It turned out that al-Zayani really didn’t know what was in the crate that had been brought from Sumatra by Umar Shibab; al-Zayani was just the paymaster, and not concerned with operational details. All he knew was that after the private plane had landed in Dhahran, the crate had been picked up by someone al-Zayani only knew as Matraqat al-Kafir, the Hammer of the Infidel. He thought it had been taken to a safe house somewhere in Saudi Arabia, but that was as much as he knew.
Al-Zayani’s own job for the terrorist organization known as Arabian Islamic Jihad had been going on for years; he had been leaching large sums from the accounts of Saudi National Oil and its subsidiary companies for the past decade, providing the entire start-up costs for the AIJ.
Al-Zayani had been brought into the AIJ by Abd al-Aziz Quraishi, the so-called ‘Lion’ who fronted the organization, and Cole recognized the same techniques that case officers used to recruit agents for western intelligence agencies.
Al-Zayani told Cole how he had never been against the Saudi government before, indeed had been a loyal and devout citizen all of his life, right up until an event which occurred ten years ago. He had just made Vice President of Finance for Saudi National Oil, and was looking forward to finally starting a family with his wife, who was pregnant for the first time. And then one night, when al-Zayani was working late, the Mabahith broke down the doors to his home and took his wife from her bed.
He campaigned against the government, demanding to know where she was, why she’d been taken, if she was alive or dead; but all that came back was stony silence.
It was then that he’d been approached by Quraishi, who offered to use his influence at the Ministry of Interior to find out what had happened to his wife, and get her back if he could. Al-Zayani had been so anxious that he agreed to do anything in return, and waited for news to come from Quraishi.
Days passed, until finally Quraishi came to see him in his home. It seemed that his wife had been seen in the local market asking questions about moving to America to raise her children there. Sensing some form of blasphemous disregard for Saudi Arabia’s own culture, the Mabahith were called in and had taken her to the cells for questioning.
When al-Zayani had asked the obvious question, Quraishi had sadly shook his head; regrettably, his wife had died during the interrogation, along with their unborn child. Apparently the body had already been ‘processed’ — which meant it had been burned to ashes in one of the subterranean ovens kept for that very purpose.
Al-Zayani hadn’t been able to believe what he was hearing; how could this happen to a man like him, in a senior position in his nation’s most profitable business? And yet he’d heard so many stories before about these things happening that he didn’t doubt Quraishi’s story for a second.
His rage holy and indignant, he was fully primed for the offer Quraishi made next; to use the power of his position to help establish a group which would one day oust the Saudi monarchy and its corrupt government. Quraishi admitted to his own role, how he had dedicated his entire life to building up his position in order to more effectively lead a freedom-fighting group, and al-Zayani in his moment of weakness agreed absolutely to help the man in any way he could.
And so finance for the terrorist group had been made through the funds of Saudi National Oil ever since, with no one ever the wiser.
Cole had to give Quraishi credit; his group was clearly better funded and better organized than any that had gone before. And his own role as Assistant Minister for Security Affairs meant that it was his job to stamp out dissident groups; in effect, he was policing himself, which was the perfect position to be in. He could take down rival groups, recruit from their resources, all while protecting the AIJ and his own interests.
Cole couldn’t help wonder if Quraishi had organized the capture and death of al-Zayani’s wife himself, purely in order to recruit the man to his cause. From what he’d heard already, it wouldn’t have surprised him in the slightest.
However, Cole was surprised that he hadn’t heard more from Quraishi’s terrorist group, but this was ominous in itself; it was possible that it meant Quraishi was saving himself for something big.
Cole still didn’t know what was in the crate, but assumed it must be nuclear; the North Koreans had the right materials to make such things, and an attack with a nuclear device on American soil would explain what the big event was that Quraishi was heading towards.
But guesswork simply wasn’t good enough; he had to know.
And so he had asked al-Zayani to call Quraishi to ask for a meeting. It was under the pretense of Texas Mainline Oil’s concerns about security from terrorist groups; ‘Dan Chadwick’ wanted confirmation that TMO’s investment would be secure, and needed to speak to the government minister responsible for dealing with counter-terrorism.
And so — even though it was terribly short notice — al-Zayani had stressed over the telephone that his US associate would be returning to Texas the day after tomorrow, and Quraishi had therefore agreed to meet him the very next morning.
And now, the meeting arranged, Cole stood on the deck and wondered what to do about al-Zayani. He felt sorry for the man — he had been badly abused, and the fate of his wife too closely mirrored Cole’s own experiences. Wouldn’t Cole have agreed to Quraishi’s requests for money if their situations had been reversed?
He had already forced the man to call Saudi National Oil headquarters to say that he, Abu and the two other men — who, it turned out, had also been company employees — were taking an impromptu fishing trip the next day, and wouldn’t be back until the following evening.
It gave him a window of opportunity; questions might be asked, but not before Cole had gone to his meeting with Abd al-Aziz Quraishi in Riyadh and met the Lion himself.
Cole was a killer, but thought long and hard about the fate of al-Zayani. Could he just leave the man out at sea, and hope he wasn’t able to contact anyone and spoil Cole’s plans? Could he trust al-Zayani not to talk if he was found?
Cole looked up at the stars and the moon, bright in the cloudless night sky, and shook his head.
No. The unhappy fact was that he couldn’t take that chance. He’d already gone against his instincts with Boom Suparat, and that had turned out badly for everyone. Cole’s only hope of a lead was his meeting with Quraishi the next day; if that was jeopardized, then who knew what would happen?
When Cole returned to the cabin below, his mind made up and steeled for what he had to do, he saw that al-Zayani was sleeping. He sighed; that would make it easier, at least.
Approaching the sleeping body, Cole’s hands reached out and struck three of the nerve points on al-Zayani’s exposed skin; points which caused instant death, and al-Zayani’s eternal sleep.
Cole’s remorse was short-lived; he couldn’t afford to have it any other way, and he immediately set about making plans to scuttle the ship.
He would swim back to shore and — if anyone came looking for al-Zayani and his friends when they didn’t return the next night — all that would be found would be pieces of the million-dollar yacht strewn across the blue waters of the Arabian Gulf.
And the men on board would never be seen again.
2
The raindrops collected on the leaves above the three men hiding in the forest, showering them repetitively every few seconds when they got too heavy.