Terminal Rage (14 page)

Read Terminal Rage Online

Authors: A.M. Khalifa

“A short while ago, the suspects executed four FBI Hostage Rescue Team operators who were embedded on top of the besieged tower.” He pulled out an iPad from his briefcase and played the audio recording of the shooting. Mourad was moved by this brazen execution, but was uncertain it would have the same impact on the stone-faced generals.

“He

s Omani.”

General Gad

s soft, gentle voice caught everyone in the room off-guard. Mourad had been in five-hour meetings with Gad where he didn

t utter a single word. Sometimes he even dozed off.

“The man reading
al shahada
before killing the FBI agents in the recording—he

s from Oman. I lived in Muscat for many years, and I recognize the accent. The other man—the main suspect who calls himself Seth—it

s hard to say where he

s from. But his name is Egyptian.”

Simmer nodded in gratitude. “Thank you, General Gad. None of these voices registered in our databases. We think they

re cleanskins. But may I ask why you think

Seth

is an Egyptian name? Our analysts believe it

s a reference to a prophet, and drew related conclusions.”

“There

s another Seth—the ancient Egyptian God of the desert, storms, and foreigners. He

s often depicted as a creature with a human body and the head of some sort of undefined dog-like animal. Egyptologists along the years have tried but failed to decipher what his head represented. I think your suspect chose the name to reflect his own desire to remain enigmatic.”

Wagner bit his lips and looked pointedly at Farag so they could get back to that small matter of handing over the two Jordanians.

Farag snapped his fingers at general Harby, like a master would to prod a vicious dog to attack. Mourad tensed up. With Harby at the helm, this wasn

t going to be pleasant or straightforward.

“Ambassador Wagner. I

d like to ask you a simple question, and seek an honest answer.”

Wagner nodded.

“What if it was my daughter who was kidnapped? Would your government release convicted terrorists to save her life? Terrorists who had only committed the worst attack on your country

s soil in the last ten years?”


We’d
do everything
in our capacity to ensure her safety. The lives of our kids are no more valuable than yours, General Harby. And we value our friendship and alliance.” Wagner

s response was quick and slick. Mourad wouldn

t have expected any less of him.

“And how easy would it be to release two terrorists from a maximum security prison in your country, within a few hours after the request was made?”

“That

s a question I am not qualified to answer, General. It would be up to the discretion of the US president at the time.” Wagner was a fox of a diplomat who couldn

t be cornered by Harby

s rigid military mind.

“You must understand the revolution has changed the game for good. We can no longer ignore the rule of law just because you ask us to. President Mubarak would have approved your request in a heartbeat. But look at how his friends have abandoned him. Look at how America has abandoned him.” The fire in Harby

s eyes raised the temperature in the room a few degrees.

“For years you pressured us for democracy and human rights. You threw gas on the flames of dissent through illegal funding of suspicious organizations. And you empowered the Islamist cancer running through our country. Well, you got what you asked for—Egypt is
not
a lawless state any more. We can

t just check out two terrorists on death row without the rebels, the Muslim Brotherhood, and the media on our backs.”

A large clock on the wall behind the generals was ticking. There was no time for this cockfight to keep escalating. More so because it wasn

t going to get anywhere fast. Mourad had to step in.

“Blake—General Harby

s assessment of the new pressures we face is accurate. We can barely think of a policy, let alone implement it before we

re shredded apart. But he speaks in the spirit of the friendship binding our two countries.”

“I understand, Farid.” Wagner pursed his lips. It was time for Mourad to lead the way and do what he does best.

“We all agree time is of the essence and we need to work fast. Blake, let

s say General Farag approves a scenario under which the prisoners are released immediately into US custody. Is there anything you can do for us to justify the potential backlash we

ll face as a result? Something in our national interest we can use to defend ourselves if word gets out about what happened?”

Mourad was certain this is what the generals wanted to hear, but would have taken at least another hour for them to dance around the issue. It would have been unbecoming and out of character for a vintage Egyptian army general—let alone a group of four—to blatantly ask for a quid pro quo from the outset. And it would have been brash and insulting for Wagner to walk in with a bribe in hand. With diplomatic finesse, he had just released the pressure valve off both parties.

Wagner jumped in. “General—may I speak off the record?”

Farag nodded, his face expressionless.

“Let

s face it. Our president needs a miracle to get reelected in 2012. Senator Price is one of the brightest and most reliable names on the Republican front. Regardless of who nabs the GOP

s presidential nomination for 2012, all odds are on Price as the running mate.”

Mourad observed the four generals and wasn

t sure if they were intrigued or shocked a civilian like Wagner could speak in such defeatist terms about his commander in chief.

“Save his daughter now, and he

ll owe you forever. He

s loyal and he keeps his word. And one day, he

ll be president. He

s the friend to have in Washington.”

Mourad looked to General Elwy, who

d been quiet all morning. He cocked his head towards the table to ask him to jump in the boxing ring and throw a few counter punches back. The venom Harby had spewed left Mourad uneasy.

