Borobudur.
His lips creased ever so slightly into a knowing grin. He’d been correct about the prisoner keeping the answer from them. He was stalling to give the Americans a head start. Unfortunately, that would not be enough to save them.
He pulled out his phone and sent a text message to Mamoud, letting him know that whatever business he was taking care of would need to be put on hold for a moment, that he had something his boss wanted.
Mamoud replied after a minute, telling Sharouf to come to the office at the other end of the compound.
They were heading for a showdown with Wyatt and Schultz.
Sharouf cracked his neck to one side and then the other. He would be ready.
He left the room and walked fast from one end of the mansion to the other, where he knew Mamoud would be waiting. Sharouf had taken the liberty of ordering the archaeologist to be transported down to a car, figuring that is what his boss would have wanted.
When he reached the massive double doors to Mamoud’s office, he pulled on the cylindrical bronze handle and stepped inside.
The wealthy young Arab sat behind an enormous mahogany desk. A woman in a miniskirt and a black skintight top stood waiting nearby. She looked like a common prostitute in that tacky dress. Perhaps that was what Mamoud’s tastes desired for the day.
The boss motioned for her to leave. She hesitated for a second, to which he ordered, “Leave us.”
The girl hurried out the door, her high heels clacking on the hard tile floor as she clumsily tried to run.
Mamoud waited until the door closed behind her before he spoke. “I assume you have news, especially since you know I have financial assets I have to look after, not to mention the war I am preparing to wage.”
“I would not have bothered you if it weren’t vitally important.” He paused for a second and then said, “The first relic is in Indonesia. I forced Nehem to give it to us.”
“Forced? He had a deadline.”
“My apologies, sir. But he was playing you for a fool.”
Mamoud’s eyes narrowed, but he remained calm.
“He was stalling. I had eyes on him all day. He hardly worked at all, even took a nap at one point. I reasoned that the only purpose he could have in doing so was that he already knew the answer we were looking for and was holding out until the last possible moment before giving it to us. When I came to this conclusion, all I had to do was apply the right amount of pressure.”
Mamoud considered his guard’s words. Sharouf had done the right thing. Now he wanted to know what his next plan was for the Israeli. “Did you kill him?”
“No. I ordered him to be taken to a car downstairs. With your permission, I will fly to Indonesia with my team and recover the relic.”
The last part didn’t seem to please Mamoud. “I need you here. Send your chief of security. Have them recover it and bring it here.”
Sharouf had worried the man would say that. There could be no hiding his true intentions. “Wyatt and his friend escaped Jerusalem. They made it back to Tel Aviv and flew out late in the afternoon.”
Mamoud leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table. “And where did they go?” His voice stayed low, barely audible as it passed through clenched teeth.
“I had another man stationed at the Jew’s apartment to make sure everything went according to plan. When I did not get a status report from them, I contacted the observer. He followed them back to the airport. He couldn’t get access for obvious reasons, but he kept an eye on the plane and knows where they’re headed. With that information, I coaxed Nehem to tell me exactly what he’d been hiding.”
Sharouf placed the piece of paper on the desk in front of his employer. Mamoud examined the writing for a few seconds and then lifted his eyes again. “Take him there. Now. See to it, personally, that the Americans do not escape this time.”
The guard nodded, spun on his heels, and strode out of the room. Mamoud picked up the paper. He leaned back in his high leather chair and gazed at the strange name Nehem had provided. After a few seconds, he set it back down next to a series of papers he’d been looking over.
Most of them were invoices from legitimate businesses. At least that was what he wanted them to look like. The largest bill of all was from a pharmaceutical company with a price tag of just over three million dollars.
The phone on his desk rang loudly and danced across the surface as it vibrated. He reached over and picked it up.
“Have the shipments arrived?”
“We’re loading them into the warehouses now. Will this be the last of them, or should we continue buying more storage properties?” The voice on the phone wasn’t of Arab descent. It sounded distinctly Spanish.
“If any good opportunities arise, you have the green light to buy. At the right price, of course.”
“Of course.”
“And what of the training of my men?”
“All two hundred pilots are getting better each day. Each has logged over a thousand hours. They’ve mastered the simulators and are ready for some test flights when you say the word.”
Mamoud thought about it. It would be risky. If there were any spy planes flying in the area, or even less detectable, satellites, his operation could be in jeopardy. His eyes wandered out to the gulf and gave him an idea.
“Have them fly low-level test missions over the water. If anyone is watching, it will be unlikely they’ll have their eyes on the water. Be sure to keep them low.”
“Understood. Less chance of being noticed on radar. A good plan.”
“Keep me updated on their progress. Have them ready to fly within the next week.”
He ended the call and set the phone back on the desk. Once more, Mamoud leaned back in his high leatherback chair.
Soon, he would have the war his father had wanted. Soon, the devils in the West would feel the wrath of Allah.
15
“All right, Emily. I only have a few minutes before I have to give a speech, and the pressroom is at least a three-minute walk from here. Something must have got you spooked for you to call me on this line.”
The president of the United States stared at Emily from her widescreen computer monitor. Only she and a few others in charge of top-level agencies had access to the number she’d called. After a quick linkup, the president appeared on the screen through a secure network line. Some of the techies called it the Internet subway. No civilians had access to it, and for good reason.
“We’ve noticed something strange going on in Dubai lately, sir,” she cut right to the chase, which was something she knew Dawkins would appreciate. A farmer at heart, the president knew bull when he saw or heard it. When time was short, he preferred to dispense with pleasantries and get straight to dancing.
“Define strange, Director Starks.”
Emily Starks had been the director of Axis for the past several years. The ultra secret agency was an Atlanta-based arm of the Justice Department that handled counterterrorism, counterintelligence, and internal investigations. They were occasionally called upon to handle dirtier jobs that the CIA, FBI, and NSA didn’t want to touch. Axis operated with only eleven agents to keep things simple and clean, and deniability much more plausible. Recently, another agent was added to the list, although he was to be used sparingly, at his request. She’d often wondered why eleven and not ten or twelve agents but finding that answer had proven impossible.
“Based on CIA reports, there have been several shipments being dispersed to recently purchased warehouses on the outskirts of the city. One of our people on the inside of an arms ring said that something big is going down soon. They aren’t sure what, exactly, but someone has been buying a lot of weapons.”