Authors: David Hagberg
Soldier of God (41 page)
“Because then the Kantonpolizei would
officially
know that Prince Salman’s actual identity is that of the terrorist we call Khalil.”
officially
know that Prince Salman’s actual identity is that of the terrorist we call Khalil.”
The princess gasped. She said something to the security officer in the business suit.
“I don’t know what fantasy you have deduced that from, but you are wrong, Mademoiselle,” the security officer said. “Your error could very well cost you your life before this day is done.” The man was maddeningly calm. He could have been discussing the weather. “You have one last opportunity to lower your weapon and leave in peace. If you do not, we will be forced to kill you.”
“Insha’allah
,” Liese said.
,” Liese said.
The boy started to say something, but Liese looked directly into the princess’s eyes and drew back the Walther’s hammer. The princess pulled her son to her.
“Very well,” the security officer said. “We will get out of your way. And we will do as you wish and not call your superiors—though by now I suspect you must understand that because of Prince Salman’s position within the royal family we will have to inform Riyadh. What might happen after that will be out of my control.”
“Leave,” Liese told him, “and nobody gets hurt.”
“As you wish.” The security officer said something to the princess, and then he and the man who’d answered the door withdrew.
“What do you want with us?” the princess said. “You’re crazy if you think my husband is a terrorist. He is a playboy, not a murderer.”
Liese nodded. “I sincerely hope that you’re right.” She motioned toward the grouping of furniture in front of the huge, freestanding fireplace. “Sit down, please. If you’d like, call someone to bring you something to drink, eat.”
The princess straightened up. “We will sit as you order, since it is you holding a weapon pointed at me and my children. But we will not eat or drink, nor will you be given refreshments.” The woman’s left eyebrow arched. “Unless, of course, you mean to slaughter us all for a glass of water.”
What had happened to them all in the past ten years? The Soviet Union had disintegrated. The cold war had been won by the West. Then the world had begun sinking into utter chaos.
The princess herded her children to the modernistic white leather couch, and the youngest girl, with long dark hair and big eyes just like her mother, began to cry. Her mother said something to her and then gathered her up.
Keeping her pistol trained on the princess, Liese took her cell phone out of her purse and speed-dialed McGarvey’s number. It answered on the first ring.
“Are you in?”
“Yes.”
“Has anyone been hurt?” McGarvey asked, and Liese could hear the genuine concern in his voice. It was reassuring.
“Everyone is fine. Frightened, but okay,” she said. “But this is bad, Kirk.”
“I know,” he said, “but we didn’t create the situation. They did. Just give me a couple of hours. I’ll call when we’re set here with the answers.”
“Kirk? They deny it.”
McGarvey hesitated. “They might not know, Liese. They’re innocents.” He hesitated again. “That’s the difference between us. It’ll always be the difference. We don’t harm innocent people to make political statements.”
Except now
, Liese thought.
, Liese thought.
Sitting in her mother’s car directly across the tree-lined street from the front entrance to the Saudi Embassy, Elizabeth waited for the signal from her husband that the street from the Watergate Hotel and apartments had been blocked to traffic. So far they’d not been interfered with. Though by now DC Metro would have been informed that something was going on down here. And the Bureau would be getting into the act soon because somebody from the embassy was probably raising hell.
Besides Elizabeth’s car, CIA surveillance teams were working from four vans—one parked directly behind her, one at each end of the street, and one at the rear of the Saudi compound across from the loading ramp, which led down into the basement parking garage. In the past ten minutes two limos with smoked windows had left the embassy.
Todd’s voice came into her earpiece. “We’re in place. Nobody else is leaving for now.”
“Copy,” Elizabeth spoke into her lapel mike. “Any sign of the cops or the federales at your end?”
“Not yet, Liz. But they’re coming.”
Elizabeth looked in her door mirror. She could see the tail end of
Todd’s van, but there didn’t seem to be any activity up there. “Have you picked up something on DC Metro’s Tac One?” It was the FM radio channel that police dispatch used to communicate with its units on the streets.
Todd’s van, but there didn’t seem to be any activity up there. “Have you picked up something on DC Metro’s Tac One?” It was the FM radio channel that police dispatch used to communicate with its units on the streets.
