A Deceit to Die For (84 page)

“Killing my father, attempting to kill my sister and then kidnapping my wife and children didn’t exactly inspire a lot of confidence in your good faith.”

There was another silence.

“For what it is worth, your father’s death was an accident.”

“Which still leaves him dead, now doesn’t it? So, it’s not worth shit. If you want your sixty million dollars back, my wife and children must be delivered safe and unharmed. In fact, I want to speak with them.”

“You’re not in a position to bargain, Mr. O’Brien. I think your family is worth more to you than the money is to me. If I were willing to walk away from this and say, ‘You keep the money and I’ll keep your little girl,’ that would not make you happy, now would it?”

Gilbert fought to keep his anger in check. He was going to have to show some of his cards and hope the bluff would work.

“Listen, you’ll never find the key-logger, which means reformatting or maybe even replacing every hard disk in your operation. That’ll cost you thousands of man-hours. Plus, you’ll never know which of your operations have been jeopardized by the information I’ve gathered. What’s worse, before you’re even finished erasing the sensitive stuff, I can have the Cairo police swarming all over you. How would your boss feel about that?

The voice on the other end chuckled.

“Mr. O’Brien, we are the police in Cairo. Surely, you are not that naïve.”

Gilbert didn’t know what to say.

“I’m only trying to clean up a mess made by our people in London. Your father’s death really was an accident. Our people should have talked with you about it. I would have done that if I had been in charge then.”

“All we have to talk about now is when you are going to return my family.”

“In exchange for the document and the money.”

“No, the money is the price you pay for my father’s death.”

“Mr. O’Brien, I’m sure your father already had life insurance. You can collect that.”

“We’ll have to assume he didn’t.”

“I could return your family, and then have all of you killed within forty-eight hours.”

“Of course you could,” Gilbert said sarcastically. “But, you still haven’t found me, even with the FBI’s help. Not very convincing.”

The man ignored him. “Do you have the document?”

“Maybe.”

“Let’s not play games, Mr. O’Brien. I want the money and the document, in return for which I will give you your family. Do you have it?”

“Yes, but if I return it, how do I know my family will be safe?”

“You don’t.” The man’s voice was absolutely frosty.

“No deal,” said Gilbert abruptly. “My agent will be in touch shortly.”

He terminated the call, extended a twenty lira note to the driver and asked to be let out. As soon as the taxi was out of sight, he hailed another cab going in the opposite direction. He hoped Zeki was ready.

><><><
 

V
IENNA
 
 
“Put it on speaker,” Zeki said softly.

On the third ring, a man with a British accent answered.

“Hello, Ismail. Is it done?”

“Salih, we’ve got a problem,” the man replied looking nervously at Zeki. “I need to speak with the Cairo office.”

“Cairo? What in the world for?”

“The operation’s been compromised.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“You’re going to have to make an exception.”

“There are no exceptions, Ismail.”

Zeki picked up the phone.

“There are always exceptions, Salih. Exceptions are what prove the rule. It’s nice to finally meet you. I was getting bored with the cryptic first name references in the logs.”

“Who is this?”

“The man you’ve been looking for but cannot find.”

He paused for just a second to let that sink in.

“O’Brien?”

“No, his friend.”

“Zeki?”

“Bingo
.
It’s an interesting game by the way. Do you know it?”

“Never played.”

“Really? I can believe that coming from you. You see, in Bingo, it’s about getting all your ducks in a row. Apparently, you’re not very good at that.”

“
Gebertecegim seni.
”

“I don’t think so. Anyway, I’m here to turn in my winning Bingo card. If you don’t release O’Brien’s family tonight, the whole world is going to know that Fatih Gülben stole the Gospel of Barnabas from the Augustinerlesesaal and tried to frame the Vatican for it. I wonder what that will do for his reputation and your UN initiative.”

“You could never pull it off.”

“I already have. Why don’t you confirm it with Father Franchini?” said Zeki, giving the phone to Ismail.

“It’s true, Salih. I’ve seen the proof.”

Zeki took the phone back.

“Now, I want Ahmet, the one in Cairo, to call me back within the next five minutes.”

“I may not be able to . . .”

Zeki closed the phone and set it back down on the table. Ismail looked at him with disgust and virtually spat his question through clenched teeth.

“How could you do this?”

“Do what?”

“Betray your own people.”

“Was Molla Kabiz a traitor?”

“Who was Molla Kabiz?”

