He nodded. He couldn’t think of a viable alternative. The NSA was making it look like an Islamic State terrorist attack to further justify their occupation of the region.
She stood and stared into a blank wall. “Conner?”
“Yes Nahla?”
“I’m terrified.”
“Me too.” He held up his hand to show how it was shaking. “I’ve never been this scared in my life. But we have a plan and it will work. Let’s stick to that. The next step is to find a four-wheel drive. One step at a time, hey?”
He checked the coordinates in McIntyre’s satellite phone. 23°34’58”N 52°20’18”E. The location was five hundred kilometers from their current position. It could take them days to cover that distance driving off-road in the desert. There were many risks from rolling their vehicle, bursting tires or running out of fuel and water. But the risks were favorable to bluffing their way through Islamic State and Saudi controlled road blocks and townships. Conner didn’t speak Arabic so there was no way he could talk his way out of any confrontation. Nahla spoke the local language, but in this culture the expectation was that men did all the negotiating. No, the desert was their only option.
They exited the house before Nahla argued that they needed sleep. There were no cars nearby. No one walked outside. After walking several more kilometers it was midday, and the heat was stifling. A few people mingled around houses and crops, mostly young children or older citizens. Conner had been unwilling to relinquish the M4 Carbine, and that proved helpful. Whenever anyone approached, he pointed his weapon their way and they scattered.
Soon they entered an area strewn bodies with their blood spilled on the tarmac. Horrific meaty bullet wounds were the cause. The stench grew worse the closer they got and Conner was almost sick. Some of those bodies were children. Some were families. The Islamic State flag hung prominent from one building they passed.
They found an unlocked sedan with the keys inside. For a moment Conner worried that the vehicle was a trap, wired up with explosives that would detonate when the ignition started. Then he saw the driver on the opposite side of the car laid out in an unnatural position. His skull fragmented and blood and brain matter drying on the sandy road.
“We use this one until we find a better car.”
Conner drove. The tank was half full. They headed east skirting the built-up inner settlements of Al Kharj.
“One step at a time,” he said to offer comfort.
Nahla did not reply. She had fallen asleep from exhaustion.
CHAPTER 34
Panvel, Maharashtra, India
Simon and Wilks left for Dakshesh Matondkar’s warehouse in the yellow and black sports car. Casey had watched as the two men discussed the make and model, impressed with its speed and handling characteristics. This was one of, if not the fastest, car on the planet. There were less than a few dozen in the world and this seemed to be important to them. They came up with reasons why they should keep it, but concluded they needed to abandon the car now that it had lost its usefulness. Wilks would drive it to the warehouse. Simon had already had his fun the night before.
Casey suggested coming with them but both men insisted she remain in the safe house. Casey didn’t argue too hard. She found a bunk instead and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
When she awoke, she discovered Szymanski and Saanvi snoring on bunks next to her. Casey showered and found fresh clothes, then made her way to the kitchen.
Peri Keser nursed a black coffee, and watched the news on a small television. Simon’s and Casey’s mugshots were prominent on the screen. The announcers spoke in Hindi with English subtitles. They reported that international cyberterrorist Claire Skaffen had died during a police raid on a warehouse near the Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport. With Simon’s death yesterday during a gas explosion in Dharavi, the world’s two most wanted cyberterrorists were no longer a threat to global stability.
Peri turned to Casey when the news article ended. “It seems your AI friend is taking the heat off you.”
Casey nodded. “It does, doesn’t it?” When Peri said nothing, Casey asked, “You feel betrayed?”
The Secret Service agent snorted a laugh. “Of course I do.”
“It’s nobody’s fault. Shatterhand betrayed us. Every single one of us.”
Peri stared at Casey with dark eyes. “Why do you trust Simon?”
Casey froze. Peri acted like she was trying to get a rise out of Casey. “Trust isn’t something you can verify with facts anymore, Peri. Just look at the news we were watching. I go on what feels right, my instincts, because what else is there?”
“It feels right to you, that Ashcroft should be in charge, and not me?”
“Yes!” Casey said with more conviction than she expected. “But Peri, no one thinks lesser of you. You were sick, and it was wrong for us to put you in that position. That’s what I meant about you also being betrayed. I’m certain you only had hours to live had Simon not found those drugs. He gets results, so he has my vote.”
Peri nodded as she sipped her coffee.
Casey made herself a black Darjeeling tea then left the kitchen. She’d dealt with many negative people in her life and at her place of work back in the States, but Peri seemed more pessimistic than most people she knew. It frustrated Casey that Peri couldn’t understand they had done well, despite their losses. Six highly talented individuals — seven if she included herself — had defied the threats brought against them and come together as a team. Now tasked to bring down a common enemy, their position had never been better.
Ashcroft and Wilks returned around midday. With much reluctance and a tear or two, they had abandoned the sports car and replaced it with a small truck. Once hidden in the carpark, the rest of the team came down to inspect their new mode of transport. This was a private garage separated from the other tenants, who would be in for a shock if they saw what was inside.
“AK-47 assault rifles, Heckler and Koch sub-machine guns, RPG-32 grenade launchers, ballistic vests, C-4 explosives.” Wilks rattled off the names like a shopping list. The grin on his face was joyous.
“It’s what we need to take down a data center,” Simon added with a grin.
Both men looked tired and exhausted and each of them carried serious wounds. Wilks’ arm in a cast and Simon’s bandaged forearm. Casey supposed these were men trained to operate for days without sleep and in battered conditions, but she worried they were nowhere near the top of their game. That meant they would make mistakes. “Shouldn’t you both rest? I slept for a few hours while you were out. I feel better because of it.”
