THE BROTHERHOOD (9 page)

‘My men told me you failed to obtain Aazim on two occasions. I’m very disappointed, Rami.’ Sam’s gaze drilled into Rami and sent a shiver down his spine.

‘But there was nothing I could do,’ Rami protested weakly. ‘He fooled us with tricky messages. He told me to go to the park, then catch the train, then go to the stairs and in the end he showed up with a car.’ Rami threw his arms up in the air and shook his head in resignation.

‘You allowed him to control you and he played you for a monkey,’ Sam sneered.

‘I had no choice, Sam. I wanted him to trust me. He’s so paranoid he carries a device that shoots out electricity.’

‘It’s called a stun gun, you fool,’ Sam said contemptuously.

‘He left me in the middle of nowhere. I had to walk to the airport and find a taxi. Do you know how long it took me?’

‘There’s no chance of him coming back I take it. Did you at least find out what he plans to do with the databases?’

‘He said he’s going to the police. We must do something, Sam. We have to get out of here before they arrest us.’

‘He won’t be going to the police, you imbecile. He would have done that by now.’ Sam was losing patience. ‘Did you tell him anything you’re not supposed to?’

‘Well … No, I didn’t.’ Rami looked away and his lips started trembling.

‘Rami, what did you tell him?’

‘I didn’t say much, I swear. I … I …’ He began to sob uncontrollably and his words became incoherent.

‘Did you tell him about The Brotherhood? What have you told him, Rami?’ Sam came closer and placed an arm around Rami’s shoulder. Looking him in the eyes, he spoke with a soft reassurance. ‘It’s okay, brother, you can tell me.’

‘Yes I did. I’m so sorry, Sam. I told him about you and The Brotherhood. I tried to bring him back … please don’t tell the others.’ Rami cried, lowering his head in disgrace towards Sam’s chest, searching for affection and support.

‘You’ve jeopardised our plans and placed the operation at risk. Do you understand?’

‘He was going to shoot me with that stun gun, Sam. He said he’d throw me to the rats. Please don’t tell the others!’ Rami pleaded.

‘Stop crying and embrace your fate like a man, brother.’ With his right hand Sam patted Rami’s head and slowly reached around until he found his jaw. ‘It will all be okay … Allah will judge you now.’

Rami’s eyes opened wide. In a quick circular motion Sam twisted the young man’s neck and a violent snap caused Rami’s arms to rise up in a spasm. In a second he was motionless. Sam leaned the limp body against the wall the way he’d found him. Rami looked almost peaceful. Taking a last glance at the body, Sam stood up and made his way out.

A new messenger and a new meeting venue would have to be found. The petulant ignoramus and his big mouth had jeopardised Sam’s hard work, and because of him they were wasting time chasing an insignificant mole who had stolen invaluable information and now possessed knowledge of The Brotherhood. The other members would need to be informed of Rami’s incompetence and demise. Sam despised cowards who placed their worthless selves before the good of the mission, and he expected the same treatment if he were to similarly err.

Chapter 10

Bill was getting irritated, sitting around waiting for a phone call from Saeed. Nor had he received the information he’d asked for, so he looked up Aazim’s name in the White Pages, wrote down his address details and headed out the door.

Aazim lived in a well-to-do southeastern suburb of Melbourne. The apartment building itself wasn’t upmarket but Bill noted that it looked well maintained nevertheless. There was a security code installed at the front entrance so he had to wait until someone came through the gate before he could act. He grabbed a coffee and a newspaper from a shop across the street and discreetly moved to the side of the building and waited, smiling and nodding to anyone who walked past. An elderly lady carrying her shopping slowly approached the entrance. She was lowering her bags to free up a hand when he sprang up and offered to help her, taking the bags out of her hands.

‘Let me help you with that,’ he said, placing his mobile phone to his ear and feigning a conversation. ‘Yes, darling, the flowers were great.’

The old lady looked at him in surprise.

He moved the phone away for a moment and whispered, ‘My fiance. We’re getting married and she’s calling me every fifteen minutes to make sure everything’s perfect for the wedding.’ He rolled his eyes and said into the phone, ‘Yes, darling, I’ll be home in ten minutes. I just need to drop off a client’s receipt.’

