Escape (58 page)

"Kill her. Your uncle insists on it."

V. T. scowled. "What are you talking about?"

Amir "The Sheik" Al-Sistani waved his gun at Lucy. "Call it a test. Your place in his ... organization ... rests on passing it. Your uncle said to remind you of a conversation you had about difficult times requiring difficult choices, and that this is one of those times. I myself wonder why you did not expose her. Surely you knew she was your former employer's daughter?" V. T.'s voice was firm. "I've known her since she was a child, but I thought she was using an alias because of her work for the security firm. I wasn't privy to this little event and saw no reason to identify her by her real name."

"Understandable, I guess," Al-Sistani smirked. "However, I'm afraid that you will now need to kill her to prove your loyalty. Your uncle wants to know if you can be trusted—if so, you will have money and power beyond your wildest dreams."

"And if I won't do it?"

"Why, then you fail the test, of course. And you'll die with her."

"How do I know you're telling me the truth about my uncle's wishes?"

"Ah yes, your uncle also asked me to say 'Myr
shegin dy ve, bee eh.'
Now, what's your choice—pass or fail?"

V. T. thought about it for a moment, then faced Lucy. "I'm sorry. I don't see the point of this, but it comes down to your life, or saving our country from itself, and I have to choose for the greater good." He raised the gun and pointed it at her head.

"Uncle V. T.!" Lucy cried out.

V. T. stopped and looked strangely at the gun. He pulled the slide back and looked inside the chamber before turning to Al-Sistani. "What's with the fucking game? The gun's empty."

Al-Sistani seemed amused. "Did you think I was going to give a loaded gun to a man I didn't trust? What if you had decided to shoot me instead? But you've passed the test for now."

"What about her?"

"Oh, well, I guess I'll just shoot her myself," Al-Sistani replied, raising his gun toward Lucy. But V. T. jumped for him and grabbed his arm, fighting to wrest the gun from the terrorist.

"Don't just stand there, you idiots!" Al-Sistani shouted to his men. One of them stepped forward and clubbed V. T. with the butt of his gun, then struck him again until he fell to the floor.

"So, the tiger shows his true stripes," Al-Sistani snarled. "Your uncle won't be pleased; he had such high hopes for you. But I'm sure it will ease the pain when he hears that I've thrown you out of my jet at 30,000 feet."

"Why are you doing this?" Lucy cried.

"Why? Two reasons. The first is personal. Yes, I know, silly to mix business and pleasure, but you see, killing you—Miss Karp—is partial revenge for the death of my brother on New Year's Eve two years ago."

Lucy frowned. "Two years ago, we stopped a plot to blow up Times Square." She paused and then understood. "Al-Sistani. Your brother was Anan Al-Sistani? He was the one who organized the plot."

"It was a brilliant plan, though perhaps less subtle than what I have in mind. However, you and your ridiculous family, as well as Agent Jaxon, interfered, and my much-loved brother, the companion of my youth, died. We were very close, you know; we were going to rule the world together."

"He planned to murder thousands," Lucy said.

"People die in wars. It is the United States that is the aggressor in Muslim countries. Yet you complain when the battle is brought home to you. You can call it terrorism. I call it an act of war. The United States wants to spread democracy, which is antithetical to Islam; I am called upon by Allah to bring about a perfect, worldwide state of Islam.

"I had rather hoped that Agent Jaxon would be here today—he was supposed to be the first to die. But after Ajmaani figured out that a young woman who spoke so many languages had to be Lucy Karp, I thought this would be better. This way, your family will grieve, as I have grieved, before I eventually catch up to them all."

Al-Sistani nodded to one of his men, who placed Lucy against a support beam. He pulled her wrists behind her and around the beam, and bound her there with handcuffs.

"What are you planning to do?" asked the stock exchange vice president. "What do I plan to do?" Al-Sistani said. "Oh yes, the business that I am mixing with my pleasure. Well, the short answer is 'destroy the world as you know it.' On my signal, a dozen banks and trading firms will start selling short our hedge fund's equities and government bonds—all of them. Of course, that will cause the market to crash, taking the U.S. economy and likely the world economy with it. The longer answer is a bit more complex, but that's the abbreviated version."

