Trojan Horse (35 page)

“I supervise people and occasionally carry out orders.”

“You mean you’re a terrorist,” Daryl snapped.

Ahmed laughed. “Hardly.”

“You kidnapped us. You were going to murder me.”

“Of course I wasn’t going to kill you. I do not kill, I do not bomb. We gather information. That is all, I assure you.”

“Get the bag, Jeff,” Daryl ordered. “This SOB is lying.” She moved much closer to him and squatted down. As Jeff went into the kitchen she said in a low voice, “Let’s see how you like it. I’m going to enjoy this.”

“All right, all right,” Ahmed said. “I will tell you everything. It is not so much. I supervise, like I said. We do this and do that, not so much.”

“And that woman?” Daryl said. “What about her?”

“What woman?”

“The one I found in your apartment,” Jeff said returning with a plastic shopping bag.

“Saliha, you mean? My girlfriend. What did she tell you?”

“The way this works is,
we
ask the questions. What does she do for you?” Daryl asked.

“She’s my girlfriend. What do you think she does?”

“That’s right, smirk,” Daryl said. She glared at him a moment, then snapped, “Give me that. He needs to learn manners.” Jeff handed her the bag. Daryl deftly slipped it over Ahmed’s head without preamble and closed it around his neck.

Ahmed reflexively drew a deep breath, the bag sticking across his mouth. He felt claustrophobic and in the grip of a panic attack. “All right, all right,” he said, his voice muffled by the plastic. “I’ll tell you.” She held the bag a moment longer before removing it. “Every few weeks I receive an e-mail. I copy the attachment to a USB key chain. She takes it to Turkey, then on to Iran.”

“A mule?” Jeff said. Why would anyone go to all that trouble to transfer data to Iran? It made no sense.

Daryl was there already. “Why not just e-mail it?”

“I don’t know. I just follow my instructions.”

Daryl moved to slip the bag back in place.

“All right, all right. They want no trail back to them from Iran.”

Jeff suddenly remembered. The woman was leaving on a trip. “Is she traveling for you today?” he asked with sudden comprehension.

Stupid woman,
Ahmed thought.
Talking to this man.
If he denied it the bag would just go over his head again. And at some point the woman might not remove it. “Yes. But she is gone by now. You can’t stop her.”

“What’s she taking this time?” Jeff asked. Something big, he was certain. That would explain a great deal.

Ahmed, who viewed himself as the ultimate pragmatist, felt his chest unexpectedly swell with pride. These two were weak like all Americans. Soon enough America would have to deal with a reborn Iran. “Stuxnet. You know about it, don’t you? You would in your field. She’s taking the fix to it. Soon, my friends, you will see a bright fireball in the Iranian desert and not long after . . .” Ahmed smiled. “It is already too late.”

Two Chinese men walking briskly in central Prague drew a few stares, Wu noticed. He slowed their pace and cautioned Li to not look so serious. “We are tourists or perhaps businessmen. We must not hurry.”

The morning-rush time was over and traffic was not as heavy as when they’d come into the city. Wu decided against a taxi. It would be just as fast to walk. Ahmed, he understood, was an Iranian operative stationed in Prague. He served a vital though unspecified role that benefited China. His status as an agent had been obvious by the nature of the apartment. It had been too clean for a normal single man, with none of the usual things Wu would have expected to find. A complete set of furniture for one. It was as if the man had just one foot in, the other ready to bolt.

Wu understood perfectly. It had taken him several years before he laid down the kind of detailed life someone living permanently would. Still, he kept a small bag in both his apartments, one in Istanbul, one in Ankara, and at a moment’s notice could be out the door. He’d noticed one in this man’s apartment. In addition, Wu rented a safe house in both cities, listed under another name, paid for in cash—apartments no one knew existed. And he had two passports beside his official one, each bundled with a supply of American dollars and euros.

Wu checked his phone as he walked. The cell phone he was tracking had not moved. “The next street,” he said to Li, who nodded in response. A few moments later they were at Krasova 702/34. The entry door was locked.

Wu rejected forcing it. “We’ll wait,” he said. He moved onto the street and kept the door under casual observation as he input the building address. It was listed in the man’s database as belonging to a known associate. Three minutes later an elderly woman came up, fumbled with her key, and opened the door. They quickly followed.

Wu glanced at the numbers on the ground floor. “The stairs,” he ordered. “Quickly now.”

“I didn’t like leaving him,” Daryl said on the street, “even if he did tell us about his girlfriend.” She’d taken a few minutes before leaving to wash up, removing as much blood as possible, combing her hair. “What should we do? Kill him?” Jeff asked.

Daryl didn’t answer. Her hand really hurt. She lifted it so she could take a good look. “We need to find a store or pharmacy. I have to fix this, get clothes, and get rid of this blood.” The paper towels were soaking with it.

They spotted a small pharmacy within two blocks, though drawing worried looks as people made way for them on the sidewalk. They looked as if they’d been in a fight. Jeff bought what he needed while Daryl waited discreetly outside. There were bloodstains all over her. The pharmacy sold tourist T-shirts. He bought one for her.
I
Prague!
Once her hand was properly bandaged and she’d ditched her blouse for the T-shirt, the couple took a taxi to Saliha’s address, which Ahmed had surrendered.

“Do you think we can catch her?” Daryl asked. She picked at her pants. There were stains on her thigh but these were not obviously blood as they had turned brown.

“I don’t know. Maybe. But she seemed in a hurry earlier and I delayed her.”