Elwy cleared his throat. “I met Senator Price during one of his trips to Egypt a few years ago and he was a gracious and respectful guest.”
Pathetic. It wasn

t even worth the free snacks and drinks you

re getting.

General Farag clenched his jaw and folded his arms against his chest. He too didn

t seem interested in Elwy

s assessment of Price

s character. He opened his mouth to snap at him, but stopped short and focused his gaze once again on the American ambassador.

“With all due respect to your electoral forecasts, Ambassador Wagner, we are military men and deal only in tangible realities. General Harby listens to the pulse of the Egyptian people and knows the vicious repercussions we could face if we release two terrorists without justification.”

Farag stopped, his eyes scanning Wagner and Finn back and forth as the tension escalated.

“But we

re willing to take the heat for it—only if we can reach an arrangement in the best interest of my country.” General Farag was the bluntest he

d been all morning and Wagner grabbed his cue.

“The president has authorized me to reach a mutually beneficial arrangement. We

ll entertain all suggestions, generals. I am all ears. But we need to move fast on this.”

Farag leaned forward and rubbed his hands together. “We do need some help with a certain matter, which could be the basis of a deal between us. General Harby will explain.”

Harby licked his lips and smiled. He pulled out a printed memo from a black leather folder that had been lying in front of him. It had an embossed golden seal Mourad recognized as the emblem of the
Mokhabarat
, the Egyptian intelligence agency.

“We have strong evidence that a close member of the Mubarak family has hidden most of the money he laundered from illegal transactions in Egypt. He did it through a dozen shelf corporations in the Caribbean, Cyprus, the UK, and America.”

“Who is he?”

“Let

s just say a very close family member, Ambassador Wagner, and leave it at that. There

s pending legal action against them, but I think you know who I am talking about.”

Mourad knew
exactly
who Harby was referring to. And judging by their nodding heads, Wagner and Simmer were also in the know.

“We traced one of those companies to Delaware. Balmoral Westwood. We estimate its net worth at about six hundred million dollars in stocks, mutuals, bonds, and time deposits.”

Mourad recalled a standing request from the Egyptian Prosecutor General to the US government to freeze all of Mubarak

s assets. “Didn

t we already ask for all the money to be repatriated?”

“We did, but the US government has been dragging its feet.” Harby

s face tightened and he bared his teeth at Wagner, as if he was the one who had personally blocked the request on the American side.

Wagner was quick to respond. “Our federal laws require our financial institutions to scrutinize for evidence or suspicion of corruption or other illegal payments. But the real onus of proving illegality falls on those who ask. My understanding, General Harby, is that your own prosecutor general, a Mubarak appointee, has been dragging his feet on the matter.”

The back and forth and the lack of sleep were dulling Mourad

s brain. But he knew he was the only one in the room who could move things along.

“Blake, let

s assume General Harby provides you with the necessary evidence to tie Balmoral Westwood to Mubarak

s relative—would the Justice Department and the Treasury be able to fast-track the seizure of these assets and eventual repatriation back to us?”

“Consider it done. Show us the evidence and we

ll show you the money.”

Farag grinned and put his hands behind his head. “Thank you, Ambassador Wagner.”

There was an awkward, but meaningful chunk of silence in the room. Harby

s memo remained in his hands, and there were lots of pages still left to read.

“Was there anything else?” Wagner asked.

The generals exchanged somber glances and then all eyes fell on Harby.

“There is a second shelf corporation formed in your country, held by the same relative of Mubarak. Possibly in Nevada or Wyoming. Unlike Balmoral Westwood, the assets of this one are locked up in residential and commercial real estate.”

Simmer jumped in. “Do you know the name of the company?”

“I am afraid we don

t. But we believe this corporation purchased thousands of foreclosed homes and commercial properties across America at a fraction of the price during your mortgage crisis. They used money laundered from the Egyptian national coffers.”

Simmer removed his glasses and bit into the tip of the frame. “What did they buy?”

“Anything they could get their hands on for a bargain—commercial buildings, condos, houses, warehouses, shops, industrial plots, and even agricultural land. Their intention was to sit on it for four or five years and sell when the market recovers.”

“How much are we talking about?”

“No less than three billion dollars, Ambassador Wagner. Maybe as high as seven.”

Mourad wanted to ask Harby to repeat the figures he had just thrown out casually because he was certain he had misheard. His thoughts scrambled to understand how any of this was possible, his mind unable to wrap itself around the blatant transgression of the former regime. Or why it had taken his impoverished, marginalized compatriots more than thirty years to rise up and revolt.

“Provide us with the evidence and we

ll take them down, I promise you that.”

“It

s not that simple, Your Excellency.”

“What exactly do you mean, General Harby?”

“They developed a complex scheme to separate each property from the mother corporation, using every sort of ownership structure you can imagine.”

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