they could. With each passing mile, he felt better. His cover was holding. All he needed, though, was some overworked CIA employee forgetting to cross a
t
or dot an
i
. A deep inquiry by someone who knew what they were doing would eventually uncover inconsistencies. Thus it became a dangerous game of filling in holes faster than someone on the other end of a computer could dig.

Alex was weary, his brain and body feeling the effects of being tossed into what felt like a relentless storm. He and Nora were in the air on a private jet less than two hours after the Iranians had come knocking. As she’d put on clothes, Nora did her best to keep Sara informed, texting her about what was going on. Sara in turn had alerted Langley and made sure Duncan was ready to move. If Alex and Nora needed extraction, the options were scarce. With US forces out of Iraq, a border crossing there at this point was too risky. Sara decided the best and shortest option was to the north. Azerbaijan had no love for its neighbor to the south. Langley agreed with her assessment, and soon after, she and Duncan headed to the airport to catch a flight to Baku.

Nora hadn’t liked it, but she had to leave the 9 mm behind. Not having it made her feel a little underdressed, but if they searched or x-rayed her bag, a gun would be hard to explain, and they already had enough credibility issues. During the short plane ride, the smaller Iranian had engaged Alex in small talk, a veiled attempt to acquire subtle facts that could be traced. In between chats, the Iranian would excuse himself to use the plane’s phone, no doubt relaying tidbits about Mr. McBride while trying to explain why they were bringing a different man from the one they were supposed to pick up.

Upon touching down in Tehran, there had been no fanfare or lingering as they were transferred from the plane to a waiting car. They had been checked into the fashionable Espinas International Hotel on the outskirts of the city. Their king-sized suite afforded clear views of Milad Tower, which according to the bellhop was the tallest tower in Tehran and sixth tallest in the world. In the distance was Mount Damavand, its snow-capped peak the highest point in the Middle East. Mr. McBride had been instructed to be out front, ready for pickup at eight in the morning. The woman would have to stay behind.

The next morning, Alex had been prompt to meet his Iranian handler, whom he only knew as Farid. Another person, who appeared to be of African descent, was already in the backseat of the Range Rover. The man had merely nodded when he and Alex made eye contact.

They had been traveling for miles when finally something besides the desert came into view. Initially, it looked like a series of giant candles. As the caravan got closer, Alex could see that several vehicles were already on the scene, haphazardly parked quite a distance from the candlelike devices. There was also a healthy allotment of Iran’s elite Revolutionary Guard soldiers, heavily armed. The military presence was partly explained moments later, when they passed a series of vehicles adorned with the official flags of Iran. It was clearly the president’s detail. Alex was looking out each side of the vehicle, taking in the magnitude of the situation. There were people lined up several yards off the road, and two steel bleachers, looking totally out of place, were filling up with bodies. The real shocker came as the SUV came to a stop. There was no mistaking the candlelike devices now.

Spaced about thirty yards apart were a series of ten missiles, standing at attention, ready to be launched.

CHAPTER
60

The luxury yacht was impressive but not overly ostentatious—at least, not when compared to some of the other vessels anchored off the Turks and Caicos Islands. Besides, Roger Daniels’s real showcase was docked in the Mediterranean. This wasn’t the crowd he needed to impress, so the multimillion dollar yacht labeled
Cuda
was more about pleasure than business.

For all he’d done in his life, good or misunderstood, Daniels found it strange that he was struggling to sleep. He continued to nurse the three fingers of premium Scotch, hoping it would have a soothing effect. The water around him was quiet, and his yacht was far enough offshore that he only faintly heard the night cacophony of Nikki Beach activity as it drifted out to sea. There were plenty of lights still aglow at the resort and surrounding area, the young and wealthy extending the night. This was supposed to be the R and R he needed to wait out the world’s reaction to what was going to soon dominate the headlines. After his Kennedy Center event, he’d boarded his private jet bound for Turks and Caicos. Shortly after touchdown, he had been transported to his yacht, every one of his creature comforts well stocked, one of which was the young, curvaceous woman on his payroll. For the pleasure she provided, the small expenditure was a bargain.

Upsetting the balance of another country wasn’t what bothered Daniels. Nor was it the loss of life. That was sometimes the cost of doing business. Those who weren’t in a position to alter the world’s path didn’t understand that. Having immense wealth and power was akin to being a god. Important decisions constantly had to be made, and as a result, for some, suffering was inevitable.

No, what kept Daniels awake as he sat on the main deck of his 185-foot yacht, whose abbreviated name was derived from a dangerous saltwater predator, was the potential weakness of the people he was forced to associate with on this venture. The risk of exposure was there, and if his involvement ever came to light, it would cost him billions and sabotage important business relationships. He’d lose leverage, and Roger Daniels had long forgotten what it was like to not have influence.

He had no worries about Ezra, despite the man’s patriotic motivation. Ezra was a soldier in a winless war, but you couldn’t convince him of that. What he ultimately wanted to accomplish, a civilized world wouldn’t tolerate. Not again. Daniels was sure even Ezra understood that, so he’d settle for his enemy on its knees. Daniels admired his saber-wielding conviction.

Bryce Lipton, on the other hand, concerned him, and that feeling was deepening. So far he’d been controllable, but Daniels had seen men succumb to the trappings of power before. Lipton wasn’t a stupid man by any measure, but he was also one who’d never been able to rise above the inside-the-Beltway ceiling, so his ultimate desire of becoming president had been an unobtainable dream, until Daniels stepped in and took interest. Now Lipton was thinking the impossible was within reach. Daniels had himself to blame for that. He’d been the puppeteer, giving Lipton a reason to believe. The truth was that if the American public continued to have faith in the current president, he’d occupy the office for two terms. But if by chance there was an opening and Lipton was put in position, Daniels could foresee the day when the dog turned on its master. The problem was, Daniels actually liked Lipton. Daniels was not, however, fond of Lipton’s underachieving son, and that was the man’s weakness. His son’s work in Moscow should have ended his participation in their operation, but Lipton had insisted on the young man being involved further. The more the son participated, the more he knew, and Davis Lipton was a weak link. The elder Lipton at least had been adamant about insulating his son, keeping him out of the loop regarding the endgame and the major participants involved. It was a nice gesture, but Daniels wrestled with whether he could risk his empire on such paternal instincts.