No Remorse (18 page)

There was a slight pause and Sheriti knew that her case officer would be checking her voice stress levels on a device at the other end, to ensure she was speaking freely. “Okay. We have analyzed the photos on the memory card taken from the man at the Madinat,” Miki began, her words concise and unemotional. “He had a Canadian passport in the name of Lee Maclean. He’s not known to our database.”

Sheriti breathed out sharply, feeling a strong sense of relief. She’d been worried the man might have worked for Khalid or Ziad. That would have ruined their months of preparation, and possibly led to her being identified. All the unpleasantness she had experienced would have been wasted, and she tried not to let her mind imagine what would happen to her if they discovered her true allegiance. “Then… an innocent tourist, perhaps?”

“Possibly not,” said Miki. “Most of the photos are of the
Princess Aliya
. Except for the close-ups of you and me.”

“Oh.” Sheriti’s mind raced with a number of dangerous possibilities.

“These aren’t the photos of a tourist. He’s taken shots of the surveillance cameras. Close-ups of cleats jutting out from the hull—potential footholds or handholds. Shots of the areas of the boat out of view of the security cameras.”

“You think he’s maybe planning to sneak aboard? A thief, maybe?”

“Mmm. Or rapist. Or an agent. At the very least, he’s a nuisance.”

“American perhaps? CIA? But if so, why would he follow me?”

“That’s the problem. We don’t know. Jaron probably should have killed him at the Madinat.”

“It is as well you didn’t, if he’s CIA. What would the CIA want with Khalid? He has no terrorist profile. The western media loves him. Unless…”

“Precisely. Unless they know of the Saddam cargo.”

“I thought our source at the CIA told us they don’t.”

“I’ll have to tell Meir about this. It increases the urgency. We don’t want the Americans beating us to the canisters.”

“What about Fanning? He’s in danger. And he designed the fortress.”

There was a long pause. Finally, Miki said: “Our orders are to do nothing until we can confirm Khalid has the canisters. And we know he doesn’t have them yet. We cannot afford to risk Israel, Sheriti. Fanning is not our concern.”

It was dark when Mac woke to find Tally maintaining a vigil by his bed, dabbing a damp towel on his forehead.

“Here,” she said, handing him a glass of water and some Advil.

What made her think he needed a nurse? “I’m fine,” he said, taking the towel from his head and swinging his legs off the bed. He flinched as the axe split the inside of his head, pain spiking down behind his eyes and spreading across the roof of his mouth. He steadied himself a moment, then took the Advil from her palm. “Thanks.” He tossed the caps down and went to the bathroom to get some codeine.

“You really should rest. You’ve probably got a concussion,” she warned when he returned, handing him a room-service menu. “Here, tell me what you’d like.”

“A slow back massage would be kinda good right now.”

Tally folded her arms and stood there until he chose dinner, then went to dial room service. He walked out onto the balcony and stared down at the
Princess Aliya
. Was Sophia on that boat somewhere? He had to get aboard and check it out. The vessel was lit up like a Christmas tree, which wouldn’t make it any easier. But the mist coming onshore was promising, and tonight might be his only chance.

Tally joined him. “Looks like it’s going to be a cool one tonight,” she said, leaning on the rail.

“How’s the hacking going?”

“I got Rosco to check Sheriti out. So far she appears to be what she claims, a personal trainer from Cairo. But maybe it’s just a good cover. And I’ve downloaded Ziad’s emails. They’re all encrypted, so I’ll work on them later.”

“Great.”

“Nothing useful from your bug. But I managed to get a copy of the plans for the
Princess Aliya
on the Bruhm and Verweck server. They’re the German shipbuilders. The printouts are on the table.”

“Good one. That’ll help.”

“It gets better. While you were out of it, I was able to log on to Rubi’s account. There was one circular email to the Hunnafite Foundation. It refers to a plan by Khalid to finance the creation of a global DNA database of kids in Hunnafite-funded orphanages. The aim is to find potential relatives, according to the email.”

“Why would they do that? I mean, it sounds like a good idea. But wouldn’t it be expensive?”

“Yes. And if you think it through, it doesn’t make sense. Who would bother do pay for a DNA test on the off-chance an orphan is theirs?”

