The Toymaker (9 page)

The team had been talking about someone when Kaplan walked in. He assumed the name he heard was the source.

“Barakah? Is that our man?” Kaplan asked.

Chase smiled. “The source is Baraka Binte Talibah. But yeah, she’s our source.”

“A woman?” Kaplan showed his surprise. “How’d you manage that?”

“Actually, she came to us—in a roundabout way,” Chase explained. “She approached one of us right after we arrived, something a local asset had arranged.”

“When do I get to meet her?”

“That could be a bit of a problem.” Chase said. “She doesn’t know about you, yet. We are to meet later this morning. But first we need to discuss ground rules.”

“Ground rules?” Kaplan asked.

“Yes. Her security is of upmost importance to us. She cannot be compromised. She will contact us when she can talk. She’ll tell us when and where.” Chase explained.

“Do you trust her? Could she be setting us up?”

“There is always that chance, but we are good at what we do. Besides, the circumstances that brought her to us pretty much assure us she’s on our side.” Chase explained how she came to them after her husband was blinded, had his tongue cut out, and her teenage daughters had been tortured and executed. Payback for her husband leaking information to a Yemeni police chief that led to the siege against al Qaeda militants in the small village of Hawta. Thousands of people fled as government forces moved into the village with tanks and armored vehicles. She was spared only because she wasn’t home at the time.

“These people are brutal. Even more so with their own countrymen and women.” Chase said. “I offered her protection but she refused. She witnessed the abduction and thinks she knows where they took Ms Hunt. She’ll confirm it and get back to us.”

“So we just wait?” Before Chase could answer, Kaplan’s own words reminded him of Jake’s impatience in Australia.

“That’s right.” Chase said. “We wait.”

An hour later Kaplan, Chase, and Baraka Binte Talibah met in an abandoned white-washed home on the south end of Sana’a. The bomb-blast-wrecked home had been left in shambles nearly a decade earlier when insurgents attempted a government takeover. She was reluctant to meet with Kaplan present but Chase convinced the woman that meeting with him was the only way to ensure the safety of the captured woman.

“The woman is being held in…how you say…compound in Hajjah. Walls on all sides.” Baraka explained.

“Where is this Hajjah?” Kaplan asked. “What’s the terrain like?”

“All Hajjah is hill. Woman is in Old Hajjah Palace. One road in. One road out. Will not be easy.” Baraka looked at Kaplan. “I help you get in. Must go at night.”

Chase interrupted. “No Baraka. You’ve done enough. We can’t ask you to put your life on the line. We can handle it from here.”

“No. No.” Baraka gave Chase a glance then returned her stare to the older, wiser Kaplan. “I go first, make sure no one get in way. I get you to Palace then you rescue woman.”

Kaplan looked at Chase. “She’s right. We need her. She can help. Without her, we might not stand a chance.”

CHAPTER 14

K
APLAN SENT BARAKA away with plans to meet back at the same place later that afternoon. He and Chase returned to the safe house and briefed the brick. Then Kaplan called Bentley and CIA analyst George Fontaine via the Delta squad’s encrypted phone.

“Before her cover was blown,” Bentley said. “Isabella had relayed information about the Yemen cell’s plans for a coordinated attack. Three attacks were to take place within weeks of each other across the globe. One in Australia. As you know, that cell has been eliminated. One in Europe and the other in the United States. Based on messages she’d intercepted to Hilal, Isabella believed the Yemen cell was planning an attack in France, probably Paris.”

“Paris is a long way from Yemen. Was she sure?” Kaplan asked.

Actually,” Fontaine said. “Yemen is closer to Paris than Sydney was to the cell you and Jake took out.”

“What we need you to find out,” Bentley said, “are the sites for the two attacks. Verify Paris is one, and find out what you can about the U.S. attack. We have no intel. It could happen anywhere and we’re helpless to stop it unless you can glean some information from the Yemen cell.”

Kaplan sensed a delay in Hunt’s rescue and that bothered him. He needed to get her out of there. “Sir,” Kaplan said. “We should get Isabella out of there then we’ll find out what she knows and act accordingly.”

There was a hushed sound on the other end of the line. Kaplan knew Bentley and Fontaine were talking. He looked at Chase and shrugged his shoulders.