After Jeff paid for the taxi, Daryl said, “Let me talk to her, woman to woman. You’ve already threatened her and she ran away from you.”

“All right. But I’ll be nearby, just in case.”

The building was newer than the one they’d just left. The entrance was open and there was no concierge. They took the elevator to the fourth floor. Saliha’s apartment was the second on the left. Daryl knocked as Jeff placed himself with his back against the wall just beside her, ready to move at the slightest provocation.

A woman answered the door, opening it three or four inches.
“Jo?”

“I’m looking for Saliha,” Daryl said with her winning smile.

“Oh. You just missed her.”

“That’s really too bad. Could I talk to you?” Daryl asked. “It’s very important.”

“About what?” The door moved as if she was about to close it.

Daryl held up her bandaged hand. “About Ahmed, what he did to me. About the danger Saliha is in.”

There was a moment’s hesitation, then the voice said, “Come in.”

Ten minutes later Daryl emerged from the apartment smiling. “Come outside,” she said as she walked passed him toward the elevator. On the street she led him around the corner. There was a bench and she sat down, Jeff joining her.

“Her name is Ayten. She comes from Istanbul. She worked with Saliha at the same club for a while but now works somewhere else. Three women share the apartment. She doesn’t like Ahmed. She saw him with another woman and told Saliha he was cheating on her. She said Saliha makes trips to Ankara every few weeks to see her mother but Ahmed pays her so the trips are really for him. She doesn’t know why. She says Saliha was very upset when she arrived; said a maniac had tried to kidnap her.” Daryl stopped, gave Jeff a quick kiss and said, “Hello, maniac.” She drew a breath then continued, “Saliha wasn’t going to go on any more trips she’d told Ayten, but Ahmed is paying her a lot of money so this is the last one.”

“Is that it?”

Daryl smiled brightly. “Of course not. I have Saliha’s address in Ankara and her cell number. I also have her last name. Kaya.”

Jeff beamed. “Excellent.”

“So what do we do? If we contact the police, which one do we call?” Daryl asked. “And what do we tell them? I don’t want to explain the dead body back there. And you don’t want to say how you were able to find me.”

That,
Jeff thought,
is a very good question.
What counted was that he
had
found her, but in the rescue he’d painted himself into a pretty corner. The police in Geneva were going to be very upset with him. And at the least, here in Prague Daryl would have to account for the dead man. In an ideal world there would be no question of self-defense. She was, after all, a kidnap victim and the man had been one of her abductors.

But this wasn’t an ideal world and Jeff knew nothing about the Czech legal system or politics. Ahmed and the other men were Iranian operatives so the Iranian government would be applying pressure once they knew what had happened. Would the Czech government stand up to an emerging nuclear power? Or would it fold and take the easy way? It was likely Daryl would be held at the least and it was not out of the question she’d be charged with a crime of some kind. He told her what he was thinking.

“I’m not sticking around,” she said. “I need to get out of Dodge immediately. We both do. I’ll text any answers to questions the Czechs might have from the safety of an undisclosed location. What will the Swiss police do about you, do you think?”

“I don’t know. They’re upset with me, I’m sure. Maybe more.”

“We’re victims in this. And we aren’t without friends.”

“Maybe. I can’t be certain that’s how they’ll see this.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter, does it? We’re getting out of this country before that body is found. And we need to stop this woman if we can, don’t we? She’ll be in Turkey today. Once there she’ll just vanish. No one will be able to find her.” She thought a moment then said, “What about just calling her? We’ve got her number.”

Jeff shook his head. “She’s not going to listen to me and she doesn’t know you. It will just alert her and she’ll move even faster.”

“Maybe it will scare her off. She doesn’t sound very committed to this last trip.”

“I don’t think we can take that chance, do you?”

Daryl thought a moment then said, “She’s probably at the Prague airport waiting on the next flight to Turkey. How many can there be? Let’s worry about the rest after we’ve found her.”

PRAGUE 3, CZECH REPUBLIC

KRASOVA 702/34

9:16 A.M. CET

T
hey’d done a good job, Ahmed realized. He was tightly bound and not going to be able to get loose. The worst part was Karim’s body lying not that far away. Ahmed twisted and turned away from the gruesome sight.

How long would he lay here gagged? Did Karim ever have visitors? It was possible he could lay like this until he died. Now that would be a truly miserable death.

He’d told too much, he reminded himself. They hadn’t even tortured him. The mere threat was all it had taken. He was disgusted. But it was that woman. He’d have stood up to the man, he’d seen his humanity and had been willing to risk that he’d not take those final steps. But the woman . . .

He’d never seen anyone like her. He’d read somewhere that in earlier times the worst fate of any captive was to be turned over to a tribe’s women. Now he understood. After what he’d done to her she’d been capable of doing whatever was necessary to him, and very likely enjoying every minute of it. He hoped to Allah he never laid eyes on her again.

He twisted himself again and tested his binding. She’d tied him up, of course. He could already feel his hands growing numb.

And what to report to Hamid? He would want to know what they’d done to him to make him talk; worse, he might require he return to Iran for examination, so Ahmed couldn’t risk lying. Karim and Ali were dead. While he couldn’t reasonably be blamed for Ali’s death whose assignment had come directly from Hamid, he would be blamed for Karim’s. The killing in Geneva had carried no great risk; the worst outcome other than failure would have been Ali’s capture. The Swiss police were not known for using violence needlessly. He wondered what Ali had done to get himself shot. Or had it been some kind of terrible accident? Either way, the target was dead and that counted more than the life of a single agent.