The Solomon Scroll (6 page)

"Copy that," Elizabeth answered. "We see you."

They followed the BMW through heavy traffic. The white car continued past the point where Abidi normally turned off toward his warehouse. It kept going, headed south.

The shabby high rise buildings of the city gave way to flat roofed slums two and three stories high. The street was potholed, dirty. Emaciated dogs lay unmoving in the sun or rooted in piles of trash by the side of the road. Bearded men carrying rifles seemed to be everywhere, watching the Mercedes go by with suspicious eyes.

The flag of Hezbollah flew from almost every building, a stylized assault rifle in green against a bright yellow background. Red and green letters in Arabic completed the design.

"Hezbollah country," Nick said. "I don't like this. If something happens we're outgunned."

"What does the Arabic on the flag say?" Ronnie asked.

Selena said, "The main logo under the rifle says Party of God. The rest of it says they'll be victorious and that they are the resistance in Lebanon."

"Yeah, right," Diego said. "Resistance to what? They're the main reason this country is so screwed up."

"Where's Abidi going?" Ronnie watched the white BMW ahead.

Traffic was light along the highway. Nick dropped back. It was easy to see the distinctive white car.

"How would I know? Maybe it will give us an opportunity to grab him. Director, are you following?"

"Affirmative, Nick. Stay back and don't engage. Let's see what he's up to."

"Copy."

On the open highway the big BMW carrying Abidi picked up speed. The Mercedes was a rental, older. Nick hoped it was up to the task. It was 104° outside. He kept a wary eye on the temperature gauge. Off to their right, the blue Mediterranean swept by, the kind of view tourists died for. In Lebanon, dying for a view could turn out to be more than just a phrase.

They had only gone a few miles from the city when they entered another stretch of slums. The BMW slowed before turning in toward a walled compound. The car pulled up in front of a massive iron gate set in a high wall. Beyond, Nick glimpsed a large villa. He continued past for another mile until he was out of the built up area and pulled over to the side of the road.

"Director, can you get any info on that villa?"

"Not yet. Wait one."

In Virginia Elizabeth said, "Steph, focus on that building."

Stephanie touched her keyboard. The drone camera zoomed in on the compound.

"Nick," Elizabeth said, "I don't know who's in there it looks like it's heavily fortified. There's a guardhouse. Two men patrolling. Razor wire on the walls."

"Who owns it?"

"I'm on it," Stephanie said.

She entered a string of commands, using the drone to pin down the location and from there a specific address. That led to a string of documents.

"I've got records. They're in Arabic."

"Send them to Selena," Elizabeth said. "Selena, I'm sending you something for translation."

Stephanie pressed a key. In Lebanon, Selena's phone played
Love Me Tender.

"Elvis?" Ronnie said.

"I like him."

"Retro," Diego said. "I would've figured you for something a little newer."

"I don't care much for modern music," Selena said. "With Elvis I can understand what he's singing about."

Diego rolled his eyes.

Nick lowered the windows. "Hot," he said.

"Be glad you're not wearing this outfit," Selena said. "It's like being in a sauna."

"Nick, Abidi is coming out of the house."

"Copy."

He started the car, waited for a truck to pass by and made a U-turn back toward the villa. They saw the white BMW ahead and followed it back toward Beirut.

Selena was reading the Arabic documents that Elizabeth had sent.

"The villa belongs to someone called Al-Bayati," Selena said.

"Never heard of him."

"I have," Elizabeth said over the interlink. "He deals in black market information. Classified weapons technology, industrial spying, things like that."

"Sounds like a real philanthropist," Nick said.

"Go talk to Abidi."

"Copy, Director."

CHAPTER 12

The heat of the night was offset by a cooling breeze from the Mediterranean. They'd parked half a block down from Abidi's building. A sodium filled street light reflected from the green storefront on the ground floor, painting the sidewalk a sickly color.

Their dust-streaked Mercedes attracted no attention. The German cars were popular in Lebanon. Three others parked on the block were almost identical.

