“But it’s a dead end. How much intel did we get from Talib? We got this name, but nothing else. He didn’t know much besides his mission. Maybe CIA can wring something else out of him, but I doubt it. To him, these bus station bombings were the big blow they were striking against the infidel, a quick path to paradise. From what we’ve seen online since the attacks, these weren’t big cells. One or two guys in each city tops, and if Talib didn’t chicken out they would have all been martyred, all the loose ends tied up, but police forces and intelligence services are going to pour how much time into the investigation?”
“The investigation will drag on forever. There were nearly a thousand people killed.”
“Exactly. How many people are going to be tied up in investigating any connections to the bombers, trying to get forensics on the type of bomb used, trying to piece the whole thing together to see how they pulled it off, while they could be planning something much larger, and hoping we’re all looking the wrong way?”
“Yeah,” said Casey, “these attacks didn’t make any sense. Not in the big picture anyway. There’s nothing symbolic about bus stations. It’s not another 9/11.”
“The point of terrorism isn’t always the grand symbolic gesture. It’s about hitting people in their everyday lives. That’s where the fear comes in,” Avi said, “Bus stations are just that. They’re places you find average Americans. Lower income Americans, even. It strikes home.”
“But what if we get so wrapped up in trying to solve this one, that we’re not looking where we need to be looking and we miss the big one, something much larger and more terrifying?” Ahmed asked.
“Okay, so what are you seeing?” Jenny asked.
“Just a lot of small things that seem to point to something so much larger. For starters, we need to think about getting a Spanish speaker in here. Running everything through translator programs takes a while.”
“Spanish?” Jenny asked.
“Yeah, cartels in Mexico specifically. There’s a cartel in Monterrey talking about moving a big package over the border.”
“Those guys are always moving things over the border. That’s like bears pooping in the woods.”
“Precisely. But if a bear started talking to other bears about an upcoming poop, you might take notice. An email here, a stray phone call there. People being careless really, using the same pre- paid phone more than once or leaving a message in the draft folder too long. There is a big enough package moving across the border for people to be talking it up, making sure they have everything right.”
“So, cartels are always smuggling people and drugs across the border. It happens every day and there are vast stretches of the border that aren’t secure, but all of a sudden there is something so important that it’s causing a large spike in communication, enough to garner our attention?”
“Yeah, wouldn’t make sense for them to make a big deal about another cocaine shipment, but if they’re moving something they’ve never moved before, something that has them nervous…”
“Aren’t many things that would do that. I don’t think I like where this is going.”
“Then there’s talk out of Pakistan,” Miriam said, “Tariq Ansari has gone missing. Didn’t show up at the office yesterday. Nobody’s seen or heard from him in two days. The Pakistanis are trying to downplay it. Hasn’t even made the news there.”
“Why is that name so familiar?” Jenny asked.
“He’s their Defense Minister.”
12
“Well guys, I think I’ll raid the break room. It looks like it might be a long night,” Ahmed said.
“No need to go up there. There is a more robust break room next to Avi’s work shop,” Jenny said.
Ahmed came back a minute later with two Cokes and handed one to Miriam.
“You’re not kidding about that break room. Got bunks in there and a well- stocked fridge.”
“For nights like this. Thought it could come in handy. You need a nap, don’t hesitate. Got showers down here too, another door off the break room.”
“Well, I don’t think I’d mind that nap right now,” Miriam said, handing her drink to Casey and leaving her desk.
“Okay guys. Looks like it’s all hands- on deck. When Miriam comes back, someone else can hit the hay for a couple hours. We’ll take it in shifts, keep a couple people up until we can find Mr. Ansari.”
“Is he our first priority then?” Ahmed asked.
“Yes, as Defense Minister, he has access to Pakistan’s arsenal.”
“They’ve got nukes, right?” Casey asked.
“Yes, and the guy in charge of them just went missing. It would be in our best interests to find him.”
“And if we find him?”
“I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”
“He’ll need to be brought in.”
“How do you suppose we do that?”
“I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”
“I could call Amber.”
“Do you trust her?”
“I’m not sure yet, but at this point I’m not sure what options we have.”
“Why don’t we have a chat with her then?”
Jenny dialed Amber O’Connor’s cell and put it on speaker.
“Amber, Jenny here.”
“I’m out of the office. Wait a minute. How did you get my cell?”
“I’m good at looking things up. We need to talk.”
“I’m trying to have a quiet dinner with my husband. Can this wait?”
“I’ll be quick. Tariq Ansari is missing.”
“We’re aware of that. The Pakistanis aren’t telling anyone yet. How does this concern me right now?”
“We’ve picked up a lot of talk going on in Monterrey. Cartel talking about a big package needing to move over the border. How often do those guys get nervous about moving a shipment?”
“Sometimes we see increased chatter before a big drug shipment.”
“This seems more than increased chatter. There are references to a big package arriving next month. A month out and they’re already trying to get all their ducks in a row.”