“Sir?”

“Gregg.” Bentley again. “We need to get to the cell leader before he gets a suspicion we’re coming for Isabella. You need to find him and extract what you can. Then, and only then, go after Isabella. It’s imperative we stop those two attacks and the only way to do that is make them think they are still safe. By now they know the Australian cell was taken down so they’ll be extra cautious. Do what you have to Gregg, but find out when and where those attacks are going to take place or hundreds, maybe thousands of innocent people will die. The mission comes first.”

“So Isabella is expendable?” Kaplan asked.

“Gregg, don’t make me answer that.”

“Yes sir.” Kaplan felt a pang of regret. “So where do we go from here?

“We’ll gather what intel we have and send it to you. In the meantime, get out there and find out what you can from the locals. Any sources the Delta team has, use them. Squeeze them if you have to. We’ll get back in touch in four hours. Understood?”

“Yes sir.” Kaplan said. “I’ll be standing by.”

Kaplan disconnected the call to Langley and turned to Chase. “What sources do you have here other than Baraka? I don’t want to jeopardize her, I need her help to get Hunt out of there.”

“You heard Bentley.” Chase said. “Find the handler first. Hunt can wait.”

“I heard what he said.” Kaplan pointed his finger at Chase. “But I will not let Isabella die at the hands of these lunatics.”

“Mr. Kaplan.” Chase interrupted. “You should prepare yourself for the possibility that she’s already dead.”

“I won’t believe that…not for a moment.”

“And if you’re wrong?” Chase asked.

“I’ll kill everyone that had any part in it. Then I’ll kill their families. I’ll send a message loud and clear to all these towel-headed radicals.”

The room was silent. No one spoke. Finally Kaplan said, “Now, do you have a list?”

“We’ve only been here a day so our list is short.” Chase pulled a steno pad out of his backpack. “Baraka gave us two names that might be useful, one better than the other, and both are only a short ride from here.”

“Pick the best one from the list.” Kaplan looked at Chase. “We’re burning daylight, let’s go.”

CHAPTER 15

Leuven, Belgium

J
AKE AND WILEY stepped off the train at the Wijgmaal station. The brumal fall sky left with it the threat of drizzle and cooler temperatures. A young woman in a white lab coat with a purple streak in her shoulder-length hair stood next to a Mercedes convertible waving in their direction.

The flight to Brussels took less time than Jake had estimated. Wiley and Jake were waved through immigration; a routine Wiley was accustomed to in Brussels. After a few cordial exchanges between Wiley and the officer, Wiley rushed toward the SNCB train depot. Jake didn’t think a seventy year old man could move that fast, he was almost running to keep up with Wiley.

The train ride from Brussels to Leuven took fifteen minutes. Wiley hopped off one train and onto another leaving Jake struggling to keep up. Within five minutes the train for Mechelen left the station stopping at the first station just under five kilometers north of the Leuven station—Wijgmaal.

Jake and Wiley walked over to the Mercedes.

“Here, Jake.” Wiley handed Jake his bag. “Put the bags in the trunk.”

Jake took his bag as the young woman gave Wiley a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“You made good time.” She said.

Jake closed the trunk and walked around the car to Wiley.

“Jake, this is Kyli Wullenweber.” Wiley looked at Kyli. “This is the man I told you about, Jake Pendleton.”

“Jake.” Kyli stepped close and put out her hand. “It’s a pleasure.”

Jake grasped her hand. It was soft. And warm. “Nice to meet you.” He felt stupid, is that all he could say?

She was taller than Jake first thought. He was 5' 10", she couldn’t have been more than a couple of inches shorter. She had thin lips, ivory complexion, chestnut hair, and soft brown eyes that sparkled when she smiled. They held eye contact, without speaking, hands still locked.

“Okay you two.” Wiley opened the front passenger door and got in. “Let’s go. I don’t have all day.”

Jake flushed, released his grip on her hand, and broke eye contact. He could feel the heat on his face and he tried to turn away.

Kyli smiled as she walked around to the driver’s seat while Jake got into the back seat. “Buckle up, it’s a hell of a drive.”