“No. But Adkins called my cell phone and wanted to know what the hell we were doing, and was your dad down here with us.”
“What’d you tell him?” Elizabeth demanded.
“That we were putting pressure on the embassy to flush your mother out. That your dad wasn’t here and so far as we knew he was at home where he should be.”
“Did he buy it?” Elizabeth asked. All her father wanted was a couple of hours.
Todd chuckled. “No way But he didn’t press me. He just warned me that Fred Rudolph was raising holy hell, and that the Bureau was probably coming our way.”
“It’s going to get real interesting around here with DC Metro and the Bureau trying to figure out what we’re up to.”
“That’ll take at least a couple of hours, don’t you think, darling?” Todd asked.
Elizabeth smiled wickedly. “At least,” she said. “Okay, boys and girls, stand by. It’s showtime.” Her laptop was connected to the CIA’s mainframe via the Internet. The program she was tapped into had been created less than an hour ago by Rencke; it could take control of the electrical power grid for the entire city and the surrounding areas out to, but not including, Dulles International. Otto had isolated the area of the Saudi Embassy.
Elizabeth clicked on that line. When it was highlighted, she hit Enter.
It would take ten seconds for the proper relays to be opened, and then the lights would go out. After that it was anyone’s guess what would happen. But the pressure would be on.
She speed-dialed her father’s cell phone. He answered immediately.
“Yes.”
“Less than ten seconds,” she told him.
“Anything from the Bureau yet?”
“No, but they’re on the way. Rudolph is putting the squeeze on Adkins.”
There was a pause for just a moment.
“Okay, sweetheart, nobody gets hurt down there,” McGarvey said. “Do
you understand what I’m saying? If there’s even a hint of trouble coming your way, I want you and the others to immediately bail out. No grandstanding. Your mother’s not in the embassy in any event. All you guys are doing is providing me with a diversion.”
you understand what I’m saying? If there’s even a hint of trouble coming your way, I want you and the others to immediately bail out. No grandstanding. Your mother’s not in the embassy in any event. All you guys are doing is providing me with a diversion.”
But Elizabeth knew that people were going to get hurt, probably killed, though not here at the embassy. “When are you going in?”
“I have one phone call to make that could put an end to this business right now,” McGarvey said. “It’s worth a try.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes for a second. She had read her father’s file.
The complete file
. She knew what he was capable of, just as she knew that like any really good soldier or field officer, he always did everything in his power to
avoid
conflict.
The complete file
. She knew what he was capable of, just as she knew that like any really good soldier or field officer, he always did everything in his power to
avoid
conflict.
She opened her eyes as electricity to the entire block went off. The red lights on the security cameras in front of the embassy winked out, and the traffic signals at the end of the street went dead.
“The power’s off,” she told her father.
“Stall them as long as you can, sweetheart,” McGarvey said.
“Good luck, Daddy,” Elizabeth said, but her father was already gone, and in the distance she could hear the first of the police sirens.
Across the street in his fifth-floor office, Nuaimi had just gotten through to Dennis Berndt over at the White House when his telephone went dead. At first he thought that, as incredible as it seemed, the president’s national security adviser had actually hung up on him. But when he tried to buzz his secretary to call again, he realized that the buttons on his phone console were all dead.
He slammed down the phone and switched on his light. But it too was dead. The faulty plumbing was not an isolated incident after all. Someone had cut their water, and now the electricity was off.
Pushing away from his desk, Nuaimi went to the door and threw it open. His secretary, startled, looked up. “The electricity has failed, Your Excellency.”
“Get me Besharati—” Nuaimi said, just as his chief of security walked through the door.
“The water was no coincidence,” the man said. He was tall, and lean
as a greyhound, and he made most people he came into contact with nervous. Nuaimi thought of him as a Nazi, but he was very capable at his job. “Apparently we’re under assault. I’d suggest that you place a call to the secretary of state and demand an explanation.”
as a greyhound, and he made most people he came into contact with nervous. Nuaimi thought of him as a Nazi, but he was very capable at his job. “Apparently we’re under assault. I’d suggest that you place a call to the secretary of state and demand an explanation.”
“The phones are dead.”
