Sandstorm (31 page)

He’d decided he couldn’t. Daniels dialed a number on his satellite phone, and on the other end, Yosef Ezra answered.

“Hello, my friend,” Daniels said, his heart no longer heavy now that his mind was made up.

“Hello. The hour is near. Our investment looks solid.”

“That’s good to hear. But I’m concerned about our family of shareholders. I think we need to buy them out.”

There was silence for a moment. “This is a
related
matter?”

“Yes, and I know the timing is bad, but is it feasible?”

“One should be easy, but at this date, a buyout of the other could be difficult to dismiss as coincidence.”

“I understand. Do what you can, but out of necessity, the larger shareholder must be taken care of first.”

“I’ll get my staff to work on it.”

“Excellent.”

The conversation concluded, Daniels drained the remaining Scotch. He didn’t give much thought to what he’d just put into motion. It was something that had to be done. The country could afford to lose a senator.

A soft pair of arms reached around his neck, and then he felt the touch of firm nipples pressing into his back. Her perfume radiated in the night air as she kissed his cheek. Daniels only saw the woman a few times a year and had no illusions about her being solely devoted to him. But she knew that whenever he requested her presence, nothing else mattered. She was along for the ride, knowing all too well it would end abruptly one day. So far, though, the arrangement had gotten her a pricy condo, a large walk-in closet of designer clothes, and enough money so that she didn’t have to punch a time clock. She just had to stay in shape and be at Daniel’s beck and call.

“Roger,” she whispered, one hand exploring the area below his waist. “Come to bed. Let me help ease what’s troubling you.”

He thanked the miracles of modern medicine. To think a little pill could aid him in pleasing a woman like this. He gently kissed a breast. Making love to her would be the perfect way to end the night, and afterward, he was sure he’d be able to fall asleep.

CHAPTER
61

Looking out among the vast desert, Yadin saw nothing that impressed him. He appeared to be alone in his opinion. His lack of enthusiasm was easy enough to explain: he was supposed to be a dedicated German scientist. A man born with the serious gene stuck up his ass. Outward displays of emotion were not generally his forte. That, at least, he did have in common with Dr. Franz Mueller.

The nearly one hundred people around him were filled with anticipation, whether it was real or required behavior was difficult to separate. They appeared to hang onto every word President Akbar Shahroudi spat out, his speech full of passion, peppered with the right amount of venom. Even though he was a small man, his persona was on stilts. There was a hint of instability, which in this part of the world forced outsiders to tread lightly. Yadin had heard the rhetoric most of his life. “We cannot let the evil West trample our way of life, dictate their policies to us. They are afraid of the true path of Islam, because they have no souls themselves. We will wipe Israel off the face of the earth.” It went on like that for roughly fifteen minutes before Shahroudi finally was ready to reveal what bolstered his confidence. He was truly a ringmaster performing before a circus crowd.

“Today, we send a message to the world that we will not be bullied. And this is only the beginning.” The president left the podium and returned to his seat. Yadin wondered if half the audience expected the sky to turn dark with the snap of a finger. There were television cameras present to document the event that would certainly be played on the various American cable networks and subsequently around the world as soon as possible.

Everyone in attendance had been given a pamphlet explaining in detail what they were looking at. Yadin didn’t bother to open his. He already knew that situated on individual platforms were six Shahab-3D medium-range missiles. They represented Iran’s latest foray into striking targets outside its borders: they had an estimated range of thirteen hundred miles and were easily capable of reaching Israel. The guidance system, warhead, and missile body were all improved. A new reentry system allowed for better precision. Another advantage of the Shahab-3D was its short launch-to-impact time ratio, which enabled the guidance to remain relatively accurate over a long flight until impact. There was no question these missiles would be a test for Israel’s Arrow 2 ABM defense system. The other four missiles were intermediate-range ballistic devices from North Korea. With an estimated range of three thousand miles, they were both costlier and deadlier. If his calculations were right, Yadin figured London was just over 2,700 miles from Tehran. The European Union would indeed lose a little sleep over that. Even though the attendees were a safe distance away, each was given a set of earplugs. They were instructed to use them now. A minute later, the show began, as one of the Shahab-3D missiles slowly lifted from its perch and jettisoned into the sky until it disappeared.

