Redemption (40 page)

‘Tomorrow will be a long day. For both of us.’

He gave her a wry smile. ‘I’m used to that.’

Chapter 55

‘AT LAST! I’VE
got them,’ Frost exclaimed.

For the past hour she had been trawling through a backlog of security footage from the dozens of cameras dotted around the airport, looking for just one glimpse of their targets. Now at last she’d found them.

Dietrich and Keegan were beside her in a few seconds, leaning in close to examine the frozen black-and-white image. Sure enough, they saw a man and a woman walking out of the airport terminal together. Anya’s blonde hair made her easy to pick out amongst the crowd.

‘Where did they go after that?’ Dietrich demanded.

‘You,’ Frost said, pointing at one of the Saudi technicians nearby. ‘Give me a wide-angle shot from one of the exterior cameras. One that’s facing south-west. Use the same time frame.’

The man shot her an angry look, but a stern glare from Rahul was enough to silence any protests. He had made good on his agreement to get them access to the airport security camera system, either persuading or intimidating his way into the building and resolutely ignoring the protests about foreign intervention. He was Saudi internal police – his word was law.

Within moments, the image on her screen changed to an outside shot of the terminal building. It took them a few seconds to pick out Drake and Anya amongst the
throng
of passengers, but once they had them, there was no letting go.

They watched as the pair made for the bus terminal and spent a couple of minutes wandering between the stands before selecting one.

Dietrich made a note of the bus number and turned to Rahul. ‘Can you pull up the route that bus takes?’

It took a couple of minutes to find the route, forcing them to delay their observation while they searched for available cameras at each of the bus stops. Much to their dismay, fewer than half of the stops were covered.

Dietrich chewed his lip as Frost scanned each of the available stops during the time the bus was meant to arrive there.

On the fifth stop, Keegan piped up. ‘I see them. There!’

Damn, the man had good eyes. No wonder he became a sniper.

Sure enough, Drake and Anya disembarked on a fairly unremarkable street in central Riyadh, and were making to cross the busy road.

‘What are they looking for?’ Dietrich wondered.

Frost was on it. ‘Can we get a shot across the street?’

Once again the image changed, this time displaying the output from a camera on the opposite side. Straight away Dietrich understood where they were heading.

‘They’re buying a car.’

It was surreal watching them browsing the ranks of parked vehicles, knowing it had happened hours ago. Settling on one in particular – a light brown Land Rover – they wasted no time attracting the attention of the dealer.

Frost fast-forwarded the protracted negotiations, missing about half an hour of footage, until at last they had a decent shot of the vehicle pulling out of the forecourt.

‘Freeze that shot,’ Dietrich ordered.

It was a perfect image of Anya and Drake up front, just before they pulled out onto the main road. They were both wearing sunglasses and had changed into casual clothes, but it was unmistakably them. More important, it gave them an unobstructed view of the licence plate.

A smile crept across Dietrich’s face as he noted down the number. ‘Follow them every inch of the way. I want to know every move they made.’

‘On it.’

As Frost resumed her work, Dietrich pulled out his cellphone to call Franklin’s office back at Langley.

Hussam proved to be as generous as he was jovial. Returning downstairs a short time later, Drake and Anya were greeted by a meal of spit-cooked lamb, grilled chicken, rice, dates, fava beans cooked in olive oil, loaves of flat unleavened bread and coffee served Turkish style with the ground beans still in the cup.

They fell upon the food as only starving people can. Drake was amazed that such a feast had been prepared in such a short time, and had thought to pass his compliments on to Hussam’s wife, though he suspected it wouldn’t be appropriate.

There was little talking during the meal. Anya had explained in advance that conversation was not encouraged during dinner so that guests could enjoy the food. Drake wasn’t complaining.

Hussam was putting food away with the best of them. He suspected the man had already eaten tonight, but by the looks of him, he wasn’t the sort to refuse a good meal.

‘So, my friend, tell me more about yourself,’ he said, addressing Drake as the meal wound down. ‘How is it you come to know my Ameera?’

At this, Anya cocked an eyebrow, though Drake saw a hint of a smile too. He was quite certain that few other men would get away with referring to her in such a way.

