The Somali Deception Episode II (A Cameron Kincaid Serial) (6 page)

The Saudi sank into his seat,
now appearing more a boy and less a man.
 
The blood sprayed upon him was already beginning to dry in the cool air
of the Mercedes.

Cameron found a loading dock behind
the stadium and pulled the Mercedes down the concrete ramp.
 
The Mercedes lowered from the
surrounding view.
 
He stepped out of
the car closed the door and inspected the bay.
 
With the loading bay doors closed, they
were essentially parked in a concrete box.
 
Above Cameron spied two cameras.
 
Someone could be watching.
 
They would need to be prudent.
 
He walked to the rear door of the Mercedes and pulled the handle.

The Saudi did not move.

“Go on,” said Pepe from inside
the car.
 
“Out of the car.”

The Saudi sat solid staring at
the headrest in front of him per chance Cameron and the open door would
disappear.

Pepe’s voice softened further,
his always-calming deep accent possessed an additional quality of assurance and
he placed his hand onto the Saudi’s, “It is okay Taufiq.”

In a meek voice the Saudi,
Taufiq, replied, “You are going to shoot me now.”

“No my friend,” said Pepe
soothingly, “I promised I will not shoot you.”

“Then your friend will,” Taufiq
closed his eyes again.
 
“A-ozu
billahi mena shaitaan Arrajeem, A-ozu billahi mena --,”

“Now, now.
 
Do not be silly,” said Pepe.
 
“Neither of us will shoot you.
 
We need your help.
 
We only want to talk to you.”

“Really?”

“Really.
 
Now let’s go.”

“Okay,” said Taufiq.
 
He placed his arms by his sides to upright
his torso and then swung his feet out of the Mercedes, standing as tall and
elegantly as he could to regain stature, to save face.
 
He spread his fingers wide and smoothed
the front of his no longer pristine thobe and then, without looking down, indifferently
brushed away any of the dried rust colored blood that may have gotten onto his
hands.
 
Cameron stood tall as well,
respectfully holding the door for the Saudi as he exited the Mercedes and
performed his little ritual.
 
Pepe
opened his own door on the other side of the Mercedes and then slowly joined
the two, giving the Saudi a further chance to compose himself.

His back to Cameron, Taufiq
peered forward as if he could see through or over the top of the ramp to the
vast parking area and immensely vaster desert beyond.

“So,” said Pepe, approaching
Taufiq from the rear of the Mercedes.
 
“Can we now speak?”

“Abbo will kill me for telling
you his location.”

“You are telling us Abbo’s
location so that we can kill him.
 
Abbo will not be a threat to you.”

“And,”
said
Cameron
.
 
Startled by a voice
from behind, the Saudi spun on his heel to face them both.
 
Cameron was still standing behind the
open rear door, leaning forward on one arm.
 
Cameron continued, “Your debts will be
clear.
 
Abbo will not have sold them.
 
Your slate will be clean.”

Taufiq backed away from between
the two.
 
He moved toward the
sidewall of the loading bay, and then spun on his heel again.
 
He placed a hand flat against the
concrete and then faced them, “How do I know you can pull this off?”

Cameron dropped and shook his
head chuckling then gazed up at the Saudi, “Well, you had a back seat view of
what we did out there moments ago and let me tell you, we were not really
trying.”

Taufiq drooped his head, “Oh
yeah.”
 
He raised his eyes to Pepe,
“Not even trying?”

Pepe, sauntering toward the
Saudi, shook his head, “Not really.”

“Okay, okay.
 
Yes, I guess that is right.”
 
Suddenly pensive the Saudi stared at the
ground, placed his thumb to his mouth and bit.
 
Cameron and Pepe let him spin his wheels
and a brief moment later, the Saudi lifted his head.
 
His eyes shifted between the two mock
Arabs in front of him.
 
“Who are you
two?
 
Why do you want Abbo so bad?”

Pepe stepped closer to the
Saudi, “Let’s say Abbo took something that does not belong to him.”

“And it doesn’t really matter if
I want to tell you does it?”

“Not really,” said Cameron.

* * *
* *

Sevens Rugby Stadium, Dubai

Taufiq’s forehead had gained an
oily sheen.
 
His attempt to maintain
a confident air was compromised by his feeble and distant words.
 
“You’re not going to shoot me?”

“We are not going to shoot you,”
said Pepe.
 
“Though
you can make this easy, or hard on yourself.”

“Yes, I understand clearly.
 
I will tell you but it will make no
difference.
 
You will never be able
to get to him.”

“Try us,” said Cameron.”

“He is at the Burj Khalifa,”
said Taufiq.
 
“You know this place,
the world’s tallest building.”

“Of course we do,” said
Pepe.
 
“Can you be more specific?”

“He has a luxury residence in
the Armani Hotel, a huge villa suite there.
 
Like a palace really, up in the air, he
is safe like a bird in the sky.”

“You are sure that is where he
is?” asked Pepe.
 
“That does not
sound very secure.
 
The Armani is on
the lower levels.”

“And relatively public,” said
Cameron.
 
“Like our friend in
London.”

“But you see,” said Taufiq, “he
is not in the Armani residences that everyone knows of.
 
He is high like a falcon on the 105th
floor.
 
The residences between floor
77 and 110 are very secure.
 