"A lot of activity in that store," Diego said.

"It's a Hezbollah front. Anybody in there is trouble."

"Going to be hard getting through that."

"We're not going through that," Nick said. "We'll wait for him to come out."

He looked at his watch. "It's early yet. Nothing gets going here till 10 o'clock. Chances are he'll come out for the nightlife like he did the night before last. It's the thing to do here."

"If he doesn't?"

"Then we'll come back tomorrow."

An hour later Yusuf Abidi came out with his bodyguards. Abidi wore dark slacks, polished shoes, sunglasses, a white shirt with a long pointed collar and a linen sport jacket. He had a thick gold chain around his neck. He was joking with one of the guards.

"Man about town," Ronnie said.

The white BMW pulled up and Abidi got in with the guards. Nick waited until the car was a block away before pulling out to follow them. The BMW was easy to keep in sight. They headed east, out of the Muslim section of the city. After twenty minutes the car pulled up in front of a nightclub. A line of men and women stretched from the entrance, corralled behind a red velvet rope. A very large man stood at the entrance letting people enter according to some inner criteria. The men were dressed in ways similar to Abidi. The women were about as far away from the Muslim standard of dress as could be. The scene could have been in Paris or New York.

Diego whistled. "Whoa, those women are hot."

They were. High heels, short skirts and low cut blouses seemed to be the norm. Nick thought he saw a pattern about who got in and who was turned away. Hot was in. Not so hot was out.

Abidi got out of his car with his bodyguards. The bouncer held everyone back while the arms dealer went into the club.

"We passed an alley next to the club," Ronnie said. "There has to be a side entrance."

"I see what you're thinking," Nick said. "Get him into the alley and take him somewhere where we can talk to him."

"You got it."

"How do you plan to do that?" Selena asked.

Nick and Ronnie looked at each other. "Use you as bait," Nick said.

"You've got to be kidding."

"You can lose the scarf and do something with the outfit you're wearing under that long dress," Nick said. "This isn't the Muslim section."

"You want me to go in there?"

"I'll go with you."

"I don't think that's a good idea. You don't look like you belong and you don't speak Arabic."

"I can speak it," Diego said. "I can pass for someone who might be from the Middle East."

"Where did you learn Arabic?" Selena asked.

"I picked it up in Afghanistan. I was going to try for Delta. Those guys all have to speak two or three languages."

Nick drove past the club as they talked. Two blocks away he pulled to the curb and let the engine idle.

"Diego, you go in with her. Leave the talking to Selena. Bribe the bouncer. With Selena's looks it should be all right. Ronnie and I will stay with the car and be ready to roll."

"If they let us in, what do you want me to do?" Selena asked.

"Find Abidi and get him outside. This is our best bet. We can't take him at his building."

"We could go after him in his car," Diego said.

"We could. But it will mean a shoot out on the street. You saw what those guards are packing. He's not going to start something in there, it's too crowded."

"Makes sense."

"Selena, what do you think?"

"How do we get into these situations, anyway? I guess there isn't a better choice."

"Think of it as a chance to show off your acting skills."

"The only acting I ever did was as a daffodil in the first grade."

"Then it's time to upgrade your resumé."

CHAPTER 13

Selena changed in the car. The scarf was the first thing to go. She shed the drab dress, revealing a blue silk blouse and short black skirt she was wearing underneath.

She handed Nick her pistol.

"You'd better take this."

"You might need it."

"Where am I supposed to put it? If this works, Abidi will be groping me in no time. A Sig isn't what he wants to feel."

"You have a point," Nick said, "but I don't much like it."

"The groping or leaving the pistol?"

"Both."

"Remember, this was your idea."

She ruffled her hair with her fingers and looked in the car mirror. The way her hair was cut made it easy to turn it into something a little wild.

"You're lucky I like to be prepared," she said. "Hand me my bag."

From the bag she took out a pair of black spike heels and put them on. Usually Selena wore little makeup. This situation called for something different. She looked through a small cosmetics bag and chose a lipstick that accentuated her full lips. She did something with her eyes. All of it only took a few minutes.