“That doesn’t sound like a drug shipment. What are you thinking?”
“The Pakistani Defense Minister turns up missing at the same time? Connect the dots.”
“You think the two are connected?”
“It is a distinct possibility. You know what he has access to. I have my people pulling overtime to try to track him down. If we find him, I think he needs to be brought in.”
“So, we should nab a foreign government official?”
“Someone needs to have a talk with him.”
“That could be tricky. Assuming you’re able to find him, how do you propose getting to him?”
“I’ll call you back when we have more info. Keep your phone on.”
“Anything else out of Pakistan?” Jenny asked.
“Nothing yet,” Ahmed said, “If they have a missing nuke, people will be talking, but we might never know. They could be meeting in person and we’d need to have the rooms bugged. No way we could get someone in place to do that.”
“I read a book once where the CIA used lasers aimed at the windows to record the inside of the room,” Casey said, “You think they’re still doing that?”
“Only one way to find out,” Jenny said as she sat down at Miriam’s workstation.
“Okay, Ahmed, if you were a Defense Minister who just helped someone acquire a nuke, you’d probably disappear, right?” Casey asked.
“Or they took it and killed him to cover their tracks.”
“That would be difficult. Stealing a nuke from a government’s arsenal would be darn near impossible. Paying an official to get it to you would be easier.”
“And if the government notices the missing nuke…”
“You get out of dodge, right away.”
“What about a decoy?”
“Come again?”
“A decoy. You make something out of scrap parts
to look like it and you swap it for the real one. Might buy you a couple days before people realize one of their nukes is a fake.”
“Depending on how often they inspect their stockpile, that could buy you a day or a week.”
“You want something to drink? I’m gonna raid the fridge again.”
“I’ve had enough Coke for a day. Any kind of juice in there, I’ll take one.”
“Where were we?” Ahmed asked as he opened his drink.
“Disappearing Defense Ministers. We can assume he’s traveling under a different identity, but how do we find out which one?”
“That won’t be easy. Without knowing which name he’s traveling under, you’ll never find him.”
“Does he have a relative who might know something?”
“I’ve been digging around here. Wife passed away ten years ago. He has a daughter, but they’re not on speaking terms.”
“So, I guess she’s off the list as well. Why the falling out, I wonder?”
“He cut her off when she became a Christian. She’s married to a Brit and living in Manchester.”
“That seems harsh.”
“That’s how it is with many. Apostates are disowned. Sometimes even killed. I have a cousin in California, became a Christian and my uncle tried to kill him.”
“I had no idea…”
“Yeah, it’s like that over there. Lot of crazy folks.”
“You’re a Muslim and you don’t seem crazy.”
“And a lot of my family think I am because I don’t take it seriously. I mean, I pray and go to mosque, but I don’t hate Christians and Jews. Heck, I don’t even have a problem with Israel being there. Live and let live, I figure. My aunt thinks I’m in danger of apostasy. Now you know why I’m not going back there.”
“Wow, that must be tough. So, if a Muslim converts, he’s really serious.”
“You could say that. I admire their courage.”
“Anyway, back to our elusive friend. No family members we can question, so how do we find out his identity?”
“Money. If he handed over a nuke, he got paid handsomely for it. We can assume he set up this other identity some time ago so he could have it available at short notice. He probably has bank accounts and everything.”
“What’s the time difference between here and Pakistan?”
“Ten hours, what you thinking?”
“If someone paid him a large sum for the weapon, no way he saw the money until the buyer had possession. It’s early morning over there. So yesterday he doesn’t show up at his office, say almost 24 hours ago, depending on what time people show up for work over there. I’m assuming he didn’t stick around after the transaction took place, so maybe everything went down the previous evening, during the wee hours. If you have a time frame narrowed down, will that help you any trying to find the money?”
“Gives me a smaller haystack to search in. Knowing the bank would help too. Don’t these guys always use Swiss accounts?”
“Now you’re reading too many spy books. There are still the Swiss accounts, but they’re not what they used to be. Numbered accounts used to be completely anonymous, but things have changed, and there are several other countries with similar banking laws. He could have gone to a Cayman bank, or several others.”
“Wherever the account is, can we figure on a wire, or would they have given him cash?”
“Probably a wire, and probably over an encrypted connection.”
“There’s your smaller haystack. We have a timeframe and you’re looking for a very large deposit, or a bunch of small deposits in a short time frame to the same account. Easier said than done, though. We still have to narrow down the country and the bank.”
“Maybe I can help you with that,” Jenny said.
“Thought you were working on something else.”
“I’ve done as much as I can on that end for now. There are laser mics on the building, but it’s still early there and they’re not picking up anything yet.”
“Amber gave you access to that?”
“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”
“So how do we look for this money?”
“We sic the mainframe on the problem. Put in a set of parameters and let Nathan’s software loose while we grab a nap. We can have the computer alert us when it’s done.”