The president had a constant sardonic grin on his face, confident the world would take Iran seriously after seeing this exercise of bravado and power.

But, as Yadin knew, this was merely the tip of the iceberg.

CHAPTER
62

Alex and Nora watched the local television stations’ reports of what took place in the desert. Because it was broadcast in English around the clock, they were drawn to state-run Press TV. The female anchor, dressed in traditional Muslim attire, was reporting what a glorious day it was for the country, another step forward in maintaining security, keeping the borders safe from aggressors.

There were no differing viewpoints from foreign representatives, so Alex could only imagine what the response must have been to today’s aerial show. He was sure that in well-secured rooms across the globe, analysts with access to costly toys were dissecting every frame of today’s launches. The pamphlets that had been handed out indicated a maximum range of three thousand miles. Governments would be working feverishly to determine how many missiles with that capability the Iranians likely possessed, and where the hell they’d gotten them. The Shahab-3D wouldn’t be that much of a surprise, but the IRBMs were enough to make most of Europe restless.

Apparently, this wasn’t the worst of it, either. During the ride back to the hotel, Farid told Alex to be ready tomorrow at exactly the same time and that his expertise might be called upon as well. Relative silence followed, until Alex broached a subject with Farid. He reminded Farid about the proceedings at the airfield and told him how impressed he’d been with the Russian named Nevsky. He asked Farid whether Nevsky would be in attendance. The answer had been no. Alex explained that it might be beneficial to him and his other clients to do business with the Russian and therefore, was there a way to contact him? Farid didn’t offer much other than to say he worked for a large firm operating out of Moscow. It was enough of a starting point. More than likely, “large firm” meant organized crime syndicate. Alex stopped inquiring when Farid said that Mr. Green should know how to contact the Russian.

Nora was getting bored with the coverage, especially after being cooped up in the hotel for several hours. The highlight of her day was a stroll around Laleh Park in the center of the city. It afforded her the opportunity to tour the adjacent National Rug Gallery and the Tehran Museum of Contemporary Art. Of course, she’d been followed. The rest of her free time she spent getting a bite to eat and then working off a portion of her frustration at the hotel’s gym. The diversions had momentarily served their purpose of taking her mind off Alex. The uncertainty of what he was experiencing nearly drove her crazy. When he returned, they talked about as much of his day as he felt comfortable relaying over dinner at the hotel’s French cuisine restaurant. Now, back in the room, she could tell Alex was troubled.

“What’s on your mind? If you’re going to see this ordeal through, you have to be at your best, so what is it?”

Alex took a deep sigh. “It’s Dmitri Nevsky. He was at the airfield the other night.”

“Nevsky? Oh, my god!” Nora’s eyes expanded with astonishment. She knew the savagery associated with the name.

Alex had a faraway look on his face. “Stood right in front of him. We even had a conversation. He didn’t seem to remember me. Guess it was a long time ago. Otherwise, I would have been killed on the spot. I should give him a little credit, though.”

“For what?”

“He did try to kill me later.”

She now understood what was motivating him to go forward. Dmitri Nevsky represented a turning point in his life. Granted, everything that transpired was done under the guise of war, but Nevsky took pride in spreading fear among Iraqis who dared to dream that America cared enough to change their lives. It went beyond politics for Alex. She recalled from late night conversations how his frustration and anger had risen daily. Politicians on the Hill told him to stand down, that a greater good was being served. They didn’t have to hear the pain in his voice and e-mails as the bodies of those who trusted him began to pile up. Regrettably, once she joined the list of doubters, he had become a lost soul and loose cannon. Of course, he’d been right about who was betraying their interests. To those on the front lines, his course of action was more than justified. What Alex never knew in ending their relationship was how hard in the aftermath she had been on herself. If it hadn’t been for Erica’s counsel, she might not have recovered sufficiently to have a career.

