No Remorse (20 page)

“What men?” Tally asked, standing between Mai and the computers.

“I don’t know!”

The woman had replied too quickly, too emphatically. It was obvious that she knew something, Tally decided. It appeared Mac had rescued them.

“Where did they kidnap you?” Mac asked her gently.

“What?” Tally shifted her eyes from Mac to Mai and back. She hurried over and peered through the door’s security viewer. There was nobody in the corridor.

Mai took a deep breath. “Manchester. They drugged me. Next thing we were on Khalid’s aircraft.”

“Sheik Khalid Yubani?” Tally said.

“You have heard of him? They were taking us to his boat. They said they would torture us and kill us.”

“But you came through Immigration?”

“They threatened to kill my husband if I spoke up. Mai wiped tears from her cheeks. “And they paid one of the officials.”

“You’re Bill Fanning’s wife.” Tally could recall the information on Fanning and his family from the files.

The woman visibly flinched. “How do you know my name?” She stared at Tally, then at Mac. “Please, will you call the police?”

“We can’t.” Mac shook his head. “What would you tell them? That two men were taking you to your husband? Here, a wife’s place is with her husband.”

“I know that. Our home and Bill’s office is in Dubai. But I took our son back to England to stay with relatives while he was working on Andaran. Now Khalid is holding him prisoner!”

Mac turned and exchanged glances with Tally. “But why? And would Khalid admit that to the police that walk onto the
Princess Aliya
? Unlikely. He might suggest that you are an estranged wife trying to steal Bill’s son.”

“No!” Mai said.

Tally sat down next to her. They could not afford to have police involved. “But, Mai, as you would know, it’s all in the interpretation. And Khalid has considerable influence here.”

Mai was breathing rapidly, her mouth quivering. “We have to help my husband!” Panic in her voice.

“What’s he been doing to make them want you so badly?” Mac asked.

Mai lowered her eyes, shook her head. “Just… supervising construction of a…hotel.” She glanced at the computer equipment. “Please, will you help me?”

“We have to get you out of Dubai, out of Khalid’s reach,” Mac said. “Tonight.”

“But Bill…” Mai looked at them both.

“Once you’re safely out, you can contact the police. Interpol.”

Mai gazed at her son asleep in her lap and nodded. “He told me to stay hidden until he can get away. We’ll go home, where my family can hide us.”

Mac nodded. “Excuse me while I get some dry clothes on.”

Tally followed him into his bedroom. “I can’t leave now,” she whispered.

He started taking off his wet clothes. “Look, I shot the two guys taking her to the boat. Tomorrow morning this place will be swarming with cops. You need to start packing the computers.” He dumped his shirt and sweater on the floor and pulled off his sneakers. Undid his pants.

She turned her back. The arrogance of the man. “Who do you think you are, giving the orders?”

“The hotel staff saw me with her. We’re on the security tapes.”

Tally closed her eyes. This was the nightmare Derek had feared. The man was a loose cannon. “Those people you shot…?”

“Dead, yes. Usually what happens when I shoot someone.”

“Can’t you aim a little lower, to the right or something?”

“I had no choice…”

“That’s always your excuse, isn’t it? I
had
to do it. Khalid’s due back from the funeral tomorrow. I had the perfect opportunity and you go and screw it up!”

Mac took the towel from her hair. “Oh, get over it.”

She turned to face him. The towel was around his waist. Her eyes dropped to his bare chest, and she breathed in sharply when she saw the scars. Forgot what she was going to say.

Mac grasped her upper arms with his strong hands. “Look, Tally, you want to end up in a Dubai prison for life? You want Mai and her son to be killed? Well? Do you?”

His tight grip unleashed a wave of panic as images of Austin’s violence overwhelmed her. She was shaking, wanting to throw up. Then suddenly, from somewhere inside, the rage took over.

“Let. Go. Of. Me.”

He released her and stepped back, crossing his arms. “Well?”

Tally could hear herself breathing hard, exhaling out her nose like a raging bull. “Don’t you
ever
do that to me again.”

He raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms. “Or what, you’ll throw a tantrum? There’s no HR Manager to run to here, girlie. You’re in the field now, and we have killers just about up our ass. Deal with it. Now, are you up to it or not?”

