Ashcroft had laid out a meal of breads, meats, cheeses and fruit on the dining room table. The retired spy was sitting at the kitchen table, reading a newspaper while listening to a police scanner. He looked up at the team and smiled.
"A productive evening?"
"Very," Tanner helped himself to an apricot.
"Anyone need medical attention?"
Liam raised his hand. “Shot of tequila, please.”
Tanner looked at his people, all of whom shook their heads, then back at Ashcroft. "We're fine. Anything new on the police front?"
Ashcroft glanced at his scanner. "I’ve heard the first officers on the scene use the words, 'war zone,' 'carnage,' and 'massacre' frequently until a senior officer got on the radio and told them to shut up. There were also calls for the fire department, and medical help. They have no idea what happened yet, but someone did suggest it was an attack by the same group that set off the car bombs."
"Good," Tanner said. "What about Mandlenkosi and his Fire Team?"
"No problems. They all got clear before law enforcement closed in. The police found the boat about ten minutes ago, but my friend reported it stolen yesterday evening."
"Good," Tanner said, stretching with a yawn. "I want to talk to Hassan after he's had some time to stew."
"In that case," Ashcroft said, "I suggest you all get some food, a shower, and some sleep. Mandlenkosi and I will keep an eye on things until then."
It was near noon by the time the team reassembled in the dining room. Ashcroft was still seated at the kitchen table, now reading a book, with the police scanner still on next to a tea set.
Tanner took a seat on a stool at the counter. "Anything new?"
"A few things," Ashcroft replied, not looking up from his book. "There's fresh coffee in the pot on the counter, sugar and mugs in the cabinet above and creamer in the refrigerator."
Tanner got a mug from the cabinet. "How's our guest of honor?"
"Hassan’s cranky, as can be expected. He’s been alternating between threats of decapitations to promises of eight figures if he's released. He's kept under constant watch by one of Mandlenkosi's nephews, and either Mandlenkosi or I check in on him every twenty minutes. With the exception of escorted trips to the loo, he's been in that chair."
Tanner poured coffee into his mug. "What about the police?"
"Still sifting through the bloodbath you chaps left behind. The confirmed death count is nineteen, but they're still finding body parts near the beach, along with what was left of a staircase to the dock, so I expect the count is higher. The Narcotics branch has been called in, and they're suddenly very cagey on the radio about what they've found. They use a modern digital trunking system but it’s not encrypted, which is why I still have this.” He glanced at the scanner before continuing. “I already have calls out to my contacts, so we'll see how that goes."
"Anything from Hassan's organization?"
"What organization?" Ashcroft asked, looking up at Tanner. "You've killed most of his best enforcers and what's left couldn't take over a children's birthday party, let alone Hassan's criminal operations. Most of his people are either lying low or looking to carve out their own little empire. They're not worried about Hassan."
Tanner sipped his coffee. "I'm going to go down and talk to him."
"Suit yourself." Ashcroft went back to his book.
Danielle appeared in the dining room doorway. "Tanner, before you go, check this out."
He followed her through the dining room and into a small study where she had set up her laptops and the data devices they had taken from the estate. Three laptops, wired together, competed for space on the desktop with a mess of CDs, thumb drives and memory cards.
"What do you have?"
“From the SeaStar database in the warehouse, I was able to crack the encryption and access the records. It appears that Hassan was acting as a middleman between the North Koreans, the Iranians and SeaStar. He was taking cargo from incoming vessels and putting it on SeaStar ships under his own company's manifest. I isolated several dozen cargoes over the last four years with links to the Chinese import/export company suspected to be a North Korean front for items on the embargo list. Seventy percent of the cargoes on the list end up in Iran, and the rest in Syria."
"Any idea about what this cargo was?"
"No, but there are correlations between the arrival of these cargoes and advances in the Iranian nuclear program. The cargo containers on the Northstar Venture were scheduled to be off-loaded in Doha, United Arab Emirates, a few days from now."
"What about the stuff we grabbed from Hassan's estate?"
"Most of it is just regular stuff. Hassan likes big-breasted blondes in his porn, his tax forms are so clean, you could eat off of them, and he has his groceries delivered. However," she pointed at one of the laptops. "That one has a very strong firewall and the entire drive is password protected."
"Can you force it?"
"That's the thing. I've probed the firewall and found that it's set up in such a way that three unsuccessful log-ins in a row will wipe the hard drive — and I mean wipe it, not just delete it. It’s programmed to write the drive full of dummy data, reformat and repeat three times."
"So can you crack it?"
"Given enough time, yes. But it could be days or weeks, with no guarantees I get it right. Would be much simpler if he'd give us the password."
"I'll talk to him about that." Tanner put a hand on Danielle's shoulder. "Good work. Go get something to eat."
The basement was still chilly when Tanner and Stephen descended the stairs. A single overhead light provided the only illumination in the room. One of Mandlenkosi's nephews was on watch, carrying the short stabbing spear of the Zulu.
Hassan still occupied the chair, his shrouded head flopped against his chest, but he raised it when he heard Tanner and Stephen's footsteps.
"Who's there?" he demanded in accented English. "I demand to be released!"
Tanner motioned to the guard to remove the hood. The African yanked it free before moving to stand in the corner of the basement behind Hassan's chair, the spear's long, leaf-head blade winking in the light.
Hassan blinked in the sudden light. "Do you know who I am?”
"You are a smuggler, a drug pusher, and a criminal," Tanner said, taking a couple of steps toward Hassan.
Both Stephen and Tanner wore balaclavas over their faces, as well as long-sleeve shirts to ward off the basement's chill. In addition, Tanner wore sunglasses to hide his heterochromia. While he didn’t intend to kill Hassan if he didn’t have to, he didn’t need to worry about being identified by him and hunted down later, either.
"Americans," Hassan spat.
"Yes," Tanner said. "We didn't intend on black-bagging you, but after you tried to have us killed at the hotel, we thought it was time to have a talk."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"We're not stupid, Hassan."
"What do you want from me?" Hassan said, twisting in his chair. "Money? Name your price."
"We're interested in something else," Stephen said.
"Hassan became still. "Such as?"
"Information," Tanner said, moving to Hassan's left. "We know you've been acting as a middleman between North Korea and Iran."
Hassan snorted. "So?"
"We know that you've been smuggling cargo into Iran from North Korea," Stephen said, moving to Hassan's right. "We have the data to prove at least two dozen illegal shipments."
"You can't prove anything!"
"But there’s something special about the cargo currently on the Northstar Venture," Tanner said. "Something that caused you to send men to kill SeaStar's CEO and destroy the company database."