The Jerusalem Creed: A Sean Wyatt Thriller (21 page)

Joe and Helen smiled at the offer. Helen looked perplexed. “Where did you say she had to go?”

Sean’s eyes shifted mischievously from one person to the other.

“He didn’t.” Joe answered for him.

Tehran

Adriana slithered through the flowing mass of people like a snake through a debris-filled river, colliding with people on more than one occasion. One man, with a thick beard that stretched nearly to his eyes, stopped and stared at her. The look was one of surprise more than irritation. He probably couldn’t believe a woman could take a bump to the shoulder like that and keep her balance. What he didn’t know was that beneath the black robes and veil was one of the world's most agile thieves.

Not bogged down with the need to make money, Adriana had pursued a life of adventure. For the past several years, she had spent most of her time researching and tracking down stolen artwork from World War II. Adolf Hitler, it seems, was a sucker for collecting, and he had amassed a priceless fortune in art from various sources in Europe.

A portion of that collection was discovered in a cave near his countryside estate by the fabled unit known as the Monuments Men. Movies and books were written about the men and their search for the lost masterpieces. While their mission had been largely successful, so many other works of art were still missing. She made it her personal obsession to find out where they might be, steal them back, and return them to either their rightful owners, or the appropriate museums.

With a hobby like that, staying fit and nimble were obvious prerequisites.

Her eyes remained narrow as she navigated the pedestrian chaos until she arrived at the market. Fabric awnings and tents lined the streets. Even at this early hour, vendors were in peak performance, shouting out offers and deals to any passersby whose ears they could bend. She glanced up at the strips of cloudless, blue sky hovering over the canyon of buildings and tents. For a second, her mind drifted, and she wondered how women could wear these dark outfits in the blazing heat of summer. She shook the thought from her head and refocused. She was looking for a specific type of vendor, one she’d seen in this area before. Maybe the seller had moved or was out of business. For what Sean needed her to buy, it was likely that someone else would have the requisite items, assuming they were somewhat common.

She weaved through the potential buyers of spices, fruits, meats, and vegetables and finally arrived at the stall she remembered from a previous visit. Adriana couldn’t remember if the seller was the same person, but it didn’t matter. The old man in the turban with squinty black eyes, a gray beard, and three missing teeth would do just as well as any. She looked down at the rows of bracelets, necklaces, earrings, and stones.

Adriana pointed at two items and asked in Farsi, “How much?”

The man responded with a price that was cheaper than she’d thought he’d give. She reached into the folds of her robe and produced several bills. She quickly counted it and pressed the money into his palm. He turned away to get change as she’d given him too much money, but when he spun slowly back around, she’d vanished into the seething mass of people.

As she moved through the street, Adriana secured her purchase in a small leather pouch that she’d taken from the stall. She didn’t consider it stealing. After all, she’d given the man almost double what he asked for. He wouldn’t miss a little bag. But it was what Sean had said they needed, and she trusted him. Underneath her robe, Adriana wore a pair of gray capri pants and quickly tucked the pouch in her back pocket for safekeeping.

Thirty yards away, she could see the opening where the side street intersected the main road. From there, she would go across to where another street led out of town. She could hail a taxi and give the driver the address once she was safely in the car. Her little side mission was easier than she’d imagined.

Just as the thought entered her mind, Adriana felt a firm hand slap down on her shoulder. She stopped instantly but didn’t turn around. Strong fingers dug into the soft tissue between her clavicle and her neck, sending a sharp pain through her nerves. She squinted into the sunlight and waited for a moment. If her assailant were armed, it would be unlikely that he would use a gun in this mob. Discharging a firearm would cause a panic. And it would also lead to his arrest, more than likely.

Sure enough, the man’s voice filled her in on the missing detail. “If you try to run, I will stick my knife in your kidneys. If you try to scream for help, I will stick it through the back of your neck to silence you.”

Adriana spoke enough Farsi to know what he was saying, though she was better with Arabic. She assumed he was holding the blade close without actually pressing it against her since she didn’t feel the point.

“What do you want?” she asked in the man’s preferred tongue.

“You are to come with me. My employer has requested your presence.”

“Oh? And he only sent
you
to bring me in? He should have sent more men.”

The man snorted and then grunted a quick laugh. “And why is that?”

She dropped suddenly and spun into the arm that held her. In the same motion, her hand grabbed his wrist and pulled back as she jammed her palm into his elbow. The opposing force snapped the joint in an excruciating angle, and the man yelled out in pain.

Adriana was a spinning vortex of black death in her flowing robes. Using the shock of the newly broken arm against him, she dropped again and swept her leg at his heels. The blow flipped him onto his back. Amid his panicked fall, the man let go of his knife in a desperate attempt to brace himself. She saw the flash of metal, snatched the seven-inch blade out of the air, and brought it down into his throat at the exact moment his body struck the concrete.

Several people looked on in horror at what had just happened. Adriana stood over the shaking body. The man’s lone good hand grasped in vain at the handle of the weapon that killed him, his own knife. Her eyes narrowed again as she locked gazes with some of the witnesses.

“I am another man’s wife. He touched me.” Her words struck home with the circle that had gathered around the scene. No one said anything, and none made a move to subdue her.

A moment later, the crowd began to disperse. It was only a matter of minutes before someone would call the police. None of the witnesses would dare bother her directly, so if she were to escape, it had to be now.

She took off at a sprint, heading toward the main street. The immediate throng in front of her parted like the Red Sea, not wanting to incite the wrath they’d just beheld. Ten yards in, though, she had to bump and nudge her way through until she reached the line of cars backed up along the road. Free of the pedestrian traffic, she darted across the street, sliding through the narrow spaces between bumpers until she reached the other crowded sidewalk.