Wiley smiled and winked at Kyli. Jake tensed in his seat as he buckled his seatbelt.

She inserted the key and the engine roared to life. She slammed the convertible into gear and floored the accelerator thrusting Jake into the back of his seat and spraying gravel across the parking lot.

Forty-five seconds later the Mercedes screeched to a stop in front of a building only two hundred feet on the opposite side of the railroad tracks. Jake took a deep breath and looked back, he could still see the train.

“God, I thought we’d never get here.” Kyli said.

“Get your bag.” Wiley ordered. “Leave mine in the trunk.”

Kyli got out and handed Wiley the keys. “Here you go.”

“Jake, I’m leaving you with Kyli.” Wiley said. “She’ll give you the nickel tour. I’ll let her explain it to you.”

Wiley gave Kyli another hug. “See you later, babe.”

Babe.
Jake felt disappointment.
Babe.
Surely the old man and Kyli aren’t—

Wiley slipped into the driver’s seat and sped off. Jake stared at the Mercedes as it disappeared out of sight.

“Where’s he going?” Jake asked.

“He has a previous engagement.” Catching Jake off guard, Kyli looped her arm through his as she guided him toward the front entrance. “You belong to me for the rest of the day.”

Jake felt himself flush for the second time. “Is he coming back today? He said we have work to do.”

“He might or might not show up this afternoon, but don’t worry, he gave me a long list of things he wants you to do.” She scanned her access key card through the device next to the front door. Waited for the buzz. “Let’s go.”

Inside the front door was a small lobby and reception area. Behind a desk sat a receptionist. Light brown-hair, blue-eyed, and early twenties, the receptionist was speaking on the telephone in what he guessed was Dutch. Beside her was the control system and monitor for the video/audio intercom for allowing visitor access.

Kyli said, “This is our office manager, slash accountant, slash security manager…she pretty much holds this office together.”

The woman waved without interrupting her phone call.

“This way, Jake.” Kyli slid her key card, punched in a password on a keyboard next to the door, and waited for the click. She pulled open the door. “Pay attention to the different levels of security. It’s increasingly complex as we move deeper into the lab’s more sensitive areas.” She pointed to a bench next to the wall. “Just leave your bag there.”

Jake followed Kyli into the first work area, which was remarkably similar to the work area in Texas. “Mr. Wiley said you have a biological section here.” Jake wanted more information.

“We do.” Kyli smiled. “There are two more security levels. The biological lab, we’ll go there next, and then the vault.”

“The vault?”

“Yes. Only Mr. Wiley can get in there. He’s installed a failsafe system…in case something were to happen to him…but I don’t know what it is.” She reached into a closet and pulled out a lab coat for Jake and two lab caps. She handed him a coat and a cap. “Here. One size fits all.”

He slipped on the lab coat and cap and followed her to a door.

She scanned her key card, typed in her password, and then spoke into a microphone. “Kyli Wullenweber.”

A computer voice spoke. “Voice authentication confirmed. You may enter Dr. Kyli.”

† † †

Athens International Airport

Athens, Greece

Ian Collins passed through security with ease. His new disguise worked as designed, blending him in with the crowds. By now he assumed Interpol had scanned his profile and nothing triggered any alerts. No facial recognition. Not even his 6’ 7” stature had warranted the slightest second glance. High tech still had its flaws.

His confidence restored, he was making his first venture from Ios Island since he fled the United States back in March.

His recovery from the gunshot wounds took two months to completely heal. Fortunately the woman’s aim was bad and the bullets didn’t penetrate any vital organs. She’d fired five rounds at him and only connected twice, one of them a flesh wound on the leg. The other lodged in his side. He found a local doctor in Clayton, Georgia to remove the two 9mm slugs and stop the bleeding. After the doctor bandaged the wounds, Collins killed him and stuffed his body in a closet in the back of the doctor’s office.

Leave no witnesses.

He sat down in a seat facing the large plate glass window overlooking the tarmac and the jet way at the Athens International Airport. He had a one-hour wait before his British Airways flight to London was scheduled to depart, plenty of time to check some last minute details. Then he had a three-hour layover at London’s Heathrow airport before his flight to the United States was scheduled for departure.