Trojan Horse (27 page)

Zedong nodded approval. “Pass it along to your contact for transportation.”

“We can just e-mail it the entire way. There are very effective ways for doing that. It will be much faster.” This was an old disagreement between them.

“Absolutely not! It has been decided that there must be intermediaries. We will use the standard method.”

“There’s something I’d like from you.”

“Yes?”

“When the Iranians seized the Americans we believe they took their laptop computers. They will have invaluable information for us. This couple works on all kinds of high-security programs, both in the private sector and within Western government security agencies. There will also be information telling us what they know about our Trojan that could be very useful. I want the computers. It is even possible, perhaps likely, they have done work on the next version of Stuxnet.”

“I can’t see the Iranians making good use of them.”

“Nor can I. This is a small price for giving them the countermeasure.”

Zedong nodded. “Pass on the request with your countermeasure. I’ll work this end. Before you leave give me all the information you have about this couple and the Iranian operatives, if you know. Where are these computers?”

“In Prague, we believe. I have printed everything for you.” Feng removed the report and placed it on the desk.

Zedong picked it up. “You’ve done well, Jai. Very well.”

As Feng left, Zedong stared again out his window into the eternal smog of the Chinese capital. The Iranians couldn’t be trusted in this. Once they knew the Chinese wanted the computers they’d deny having them. Or only produce one. He sent his assistant home, then scanned Feng’s report in the outer office. At his desk he sent an e-mail to his son, attaching the document.

“Get the computers,” he wrote. “As quickly as you can.”

PRAGUE 3, CZECH REPUBLIC

KRASOVA 702/34

6:31 P.M. CET

D
aryl lay unmoving, willing her breath to remain in a slow deep rhythm. She knew her captors were suspicious. She had no idea how long she’d lain on the mattress, a few hours at least as the sun had first rested on her leg and had now moved on. She could smell cooking oil and strange, though not unpleasant, aromas coming from somewhere. From time to time, she’d risk raising an eyelid ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of the room and the two men.

It was a grim place with bare walls. Opposite her was a small wooden table with facing hardback chairs. There was, she was certain, a small kitchen area out of sight. Before her was a ratty couch, facing a wall with a small flat screen television sitting on a largely empty cheap bookcase.

As for the men, her primary watcher was perhaps thirty years old, slender. At first glance he’d seemed undersized but she’d determined if that were true it was only slightly. He sat in one of the chairs and faced her but he became restless and bored from time to time. He’d wander, usually returning with a coffee, which was how she’d decided the kitchen was above her head.

The other man was the leader. She couldn’t place his age but he was a few years older than the other, with olive-colored skin, very black hair and a moderate mustache. There’d been just a single glimpse at his black eyes and she’d perceived a quick intellect and a certain animal cunning. He moved with athletic grace and seemed very fit despite his chain-smoking. In fact, both men puffed away with abandon, the smoke forming a visible cloud in the room.

The pair conversed quietly in a Middle Eastern language. It did not sound to her like Arabic, which she’d heard enough to believe she’d recognize. But it might be Arabic spoken with a strong regional accent. She thought of what other languages it could be and came up with Turkish, Armenian, and Farsi. She had no idea what Turkish sounded like and Armenians were Christian, hardly likely to be terrorists. She had no idea what Farsi sounded like but she’d come to believe that these men were Iranian. They had the most to lose from what she and Jeff had discovered.

Not that it made any difference. She was a prisoner and though they’d not yet killed her, she could not see any other possible outcome. She could remain a prisoner or die. So she would not remain their captive and if she was killed attempting her escape, that was better than to be taken like a lamb to the slaughter.

Neither man had so much as groped her. And that heightened her fear; not that she wanted to be touched or raped. God no! For now they kept their distance, treated her like professionals. But she had no doubt once the smart one had stripped her of every bit of knowledge she possessed, they’d kill her. She’d seen their faces.

She tested her wrists behind her back again. Were they looser? She couldn’t tell. She was careful not to work the binding of the rope as it would alert the men that she was awake. For a moment she yielded to hopelessness. She could see no way out of this and despaired at the thought.

Still, Daryl could not help but cling to the hope of rescue. It was engrained in her. The dark moment passed; a resignation to her death was simply against her nature. When Jeff had managed his escape, she’d allowed herself to hope. Surely he’d find a policeman and help would come.

But this leader had moved with lightning speed. He’d sent one of the men off on foot, then ordered the other to wipe the place down quickly. The few items they’d brought into the room were taken outside, then within three or four minutes they’d hoisted her to her feet and given her that first injection. She’d been unconscious almost at once.

She had no memory of the next time period. It could have been two or three hours, or ten for that matter. There’d been the black hole of unconsciousness, then a surreal state during which she’d felt the road passing beneath the car, sensed the closeness of the trunk in which she lay. For a while she’d been certain she would choke because her mouth was taped shut and she’d had to will herself to remain calm.

Then the trunk lid was opened with a flood of stinging light. One of the men spoke to her but she remembered nothing of what he said, the tape was removed, and she immediately felt the prick of the needle again. And so it had gone until they’d trundled her from the car to this room where she lay, knowing the worst of her ordeal was yet to come.

For all this, she clung to hope of rescue.

But who would save her now? Jeff was in Geneva and while she had no idea where she was, it had taken a long, hard day’s driving to get here so it was far away and in another country. No one locally would be looking for her.