She shifted position on her feet to kick out between his legs, but he uncrossed his arms, was clearly expecting it. “You’ll find out if you ever fucking grab me like that again,” she said in a low tone, glancing towards the door. She took a deep breath and brought herself under control. “You go. I’m staying.”

“We can come back again when it blows over.”

She shook her head. “I need to wait for Khalid so I can drop a keylogger on his computer. I’ll call Derek. He can decide.”

Mac said: “I’m listening in. Put him on loudspeaker.”

They went into the bathroom and closed the door so they could listen out of Mai’s earshot.

Wisebaum was livid. “Christ, Mac! You and trouble are like a donut and its fucking hole!” There was silence for a moment. “Okay. You
both
need to get the fuck out of there. Now! Lock down the computers and I’ll have some CIA guys come over right away and collect them. Leave your room keys in an envelope at the front desk addressed to Mr. T. Woods. Call me when you’re out.”

Tally said: “What about Mai’s husband, Bill? He’s—”

“The first fucking plane out!”

Wisebaum hung up.

As Sadiq helped Fanning from his cabin, Ziad returned to his laptop and the email sent him by Rockfire. Whoever Rockfire was, he was not the first one to use that code name. The first had been the man who had recruited Ziad for Al Qaeda, an engineering lecturer at Karachi University. But his recruiter was long dead. Ziad had heard that he had been killed four years ago by a US drone in South Waziristan. Still, Rockfire continued to email him, like a ghost. This did not matter to Ziad, because whoever Rockfire was now, it was someone close to the current leader. Even more so since the Americans had been using the drones, cells of Al Qaeda were deliberately maintained with minimal linkages to avoid detection by intelligence agencies.

Now, as he sent off his reply to Rockfire, Ziad was convinced that Al Qaeda had arranged Abu-Bakr’s death. He wondered which of Khalid’s guests at the banquet had passed on the information about the girl’s rare blood type. Clearly, the man requiring the organ must be important. Rockfire had not even bothered to ask the price. After some consideration, Ziad decided it would be best to wait several days before discussing the matter with Sheik Khalid, in case he became suspicious about the request coming so soon after his father’s death.

His phone squawked its ringtone, jarring him back to the present. It was Ali, who’d gone to check why the Russians were so late. They should have arrived two hours ago with the woman. He hoped there wasn’t a problem with his man at Dubai Immigration. It was probably just a traffic jam on Sheik Zayed Road.

“Yes.”

“Ziad, come quickly! The walkway near the hotel!”

“Ali?”

Ali had disconnected.

Irate at being spoken to in such an impudent manner, Ziad hurried down the pathway. Ali materialized through the smoky fog. “Why do you call me out like this?”

Ali pointed towards the thicket of bougainvillea.

He squinted, trying to make out what Ali was pointing at. Then he saw the two bodies. He crouched down and rolled the first body over. The dead eyes belonged to Evgeny. No pulse, and the body was cool.

“Y’Allah! This happened some time ago. Look around!” He withdrew his weapon and scanned the area, in case of an ambush. “Did you see the woman and child?”

Ali shook his head. “Gone.”

“Y’Allah!” Was this a plot to free Fanning? He dialed Sadiq. “Is Fanning still in his cabin?”

“Yes. Shall I bring him to you?”

“No. But be on alert. Someone shot Evgeny and Oleg and took the wife and child. Don’t say anything to Fanning.” He stabbed the button to disconnect. “Ali, fetch two laundry trolleys. I’ll look for the woman.”

He ran to the car park and as he looked around, he dialed Captain Jergah, ordering him to arm the crew against any raid. It was impossible to see more than a few feet in the cursed fog. He hurried inside the Arabian Castles Hotel. Offering the senior duty porter one hundred dirhams, he said: “Have you seen an Asian woman with a small boy?”

The porter took the money and nodded. “I have, sir. They left about an hour ago. With another couple.”

“A couple?”

“A man and a woman.”

“Where were they going?”

The man shrugged.

“Luggage?”

“Yes, sir.”

He slapped another hundred in his hand. “Find out their names. Another two hundred when you bring them to me. Five hundred for their room key.”

The porter nodded. “Thank you.” He sauntered off and disappeared through a Staff Only door.

Who were these meddlers? Was it the Israelis, who Sheik Khalid had said were threatening his father? Regardless, he would suffer a severe loss of face if he didn’t recapture Mai. They had luggage, so they probably went to the airport. He might still be able to stop them.