Besharati handed him a cell phone. “Make the call now, Your Excellency, before the situation gets out of hand.” His attitude was demeaning, and peremptory.
Nuaimi took immediate offense because he stupidly had not thought of using a cell phone. “Who do you think you are?” he demanded, sharply.
“I’m sorry, Your Excellency. I was merely trying to assist you—”
“Then take a dozen of your men, with arms, and surround this building as a show of force.”
Besharati looked amused. “I do not think that is advisable—”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” Nuaimi said. “I gave you an order, and I expect that you will carry it out immediately.”
Besharati lowered his eyes and nodded. “As you wish, Your Excellency.” He turned and walked out, leaving Nuaimi wondering what in Allah’s name bin Laden’s people could be thinking. It was common knowledge that members of the Saudi royal family had been supplying the terrorist with money all along. But after the terrible attacks of 9/11, he thought Crown Prince Abdullah might have reined them in.
Apparently
not
.
not
.
It was ten o’clock in the evening in Riyadh when McGarvey reached the direct line to Prince Muhamed bin Abdul Aziz, head of the Saudi Secret Intelligence Service. The number was known to only a few members of the Royal family as well as the heads of a number of friendly intelligence agencies around the world. The CIA was one of them.
“This cannot be Richard Adkins calling from Amsterdam. So it must be Kirk McGarvey calling from a redialer service,” Prince Muhamed said. “Good evening.”
“I’ll get right to the point,” McGarvey said. “You have a lot of trouble heading your way that can be avoided if we can come to an understanding.” He had worked with the prince on several occasions, but he’d never been able to read the man behind the dark glasses and flowing robes.
“Yes, the situation is very delicate,” Prince Muhamed replied. He sounded like a man without a care in the world, but it was the attitude he always projected. No one in the West had ever witnessed his anger. “But under the circumstances I have nothing to gain by talking with you.”
“Are you aware of the present situation here in Washington?” McGarvey asked.
“I am aware of many situations.”
“Let’s cut the bullshit, Muhamed,” McGarvey shot back. “You know we’re facing another attack, and it’s due to happen in less than forty-eight hours. You also know that I resigned as DCI, and I’m on my own. So I’m not going to screw around with you. I called you merely as a courtesy. Maybe you and I can avoid a serious amount of bloodshed. If you’ll cooperate this time.”
The line was silent for a moment.
By now McGarvey figured that the prince had rolled the call over to his technical services to try to identify the redialer server so that they could pinpoint McGarvey’s location. But Rencke had set it up so Saudi intelligence was wasting its time and resources.
“I’m listening, Mr. McGarvey,” Prince Muhamed said.
“The CIA has gathered a reasonable amount of evidence to suggest that Prince Abdul Salman and the al-Quaida terrorist Khalil are the same man.”
Prince Muhamed laughed softly “Yes, I understand that may have precipitated your resignation, and was the reason you drove the poor man out of Monaco. But you are wrong, of course.”
McGarvey hadn’t expected any other answer at this point. “It’s what you would have to say out of loyalty to the family. But there’s more.”
“Of course there is.”
“The prince is here in Washington,” McGarvey said.
“He thought it would provide him a safe haven, being close to President
Haynes, two men with mutual respect and admiration for each other.”
Haynes, two men with mutual respect and admiration for each other.”
“Khalil is here as well.”
“If he is, then it must be a coincidence,” Prince Muhamed said. “We have no connection with al-Quaida, a fact that must be apparent. Goodness, we have suffered our share of casualties. Their attacks are not confined to your country.” The prince’s voice had not risen at all, though McGarvey could hear his anger. “How much blood must we shed, and how much oil must we pump to supply your love of SUVs, for you to finally understand that Saudi Arabia is a friend to the U.S. and always has been? Without our oil your country would be nothing.”
“Without our money, you would all go back to living on the desert in tents. Without our technical help even your water would stop flowing. And without our military you would have been invaded years ago by the Soviets, or maybe Saddam Hussein would have gone directly from Kuwait City to Riyadh.”
The prince was silent again.
“Was it also a coincidence that when Khalil was attempting to kidnap our former secretary of defense from a cruise ship in Canadian waters that Prince Salman was in Canada? The west coast of Canada?”