Nora looked at Alex with apprehension. If they left now, they could make it to the nearest boarder and cross without incident. He could return to his tranquil life in the islands, and she could face whatever punishment awaited her. Whatever the Israelis and Senator Lipton had cooked up would either succeed or fail. The world wouldn’t spin off its axis, no matter the outcome. The rich would only find a way to get richer.

Alex’s stoic demeanor told her everything she needed to know. There was no need to waste her breath on that idea.

She made a decision. The worst thing she could do was think about all the risks. She wasn’t going to give her mind the opportunity to debate courses of action. Nora stood and sauntered over to Alex, who was resting with his legs extended in a chair. When she reached him, her blouse was totally unbuttoned, her bare breasts peeking through. She straddled his legs and, as if doing a push-up, rested her hands on the arms of the chair, inching her way down to kiss him. Alex had a perplexed, unsure look on his face, but he rose to meet her lips. He reached out to fondle a breast, her kiss bringing back memories. Nora sat on his lap, pleased to discover he was aroused. Alex intently watched as she took off her blouse. Nora pecked at his chest as she began sliding downward, a free hand massaging his groin. She playfully worked his zipper open and explored before undoing his belt and the snap on his pants. She then paused to look back up at him. With a wicked grin in place, Nora continued.

CHAPTER
63

The cover hadn’t yet been blown off of what would become one of the biggest stories inside the Beltway. In a town that prided itself on secrets, few really were. Members of Congress historically had a problem keeping their mouths shut. Some loved to read their secrets in print, attributed to “According to a source.…” A select few couldn’t resist flaunting their connections by discussing sensitive topics during sexual rendezvous that, in their very nature, were supposed to be secret as well. And then there were the various news outlets. It wasn’t just the Bob Woodwards and Carl Bernsteins anymore. Cable networks were staffed around the clock, and the Internet had opened a whole new can of worms. A carefully placed tidbit in an otherwise obscure blog could develop into an active volcano, spewing a mixture of truths and innuendos.

The president had gotten very little sleep during the past couple of days. He managed to join his wife in the residence to sleep for a few hours and had made a point of sharing breakfast with her, a precious twenty-five minutes. Then it was back to the Oval Office, where FBI Director John Layden and Attorney General Lewis Farber were waiting. Both men had been there for several hours the day before. The AG had assembled his best legal minds and put them to the test without mentioning Senator Bryce Lipton by name. He wanted to know precisely, given the facts they had, what charges could be brought forth that would hold the most weight. And he’d promised that if a single word got out of the building on this speculative case, a career would be ended. For Layden, preparation was a much simpler matter. Once he got an arrest warrant from Justice, he’d order his men to apprehend Senator Lipton. He didn’t really like the cantankerous old bastard anyway.

The attorney general was in the midst of explaining to the president that he felt they had a good case. There was a litany of headline-grabbing charges they could throw at the senator. His high-priced lawyers would earn every penny looking for a way out. They’d also throw the book at his son, in an attempt to pressure the senior to cave in. It all sounded promising, and that was a blessing, because the president knew he couldn’t be wrong about this one. He was about to give both men the go-ahead when the first call came in on the crisis line about Iran’s missile exercise.

The White House was now bogged down with yet another issue, but there was growing speculation that one had something to do with the other. The secretary of defense had reported that his analysts were certain the IRBMs fired by the Iranians were of North Korean origin. That further backed up Champion’s suspicion about North Korea’s “misplaced” inventory. President Hudson spent the better part of the day on the phone with leaders from the EU. They’d all wanted to come together to form some kind of unified front. The British prime minister was prepared to move a fleet of warships in the Persian Gulf, just close enough in international waters to give the Iranians something to mull over. The president told none of his counterparts about what he was dealing with on the home front. Doing so might have given them the impression he was trivializing their concerns. A prominent senator’s breaking the law did not seem to be on equal footing with the possibility of bombs dropping in Europe and Israel.