Ricardo (The Santiago Brothers Book Three) (17 page)

Fatima’s death.

Abdul couldn’t have predicted Fatima’s unexpected passing. It was entirely possible that her death had actually delayed the plot as the sheik expected Abdul’s presence here in the desert for a period of mourning. Strange, for a billionaire sheik to take solace in the desert, but Hassan was different, in several respects, than other Arab nobility Ric knew. And Ric was grateful for his quirks.

There was enough food to feed the sheik for another day or two and then he’d give the order to pack everything and they’d drive to the nearest airport, where Hassan’s private jet would fly him and his inner circle back to London to resume his business duties. Ric estimated he had less than forty-eight hours to piece together the exact time and method of attack and relay that information up the chain of command before it was too late.

“I’ll call when I know more.” Ric ended the call as he made his way around the massive “kitchen” tent. A young server’s hand shook as he placed the cigarette to his lips and inhaled. Ric frowned. The guy was nervous. How could he trust him with the slightest bit of subterfuge?

Mehmet tossed the cigarette aside and rubbed at the matted stubble on his chin. Casually, Ric continued his walk toward the man and he rushed toward Ric. With two hands raised no farther than his waist, Ric motioned for the man to slow down.

“If Abdul sees me talking to you—”

“Then we’ll make this quick. You spoke with Rafiq earlier, correct?”

Mehmet nodded. “But I want something.”

They always do
. “Okay, what is it?”

“You are the sheik’s friend, yes? Can you get me a job in the UK?”

The UK? Terrorists were known to travel from the Middle East to cells operating across Europe. The UK was a hotbed for some of the most dangerous European terrorists. “Why the UK?”

Mehmet’s features softened as he hesitated to answer. The moment he spoke, Ric understood the haze in his eyes and the wistful smile on his face. “I miss her.”

“Her?”

“Alima,” he whispered. “I love her, and I don’t want to die out here in the desert.” His eyes became wild and he gripped Ric’s arm. “Please! If you can help me…”

It was always about a girl. “You’re Abdul’s cousin and he has the ear of the sheik. Why not ask him for assistance?”

“You don’t understand!” he cried frantically. “I want to be free of him. You have a large company, yes? There must be a job for me. I can cook or clean. I don’t care.”

Ric narrowed his eyes as he studied the young man. He wasn’t more than twenty-one and working for the sheik, even if it was in the kitchen, would lead to greater opportunities in the future. Many of Hassan’s workers were promoted or transferred to different companies with an excellent reference. “I don’t understand. Abdul is well-liked—”

“Hated, you mean. Men do not cross him. If they do, you never see them again.”

Mehmet closed his eyes, shook his head, and mumbled under his breath. Ric allowed him the time to compose himself.

“I did not want to work here, but my family does not refuse Abdul.”

“It seems he wanted to do you a favor. Why else would he choose you?”

“Because I’m old enough to die. He would not take children and would the sheik employ them?”

Old enough to die.
Instinctually, Ric believed the boy was being forced into training to become a suicide bomber, but he decided to bait him. “You seem to be thriving here. The job isn’t difficult and there are plenty of women.”

Mehmet’s shoulders sagged and his face twisted into desperation. “You don’t understand! I will not be here for long. Abdul will send me to train.”

“Train for what?”

Mehmet hesitated to respond. His eyes darted around. Fear crossed his features.

“You can trust me. Right now, Abdul doesn’t really like me for taking the woman he brought into camp.” Ric chuckled to add levity to their conversation. He wanted to ease Mehmet’s agitation, to loosen his tongue. “I just want to make sure my father’s companies won’t be damaged by Abdul’s business deals in Somalia. He’s made some what my father would consider…questionable associations.”

“He’s a terrorist!”

He yanked the man by his collar, and Ric hauled him around the other side of the tent. “Lower your voice,” he said through gritted teeth. He released his grip and practically launched the guy into the side of the tent. “You do understand the danger we’re in? If we’re overheard—”

“I apologize. I wasn’t think—”

“We could get killed.
If
Abdul is who you say he is. Do you understand?” He stepped forward. The fear in the man’s eyes fed his irritation and his desire to drive the point home. “Those type of men…they kill without a second thought.”

