She shook her head. “That’s not good.”
“It gets worse,” Young said. “You know Xander’s laptop? The one you and Sonny accessed and connected me to?”
“Yes…”
“Before I lost the connection, I was able to salvage some of the deleted internet activity, and I discovered he was using a public real-time satellite tracking website, called MarineFinder.com. We hacked into his account there, but he’d become inactive on the website and he left no record of his activity.”
“How does that help us now?” she asked.
“Well, now Xander’s account is active again.”
“That seems to confirm the police don’t have him in custody,” Hannah said.
“We’re monitoring his activity on the account, and he seems to be researching ports and ships in the Caspian Sea around Baku… in Azerbaijan.”
“Why would he be interested in Azerbaijan and the Caspian Sea?”
A clicking sound came from Young’s end, as if he was using a mouse. “UKP has ships there. It’s the source of natural gas for the Southern Gas Corridor that runs all the way to Turkey, up to where the newly constructed Trans Adriatic Pipeline would carry the gas across Greece.”
“Sounds like Xander is planning to hit UKP again,” Sonny said.
“This time in Azerbaijan,” Chris said. “Near the source of the natural gas.”
“If that’s his plan, we should organize a proper welcoming party for him,” Sonny said.
“I can’t say with surety Azerbaijan is his next target,” Young said. “I can only pass along the intel and analysis as it becomes available.”
“I understand,” Hannah said into the phone. “Do you have a more likely target he might hit? Or hints of another target he might be looking at?”
“No,” Young said. “Not at this time.”
Sonny shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “We can’t just sit here with our thumbs up our asses waiting to react after Xander makes his next attack.”
“Then Azerbaijan it is,” Hannah said. “The station chief there is a good man, and the Azeris have been supportive in the past. I’ll ask him if we can expect cooperation from the locals.” After thanking Young and ending the call, she stood, walked to the cockpit, and talked with the pilot.
A screech sounded as the plane hit the ground, stirring Chris from a nap and pulling his body forward. He opened his eyes to find Hannah and Sonny had fallen asleep in their seats, too. It was dark outside the plane window, except for lights on the airfield, other planes, and the terminal. This is small for an international airport, Chris thought, then he recognized it as Azerbaijan’s military airport. He’d flown into it before on his way to Iraq. Azerbaijan allowed the US to land its planes and use its airspace during the wars with Iraq and Afghanistan. The military ties between Azerbaijan and the US were strengthened and expanded under Secretary of the Navy Ray Mabus. In the Caspian basin, with Russia to the north and Iran to the south, Azerbaijan was America’s only friend.
Chris checked his watch — he’d slept for over five hours. He nudged Hannah and Sonny. “We’re here.”
They both jolted to attention, and all three pulled themselves together for the mission ahead as the pilot taxied. Finally, the plane came to a stop and the ground crew rolled up an air ladder. A van pulled up, stopped near the stairs, and a man stepped out of the driver’s side.
Chris and the others grabbed their luggage and exited the plane. The local wind was so strong Chris thought it might blow him off the ladder, but he reached the bottom safely, where the man greeted them.
Hannah introduced the man as Mikhail from the Azerbaijan Ministry of National Security, the MNS. He had piercing black eyes, a thick stump for a neck, and cauliflower ears, indicating he was experienced with violence, possibly from practicing a martial art like judo, boxing, or playing a sport like rugby. Taking a hit to the ear could cause fluids to clot, killing part of the ear and leaving it permanently deformed. The cauliflower shape was a source of pride to some, but Chris felt no pride or shame in his missing ear. He preferred to keep his wounds private and wear his prosthetic consistently.
After loading everyone and their bags into the van, Mikhail sped off. Once off the base, he drove even faster. “We’ve alerted the local authorities about Xander Metaxas, Animus Zacharoff, and their clan, and we’re helping cover possible infiltration points,” he said. “So far, there’ve been no reports of Xander or his men trying to enter Azerbaijan.”
“The authorities in London were on the lookout for him, too,” Sonny said. “Fat lot of good that did.”
“But your superiors are more cooperative than America’s seat-hugger in London,” Hannah said to Mikhail.
“Our chief is a good man,” he said. “But I must warn you he is worried about a possible leak in the police department, so the police don’t know you’re here or what you’re doing. Only those inside MNS with proper clearance are aware of our mission.”
They each agreed. It wasn’t an uncommon thing to keep operations like this on a need-to-know basis.
Half an hour later, they were downtown. Although the military base wasn’t much to look at, Baku was. Its modern skyscrapers boasted a variety of shapes and lines illuminated in fluorescent oranges, glacier whites, sparkling emeralds, and blue-blues, their reflections floating on Baku Bay. The parks reminded him of those in London. They passed what looked like a grand hotel, but Mikhail explained it was the Government House, where many of Azerbaijan’s central government ministries were housed. “This is the control center for public expression and assembly,” he said with sarcasm in his voice. “Paid for by oil and gas and corruption.”
He stopped in the parking lot of an upscale apartment complex. “Here we are.” After they stepped out of the van, Mikhail, carrying a guitar case, led them to an apartment on the first floor, unlocked the door, and let them inside.
“Welcome to the safe house,” Mikhail said. “Make yourselves at home.” It was a newer four-bedroom apartment with vaulted ceilings and granite countertops, matching the upscale neighborhood outside. Mikhail handed Hannah the keys and said, “I’m here to support you in any way I can.” Then he gave the guitar case to Chris.
He opened it, and inside was an M4 like the one he ditched in the River Thames. And an iPhone. “Thank you.”
“Langley asked us to give these to you,” Mikhail said. “It was a bit short notice, but I hope these meet your needs.”
Chris held up the M4. “Looks like a showstopper.” There were magazines filled with ammo, too.
Mikhail excused himself to use the restroom, and Chris closed the guitar case before pointing to Hannah’s laptop. “Mind if I borrow that?”
“Knock yourself out.” She sat on the stuffed sofa in the living room, set the laptop on the low table in front, and turned it on. Chris sat next to her, and while he waited for her to fire it up and enter her password, he used a secure line on his iPhone to call Young.
After several rings, Young answered. “Hey, brother. I tried to edit your team out of public CCTV files in London, but there were some cameras I couldn’t access.”
The computer was on and the desktop showing, and Hannah slid over so Chris could take her place in front of it. He opened the web browser while he spoke into the phone. “Thanks,” he said. “We’re in Baku now.”
“Wow, you three didn’t waste time.”
“You know the Marine Traffic website Xander was studying?” Chris asked, pulling up the site on the laptop.
“Of course.”
“Can you tell me what ships he was looking at?”
“I can compile a list, yeah. Can I call you back?” Young asked.
“Yes, I’d appreciate it.” Chris ended the call, and using Marine Finder, he located Baku and examined it. “Okay… Here in Baku Bay, there are four Azeri passenger ships, seven Azeri oil tankers, a dozen other Azeri vessels, two Iranian cargo ships, and a Russian river cruise ship called the M/S Pyotr Tchaikovsky.”