“I know the prince personally,” Prince Muhamed said. “In fact, we are related. Distantly. He is a deal maker and a playboy, arrogant and headstrong, a gambler and a womanizer. But he is not a terrorist. I give you my word, Mr. McGarvey.”
“He has kidnapped my wife, and I have arranged the kidnapping of his family in Switzerland. Right now they’re being held as hostages.”
“It was you,” the prince said, and this time he sounded shook. “What are you trying to do, get an innocent woman and her children harmed? Prince Salman’s chief of security called me from Lucerne with the wild story that a Swiss Federal Police officer barged in, gun drawn, and took Princess Sofia and her four children.”
“I believe you call such acts collateral damage,” McGarvey said, coldly.
“This is monstrous—”
“So were the 9/11 attacks on our people,” McGarvey interrupted.
“Tell your friend to walk away from the prince’s home without causing any harm to the princess and her children, and she will be allowed to leave
the compound alive,” Prince Muhamed said. “Otherwise I will authorize the use of deadly force. The women and her children are innocents—”
the compound alive,” Prince Muhamed said. “Otherwise I will authorize the use of deadly force. The women and her children are innocents—”
“There are no innocents,” McGarvey interrupted again, coming down hard on the prince. “I got that directly from bin Laden himself.”
“We are not involved with al-Quaida,” the prince shouted.
“Bullshit!”
McGarvey shouted back. “Pure, unadulterated bullshit. Now, you listen to me, Muhamed. You’re a bright man, and you have connections and influence. One, I want the immediate withdrawal of the terrorists here in my country. Two, I want an immediate exchange of hostages, my wife for Prince Salman’s wife and children.”
McGarvey shouted back. “Pure, unadulterated bullshit. Now, you listen to me, Muhamed. You’re a bright man, and you have connections and influence. One, I want the immediate withdrawal of the terrorists here in my country. Two, I want an immediate exchange of hostages, my wife for Prince Salman’s wife and children.”
“Do you actually believe that your wife is being held at our embassy? Is that why it’s under siege?”
“Do it now, Muhamed, and no one need get hurt. Except for Khalil. He’s mine,” McGarvey said. “I want your word.”
“I cannot give my word for something outside my abilities,” Prince Muhamed replied, heavily. “This is a very bad business between us. Your attack on our embassy will not be perceived well in the Arab world. And should some harm come to a member of the royal family, relations between our two countries will be strained even further. Perhaps to the breaking point.”
“Where was the outrage in the Arab world over 9/11?” McGarvey asked. He had hoped to gain something from the prince, but he wasn’t surprised that he’d been stonewalled. “The princess and her children will be released in two hours. Tell the security people there not to do anything foolish in the meantime.”
“It is you who is being the fool,” Prince Muhamed said.
“Continue to attack us and we will strike back,” McGarvey said. “Afghanistan and Iraq were just the first.” He broke the connection.
Pocketing his cell phone, McGarvey hoped he had at least bought Liese some time. Prince Muhamed was a powerful man within the royal family, and he would have a great deal of influence on the security people at Salman’s Lucerne compound. McGarvey got up, holstered his pistol, and checked out the window. There was no activity across the street, and only the occasional car driving past.
He checked the blocks of Semtex and fuses, pulled on his jacket, and left the apartment, taking the elevator all the way down to the basement
where he could leave the building from the loading area in the rear.
where he could leave the building from the loading area in the rear.
If he could reach the back entrance to Yarnell’s old house without being detected, he would have the advantage of surprise for the first several seconds. Enough, he thought, to get him inside.
For Katy. For the woman and child they’d tossed off the cruise ship. For 9/11. For every other horror men like bin Laden and his fanatical followers had done and were threatening to do.
Payback time started now.
Other books
The Real Peter Pan by Piers Dudgeon
Pushing Reset by K. Sterling
Three Is Just Enough by Jon Keys
Beloved Warrior by Patricia Potter
Disco for the Departed by Colin Cotterill
Return to Sender by Julie Cross
Always (Spiral of Bliss #5) by Nina Lane
Hard to Hold On by Shanora Williams
Seasoned Veteran by Roz Lee