“What kind of parameters?”
“We’re going to use the most likely timeframe and search all incoming wires for all the Swiss and Cayman banks. We’ll have the computer flag anything over a certain amount belonging to an Arab. I’m assuming his new identity is still Arabic since he would have a hard time passing himself off as anything else. Once we have a list, we can work on eliminating them one by one by looking for anyone traveling recently. We find someone receiving a large sum of money and traveling on short notice with a passport photo even remotely close and we might have something. I’ll set it up and we can grab some shuteye while we’re waiting.”
“Except that Pakistanis aren’t really Arabs.”
“Using the term in a loose sense. No offense intended.”
“None taken. Hope the computer finds something.”
Two hours later they were alerted by an alarm in the bunk room and they went back out to the workstations. Miriam was already there, sipping a cup of tea and staring at her screen.
“What’s all this?” she asked.
“I had the computer doing a search for us while we slept,” Jenny said, “Do we have results?”
“There are twenty names on my screen, all Arabic names who received a large wire the other night.”
“Okay, we need to run those names against passenger lists for any outbound flights from Islamabad during that time frame.”
A minute later Miriam had two photos on her computer screen.
“I think we can eliminate the one on the left,” Miriam said, “He’s only 32 years old. Ansari’s 68.”
A few keystrokes later she had a recent photo of Ansari next to the passport photo.
“Remove the facial hair from the photo on the right and…there you go. That’s him. Abdul Hussein. Received fifty million American at 2:30 am. Left Islamabad at 6:00 am, changed planes in Dubai, and landed in Mombasa thirteen hours later. Checked in at the Bamburi Beach Hotel. Nice place.”
“You know it?” Jenny asked.
“Went a couple times with my parents. Dad had business in Nairobi. Mom and I hung out at the beach. Sweet deal. Nice beaches. Stayed at Bamburi the last time we were there. Not bad, right by the beach.”
“Well, we couldn’t ask for a better place than Mombasa,” Avi said, “Easy to blend in at a tourist spot.”
“I thought you had gone home,” Jenny said, “Where you been?”
“In my shop. Gathering some items for Casey.”
“What kind of items?”
“Items he’s going to need on his trip. Here you go, Troy.”
“Troy?” Casey said.
“Yes, for the next few days, you are Troy Smith…”
“I had better stats than him. You can look it up.”
“You’re not that Troy Smith. You are a recent grad from UC with a degree in African Studies. You’ve always wanted to go there, and what better place than Mombasa. Nice beaches, and you’re right about Bamburi. I’ve had plenty a night in that fine establishment.”
He handed Casey an envelope containing credit cards and a passport.
Jenny took a look at the documents.
“Those look professional. How in the world…”
“You’re not the only one around here with skills…”
“This is beyond skill. Right kind of paper and everything. How did…”
“I have old friends I’ve kept in touch with.”
“You sure do play your cards close to the vest, Dr. Zielinski.”
“Just call me Avi, dear…”
“Yeah, I know. You’re retired. Awfully active retirement if you ask me.”
“I’m not into Bingo.”
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“Something tells me you’ve been a step ahead of me the whole time.”
“I should hope so. I’m twice your age.”
“So, since you’re so on top of things, what’s our next move?”
“Book the next ticket from CVG to Mombasa and drop Casey off at the airport.”
13
Tariq Ansari walked out of his room at the Bamburi Beach Hotel and went down to the beach. He had put a lot of thought into where to make his new life, and this seemed as good a place as any. He loved the beaches and the diversity of the city made it easy to blend in. There were several places on his list, but this was really the only choice. He spent a week here on his honeymoon…had it really been 43 years ago? Gamila absolutely loved it, so much that they took the occasional vacation there when he could get the time off, which wasn’t often enough.
Now he had all the time in the world and Gamila wasn’t there to share it with him. Cancer took her a decade ago and not a day passed that he didn’t miss her. Most marriages have their ups and downs and they went out on the up. He walked along the beach and thought about her now, how they had held hands here all those years ago and stared at the moon over the Indian Ocean, and how they spent the rest of the night making love in the same suite he was in now.
Why did he take the same suite—nostalgia, to punish himself with the memories? He missed her, but the memories were pleasant, and it wouldn’t be too many years before he would be with her again, years that he would live out in this idyllic place with its fine beaches and fine food.
He tried not to think about how he came to be here. The money was nice and would afford him every luxury he could hope for, but at what price? He had no idea what Al Thi’b would do with the bomb. Nothing good, that was for sure, but as long as he didn’t use it in Pakistan or Mombasa, what did he care? It would probably be an American target. India would have been good, or Israel, but America…that would work. Still, something about it (still) felt dirty. He walked back toward the hotel, the anticipation of his upcoming dinner dispelling the darker thoughts, for now.
Avi used the drive to CVG to make sure Casey was up to speed on everything.
Wolf Trap (Casey Reddick Book 1) Page 9