‘Thank you, young man, and good luck with your wedding plans,’ the old lady said as she held the gate open for him, giving him a warm smile.

‘Thank you, madam, and here’s your shopping back.’

He handed over the bag of groceries and sprang up the stairs. A couple of burly men brushed past him in a hurry as they descended, nearly knocking him to the side. He found Aazim’s apartment and knocked on the door. Once convinced it was vacant, he decided to let himself in. He made note of the fresh paint on the lock and on closer inspection he could see traces of putty. Shrugging off his jacket, he took out the lock-pick kit that he carried everywhere, a spy’s essential tool. He inserted a couple of thin metallic picks into the cylinder lock and pushed each individual pin up until it was straight with the split line, an area between the inner and outer cylinder. As each picked pin hung, it allowed him to pick the next pin. Once he got them all aligned he used a tension wrench, an L-shaped hook-like tool, to turn the lock. With a practised manoeuvre he snapped the door open, another skill from his ASIO training and a difficult one to learn. He entered the apartment and closed the door behind him.

As he made his way past a cupboard he looked at the family photos displayed in a glass cabinet. Some were of a young man at various ages, obviously Aazim, and others were of an older man and woman who appeared to be his parents. The apartment was spotless; every item was placed neatly where it belonged.  Running his finger across the computer desk, Bill found no trace of dust. Someone’s been here recently and done a good job of covering their traces, he thought. It was possible they had a housekeeper with her own key, but this didn’t explain a basketful of unwashed clothes and plates in the sink.

Another anomaly was the answering machine displaying no messages. If a person hadn’t shown up at work or been seen by friends, surely someone would have tried to contact them. He wondered if Aazim had risked coming back to the apartment, but no, he would have to be either desperate or stupid to do that. Taking a photograph of Aazim with him, Bill made his way out of the apartment.

While descending the stairs it occurred to him to check the mailbox. He didn’t have the keys to open it but peering through the slit he saw it was empty. Thinking back, he realised he hadn’t noticed any mail in the apartment: no junk mail, bills or newspapers. Instinct was telling him that the situation wasn’t quite right, and he decided he’d try to get in touch with Aazim. Returning to the apartment, he looked around for a phone book that might contain a mobile phone number. He found what he was looking for on the kitchen table and scrawled down Aazim’s details. As he turned towards the door, the house phone rang. He stood listening and waited for the answering machine to activate.

It was Aazim’s father: ‘Don’t ring the mobile phone, Aazim. I accidentally dropped the bloody thing when I was getting on a bus and it got broken in the rush.’

Ilias left a hotel number where he could be reached, which Bill added to his notepad. It was the lead he was looking for.

On his way out he dialled Aazim’s number and an automated greeting asked him to leave a message. He contemplated for a moment whether to interfere before his client had had a chance to set up the transaction as planned. Then again, he sensed that Sam was intentionally withholding crucial information about Aazim: the young man did not fit the profile of a criminal. Twenty thousand dollars in his pocket gave Bill a reason to be interested and careful. Since Aazim was apparently extorting a million from Sam, there was an even greater opportunity to dig a little deeper.

‘Hi, this is investigating officer William McKane
from the Department of Foreign Affairs. Can you please call me on the number displayed, I have important information regarding your father.’ He looked around the apartment for a last time before taking off. Grabbing a pizza and a new bottle of scotch on the way home, he waited for Aazim’s phone call.

Aazim paid for two extra nights at the motel. He was running low on cash and soon he would have to withdraw money and move to a cheaper location. He was contemplating contacting the police and just handing over the databases before the situation became any more complicated. He decided to switch the phone back on briefly while it recharged. He was disappointed not to find a message from his father. He wondered whether to return to the apartment and check the answering machine. No, it was too risky, he decided. Sam’s men could be waiting for him and the thought of seeing Mrs Sparrow’s body was terrifying. And it was also too risky to dial in and check the messages himself in case they could somehow track him down.

Messages beeped one by one as the signal strengthened and the phone caught reception. Filtering through each, he came across a message from Sam asking him to return his call urgently, then a message from a person he had never heard of before. Foreign Affairs? It could only mean one thing: his father was in trouble, or worse.

His fingers trembled as he punched in the number he had received from the man called William McKane. Only one thing was on his mind and he didn’t care if his call could be traced: he had to find out if his father was safe.