"They'll never do it," the vice president said. "A sudden order to bundle and sell that much and sell it short will raise red flags; they'll want to make sure it's legitimate, and even then, they'll talk to us first."

Al-Sistani looked amused. "Do you really believe that? I mean, I knew that I couldn't rely on just one bank or trading firm to sell off so much so quickly. And even now, I expect one or two might actually balk. Which is why we made arrangements with a dozen banks and trading firms to handle what they believe are the exclusive rights to our business. They're not aware that the others will be asked to do the same thing. And yes, with bundled orders this large, they really should question it, but if they do, my people will demand that they comply—unless they do not mind losing all of the prince's current and future business. Do you really think these greedy pigs will forgo multimillion-dollar commissions?"

"But Amir, this will ruin me," complained Prince Esra, who'd risen shakily to his feet.

"Really?" Al-Sistani said, looking genuinely concerned, until he laughed again. "That's all part of the ... what is the saying? ... Ah yes, the big picture. This will bankrupt you and a lot of other members of the al-Saud family and their supporters foolish enough to give control of so much of their assets to Kingdom Investments. They will, of course, have to make up for it by taking a larger share of the oil profits and burdening their people even more. The revolution is but a food riot away from your decadent palaces."

Al-Sistani raised the vice president's chin with the muzzle of the gun. "Ah, my faithful tour guide, perhaps you're thinking there's no need to worry, the 'circuit breakers' will kick in before my plan can do too much damage. However, my jihadi friend here, Omar Al-Hassan, will be disabling them."

The vice president shot Omar a look. "How could you?"

"Easy," Al-Sistani answered for Omar. "His family lives in a very dangerous part of Pakistan. People get killed there all of the time. You might say he has no choice, though if something were to befall him, he's been assured that his family will be taken care of as befits a martyr. Omar, are you ready to begin?"

Omar went over to the table with the monitor and keyboard and began typing.

"Oh, and one last thing," Al-Sistani said. "The backup computer you're expecting to save the day? The one at the MetroTech? It will be 'offline' too. When the market starts to crash, there will be nothing to apply the brakes."

"I don't understand," Lucy said.

"Then let me explain," Al-Sistani replied. "I really am rather proud of this. I read some years ago how the failure of a large hedge fund nearly crashed the stock market. The World Bank actually had to come to the rescue of the United States economy. I came up with the idea of doing the same thing—only with a much larger hedge fund. A truly delicious irony is that I did it using U.S. Treasury bonds, which allow their owners to borrow up to ten times the amount owned. In effect, the United States will be paying for its own firing squad.

"The prince's original ten billion, I leveraged to one hundred billion, which I sank into unsecured equities. I'm going to 'dump' all of it on the market at low, low prices, which will crash the market. But that's only half of the game."

Al-Sistani began to pace as his men kept their weapons trained on the hostages. "Think of it as dominoes all lined up to fall in a pattern that reveals something that you can't quite see until it nears completion. I dump the stock and the first domino falls; the market starts to crash and U.S. Treasury bonds are devalued at the same time, that's dominoes two and three. The circuit breakers don't kick in at the stock exchange, and a timely explosion at MetroTech takes out the other computer."

As if lecturing students in a classroom, Al-Sistani looked around to make sure they were all absorbing his genius. "Remember, transactions happen now in the blink of an eye. The NYSE administrators will be watching the market plunge, expecting the circuit breakers to kick on at the first 10 percent drop. When they don't, there will be more hesitation, and by the time they realize that neither computer has closed out trading, the market is in free fall. In the end, the pattern becomes increasingly clear; the U.S. economy is imploding. Then, of course, nobody's paying any taxes; now not only are U.S. Treasury bonds worthless, but the government's revenue source is drying up. The U.S. can't pay its bills—not to other countries, not to its military—and U.S. support for its allies throughout the world, including Israel, dries up to nothing. Imagine ... no more U.S. money to spend on food for Third World countries, no more U.S. money to support their economies, combat disease, educate their people. Imagine famine, riots, war."