You
must be friend or family to access those levels.”

“Or have a key,” said Cameron.

The Saudi peered at Cameron.

“Do you have a key?” asked Pepe.

“He has a key,” said
Cameron.
 
“He has a very special
key.
 
Don’t you?”

“Taufiq,” said Pepe.
 
“Let me see your key.”

“It will not help you,” said
Taufiq.

“Probably not.
 
Let me see anyway.”

The Saudi reached his hand into
his thobe, removed a golden keycard, and then handed the card to Pepe.

“Hmm,” said Pepe.
 
“There is an electronic chip in here, and
the card is engraved.
 
Do you mind
if my friend takes a look?”
 
Pepe
held the card out for Cameron to inspect.
 
The Saudi stared at the ground.

“Well I’ll be, that is nice,”
said Cameron.
 
He held the card up
in the air, “A little holographic paint, a chip, engraving.
 
Let’s see what this says.”
 
He pulled the card closer, “It says
here, wow, you live there.
 
That
must be nice.”

The Saudi, his head still
drooping and eyes beginning to well, spoke quietly in almost a murmur, “It is a
family residence.”

“I bet you have to use a code
with this too,” said Cameron.
 
“A
pin number maybe?”
 
Cameron peered
over the card to the Saudi.

The Saudi began to weep.

“Is that true Taufiq?” asked
Pepe.
 
“Do we need a code?”

The Saudi subtly nodded his
head.

“What is the code Taufiq?
 
Tell us the code.
 
We need your help.”

The Saudi spoke in a whisper.

“I am sorry,” said Pepe.
 
“I did not hear you.”

“823,” said the Saudi.
 
“The code is 823.
 
The card works for the elevator and the
residence door on the 102nd floor.”

“That’s what the card says,”
said Cameron, “102nd floor.”

“You see,” said Pepe.
 
“That was not so bad.
 
Now we can be close to Abbo.
 
The task is almost complete.”

The Saudi nodded again, tears
streaming from his eyes.

“And the new woman?” asked
Pepe.
 
“The one with chestnut hair
and green eyes that has been brought into the harem.”

“Also at the Armani Hotel.
 
He keeps his harem there.”

“On the same floor?”

“No, one floor below.”
 
The Saudi lifted his head, “That key
will get you to those floors as well.
 
Except…”

“Except what Taufiq?” asked
Pepe, “Except what?”

“I will need to be with
you.
 
Sometimes, not always,
sometimes the elevator requests more security.”

“Another code?” asked Pepe.

“Or something biometric?” asked
Cameron.
 
“Like a voice imprint, a
handprint, maybe even a retinal scan.”

The Saudi hesitated then said,
“A retinal scan,” he paused to gauge Pepe’s reaction and then began to speak
quickly.
 
“Particularly if you are
visiting floors other than your own, it is all very random, hardly ever
actually, that’s why I didn’t think of it, but I will help you I swear.”

“I see,” said Pepe.

The Saudi watched Cameron press
a thumb to his forehead and make a deep frown.

“I will help you,” said the
Saudi.
 
“To get Abbo I will help,
tonight, now.
 
We will go right now.”

“That will not be necessary,”
said Pepe.
 
“You have helped
enough.
 
We are finished here.”

“Are you sure?
 
There must be more I can do.”

“No, you have done enough.”

“I have?”

“Now Taufiq, you must understand
we need to be confident that you will stay silent.
 
If you were to go to Abbo, or run into
Abbo, or if Abbo were to come looking for you there is too great a chance you
may say something.”

Again the orbs of Taufiq’s eyes,
plump and pushing from his skull, fought to escape him, “I swear I will say
nothing.
 
By Allah I swear, by Allah
I swear, Wallah, Wallah.”

Pepe placed his hand on the
Saudi’s shoulder, “I believe, you believe that.”

“You promised not to shoot me!”
said Taufiq, his face was wet and dripped with tears.

“Shhh,” said Pepe.
 
He leaned in close and placed his cheek
near Taufiq’s.
 
“Shhh.”

Taufiq felt a poke in his neck
and then great warmth.
 
Pepe pressed
on Taufiq’s shoulder easing him slowly down the wall to his knees.
 
Taufiq placed his hand on his neck where
he felt the warmth.
 
His fingers
immediately became hot and wet and when he massaged them into his neck,
sticky.
 
He pulled them away to see
his own bright crimson leakage and attempted to cry out, no sounds came.

“Shhh,” said Pepe again.
 
Pepe’s face was warm and kind, “Allah
waits for you.
 
Close your eyes and
go to him.”

* * *
* *

Old Town Dubai

Alastair sat at a table near the
edge of the promenade overlooking the Burj Khalifa Lake, the building of the
shared name towering above them from across the water.

“You didn’t bring him with you,”
said Alastair.

“In a sense we did,” said
Cameron.
 
He pulled a chair away
from the table and then sat down.
 
“Pepe has his eyes.”

“Bloody hell.
 
So it came to that.”
 
Alastair’s lips pulled tight and the
entirety of his face shifted to the side, a scowl that Cameron recognized and
always took as a judgment, and a faux disgust.
 
Cameron had adopted many cues from
Alastair over the years.
 
Alastair
had an upscale upbringing and recognized when to behave in a fashion.