When she got out of the car, the transformation was startling. She looked ready for a night in Beirut.

"Whoa," Diego said.

Ronnie whistled.

Nick scratched his ear. "Be careful," he said.

She walked to the head of the line with Diego and smiled at the bouncer. Diego slipped him a hundred dollars American. A minute later they were inside.

The club was a converted industrial warehouse, the interior huge and jammed with people. The roof overhead was thirty feet high, lined with exposed steel rafters and metal scaffolding crowded with banks of stage lights. A hothouse atmosphere of body odor, alcohol and lust assaulted their senses. A polished floor bigger than three or four basketball courts was a swirling sea of sweating people dancing to loud rock music. The volume bordered on painful.

Colored lights swept over the crowd pulsing in time to the music and drenching the dancers in purple, green, yellow and red. From time to time the lights changed to a bright white strobe rhythm that painted the room in frozen flashes of black and white. A raised stage dominated one end of the dance floor where a DJ looked down on the horde of dancers. He grinned like a demonic maestro conducting an orchestra of the damned, rocking to the rhythms and adjusting lights and music as the mood suited him.

To the left of the room was a long bar where people stood shoulder to shoulder three and four deep, holding their drinks and shouting at each other over the noise. To the right was an area crowded with tables. Beyond the tables was a roped off section with couches of red leather. Selena spotted Abidi on one of the couches. He had a drink in his hand. A blonde with large breasts straining against a red blouse sat close to him on his left. His guards stood nearby, watching the crowd.

"I see him," Selena said. "On the couch next to the blonde."

"Looks like he's having a good time." Diego scanned the room. "The alley exit is over there. Right past the couches and next to the restrooms."

He paused. "How do you want to play it?"

"He hasn't seen us yet. Why don't you get us drinks. We'll separate. You get over by the restrooms and be ready. Make sure that door will open. I'll convince him that a quickie in the alley with a handsome guy like him would be fun."

Diego raised his eyebrows. "Handsome? He looks like something out of a bad 70s movie set in Miami."

"Men like him are predictable," she said. "I'll have to deal with the competition and it might take a little while to get the message across. Just be ready to move. His bodyguards may decide to come along for the show. That's where you come in. Don't leave me out there in the alley with that creep and his goons by myself."

She touched the transceiver in her ear. "Nick, did you copy that?"

Static. "Copy."

"Why don't you get me a martini?" she said to Diego. "Vodka."

"Shaken or stirred?"

"Do I look like James Bond? Just so long as it's wet."

Diego laughed. A few minutes later he was back with the drinks. Selena took the glass and sipped.

"Lousy vodka." Selena felt the adrenaline rush kick in, the fine high that was like no other she'd ever experienced. It was one of the things that kept her working for Elizabeth.

"Let's do it," she said to Diego.

Outside in the Mercedes, Nick drove around the block until he came back to the front of the club. The line at the door had gotten longer. It stretched toward them and around the corner, away from the side with the alley. He eased past the club and stopped at the alley entrance. The Mercedes was just one more car double parked on the wide street.

"I should be in there with her," Nick said.

"She's got Diego. She's fine."

"You think he can handle it?"

"Yeah. So do you or you wouldn't have sent him in with her."

"When this goes down it's going to be quick."

"It's always quick," Ronnie said.

Inside the club Diego sauntered over to the alley door with his drink. He shielded the door with his body and tried the handle. He felt the latch open and the door move. Gently he pulled it shut. He watched Selena.

Selena talked her way past the first guard and stood in front of Abidi.

"I think I know you," she said in Arabic. "Weren't you at Ibrahim's party?"

It was a gamble. Ibrahim was a common name. If he'd been to a party, it opened the door. If he hadn't, she was ready for that as well.

"I don't remember seeing you there," Abidi said.

Jackpot.

"I remember you," she said. "You were with a different woman."

"What woman?" the blonde said.