No, if she was to live she had to escape. She could not depend on anyone but herself.

Daryl knew the questioning would soon begin. The leader had been about to start earlier, telling her he knew she was faking it, but instead he’d stalled. She could hear the exhaustion in his voice. She’d listened as he’d made a telephone call to a woman and left a message in English. It sounded like a girlfriend but there’d been something else that suggested to her a business arrangement. Not a prostitute, but something else she was certain.

Then he’d received a call and for the last five minutes had been deep in conversation with someone who was clearly his superior. The other man had glanced his way uncertainly several times. These two were in trouble with someone—that was easy enough to decipher, as was the reason.

They’d let Jeff escape.

Which meant it was going to go very hard on her very soon. They had to make up for their laxness and they’d do that, she was certain, by squeezing her mercilessly.

She wished she could sleep. She’d like nothing more than to escape this moment and her rising fears.

Only after moving the American woman to Karim’s one-room apartment had Ahmed realized it was not suitable. This was a contingency he should have thought about previously. While the street here was occupied primarily by immigrants, so few of whom would want to summon the police, the screams of a woman would likely overcome that reluctance. And to learn what was necessary, he could not be certain she’d not find a chance to scream. He’d tried persuading himself but the place wouldn’t do for what came next.

If only she weren’t so stubborn.

He’d told her when they dropped her on the mattress that he knew she was faking it, and in fact he did. But what was he to do here if she refused to talk? He’d asked Karim if there was somewhere else they could take the woman later this night, after it was dark, somewhere secure and isolated. The man had shrugged.

Ahmed couldn’t blame him for the oversight. There’d never been the need before. Prague was the command center for Central Europe. Operations were meant to be kept away from it. A safe house in the country, far from neighbors would have been ideal and not that difficult had he arranged for it earlier. But not now, not on short notice. And every time they moved the woman their exposure increased.

Ahmed was becoming convinced he should have just left the woman in Geneva. Taking her had been a risk and though so far he’d got away with it, having her was a hindrance to his every move. Maybe he should just kill her and get it over with.

But what to do with the body afterward?

This woman was not his only concern. There was Saliha. He had no idea if she’d returned from Turkey. He’d called her repeatedly but she was not answering. Damn her! He never should have mixed pleasure with business. She was jealous, that was clear enough, and now she was punishing him for her suspicions. He’d already left two messages and refused to leave more. He didn’t want her to know how important she was to him.

He’d been under enormous stress since leaving Prague and there’d been little time for rest. The long drive from Geneva had nearly done him in. He’d not trusted Karim to drive, knowing the poor level of his skills, so he’d had to do it all himself. With the woman in the trunk there had been no choice.

His great temptation now was to leave the woman with Karim, collapse into his own bed, and deal with all this in the morning. He tried to think why the situation was urgent but it was as if his mind was filled with cotton.

He’d received a call, and though he did not recognize the voice, he had been certain who it was. Hamid.

“Where are you?” the man had asked in English.

“Prague. With my man and the woman.” His answer was in Farsi so she would not understand. Hamid switched when he spoke next.

“The American?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.” Ahmed gave a cursory briefing of the essentials. There was a long pause then Hamid said, “The one man is dead in Geneva. So is ours. Shot to death by police. It is all over the news. There is endless speculation about what this means. Terrorists are identified as the suspects and security throughout all Europe has been increased.”

Dead! Ali dead! Ahmed didn’t want to believe it. The man been so steady, so dependable.

Well, it had always been possible, as it was for any of them. Still, though Swiss security was sophisticated, the police forces there were not accustomed to hunting down suspects with great speed. It was a soft country, with soft ways. Ahmed had expected Ali to slip away. He was beginning to think this operation was ill starred.

“How did the American get away?” Hamid asked. Ahmed told him. “That is not an explanation I can pass along, brother. Truly. It will not be accepted. You’ve been careless. I’ve never known you to be so careless.”

That, Ahmed knew, was very true. He was surprised himself. “I have the woman,” he offered as a consolation.

“Careless again. You should have seen to her in Geneva. Taking her with you was too great a risk.”

“It worked.”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps the police are watching you right now.”

Ahmed took a drag of his cigarette before answering. “She has important information. I will get it.”

“That is good.” There was a pause, then Hamid said, “There is a vital message on its way to you in the usual manner. Your person must transport it at once. It is essential, more important I believe than what you might learn from the American. See to it at once.” He paused as if weighing what to say next. Finally, “It will stop the Zionist interference with the computers. You understand? You have surely read of the virus attacking our program. Do this successfully and all will certainly be forgiven, for very soon thereafter the world can no longer abuse or neglect us.”

When Hamid disconnected, Ahmed returned the phone to his pocket. He lit another cigarette as he eyed the American woman but his thoughts were on Saliha. Damn her!

PRAGUE 3, CZECH REPUBLIC

TABORITSKA 5

7:12 P.M. CET

A
s Saliha walked along Lupacova Street on her way to Ahmed’s apartment, she glanced at her phone again. The same two messages. He was back in the city and eager to see her. Well, even if she was eager to get paid, he could wait the way he’d made her wait.

In the early-evening darkness, the street well lit, she stepped along at a steady pace, her long dark hair flowing over her shoulders and down her back, her black, leather, high-heeled boots clicking on the stone pavement of the walkway. There was a slight chill as spring had not yet turned to summer and she wore a matching leather jacket she’d bought in Ankara the year before.