No Remorse (26 page)

An electronic beep sounded and Sadiq entered the room. “I’m back. Seth is on his shift.”

Ziad waved a dismissive hand. “Sadiq, contact The Frenchman’s people and set up some appointments while we’re in Paris. We need a new supplier to replace Emil. He was killed a week ago in a war between rival clubs. Find out who is sourcing girls for the clubs now. And Ali, go out and buy ten of the latest iPhones. Pay cash. We need some spares that are not identifiable.”

The two men left and Ziad opened his room safe. He took out a small baggie and pinched some white powder between his thumb and forefinger before raising it to his nostril and sharply inhaling. He did it a second time with the other nostril, brushing off the residue on top of the safe before replacing the baggie. He closed his eyes for a few moments and waited for his head to clear. The coke seemed to help with the headaches and the stress. Lately, things had not been going as smoothly as they should.

He checked his phone. It still seemed to work, so he called Inspector Fareed Al Bohameed in Dubai. The deep voice came on the line and they exchanged ritual greetings.

“Fareed, I need a favor.”

“Of course, brother. What is it you ask? I’ll try to assist. But Ziad, you should be aware that I’ve had some difficulties over the Fanning death.”

“What? What difficulties?”

“The British Consulate pressed for a Coroner’s Inquest. I managed to avoid that outcome, but there are many British expatriates here in influential positions, including in the Police Department. I must tread very carefully, my friend.”

“Of course, Fareed.” He didn’t care how carefully Bohameed had to tread. The man was well paid and he was not going to be let off the hook now. “Have you heard any word on when Fanning’s body is to be released for the funeral?”

“Ah, yes. I was going to call you. The body has been sent yesterday to England for burial in his home town.”

“What? Where will the funeral be held? And when?”

There was a rustling of paper at Bohameed’s end. “I spell it for you. C-H-I-L-W-O-R-T-H. I don’t know the date or place, but the funeral is being arranged by H. Morton and Sons.”

Ziad wrote down the details on the Riston Hotel stationery. “Thank you, Fareed. One more thing… The two people who left Dubai with the Fanning woman. Do you have photographs?”

“I have hotel and airport security images. My apologies, brother. I didn’t realize that you wanted them.”

“Neither did I. Please email them to me, Fareed.”

After he rang off, Ziad considered what steps they might take to stop those two—probably Israeli spies. They were getting too close, and they were dangerous. He called Yuri, a broker he sometimes used. Yuri had the best assassins in Europe on his books. He would have someone who could teach the Jews not to sniff around where they weren’t wanted. And he knew where they might show their faces next.

The daily exercise routine Dr. Xi had set out for Sophia was becoming tedious. Six laps jogging or walking up and down the beach escorted by two guards, and then locked in her room for the rest of the day, with only her music and satellite movie channels and a beautiful picture window out across the crater bay. No magazines or books. No iPhone. Worst of all, no news about her family, if they were okay, or what they might be doing to try to rescue her. Her dad would be putting pressure on the cops. But how could they find her here? Her godfather, who she called Uncle Mac, was in the army. The Special Forces or something. Sounded exciting. Dad had been his basketball coach and had helped him when he was younger, and they were still very close. Dad would have told him about this. But would Uncle Mac be able to help her? Would they send in the army just for her? Probably not, she decided.

Her thoughts drifted to poor Danni, out there somewhere with some wrinkly old Sheik forcing himself on her, and she shivered. Dr. Xi glanced at her.

“You may put your clothes back on, Sophia. I’m happy with that weight gain this week. Almost back to normal.”

Back to normal?
She didn’t feel it. Sophia began to get dressed. “Could I go to Kimba market again? Maybe there’s a bookstore there? I have nothing to read. No other kids to talk to.”

“Mmm. I doubt there’d be books in English. I’ll have someone check. There are some others arriving soon, but I think you’ll be gone before they get here.”

Sophia felt a sense of relief. Dr. Xi had at least treated her decently, allowing her to leave her underwear on, unlike the sleazy Dr. Gammal on board the
Princess Aliya.
She decided to ask what had been on her mind for some days. “Why are you here, Dr. Xi? You know I’ve been kidnapped, right?” Sophia said.

“Of course… I’m here because the Chinese Government took away my position in Beijing. I was very successful surgeon. But my brother, he offend a Han Chinese who had senior position in Xinjiang province. I given poorly paid post in remote town. Not enough money to get my son into university.”

“You are Muslim?”

He nodded. “And His Highness pay me enough so I can get my family out of China in one year, maybe two. Send my son to university in America. And my wife will be able to have second child.”

“But what about the kids that Khalid buys and sells as slaves? Don’t you care about us?”

“Ah, I have nothing against you personally. But, Sophia, how many people you think there are in the world?”

“About six billion, I think. But that doesn’t make anyone any less valuable?”

“Well, no. Some it actually make more valuable. But the answer is seven billion. It will be ten billion in fifty years. This not sustainable.”

“I don’t understand. What’s—”

“Nothing matter, Sophia.
Nothing!
The only thing that matter is survival. Think of it as nature. You have the predator and the prey. For the time being, the governments keep things under control. But not for much longer. Eventually, those with power and wealth must destroy the weak, just to survive. I was given no choice. And so I opt for the side of power, not weakness. That’s all.” He shrugged and finished writing some notes on her file.

“What is this place, Dr. Xi? It’s like a hotel. And yet, it’s not.”

“It is a hotel, but of a unique kind.” Dr. Xi explained that the resort was a luxury rehabilitation center for wealthy people, which was why most of the people employed there were doctors or nurses.

“But why keep slaves here? In a luxury resort?”

“Slave not usually kept here.”

“So why am I being held here?”

“Because Sheik Khalid wanted you to be more comfortable than you’d be around at the maintenance compound. He feel kind for you.”