“I guess. Are DNA tests expensive?” He was confused. He decided his brain wasn’t in the best of condition for analyzing this problem. Then he had another thought. “Actually, how is this relevant to us trying to steal Abu-Bakr’s cash?”

“It’s not. But I know you’ve been trying to find Sophia and her friend Danni. And you are trying to find a man they call The Frenchman.”

“What?”
How did she know that?
Actually, he reflected, he might have mentioned The Frenchman to Tony Cabrera in Nice.

“Tony told me… What, you think that because I was a little harsh on you when we first met, I wouldn’t care? We all know you have another agenda here, Mac. Just for the record, I’ll help if I can.”

What was this? Tally willing to help him search for the girls? Mac shook his head. It felt like his brain was a squash ball being pounded against the wall. “Sorry, I’m struggling here. Can you please just explain the relevance of the email?”

She gave a pert smile, like she was building up to a big surprise. She took his arm and escorted him inside, where she brought up the email on a screen. “Look at who’s on the c.c. list. The Frenchman. The guy you told Tony was behind Sophia’s abduction. I’ve tracked him down. His name is Emil Bladelescu. He lives in Paris. Runs a sleazy strip joint called the Rumy Bar. Seems like Khalid has dealings with him too, through Ziad.”

Should he trust her? This information was nothing he didn’t already know, although it was a direct source, which was a useful confirmation of Emil’s confession. More important, though, was this revelation that Tally was willing to help. With the amazing capabilities at her fingertips, it seemed like he would be crazy now not to trust her.

So he told her everything as they ate dinner. About the pilot in Martinique and the rescue of the girls from Emil’s warehouse in Paris. About Emil’s confession that he had sold Sophia and Danni to Ziad. Telling her seemed like the right thing to do, seeing as she had been trying to help him. But it was also a risk. If she told Wisebaum, he would probably be kicked off the team. He could be sent back to Fort Bragg to face a court-martial. Certainly, Derek didn’t want his Abu-Bakr operation compromised—he’d made that quite clear.

“So there it is. I won’t insult you by asking you not to tell Derek. But I’m hoping you won’t.” He wondered if he’d succeeded in appealing to her sympathetic side.

“Is there anything else I should know that might impact on our operation?”

“Nope. I mean, how was I to know Khalid might have bought these girls? In any case, it’s Prince Abu-Bakr that ASTA’s after. Khalid’s just a way of getting to Abu-Bakr. Anything I do with Khalid outside that is irrelevant.”

She stood up and wandered over to the French windows that led onto the balcony. “Derek’s been good to me, Mac.”

That was when he realized it had been a mistake to tell her. He should have known. Now she’d have to tell Wisebaum. If she didn’t, she’d be putting his interests above her loyalty to her boss. And truth be told, if the roles were reversed, he would never do that. Yet he knew he had to push her, because now he understood how valuable the ASTA technology could be. He’d never wanted to be in this position, where he’d have to plead with Tally. “Come on, Tal. I know we can succeed in both. We can get Abu-Bakr’s money
and
find Sophia and Danni.”

She frowned. “Mac, I admire what you’re trying to do. But… this new information has put me in a really awkward position. I’m sorry.”

It seemed like his appeal to her better nature wasn’t working, so he tried provocation. “Okay. I get it. Now you have the perfect excuse to get me booted off the team. What you wanted all along, I guess.”

She went back to her computers. “Don’t push it… I need time to think about this, all right? Oh, God.”

“Look. Give me forty-eight hours, okay? Long enough to check out Khalid’s ship and his house.” He glanced over at her. “What is it?”

Tally had her chin resting on her hands and she shook her head as she stared at the email on the screen. “He’s dead. Abu-Bakr is dead. I imagine we’ll be wrapping up here soon and heading back to Montreal.

She looked up at him, and for a moment he thought her eyes were saying that she was sorry.

“No…
Damn!
” He dropped his knife and fork with a clatter and went over to read Wisebaum’s email. “You know… fuck it. I didn’t see that message. Was out trying to put that fucking brick on the boat, wasn’t I? Lock the door. If I’m not back by dawn, call Derek and tell him whatever you like. It won’t matter then.”

