Dawson grinned at that. ‘I’m aware that your sister has dropped from sight, but I have a great many people at my disposal who are really good at finding people who try to lose themselves.’
Her voice hardened. ‘I wouldn’t try to do that if I were you.’
‘You do pose a challenge,’ Dawson said, ‘but you’ll never be in any position to carry out any of your threats.’ He paused. ‘Why are you calling me now?’
‘To negotiate.’
‘You have nothing to negotiate with.’
‘I know where the professor and the first scroll are.’
‘But you don’t know where the main scroll is.’
‘Once you have the professor and the scroll he has now, you should be able to find it.’
‘What do you want?’
‘A ceasefire. Between you and me. The deal is this: I give you the professor and the first scroll, and you forget about my sister and me.’
Dawson glanced at his watch. Enough time had passed that the electronics teams tracing calls into this phone should have a location.
‘I’m in the middle of something here,’ Dawson said, smiling up at the young woman. ‘Can I call you back?’
‘I’d rather be the one doing the calling.’
‘Fine. Then call me back in an hour.’ Calmly, Dawson closed the phone. It rang immediately. ‘Tell me you got a location.’
‘We did. She’s at a cyber café in the harbour. We’ve got a team en route.’
‘Have them stay back. I don’t want her to see them until it’s too late. No one makes a move until I clear it. Understood?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Dawson folded the phone and placed it once more on the nightstand. He reached for the young woman astride him. Rather than proving distracting, the phone call had reinvigorated his sex drive. He looked forward to proving to Cleena MacKenna that he was the most dangerous man she’d ever crossed paths with.
Cleena stared at the computer monitor. ‘Did I keep him on long enough?’
‘You did,’ Sevki said in her ear. ‘I managed to trace the signal back to the United States. It was tricky, because they used a lot of satellite cut outs. Government issue, heavily encrypted.’
‘I get it. I’m supposed to be impressed.’
‘Unfortunately, you’re not informed enough to be duly impressed with what I’ve just done.’ Sevki sighed as if stricken.
‘So who is it?’
‘The Central Intelligence Agency, if I had to guess.’
A wave of fear vibrated through Cleena. Even though she’d suspected CIA, hearing it spoken out loud was frightening. In her arms deals, she had sometimes brushed up against intelligence operatives. Always before, she’d cut her losses and run.
‘Not people we want to be trifling with,’ Sevki pointed out.
‘I know.’
Sevki whispered a curse. ‘But you’re going to anyway.’
‘This guy threatened my sister. If it’s the same guy, he hurt her. I’m not going to allow that.’ Icy calm thrummed inside Cleena.
Sevki cursed again, this time with more passion. ‘Well, you’re going to get your chance. I just finished chasing down all the connections. This guy, whoever he is, is here in the city.’
Paranoia bloomed within Cleena, spicing the fear already coursing through her. ‘In Istanbul?’
‘Yes. His communications people were cute about it, and if I hadn’t been as good as I am and had enough time, I might not have found him. But I did. He’s in the city. My bet is that you’ll have company soon.’
‘Everything here is set?’
‘Of course.’
Cleena pushed up from the chair and headed for the back door. Sevki had already briefed her on how to get out of the building without being seen.
‘We own the perimeter.’
‘Affirmative. If possible, I want the target alive. Damage at this juncture is a moot point. But I want the target able to answer questions.’
‘Then you’ll get it.’
Settled into the passenger seat of the SUV across the street and down two blocks from the cyber café, Dawson held his pistol in his lap and watched the takedown team in action.
Dawson lifted his sat-phone and called another number. When it was answered, he said, ‘Sir, we are at go.’
Vice-President Webster didn’t hesitate. ‘Secure your target. I want to talk to Professor Lourds.’
‘Yes, sir. I’ll call you when we have the secondary target.’
‘Do that. And good luck. We’re in very dangerous times at present. All of us.’
The gravity in Webster’s voice was unmistakable, and Dawson had never before heard that tone so strongly. Dawson couldn’t help thinking about the vice-president more or less marooned behind enemy lines in Saudi Arabia. Tensions in that part of the world continued to escalate as skirmishes and civil unrest broke out like grass fires.
‘Are you all right, sir?’ Dawson asked. If the vice-president had asked, he would have abandoned the mission in Istanbul at once and charged to his rescue.
‘Don’t worry about me,’ Webster replied. ‘I’ll be fine.’ His voice grew stronger. ‘Glory is about to rain down on us. Trust me on that.’
Dawson hesitated, not at all certain what the vice-president was talking about. But he heard the conviction in the man’s words. The stakes, whatever they turned out to be, were huge. Dawson just wished he could see the connection between what was taking place in Saudi Arabia and Istanbul. As far as he knew, no other American intelligence community was interested in Professor Thomas Lourds.
‘I do trust you, sir,’ Dawson replied.
‘Good, because we’re going to have to trust each other a lot over the next few days,’ Webster told him.
‘What do you mean, sir?’
‘Soon, Jimmy. Everything will happen in due time. I’ve planned this for a long, long time. Get Lourds and bring him to me.’
‘Yes, sir.’
The vice-president hung up the phone, but not before Dawson heard explosions in the background. He knew from the news reports coming out of the area that hostile aggression had increased within Saudi Arabia. The Saudi army had mobilized and begun spreading out across the major cities. But their efforts weren’t enough to keep Shia terrorists, or rebels as some of the local news stations were calling them, from striking back. The Shia targeted American and European businesses as well as Saudi government buildings. Several oil fields were burning, and international investors complained bitterly and threatened to take action.
Dawson’s headset buzzed for attention.
‘The clerk has made a positive ID on our target,’ the agent inside the cyber café said.
Dawson glanced at the cyber café. ‘Do you see her?’
‘No, sir. She’s not at one of the computer terminals.’
‘But she was?’
‘Definitely. The clerk IDd her.’
‘Then where is she?’ Anger and frustration welled up in Dawson.
‘I don’t know, sir. We’re looking.’
Dawson cursed. ‘Don’t just look. Find her.’ He slipped the restraining loop from the hammer of his pistol and pushed the door open. Across the street, the rest of the team flooded into the building. Dawson’s driver got out and stood beside him. He was a young, intense man with black sunglasses that made him look like a spy. He whirled round and lifted his pistol from beneath his jacket. Dawson didn’t know what had caught the man’s attention, but he turned with him.
Cleena MacKenna was on them with the speed of a stalking predator. She fired a taser at the driver. Both darts struck the man in the chest and unleashed their voltage. The driver shook and shivered for a moment, then dropped to the ground.
By that time the woman had already closed on Dawson. A stun baton extended with a meaty chukk! sound. Instinctively, Dawson lifted his pistol to fire. He never had the chance. The woman whipped the baton across his right wrist. Incredible pain exploded through Dawson’s right arm, but his hand went numb immediately. The pistol dropped from his nerveless fingers.
Dawson grabbed at Cleena with his other hand. She smiled at him cruelly and hit that hand with her baton as well. Before he could react to the new pain, she swept the baton up into his crotch. As he dropped to his knees, she hit him again, this time on the side of the neck. Agony swarmed inside Dawson’s head. He almost passed out. Vomit burned up his throat then shot through his lips to splatter against the sidewalk. He was almost too weakened to hold himself up out of the mess on his arms.