Tanner took a sip of his coffee and turned back into the room. The team looked as tired as he felt, but they were awake. After both sides reached the rally point, a parking lot off of Albert Road, they abandoned the bakkie and returned to the hotel in the Pajero Sport. Tanner had ordered them all to get some sleep, and five hours a shower later, they were ready to debrief the overnight operations and move forward.
After both teams relayed a detailed account of their experience to the other, Tanner addressed them all.
"All right, so what do we know about the enemy from last night?"
"They spoke Arabic." This from Liam.
Tanner looked at Stephen. "Any idea what dialect?"
"I didn't hear enough to get an idea."
Tanner took a sip of coffee. "The dying attacker I questioned spoke a mix of English, Afrikaner, and Arabic. He was young, maybe early twenties."
"They were also not well-trained," Liam said. "The ones in the warehouse had no fire discipline."
"But someone took out Aswegen and his bodyguards quickly and cleanly, then escaped in the helicopter," Naomi said.
Stephen nodded. "And someone was smart enough to disable the warehouse's power so we couldn't finish downloading the data."
Tanner looked at Danielle, who was absorbed in her laptop. "Any luck decrypting it?”
"Some.” She didn’t look up from the laptop. Her tablet beeped and she stared at it.
"Tanner, turn on the TV, news channel."
"What's wrong?"
"The explosions from last night."
Liam reached for the remote on the coffee table and the wall-mounted TV came to life. The TV was already on a news station, and the scene was one of devastation. What had once been a hotel was now a war zone. The entire edifice of the first four floors had been demolished, shattered glass and broken concrete scattered everywhere, and a number of cars had been turned into horrific twisted pieces of modern art.
"Where is this?" Dante asked.
"Century City, six miles east of us." Danielle’s eyes scanned the tablet. "Car bomb last night, just as we were getting ready to go in. And it wasn't the only one. There were car bombs in Rondebosch District, at the University of Capetown, and at a bar in De Waterkant, all within a few minutes of each other. Casualties are in the low hundreds right now, and there have been thirty-five confirmed deaths."
"Those must have been the explosions we heard before everything went to hell last night," Naomi said
Liam turned the TV off. "Four car bombs the same night the SeaStar offices and warehouse are attacked? I don't think that's a coincidence."
"Agreed," Tanner said. "Those bombs were set off to distract the police from SeaStar."
Naomi said, "They wanted to shut down any line of questioning into SeaStar itself, and it's clear that it has something to do with the Northstar Venture. We just don't know who or why."
"I have a contact here in Capetown," Stephen said. "He's retired British Intelligence, and he knows Africa better than most of the people on the continent."
"I also know someone in the SAPS from my FBI days," Tanner said. "I'll see if there's anything he can tell me. I'll take Liam with me. Naomi, you go with Stephen and look up his contact. Danielle will stay here and work on decrypting the data. After Dante drops Liam and me off to pick up our car near the warehouse, he'll come back here and act as a reserve."
"We're going out armed?" Dante asked.
"Under the circumstances, yes. Sidearms only."
Tanner's cell phone trilled. He took it out of his pocket, glanced at the number and answered. "Tanner."
"What's going on down there?" John Casey asked. He didn't sound angry, but with Casey, it was hard to tell sometimes.
"That's what we're trying to figure out right now," Tanner replied. He outlined the events of the last twelve hours, finishing with, "Someone's dealt themselves into this game, and we don't know who. We've got some contacts we’re going to check with and see if they can point us in the right direction."
"Don't get caught up with chasing these people around," Casey warned. "The ship and its cargo is the important part here.”
"Agreed, but Somalis are not going to fly down here and take out the CEO and wreck the company they're trying to get a ransom out of. Someone else has to be involved."
"The Iranians?"
"Doubtful. They'd want to talk to Aswegen first, but whoever did this didn't bother with talking. And whoever the attackers were, they spoke Arabic, not Farsi. I don't like going into a situation where I don't know who the players are. Any update on the ship?"
"Only that it's sitting off the Somali Coast, near the town of Eyl. We're prodding the local government to do something, but I'm not holding my breath."
"I want to know who's trying to clear away the back trail."
Casey sighed. "All right, you have twenty-four hours. You don't dig up anything new on these people, head for Somalia."
"Why the rush?"
"The President's on his way to Tanzania. He's meeting with several East African leaders about combating the spread of radical Islam in the region. After that, he’s going to the United Arab Emirates to meet with Middle East leaders about the same thing."
Tanner exhaled slowly. "Does he know about the possible threat?"
"He does, but he’s not going to back away from a vague threat."
"We're moving out now. We’ll talk to a few of our contacts and a couple of the ones you supplied. We'll keep you in the loop."
"Understood. Good-bye."
Tanner put his phone away and filled the others in on the conversation. "Time’s ticking, people. Let's not waste any more time."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Bakir Riyad watched two western women swim in the pool a dozen feet from where he reclined on a deck lounger. Both wore modest one-piece swim suits, but were young, attractive, and blonde. For a few seconds, he felt himself stir, but just as quickly, he clamped down on the feeling. Not here, not now.
The Jebel Ali Beach Hotel was close to the Palm Jebel Ali, one of Dubai's two artificial archipelagos that extended into the Persian Gulf. It was adjacent to both the Jebel Ali Freezone and the Port of Jebel Ali, the largest man-made harbor in the world and the largest harbor in the Middle East. The hotel catered to tourists and businessmen alike, with a spectacular view of the gulf and no shortage of amenities.
If any of his men on the Northstar Venture or Saad el Melik could see Riyad now, they would be stunned. He was bare-chested, wearing sunglasses and a pair of swimming trunks, looking nothing like the hardened soldier his men knew him as. He had checked into the hotel earlier in the morning, using the identity of Jalal Al-Hamdani, a successful Saudi businessman. The clerk had welcomed him back and wished him a pleasant stay.
This wasn't the first time Riyad been in Dubai, where, as Al-Hamdani, he was known as the owner of an import/export company. He already had an office in the freezone, staffed by fellow ICA followers who not only ran it at a profit, but funneled weapons, supplies, and intelligence to the ICA though the network of shipments they managed. He'd used his time in the city to carefully put his pieces into place. And he was nearly ready.
The plan he had conceived had been in the works for several years, but when word about the warheads being transported reached Riyad, he had immediately jumped on the chance to seize them. The basic plan was still the same, but the warheads would enhance the damage against the target.