The Danger Within by E. L. Pini

Author:E. L. Pini [Pini, E. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-04-17T16:00:00+00:00

47.

The war room constructed by abu Bachar—head of the Mukhabarat, the security service, and the sultan’s personal assistant—was buried forty feet underground. It lay just under the massive greenhouse, where thousands of colorful butterflies fluttered amongst saw palmettos and budding geophytes. The war room was equipped with top-of-the-line computer and control systems. Once the run-in period was done, abu Bachar gathered the British engineering team that had constructed it—he held a brief ceremony and gave each of the engineers an ornate mahogany box containing a gold bar: a bonus for their hard work.

“A nostalgic bit of memorabilia—not money, and therefore not taxed.” He smiled and suggested that they leave their bonus at the compound, “until you return.” He then escorted them to the private jet that would take them on a weeklong vacation, where they would enjoy all that the exotic Sultanate had to offer.

The jet’s black box, which was found intact several hours after the unfortunate crash, pointed at a critical failure originating with a pressure drop in the engine manifold. While the black box was examined, no one thought to check the reliability of the data, which had been entered prior to the flight. Abu Bachar noted in his log, with some satisfaction, that the only possible source of a leak regarding the secrets of his war room had been eliminated. It helped that they were all infidels.

“First the stick, then the carrot—that’s the strategy that seems to work best,” abu Bachar told Imad, who was sitting beside him, staring at the plasma screen. Cassius, the youngest of the Shabwah stuffed shahids, had passed the security check at Gatwick about two hours ago and had now been seen walking undisturbed out of Schiphol.

Imad glanced at the golden Rolex he had received from the sultan. In about an hour, the sheikh’s loyalists would assemble at the Great Mosque at Molenbeek. Imad lit a Camel cigarette and watched, for the third time, the short video abu Bachar had sent to his secure Telegram account. The video showed Anna walking through the Tiergarten Park in Berlin, with Francesca and the Sudanese boy, Abdu, the amputee. Anna had taken the kid from Shabwah and officially adopted him in Berlin. She seemed happy.

“I see you miss her,” said abu Bachar, not knowing how right he was. While thoughts of his father and Nasser filled Imad’s head with a thick, heavy fog, his thoughts of Anna cut into flesh.

“No wonder I’m missing her, with what you’re offering here. Fat, boring-ass Russians. The Turkish girls are even worse,” Imad responded dryly. “Speaking of which, the Turk who shot the video—is she capable of something more?”

“Depends on the more. What did you have in mind?”

Imad shrugged. “Before I come back from the dead, I need to shake Anna’s confidence in her current life.” After a small pause, he added, “First the stick, then the carrot, right?”

Abu Bachar promised that after the meeting at the mosque, he’d check with Tilda’s handler to see what could be done. The red light beneath the screen started to blink, signifying that H-Hour was nearing.

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