“I know! That is why I want to leave. I can still work for the sheik—”

“You think you’re safe with the sheik? Abdul’s men work right alongside you.” Mehmet had backed away from Ric’s advance, but Ric halted his movement with a fist to the collar once again. Ric yanked him forward so he could hear what he had to whisper. “If you don’t watch yourself, you’re a dead man,” he said harshly. There was little chance Mehmet would grasp the severity of the situation without Ric being direct, and his life — and the lives of Mel and Hakeem — would be forfeited if he didn’t do his due diligence and make the danger crystal-clear to the guy.

“Okay, let go!” Mehmet struggled to remove Ric’s hand from his shirt and didn’t succeed until Ric released him.

“Now, explain your accusation.”

Mehmet visibly swallowed before he released a shaky breath. “I overheard one of Abdul’s men discussing a shipment of rockets from Oman.”

“And?”

“And they are already in the UAE.”

“Who’s the supplier?”

The young man vigorously shook his head. “I do not know, but Abdul paid for them.”

“When did they arrive?”

“The man said the shipment was confirmed yesterday.”

Any hope of intercepting the weapons died with this news. The rockets would be in the hands of the attackers. “Who confirmed the shipment? Did you get a name of the contact in the UAE?”

Another shake of the head.

Ric released a frustrated breath. Abdul didn’t need to be at the embassy for the attack to take place. If he had a satellite phone, and Ric assumed he did, he could have already given the order. “Anything else?”

Mehmet shrugged. “Only that ‘the awakening’ will happen tomorrow or the next day, I’m not sure.”

Patience already past thin, Ric took a step toward the guy. “‘The awakening’? What is
that
supposed to mean? If you’re holding back—”

He raised his hands in defense, eyes wide with fright. “No, no! Nothing about…” He trailed off into silence as his eyes locked with Ric.

Ric stared back evenly and waited for the man to explain himself.

“They mentioned your woman.”

It was Ric’s turn to swallow. His dry throat forced him to clear his throat. The day was a typical scorcher, but Ric didn’t notice how his shirt clung to his sweaty skin just seconds before. Even with perspiration running down the sides of his face, his blood turned to ice.

His life meant nothing if given in service to his country. For years, he gave little thought to whether or not living a long life was important. In his line of work, retirement was a rarity. It never shocked him that his life could end decades before the established life expectancy of a healthy American male who regularly worked out, ate right, and didn’t smoke. The only regret he refused to dwell on was his mother would never know the particulars of his death — or why he chose a profession where his life would be forfeited. She’d want to know why it mattered so little to him and the image of her in tears, like she’d been when he was barely five years old with his throat slashed, was something he couldn’t bear to conjure. So, he didn’t think about it. He just lived each day as dangerously as possible, and loved every thrilling minute of it.

Until two days ago when he’d met Melody Lewis. Life — her life — was suddenly more precious than he could imagine. The change in him had been instantaneous. If he didn’t survive, neither would she. And after what she’d told him of Rafael and Alejandro, his regrets would be numerous if this mission ended with a star on the memorial wall of the CIA. “What about her,” he breathed.

“They have plans for her.”

Ric steadied his breathing in an attempt to stem his rising temper and impatience. “What plans,” he grounded out.

“Um…” He cleared his throat. “They don’t need her. Someone from Somalia will replace her so they, ah, plan to rape your woman and then bury her here in the desert.”

Ric didn’t know how long he’d stood there and stared at his source, but when he returned to reality and blinked, the man had scurried away. The sun was setting now and he had to return to Mel, whom he left in the care of Hakeem. After her discovery in Abdul’s tent earlier in the day, and Abdul’s subsequent attack on her that afternoon, it was clear that Ric couldn’t let her out of his sight. Hakeem had duties to attend to as part of the sheik’s waitstaff, as well as his clandestine activities for Ric.
There’s too much to do and we’re running out of time.
At least the method of attack was clear: rockets. With the attack occurring possibly tomorrow or the next day, Ric had a decision to make: leave now or try to stop Abdul himself.