It was late in the evening and Bill was on the verge of falling asleep on the office couch when the phone rang and woke him up.

‘William McKane speaking.’

There was silence for a moment, then, ‘You left a message on my phone.’

Bill jumped to his feet, whacking his head on the low-hanging light fitting. ‘Aazim?’ he said, rubbing his head.

‘Who are you and how did you get my number?’ Aazim was stern and to the point. If this was some kind of a trap he would hang up straight away.

‘Please call me Bill.’ Bill’s mind raced in an effort to focus.

‘What’s happened to my father?’

‘We received information from Interpol. He may be in trouble but we haven’t been able to contact him and were hoping you could help us.’

‘What information, what’s happened to him?’ Aazim asked, panicking.

‘I would rather we spoke in person, Aazim. It’s a security matter that I can’t discuss over the phone.’

‘What do you mean? Is he hurt? Just tell me, damn it!’

Bill realised he was dealing with a stressed individual and the conversation could go either way. ‘I’m sorry, but I really can’t say more.’

‘Okay, what do you want me to do?’

‘Come to my office and we’ll talk. I’ll need to take some details so we can brief our embassy attaché.’

‘I’m on my way. Where’s your office?’

Bill smiled to himself. He had his quarry in his pocket and his client would get his stolen data quicker than he’d ever imagined. ‘I’m afraid my office is closed at this hour but I can meet you somewhere if you like. I have a late errand to run anyway. I can only imagine how concerned you are and the sooner we do this the better. Where are you now?’

Silence on the other end. ‘Let me call you back.’

Bill made a fist and punched the air. ‘That’s fine. Just hurry up.’

Aazim hung up, feeling uneasy. He didn’t like what the stranger had told him. Picking up the White Pages, he searched through the listings for McKanes until he found one: William McKane. Too much of a coincidence, he thought. Had Sam sent him? Aazim had instinctively felt uneasy about the phone call and the lack of information about this man bothered him. The meeting could be dangerous, he knew, but he was curious and decided to go through with it, but only on his terms. Besides, he had to find out what they knew about his father. He rang Bill back and arranged to meet him at a popular city restaurant.

Chapter 11

Aazim picked a Chinese restaurant on the second floor of a high-rise office building with a courtyard and a shopping complex. A particular window table he frequently used provided a view to the entrance below. There were two exit options and one entry point. The main entrance and exit were on the ground floor at the front of the building and escalators going down provided another exit at the rear end of the restaurant. Leading directly to the shopping centre foyer was another exit point if he needed it.

After copying the databases from the flash disk onto the laptop hard drive, he packed it in his bag and made his way out. Before leaving the motel he asked the receptionist to place the disk in the motel safe. She handed Aazim a spare key to the individual safe in case the front desk wasn’t manned and he needed to remove the contents. With the stun gun in his jacket and the laptop on the seat beside him, he made his way to the Shark Tail.

Unable to get his favourite window seat, he hung around the bar for a few minutes hoping the couple occupying the table would soon leave. A man sitting beside him was doodling on a paper napkin. The man glanced in his direction and Aazim politely looked away. To his annoyance the man initiated a conversation, rambling on about his day and the things that ticked him off.

‘The Americans spent millions of dollars inventing a pen that’ll work in space and the Russians just used pencils. Can you believe that, mate?’ The man shook his head.

‘Yeah, that’s amazing,’ Aazim muttered, making his lack of interest clear, but the man would not be deterred.

‘Hey, what brings you here alone? Are you waiting for a lady friend?’

‘Excuse me,’ Aazim said.

The couple had finished up and Aazim moved in to get the table. Sitting down, he waited anxiously, looking around and taking note of people’s faces. Bill had told him to look for a short stocky man wearing a brown sports jacket and light cream pants. After a few minutes, Aazim noticed a man of that description enter the building and make his way up to the restaurant floor. He peered behind him for any bearded goons following, but none appeared. Aside from a few cabbies scouting for clients the streets were empty. The man in the sports jacket entered the restaurant, where he waited to be seated. When a waiter approached he pointed in Aazim’s direction; Aazim’s nerves flared again as the man headed his way. Suddenly the man stopped short and greeted a female companion sitting a couple of tables away.