Sophia rubbed her forehead. “Why would he give
me
special treatment? And why haven’t I been sold?”

Dr. Xi chuckled. “Ah, but Sophia you have been sold. To a very powerful man. He coming to collect you in one week. Six days, in fact.”

A sharp worm of fear squirmed inside Sophia’s stomach.

Dr. Xi called her two attendants, who took her out for a walk along the beach before escorting her back to her room, then locking her in.

Sophia didn’t like the thought of being treated like a predator’s prey. Surely humanity must be above that, she thought, as she tried to figure out what Dr. Xi had meant.

Whatever, she had less than a week left before she’d be taken somewhere, no doubt as some ugly old man’s sex slave. It only made her even more determined to escape. She would not let any opportunity slip by.

“Why didn’t the Dubai Police get involved and get Bill off the boat?” Tally asked, glancing at Rosco as she carried the coffee over to her computer. They had set up their gear in a room two levels below where Khalid and his retinue were occupying a whole floor of the Riston Hotel in Paris, although at Mac’s insistence they were sleeping a few blocks away at the Hyatt for security reasons. “Did Khalid pay them off?”

“No,” Rosco replied, glancing up from his workstation. “Bill was killed the same night you guys left Dubai. By the time Mai called them to complain, they were trying to find her to inform her of Bill’s death. Khalid and Ziad were in Paris, and the
Princess Aliya
was en route to Karachi, according to the GPS tracker. It’s working well, by the way, Mac.”

“Great.” Mac was pacing back and forth like a hungry dog.

“Mai must hate us.” Tally said. “I’m amazed she invited us to the funeral.”

“You have to remember that from her perspective, we also saved her life and George’s. And I think she’s a little afraid they might still be in danger.”

“Why would she think that? Unless she knows something. You’ll give her my apologies, won’t you? I really need to stay here with Rosco, and complete the Khalid penetration.”

“Of course. Look, I might go, if you guys don’t need me for a while.”

“I’ll be leaving soon, too,” she said. “The Hyatt bar at seven for dinner?”

“Bet you won’t recognize me.”

“I’ll take that bet,” she said, lifting the mug to her lips.

Mac nodded to Rosco and left.

“You guys seem to be getting on well?” Rosco said, winking.

She raised her eyebrows. Was it that noticeable? “Surprising as it may seem, Rosco, he’s actually a decent, old-fashioned sort of guy. So how’re things back at the ranch?”

“Ha! Palmenter’s team missed out on eighty million from some Malaysian dude. Apparently the target’s bank checked the transfers with the guy and he cancelled them before they’d cleared. Palmenter was pissed off big time about missing the bonus.”

“Did Derek say anything about Ziad’s emails?”

“No. But I’ve been running LEXITIVE and have them all processed. Unfortunately, they tend to use common, everyday terms. Like pineapples, widescreen TVs, books, engine parts, even body parts. Ziad’s emails to Emil Bladelescu mention apricots and plums. Maybe apricots are females and plums are males. We’ll probably never know for certain.”

Tally leaned over and grabbed his mouse, bringing up the reply to the decrypted email she’d discussed with Derek. “What do you make of this one?”

Rosco studied it for a while. “Who’s this Rockfire, I wonder? Handover of containers seems to have a clear meaning. Looks like he’s selling the containers, or something from the containers, for two mill. But the bit about blood type and donor? I don’t know. Here’s the reply.” He clicked on the related email.

“May eighteenth? That’s next week!”

“But what’s the liver thing about?” Tally shook her head. “The whole thing is not making sense. Two million for a liver? Do you think liver is just a code word for uranium?”

“Mmm…no, those canisters are worth much more than that,” Rosco said. “You know it’s never easy to interpret a small number of specific emails like this. Maybe it’s a mistranslation by LEXITIVE. I’ll run a few tests, just in case.”

Something tweaked in Tally’s brain. Tests. Blood type. She plunked herself down at her computer and brought up an email she’d previously hacked from Rubi’s computer.

She looked up at Rosco, who was standing behind her shoulder. “What if we assume LEXITIVE is decrypting correctly? We know Khalid is running a slave trade. What if he’s selling the organs from the people he’s abducting?”

Rosco pursed his lips and thought about it for a moment. “I’ve heard of tourists in India being drugged and waking up to find a kidney removed. But people have only got one liver, sweetie. And in any case, who’d pay two million for a liver?”

“Someone very rich I guess…” Tally said, typing madly to check something.

“…And maybe one who has a rare blood type?” Rosco finished the sentence for her. “AB negative?”

“On it.” She sat back and waited, her face flushed with the excitement of the chase. Moments later her search result revealed that blood type AB negative was the rarest, with less than 1% of the population having it. Digging deeper, she discovered that AB negative was five times rarer among Saudi Arabians.

She ran another search, this time on Al Qaeda leaders born in Saudi Arabia and Al Qaeda leaders known to have blood type AB negative. After a moment, one name appeared that matched all the criteria: Sheik Abdul Zodhami.

“Zodhami!” she said, pounding the table.

Rosco nodded. “That bastard. Rumored to be gaining support for the top job. One of the planners of 9/11, according to the files they found in Abbottabad.”

“I know. And he has health problems, according to his file.”

“Well, maybe he’s like, getting himself a new liver on Andaran on the fifth.” Rosco met her gaze. “Possibly from a living donor.”

“Oh, God.” Tally realized she’d been ignoring the other angle, and a worm in her stomach began to turn. She did another search. Their files had no information on the blood type of Sophia or her friend Danni. “Damn!” She stared at the phone number on the screen in front of her. Bob Bennett. If she called him, Mac would find out. How would she explain that? On the other hand, if their assumptions were correct, they needed to get to Andaran to stop the operation.