‘We both work for the same people, but we only met a few days ago. Things have been … eventful so far,’ Drake began, not sure how much to tell him, or how much he already knew. He glanced at his female companion, smiling, though his eyes held an accusatory look. ‘One thing I’ll say about her – she’s certainly full of surprises.’

At this, Hussam threw back his head and laughed. ‘Of that, I have no doubt! She certainly surprised me when I met her for the first time. What was it, Ameera? Fifteen years ago?’

‘Sixteen,’ Anya confirmed.

‘Ah, yes. The Battle of Khafji.’ He leaned back in his seat, his ample stomach protruding before him. ‘During the Iraq War, I had the misfortune of leading a platoon into the city to capture an enemy communications centre, but instead we were ambushed by Republican Guard and surrounded. I was ready to meet Allah when chaos erupted outside, and suddenly the Iraqis were fleeing and shouting in fear. A moment later, a young woman with yellow hair came rushing into the building, her face all streaked with dust and dirt, and blood on her bayonet. She looked at me with eyes like two pieces of ice, and then just like that, she straightened up and saluted as if she were a recruit on the parade ground.’ He laughed and shook his head at the memory. ‘Never in my life have I been more surprised, or more relieved, to see a woman.’

Drake looked over at Anya, noticing a little more colour in her face. Was she actually embarrassed?

Draining her coffee, she laid her cup down and looked
at
Hussam. ‘Maybe we should go over the plan for tomorrow?’

He nodded agreement, and called out for someone to take away the remains of the meal. While his wife cleared away the empty plates and bowls, he spread a map out on the wooden coffee table, depicting the border region between Iraq and Saudi Arabia.

‘I have spoken to a couple of my drivers while you were upstairs,’ he began. ‘The best place to make the crossing is here, about a hundred miles west of Kuwait. You will have to leave the highway after Hafar Al Batin, and from there it is about a forty-mile drive to the border. The terrain is rough and hard going, so the Americans tend to avoid it with their Humvees. But there is a deep wadi running north–south that should keep you hidden from any patrols in the area.’

Anya was nodding slowly as she studied the map, already visualising the route they would take.

At least we won’t have to worry about aerial surveillance, Drake thought. With all Predators grounded after Munro’s little stunt, their way should be more or less clear.

‘Minefields?’ Drake prompted, looking up at Hussam. Iraq had laid hundreds of thousands of mines along their borders to guard against invasion. Even years later they were an ever-present threat, as many civilians and Coalition soldiers had found to their cost.

The old man shook his head. ‘No mines there, my friend. My drivers have used that wadi a hundred times.’

Drake said nothing. He was inclined to take assurances like that with a grain of salt.

‘What about weapons?’ Anya asked.

The old man grinned, pushed himself away from the table and lumbered out of the room, returning a few
moments
later with two large cloth-wrapped bundles under his arms. Laying them down gently on the table, he undid the cordage that held them together and pulled back the coverings to reveal a pair of AK-47 assault rifles.

Drake nodded in satisfaction. He had no intention of starting a shooting match tomorrow, but if the worst happened, he wanted a weapon he could rely on. In that regard, he couldn’t think of anything better.

The design dated back to the Second World War, when Soviet weapons manufacturers began to search for a weapon that combined the range of a conventional rifle with the rate of fire of a sub-machine gun. A couple of years later, an enterprising young designer named Mikhail Kalashnikov produced one of the finest infantry weapons ever made.

The basic design hadn’t changed much in the past sixty years. Cheap and easy to produce, reliable and rugged, accurate and long ranged, the AK-47 was everything a soldier could want. Their reliability was legendary. Even when dropped on hard surfaces, clogged up with snow, mud or sand, or exposed to extremes of heat or cold, they almost always kept working. Drake had even seen one fired on full automatic until the wooden barrel guard caught alight from the excess heat.

These were the paratrooper version, with folding metal stocks instead of wooden ones. He picked one up to inspect it. It wasn’t a light weapon like the American M4, but there was a certain elegance and economy to its design that told him a great deal of thought had gone into it. He racked back the priming handle to check the working parts, then pulled the trigger. There was a simple, precise click as the firing pin hit an empty chamber.