Once again, Ric pulled out his satellite phone and dialed headquarters. As he waited for the connection, he walked northbound toward the opposite side of the encampment. He’d take a long way back to the tent in order to detect any surveillance of his activities. The time gave him the opportunity to muse over the new piece of information he’d received. A woman from Somalia had traveled to the UAE.
That’s why Abdul didn’t return Mel’s badge.
Had they targeted her specifically to use her credentials for the attack? When he heard his boss’s voice, Ric briefly relayed the information about the shipment of rockets, insisting his source had heard correctly and the receivers of the weapons had confirmed the shipment’s arrival.

“We’ll review every known facilitator in the area who does business with suppliers in Oman.”

Ric knew the list was extensive, but the date of arrival could help analysts narrow the scope of the intelligence traffic they’d have to review.

“In the meantime, Ric, you need to give us names, date, and time.”

“Abdul is definitely the financier and according to another source, ‘the awakening’ is supposed to happen within forty-eight hours. An exact time is unknown.”
And there probably isn’t time to find out.

“That sounds like code for the attack.”

“That’s what I’m guessing. Sir, there’s one more thing.”

“What is it?”

Ric released a long breath and then went into detail, as quickly as possible, about Mel’s kidnapping and the possibility of a female insurgent being part of the attack. His boss’s silence lasted about as long as a drop of water in the sand.

“So, you figured you’d keep this information to yourself? That is wasn’t important to mention the recovery of a kidnapped American citizen?”

“Sir, I just found out about the female from Somalia—”

“I’m talking about the US Marshal you’ve got warming your bed.”

“What did you say? I’m losing the connection.” Ric clicked off the phone. He hid it beneath his cloak and stomped back to the tent. He’d hear about the disrespect later and if his boss was in the mood — which he probably was — there’d be a disciplinary note in his personnel file. Ric didn’t care. How often was he in the office to view his file anyway? Worrying about his record meant little compared to the mission and the threat to American lives. His head had to be clear if he wanted to succeed.

However, with Melody’s safety in jeopardy, the slightest doubt took hold in his mind and rapidly sprouted.

****

Mel moaned and rolled over onto her side. She’d developed a headache right after dinner with Hakeem and decided to go to sleep early. By the time she’d taken a quick bath, Ric hadn’t returned to the tent. Believing him to be out developing more information on the planned bombing, Mel’s headache worsened and she shut her eyes to the pain and her situation.

The headache was gone and with it, her restless slumber. She cracked open her eyelids. Darkness had finally descended and the cool degree of the tent soothed her agitated spirit. She released a deep sigh and opened her eyes fully. When she sat up, she nearly screamed at the dark silhouette in the chair at the far corner of the room. “Ric?”

“Did I wake you?”

Mel shook her head, and then thought he probably couldn’t really see her in the dark. “No,” she responded softly.

“Are you feeling alright?”

“I had a headache. I’m better now.”

“You’re sure? I could get you something for it.”

“No, thanks. Where were you?”

“Checking in with base and meeting a contact.”

Mel arranged the pillows to prop her back. She peered at him through the ebony shade. He remained fixed in his position. “Anything new?” He didn’t answer right away and her instincts kicked in. Something was off.

“I have a lead.” He finally spoke.

Mel cleared her throat. “Ah…you think it’s substantial?”

“Absolutely.”

His stilted tone and the forced conversation put her on edge. Was he hiding something? “Ric, what’s wrong?”

He moved from his chair and came around the bed to kneel by her side. He took her hands in his and clutched them tightly. “Melody, we have to get out of here.”

His voice was deadly calm and barely a whisper. It sent shivers through her; he sensed her discomfort and squeezed her hands. “Ric, we’re going to leave when you’ve finished your mission, right?”

He shook his head. “I’m calling it. We need to leave…now.”

Mel propped herself up on her elbow. “Right now?”

“By morning at the latest. It’ll be sunrise in about an hour.”

“Did you sleep at all?”

“No.”

The urgency in his voice made her skin crawl with dread. “Ric, what happened?”

“Abdul is planning the attack on the embassy. In my gut, I know the attack is imminent. Insurgents and weapons are already in place. We’ve got to get out of here before Abdul realizes that I know.”