He’d worked on his plan for most of the flight, so he caught a few hours’ sleep in the early morning, and then, just after nine a.m., he was visited by an RGB agent named Kim who explained that he himself had just arrived from Havana the evening before. Kim had been the one in contact with Zarif, and he came over to Mexico once it was clear Zarif was attempting to blackmail North Korea for $2 million.
Riley thought the sum to be relatively small, but he understood why Zarif chose this amount. The bomb maker wouldn’t have easy access to banks, so the cash had to be carried, and two million U.S. dollars was about the largest amount easily transported by a single person. He could have carried a lot more in euros, but either Zarif did not know this or else he felt dollars would be more useful here in the Western Hemisphere.
Kim had spoken to Zarif just before arriving at Riley’s hotel. The Iranian had demanded to work with a middleman, someone who was not Asian, someone who spoke English. He’d explained that this person would make the transfer at eight p.m. that evening at the Cinépolis movie theater in Toluca.
Riley would be this man.
It had already been decided by North Korea that there would be no blackmail money paid to Zarif. Having him alive and able to reveal details of Operation Fire Axe was not a suitable option, so Kim had made no attempt to collect the funds.
Riley agreed with their assessment in general, although Roblas’s people had given him the phone number of a local banker he could call at any hour if he needed cash to buy back evidence. Even though Riley knew Óscar Roblas could have easily come up with the money to buy the man’s silence, there could be no guarantees Zarif wouldn’t just reveal his knowledge about the North Koreans’ involvement in the attack anyway.
So the solution was simple: Zarif had to die.
But Riley knew this wasn’t a situation where they could just shoot him dead on the street. The man had allegedly created a video detailing North Korea’s involvement in the assassination attempt, and Zarif would have to be a complete and utter fool to arrive at the location for the exchange without leaving an ace in the hole. No, the bomb maker would have secured a copy of that video with someone, or he would have mailed it to an address, or saved it on a computer that was not on his person.
Riley needed to know what Zarif had done to ensure his safety, and there was only one way to get that information.
The Englishman pictured a long and uncomfortable night of brutal torture.
He needed a secure location to do this, and his Polanco hotel room would hardly suffice for what he had in mind. He told Roblas’s banker he needed only ten thousand dollars, and he expected to return that to him when the operation was complete, but what he needed more was a location somewhere in the area where he would not be disturbed for twenty-four to forty-eight hours. The banker put him on hold for several minutes, presumably to contact either Roblas or someone below him, and then he returned to the line with an address. He said it was a private villa in Cuernavaca, a city in the mountains an hour south of the capital. The banker promised Riley no one would bother him there.
Next came a discussion between Kim and Riley about how to get their hands on Adel Zarif. Riley had transported cash for blackmail payments before in his career. He knew one million U.S. dollars, if acquired in hundred-dollar bills, would easily fit into an average-sized school backpack. He went to a nearby department store and purchased two dark backpacks, then stepped into a used-book store and bought enough cheap paperback novels to fill the packs.
Once he had his decoys, he and Kim drove together to Toluca, where they reconnoitered the movie theater and the streets around it. It was just after three p.m., so he knew Zarif would probably not be in the area, but Riley wanted to figure out why he had decided on this location for the drop. Once they circled the block a couple of times, he had his answer.
He explained his conclusion to Kim. “There are a lot of ways out of that cineplex. Each of the six screens has its own fire escape, and there is a main entrance and a back way out of the lobby. He’s worried about a double cross. We need all the exits covered.”
“How do you propose we do that? There are two of us, and you will be inside.”
Riley said, “I can hire a team of local muscle, but that’s going to take more time than we have.”
Kim understood this would be his responsibility. “I can get RGB men here from Mexico City.”
“No. If Zarif sees Asians, he’ll run.”
Kim thought for a moment more. “I have a better idea. Let me make a call.”
In the late afternoon, ten operatives of Cuba’s Directorate of Intelligence arrived in two Jeep Cherokees. The North Koreans had good working relations with the Cubans, and the DI men had a large operation here in Mexico. Kim had to go all the way up to General Ri to secure this in extremis operational partnership, but Riley liked the arrangement. Zarif was an Iranian with no experience in the Spanish-speaking world, so Riley felt certain a crew of Cubans on the streets around here would not raise alarms the way North Koreans would.
The Cubans were all armed, and though they weren’t from the Toluca area, they at least knew how to blend in here in Mexico.
They didn’t know about the North Koreans’ responsibility in the attack on the U.S. President; as far as they knew, they were simply helping their communist friends catch a kidnapper during a ransom exchange and hold him until he revealed the location of his victim.
At eight p.m. Riley walked through the theater entrance with one backpack over his shoulder and the other in his hand. He bought a ticket to the first movie advertised on the marquee above the cashier’s head, and he stood at the concession stand, as ordered by Zarif, for five minutes. He assumed this was so that Zarif, who was somewhere here in the large multiplex, could identify him.
After his five-minute wait, Riley entered the theater where his film would be playing, and he walked up the stairs and found a seat in the top row.
Almost immediately the lights lowered, and soon after that Riley saw a lone man climbing the stairs toward him.
Zarif sat down and looked at him strangely. Riley replied, “You said you didn’t want to see any North Koreans, and you wanted someone who spoke English.”
The Iranian nodded. “I thought you would be Mexican. Who are you?”
“I am a business associate. Nothing more. There was a misunderstanding yesterday, and it’s my hope I can put it right.” He patted the two backpacks stacked on the chair next to him.
“Let’s see the money.”
Riley reached into his shirt and pulled out the bound stack of one hundred hundred-dollar bills. He tossed it into Zarif’s lap nonchalantly, like there was a hell of a lot more where that came from.
“Ten thousand. The rest is here.” He patted the bags.
Zarif looked it over and stuck it into his pocket. “Hand it over to me.”
“No. I want the phone first, and any other recordings you made.” Zarif handed it over and Riley looked to find the video the man had made. It was there, so he slipped the phone into his pocket.
Then Riley leaned close. “We need to know you didn’t do anything else with that video.”
“There is one more copy in a safe place. When I get the money and get away, I will call you and—”
He stopped talking because Riley was shaking his head back and forth. “That’s not on, mate. Tell you what. You keep the ten thousand. I’ll keep this one-point-nine-nine mil. When you are ready to give me what I want, everything, then give me a call.” He smiled. “Buy yourself a phone with what I gave you.”