Anya was doing the same with her own rifle. She had
used
AKs many times, and though she appreciated the weapon’s undeniable strengths, she had never been a great fan. It was heavier than she liked, suffered from powerful recoil that was almost impossible to control on automatic, and the trigger assembly was too large for her hands. Still, a gun was a gun, and she had what she needed now.

‘Excellent,’ she decided. ‘Thank you, Hussam.’

The old man beamed under her praise. ‘For you, anything.’

She laid the assault rifle down on the table again. ‘We must leave in a few hours if we’re to make our rendezvous tomorrow. I’d like to cover as much ground as we can before sunrise.’

‘A sound plan,’ he agreed. ‘I will make sure your jeep is fuelled.’

She flashed a wry smile. ‘I imagine you have plenty to spare.’

The old man spread his hands. ‘Life here has its advantages.’

As Anya set about wrapping the two assault rifles again, Hussam moved closer to Drake and touched his arm. ‘I am going outside to take some air. Walk with me, my friend.’

Drake glanced at Anya, who he noticed was studiously avoiding his gaze. He was reluctant to leave her, yet Hussam had proven to be a great aid to them so far; he didn’t think it wise to refuse the man. He was also intrigued about what he had to say.

Leaving Anya to her own devices, he followed Hussam outside.

Chapter 56

DIETRICH’S PHONE WAS
ringing. It was Franklin. ‘Yeah?’

‘Jonas, we just got an alert in from the NSA.’ He was trying to be calm and businesslike, but Dietrich could hear the mixture of excitement and anxiety in his voice. ‘They found Drake’s vehicle. It’s parked up beside a house in a small town called Al Majma’ah, about fifty miles from the Iraqi border. The house is registered in the name of Hussam Khariri, a former major in the Saudi Army.’

Dietrich could barely hide his smile of triumph.

Frost had managed to track their movements as far as Highway 65, heading out of the capital, but after that the camera coverage became sporadic until they were reduced to mere guesswork. Still, it seemed logical to conclude they were heading north, towards Iraq. Dietrich had instructed Franklin to concentrate their satellite assets on that area, and it seemed his assumption had paid off.

‘Copy that, Dan. We’re gearing up now.’

It was all coming together for him. He could feel it. Already he could imagine the praise and commendations that would be heaped on him for this. His previous transgressions would be forgotten about. He would be redeemed, vindicated.

And as for Drake …

‘Remember, we need them alive,’ Franklin reminded him. ‘Don’t get trigger happy.’

Dietrich smiled. ‘We’ll do our best. I promise that.’

Signing off the call, he turned to Rahul. ‘Get an assault team together, fully armed and equipped for a house raid. And we need a chopper. Something big and fast. We don’t have much time.’

The temperature had fallen with the setting sun, a cool breeze blowing little clouds of dust across the courtyard as Hussam ambled away from the house. High above, the first stars twinkled in the vast darkened sky.

The peaceful scene was interrupted when two young children darted across the open space, yelling and shouting at each other. A boy and a girl, perhaps eight or nine years old. Drake knew nothing of their language, but it seemed there was some disagreement over a little toy sailing ship that the boy was trying to wrestle from the girl.

A stern reproach from Hussam was enough to silence the dispute, for now at least. Both children turned to face him, as if they were young squaddies on a parade ground waiting to get an earful from their drill sergeant.

As Hussam scolded them for misbehaving in front of a guest, the little girl glanced at Drake for a moment, her large brown eyes filled with curiosity and a hint of suspicion.

Drake felt a shiver run through him. For an instant, he saw a different girl staring back at him. A girl in a blue dress, her eyes wide with terror.

He blinked, and the vision was gone.

‘Children,’ Hussam said, switching back to English as he resumed his walk. His look of gruff discipline
was
gone now, replaced by an indulgent smile. ‘They can drive a man to distraction, but life would be empty without them. Do you have any of your own, Drake?’

He shook his head. Somehow he couldn’t see a family fitting in with the kind of life he lived. ‘None.’

The old man said nothing further for a while, and Drake didn’t press him. Whatever he had to say, he would say it in his own time. There was a certain deliberate confidence about the man that he found almost disarming, as if everything that unfolded around him did so because he allowed it to happen.