The mist had thickened to a soupy fog, as Mac had hoped, muffling the crash of waves against the rock wall of the marina and reducing visibility to a few feet. Ice in the upper atmosphere had created a halo around the moon. The night had cooled considerably, which helped clear his head. Better still, the marina was almost deserted. Most people had stayed indoors, and the few who had ventured out in the cool conditions had retreated inside. Mac crouched down in some thick foliage at the start of the seawall. Now all he had to do was wait until the fog was thick enough.

An hour passed. Two. He closed his eyes, trying to relieve the headache. When he opened them again, the lights on the deck of the
Princess Aliya
had been switched off, leaving only a few spotlights at key places. He glanced at his watch: 12:04 a.m. Time to move. This might be his one and only chance.

He stood up and stretched his cramped legs and tightened the straps of his ankle sheath, checking that the knife was secure, then put his daypack on his back and hurried along the walkway toward the yacht. The moist, salty air condensed like sweat on his face. The
Princess Aliya
loomed up ahead through the mist. He crept behind the pallets and containers that cluttered the dock as he searched for the best place to sneak aboard.

To protect the vessel from bumping against the dock were several giant foam fenders, each about the size of a VW Beetle. Satisfied there was nobody in sight, he ran and jumped onto one of them, grabbing a rope to stop from bouncing into the water. He swung his leg up, but the glossy white hull was slippery and he lost his footing. Using the strength of a rock-climber, he hauled himself up the fender rope until he eventually managed to swing over the rail onto the lower deck.

He quickly surveyed the surroundings. Listened. Just the sound of the water lapping against the hull and the low throbbing of the ship’s auxiliary engine. Standing on fiberglass privacy shutters, he stretched up towards the rail on the deck above. Just out of reach. He jumped, grasping the lip and pulling his body up onto the next deck.

Above him came a new sound of music and female laughter. The women’s quarters, he assumed. There should be no other men here. Crawling below the windows, he peered through a crack in the shutters. The three Khalid women he’d seen earlier in the day were dressed in colorful harem costumes, and Sheriti was leading the other two in a belly dance routine. There was no sign of any other girls. He assumed any captive women would be locked up, probably down in the cargo hold well away from Khalid’s other women. He needed to find a way inside.

He wiped the moisture off his forehead and moved back towards the stern, where the barrels holding the life rafts were located. Unclipping the clamps on one of the barrels, he took off the daypack and activated the GPS before concealing it inside. Provided they didn’t routinely check the life rafts or replace them, the GPS should remain undiscovered.

As he closed the barrel, he heard male voices coming up the stairs. Move! He snatched the daypack and raced forward until he found a steel beam he could squeeze behind. Shit! He’d forgotten to secure the clamps! He held his breath. His pulse was pounding in his neck. If they noticed the clamps were undone they might find the GPS and then he’d be fucked. The men came closer, then stopped. It sounded like there were two of them. They’d stopped to peer in the window, as he had done. After a few moments they knocked. Light streamed out onto the deck as the door opened. Music blared out and the misty air swirled.

A woman giggled and spoke above the noise. “Ah, Seth, just in time! You and Assad can watch the performance we have planned for His Highness!”

“Of course we would like to watch,” Seth replied.

More giggling, and a moment later the door closed, plunging the deck into darkness again.

It occurred to Mac that possibly Seth may have been disguised under the burqa at the Madinat earlier in the day, which would mean that the other man, Assad, may have been the one who had knocked him out. Had they seen his photos? It didn’t seem as though they had arranged any additional security on the
Princess Aliya
. But then, if the relationship with Sheriti was a secret, they wouldn’t be able to explain why they were meeting like that.

He needed to get down into the hold, where the plans of the vessel had shown him Sophia and Danni might be being held. Nothing would stop him now. He took his knife from its sheath. If Ziad would only make an appearance.

He hurried back and secured the clamps. Keeping low, he crept down the stairs. Three crewmembers were standing at the rail smoking. Retreating back up, he went around starboard and swung over the rail, dropping the short distance onto the privacy shutters, then climbing down until he could jump onto the lower deck.

He hurried to the bulkhead door. It was locked. He swore under his breath. Now he’d have to wait until one of the crew came along. Then, as he looked around for a place to hide, he realized the door was not actually locked. The handle had a double locking system designed to prevent accidental opening, similar to the rear door of a truck. He flipped the safety and the handle turned.