“The only thing worse than trying to have a conversation with a fool is trying to have one with an ignorant fool. If there is a traitor here, it is you.
You
have betrayed everything decent.
You
have chosen to deal in lies and deceit.”

“Deception is permitted in the way of jihad.”

“Does that ring true to you? In your heart?”

“That is the teaching of Islam.”

“That’s not what I asked you.” said Zeki, quietly but firmly. “But you have obviously never tested your religion to see if it violates your conscience.”

“We are slaves of Allah. We do not question His wisdom.”

“Right, of course. But, did it never occur to you to question the wisdom of man?”

The phone on the table vibrated. This would be Cairo.

“
As-salamu alaykum.
”

“
Wa Alaykum As-salam
. Mr. Öztürk, I presume.”

“At your service.”

“If you were on the right side in all of this, I would certainly avail myself of your services.”

“But, I am on the right side.”

“The right side is my side. I don’t suppose you’re calling to tell me you’re coming to work for us.”

“Not exactly, nor do I intend to discuss with you the philosophy of religion. Salih has told you about your predicament?”

“Yes.”

“Then we have a deal?”

“We’ll return O’Brien’s family safely if he gives us the document and the money, and you agree to return the G.O.B. without implicating the Rightly Guided One.”

“I’ll make sure the G.O.B. is returned within a week.”

“Forty-eight hours.”

“Ten days, and I make no guarantees about the money. You’ll have to talk to Mr. O’Brien about that. In fact, you’ll need to call him within half an hour and let him speak with his family.”

Ahmet stopped. He knew he was beaten.

“Fine, ten days then. Are we done here?”

“No, we’re not done.”

“What else do you want?”

“To give you a message.”

Zeki left the sentence hanging.

“So, what’s the message?” asked Ahmet impatiently.

“Your days are numbered.”

“True for us all, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but in your case, I’m the one doing the counting. You will wake up one day soon to see me standing over you, and I won’t be carrying a bowstring either.”

Zeki hung up the phone and turned to Ismail.

“You can go now, but leave the fake copy of the G.O.B. you prepared on the table. I’ll keep your phone too and let my friends outside know you’re free to go.”

The man stood up indecisively, pulled a book from underneath his jacket, turned abruptly and walked slowly towards the exit. Zeki pulled out his own phone and hit speed dial when the man was out of earshot.

“He’s on his way out. Let him go but keep a tail on him. Make sure I don’t pick one up as I leave either. I’ll sit in the church for fifteen minutes after I leave as we planned. Did you contact the real Father Franchini?”

“Yes,” answered Patrick. “He is with the Italian police now and since the swap didn’t take place, I’m sure that if their plan was to kill him, they will be calling that off now anyway. Did you get what you wanted?”

“Everything and more. I’ll be walking down the stairs in two minutes. I owe you, Patrick. Look after Sally.”

Five minutes later, he walked out of Augustinerlesesaal, across the cobblestone square to the entrance of the Augustiner church. Instinctively, he bent down to remove his shoes, and then remembered that in the West, they didn’t do this when entering a place of worship. It felt sacrilegious somehow, so he took them off anyway and held them in his hand. As he passed into the sanctuary, his eyes were automatically drawn heavenwards by the vast expanse and the sheer height of the ceiling. Rows of empty pews stretched down towards an ornate altar.

About halfway down the aisle, he chose a pew on the right side, sat down, pulled out the man’s cell phone and began scanning the list of recent calls. The phone had no directory. It had probably been purchased within the last week. There were numbers from Italy, Turkey, Egypt, Albania and the UK. He would have time to examine the phone numbers later.

As he sat there considering his next move, an awareness that he was not alone popped suddenly to the surface of his consciousness like a pool ball held underwater. Without moving, he tried to pinpoint the source of this presence. Then, he heard the sound of soft shoes shuffling across the stone floor. Half afraid of what he would see, he swiveled in the smooth, wooden pew and looked behind him to find that it was only a monk on the balcony. Ten seconds later, the church organ took a deep breath and came to life. The beautiful notes of a hymn being rehearsed for Sunday mass filled the sanctuary like incense.

The majesty and dignity of the music was augmented and refined by the setting and its acoustics. It was magical. Zeki looked around the empty room and imagined the pews filled with parishioners lifting their voices in praise to God. He knew it would have been an impressive sight. He could imagine only too well the power, the grandeur, the pride that people would have felt worshipping in a place as beautiful as this. It was enchanting.