His phone rang. It was Sadiq, who told him that two crewmen had been found attacked and badly injured down near the cells. They were still unconscious and Dr. Gammal said they would need hospital care. An ambulance was on its way.

Ziad closed his eyes against the pounding that had started in his head. He didn’t speak for a long moment. Why would these intruders be down in the hold rather than trying to rescue Fanning from his cabin?

“Are you there?” came Sadiq’s voice through the phone.

“Search the ship. Tell the crew there’s a reward if any intruder is captured dead or alive. Check the security cameras. I want pictures.”

The porter returned almost fifteen minutes later. “It was difficult,” he said, discreetly passing him a folded sheet and room key. “Room 1221.”

He entered the elevator. Three tall westerners in suits ran to catch the elevator with him and stood facing the doors, their backs to him, saying nothing. One of them pressed the button for 12.

“What floor?” one of the men asked him.

Suddenly, Ziad had a bad feeling about these men.

“Twenty-five,” he said. The restaurant floor. He would come back later with reinforcements to check the room.

Back outside the hotel, he dialed Inspector Fareed Al Bohameed, his man in Dubai Police. The phone went to voicemail. He dialed again, cursing the man, and left an abrupt message. Bohameed was paid to be on standby at all times. By the time the police inspector returned his call the next morning, with profuse apologies and weak excuses, it was too late.

While Tally went with Mai and George to the transit gate at Heathrow, Mac made two calls. Despite his and Tally’s assurances, Mai had insisted on continuing on to Thailand. Her family lived on Phuket, she had explained. They would hide her and George. She refused to divulge anything more about her husband’s work, saying she’d take up Bill’s situation with the British Embassy. That was probably her best bet, Mac thought, but he wondered how she would explain her escape. Mai had bowed slightly, her hands in the position of Buddhist prayer, and told them that she was extremely grateful for helping them. But until Bill was safe, she said, she couldn’t tell them any more.

Mac gave her his number, just in case.

He knew he had to call Wisebaum, but put it off a little longer. He dialed Bob’s cell phone. Elena answered, and immediately Mac felt his pulse notch up a rate. “Where’s Bob? Is he okay, El?”

“He’s in hospital again, Mac. He needed surgery to repair lacerations in the hamstring that weren’t properly fixed in Martinique. The doctor said it’s not serious. Any news I can pass on? Wade and I are about to go in to see him.”

“I wish I could report back something more specific, El, but tell him I believe we’re getting closer. I don’t want to raise any false hope. I’ll call again soon.”

“Thank you, Mac. You’ve no idea how much what you’re doing means to both… to
all
of us.”

Derek Wisebaum was not as appreciative.

“Let me tell you, Mac, the Director is not impressed. Me neither. One helluva lot of resources go into an operation like this… And don’t think I don’t know about the guy you offed with the bolt cutter on Martinique. If you end up on Interpol’s wanted list, you’ll be no fucking use to us at all.”

He stayed silent. Wisebaum hadn’t mentioned Emil Bladelescu. Tally mustn’t have told him, and that made him feel good.

“You got that, Mac?”

“I got it.”

“You two are finished in Dubai. I’m gonna have to send Rosco over to try and patch up the mess. I’ve spoken to the Director. He’s embarrassed, Mac. Embarrassed that he selected you for this job. I had to strongly argue against you being returned to Fort Bragg. And you know what that means, buddy.”

“You want me to quit?”

“Fuck it, Mac. You can’t quit! I thought that was made abundantly clear. The options are prison or do as you’re told. Now, the Director wants you and Tal to hightail it down to Andaran, before Khalid goes there again. Your task is to report back on what’s going on at the Yubani Resort. Tally will handle the network penetration thing. You are
not
to kill anyone. Is that clear?”

“Crystal.”

Wisebaum gave an audible sigh. “I hope so. Remember, you’re on strike two, Mac. I’ll organize some gear and a cover story. Andaran’s run by the military. They don’t exactly encourage tourists. Which is why our friend Khalid has based himself there.”

“We’ll be fine.”

“Okay. We’ll send the gear on ASAP. I suggest you play the role of a developer of tourist hotels on his honeymoon. That’ll give you the opportunity to ask questions about the resort. And just in case you didn’t get my drift, I reiterate what I said before: another incident like Dubai will be strike three. Back to Fort Bragg. Or should I say Fort Brig.”