"But how could this happen?" Lucy asked, looking at the vice president. "Well, for one thing, I had great business professors at the University of Denver where I got my MBA," Al-Sistani said. "They used to play 'what if' with this particular scenario, and I listened closely. After that it was relatively simple. Even after the near-disaster, hedge funds were still not regulated or overseen by any agency—no rules, no one looking over your shoulder like there are for all other market transactions. Financial managers like me have absolute discretion in what we want to do with the funds. Given that and the U.S. government's hundred-billion-dollar loan, setting up the first domino was easy. It was more difficult to determine how to get past the circuit breakers; we were fortunate to locate Mr. Al-Hassan and then his family. But Mr. Dean Newbury has been extremely helpful as well, though of course for his own reasons."

The vice president closed his eyes. "It will be a worldwide disaster ..."

"Yes," Al-Sistani agreed, "and from the ashes will rise the new caliphate and one world under Allah."

Enjoying the moment, Al-Sistani whirled to face V. T. "Your uncle has been quietly selling off hundreds of millions of dollars' worth of stocks for the past six months in anticipation of the market crashing. Over such a long period of time, and through many dummy accounts, no one really noticed. Then, when the market hits bottom, he plans to buy them for pennies on the dollar ... at least those companies he believes will rebound. You could have been a very wealthy and powerful man, Mr. Newbury."

"I'd rather be dead," V. T. mumbled as he rose shakily to his feet.

"That will happen. By the way, did you know that your uncle poisoned your father?"

V. T. didn't answer. "I thought not," Al-Sistani smiled. "Happy to have been able to provide the news." His pacing brought him in front of Lucy. "And because I also want to make your family suffer personally, you're going to be here for the moment when the first domino falls."

"You're just another lousy terrorist," Lucy said and spat in his face.

Enraged, Al-Sistani stepped back and pointed the gun at Lucy, who didn't flinch. The terrorist gritted his teeth and looked like he would pull the trigger, but then gradually got himself under control. "No, not yet. I want you to watch the minutes and seconds to your death count off." He looked at Suleiman Abdalla, who stood with his gun trained on the hostages, not quite understanding what was going on. "Are you prepared for martyrdom?"

"Yes," Suleiman responded. He opened a backpack he'd brought from the boxes in the supply room, took out the suicide vest, and pulled it on. He fastened it and plugged in the wires to connect the detonator to the plastic explosives.

"I was hoping to use Azahari Mujahid's ingenious pager detonator so that I could send this brave jihadi to Paradise when I was well away from the explosion," Al-Sistani said, "so that I may lead the faithful to the ultimate victory of Allah. However, cell-phone service is poor down here, I'm told—so much for modem technology."

He patted Abdalla on the shoulder. "This vest is on a timer. When I punch in the code, even my brave martyr here would be unable to stop it if he chose.... Not that he would ever consider dishonoring his oath, would you, Suleiman?"

"No, Sheik. I am ready to die for Allah."

"What about me?" the prince cried. "Amir, haven't I always treated you well? Why would you want to do this to me?"

"Treated me well?" Al-Sistani scoffed. "You care for your hounds more than you cared for me. But it's all right, I forgive you. I've been using you, too, for your money and your connections, all these years as my plan came to fruition. But now, I need you for a public service announcement."

The prince looked confused as one of his former bodyguards brought out the video camera that until half an hour earlier had been used to record the prince's grand day at the stock exchange. At a nod from Al-Sistani, who put on a thin black mask he had pulled from his suit pocket, the guard began to film.

"Get on your knees al-Saud dog," Al-Sistani demanded, pointing his gun at the whimpering prince. Looking up at the camera, he delivered a quick message in Arabic and then in English. "Mujahideen, warriors of Islam, I ... The Sheik ... announce the end of the unholy dominance of the West and the beginning of a new era in which Islam will reign supreme. By my hand this day, The Great Satan has suffered a mortal wound. Rise up in jihad and deliver the fatal blow to the West. Overthrow the apostate governments who have been the lackeys of the United States and Israel. As proof of my vow to make their blood flow in rivers, I deliver to hell Prince Esra bin Afraan al-Saud. Death to the royal family! Death to the United States! Death to Israel! Death to all who do not acknowledge that there is no God but Allah, and the Prophet is his messenger!"