Adriana paused for a second and looked back to see if anyone else was following. As far as she could tell, there was no one. Satisfied she was alone, she took off down the almost vacant alley and ran toward the next street. If someone was following her, she didn’t intend to let them keep up easily.

Halfway down the side street, she ducked behind a garbage bin and removed the black robes. Speed was more important than concealment now, though she kept the veil and scarf around her face and neck. Her skin tingled for a second, exposed to the fresh air by her black short-sleeved shirt. She reached into the pockets of the robe and removed her remaining currency before lifting the lid of the garbage bin and stuffing the linen clothing inside. After another cautious glance down the street, she pushed off the bin like an Olympic sprinter, heading for the finish line fifty yards away.

Sirens sounded in the distance, a faint whine at first that began to gradually draw closer. Someone had called the police. They would be at a disadvantage in the rush hour traffic, which would give her the edge she needed.

Adriana slowed to a brisk walk as she arrived at the next intersection and found herself facing a hotel and several apartment buildings. To her right, several older men were sipping on their morning tea. To her left, a couple of college-aged girls munched on light sandwiches as they chatted and laughed. In front of the hotel, she found her salvation. A taxi driver leaned against the door, waiting for his next customer. She waved at him, getting his attention, and jogged across the street. He opened the rear door for her, and she nearly dove in.

Somewhat befuddled, the driver closed the door and got behind the wheel. “Where to?” he asked.

She pulled the phone out of her front pocket and tapped the screen. It contained one new text message from Sean, giving the warehouse address. “Here,” she ordered.

The man nodded, turned the lever on the meter, and stepped on the gas.

Atlanta,

“This is Emily Starks.” She’d been expecting the call, though she had to admit to herself, not so soon.

Emily walked over and closed her office door. Even though the staff at Axis headquarters was minimal, she’d rather not have any of her team hearing her secret discussions with people outside the agency.

“Hey, Miss Starks. This is Tara with IAA. Sean and Tommy gave me your number.”

“You can call me Emily, Tara. Were you and Alex able to find anything?”

“Actually, we found a lot. Neither of us is even sure what some of it means, but we were able to pull the purchase orders and records off Al Najaar’s database. It took a bit of doing. We’ve never seen a non-government database so heavily encrypted before. From the looks of it, this guy poured a ton of money into whatever he’s doing.”

“Can you send me the files?”

“They’re already on their way. You may have to check your spam folder. Most email systems put big files there, and these are gargantuan.”

Emily watched her computer monitor until the new message notification popped up. She clicked the button to allow her computer to view the large file and started scanning through it.

The numbers in the columns were astronomical. Many of the items were valued in the tens of millions of dollars, and a few were in the hundreds of millions.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” she said, staring at the screen.

“What do you mean?”

Emily continued to scroll through the page. “If Al Najaar was buying weapons from an illegal arms dealer, I’d say he overpaid. Guns and ammunition, ordinance, rockets, none of that costs this much. This looks like a shopping list for an army.”

“That’s what we thought. Keep scrolling down until you see the images.”

Emily rolled down the screen until an image passed by and disappeared through the top of the monitor. She stopped and brought it back into view. When she did, everything became as clear as a Swarovski crystal. “Oh no!”

“Yep. If I had to guess, based on the numbers from that spreadsheet, he’s amassed several hundred of those.”

A million thoughts raced through Emily’s head, but one kept popping up. “If he’s loading these onto freighters, that means he’s planning on taking them somewhere and launching them.”

“That’s what we thought too. If a lot of those other items are missiles or bombs, those things could cause chaos in several major cities.”

“Tens of thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of people would die.” Emily’s voice trailed off.

“So this guy is bad news.”

“Yeah.” Emily swallowed and forced herself to move forward. “Thanks for your help with this, Tara. And be sure to thank Alex for me. I don’t think I need to tell you that this information needs to remain completely secret.”

“I understand.” She paused and then asked, “Do I need to be worried?”

“No,” Emily answered quickly. “We’ll take care of it. This is what we do. I’ll let you know if we need anything else.”

She ended the call and set her phone down. It was definitely risky using outside help for something so sensitive. But getting one of the other agencies to use their resources would have taken too long, and based on what she was seeing, they didn’t have that kind of time. Al Najaar’s plans were becoming clearer now.

Emily stared at the screen. The image of the long, smooth, winged object was one she’d seen before at demonstrations or in propaganda videos. Now it was much more threatening. A fully armed drone could knock out an entire city block, maybe two depending on the warheads it carried.

And Al Najaar had one thousand drones.

She scrolled through the files again, clicking each one to see what other information was available. Most of them were more shipping manifests or accounting documents. One was marked with a strange sequence of numbers and letters. None of the other files appeared to be identified in that manner. She clicked on the link, and a new set of images flashed onto the screen. Her breath quickened, and her heart pounded faster. She rolled the images down until she reached the bottom.

Each picture was an overhead view of four major cities: Hong Kong, Mumbai, Tokyo, New York. Several places were circled within the cities, including one place on each that was a few miles outside the downtown areas. Emily zoomed in on the latter and found that the terrain was mostly flat, yet still close enough to the water that transportation could be fast and efficient.

“He’s chosen densely populated targets,” she whispered to herself. “And other than New York, I doubt any of those governments would be on their toes for it.” She checked the locations again and confirmed what she feared. Getting into port in any of these places would be easy enough for a massive shipping vessel. Customs officials and coast guards would usher them in unwittingly.

Another thought occurred to her. If Al Najaar was successful, these kinds of attacks could not only incite mass chaos, but something far bigger.

War on a global scale.