Simon shook his head. “We need to strike now. The longer Shatterhand is operational, the more damage it can do. The greater the likelihood it will find us and send new opponents.”
“Besides,” Wilks offered. “Ashcroft slept on the way over there. I slept on the way back. We’re rested.”
“Like I believe that. No way either of you would have slept driving that sports car.”
Wilks expressed mock hurt. “I’ll have you know that was a Koenigsegg Agera RS sports car. Zero to seventy miles per hour in three seconds. Three seconds! I’ll never get that opportunity again this lifetime.”
The two men looked to each other, grinned and smacked their hands together.
Casey rolled her eyes.
“Regardless,” Peri said joining their group, “they’re right. We need to strike.”
Casey gritted her teeth and turned to the Secret Service agent. She felt Peri had her own motives for attacking the data center now and was perhaps leveraging Simon’s and Wilks’ exhaustion to expose their incompetence. But Casey couldn’t see any viable alternatives. Simon and Peri were correct, there was more risk if they delayed. “Suit yourself, but don’t push yourself.”
“That’s settled then,” Simon answered for all.
Clementine described what she knew of the data center, which wasn’t much because she had never been there. The information she h
ad was from street kids she’d paid to scout out the site. The data center was in an unmarked building in an industrial district on the outskirts of Navi Mumbai. There were security cameras, PIN keypads, biometric locks and a few human guards.
“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Wilks offered.
“What’s the plan?” Saanvi asked, sounding skeptical. “Do we have any idea what is inside that place? We know nothing.”
“No,” Szymanski offered. “And we can’t get information either. As soon as we go online and search for any intel on the center, the ESBs will be onto us. Who knows what they might throw at us then? The whole Indian Army?”
Simon shuddered. Casey knew why. That had been Shatterhand’s strategy when it had attempted to eliminate Simon and her only a few days ago. It was a believable and terrifying scenario.
“I agree,” Simon said. “We have to strike fast and with limited information.”
“But you must have some kind of plan?” Peri demanded.
“We take two of the four-wheel drives and park them two blocks away. We load the truck with C-4 and drive it close. We use rocket-propelled grenade launchers to blast a path in if we encounter resistance. Otherwise we’ll just ram the gates. Wilks is proficient with explosives, so he’ll drive the truck closer and prime it to detonate. Paul, Casey, Clementine and I will enter the facility kitted up with assault rifles and ballistic vests. I’ll bring extra C-4 just in case. Paul and Clementine are there to call up the SAI code and Casey to look at it, see if her observation shuts it down. Regardless of whether that works, we evacuate every human working there, then blow the joint. Saanvi and Peri will remain in the two four-wheel drives ready to collect us and drive us away once the mission is complete.”
For a long moment, nobody said a word as they digested the plan.
“A lot could go wrong,” Peri was the first to speak. “There are so many unknowns.”
“That’s why it’s a simple plan,” Simon responded. “More can go wrong with complex plans. Simple is better when actionable intel is lacking.” He looked to all the players. “Are you in, Peri?”
She nodded.
“Saanvi?”
The CIA analyst also hesitated, but nodded her approval.
Simon looked to each of them. Everyone gave him a nod or an affirmative grunt. He left Casey until last. It didn’t matter what she said now; the rest had already agreed to the plan. But she spoke her mind, regardless. “I don’t like it.”
“None of us like it,” Peri spoke up, “but Ashcroft is right. We are operating on limited intelligence with no backup. What choice do we have?”
Casey frowned. Peri was on Ashcroft’s side. She thought the woman hated him.
Casey had been on the run and her life under threat for three weeks now. If she didn’t stand up and fight back now when would she? This crazy scheme might get them all killed but how would that be different to their current predicament? The worst that could happen was that nothing changed, and they all died. The best scenario was that they took out Shatterhand once and for all. They might not get another opportunity like this.
She nodded and looked to each of the mismatched team, realizing that they were all trusting each other with their lives. With trepidation, she said, “Okay, I’m in.”
“Good,” Simon beamed. “Get yourself ready. We roll in ten minutes.”
CHAPTER 35
Al Kharj Outskirts, Saudi Arabia
Conner drove while Nahla slept. He battled exhaustion and terror and his body surged with adrenaline. It was slow going taking back streets but Conner wouldn’t risk the major roads. He feared blockades, checkpoints, roaming soldiers and insurgent gangs. But there was no avoiding the corpses and burning cars littering the roads, or the strewn rubble fallen from buildings flattened by airstrikes. Overnight the country had transformed from a stable society into an urban war zone.
People walked the streets lugging what belongings they could carry. All headed east away from the nuclear ground zero. Nobody wanted to risk the radiation poisoning from the fallout. Some drove cars along the same backstreet routes but none bothered Conner and Nahla. Dressed in Saudi garb they were no different to everyone else, terrified citizens fleeing a terrifying war.
Sporadically jet fighters shot across the skies. The airplanes were too distant to identify their nationality but Conner suspected they were Saudi and American fighters. Some fired missiles into distant buildings or convoys. Nahla would wake when they did. Conner would reassure her that these skirmishes were far away. Satisfied, she would drift again into a fitful slumber. He knew drones and satellites were also watching but he didn’t mention them.
After hours negotiating the complex labyrinthine streetscape, they reached the city edge. Now they faced two choices. Take Highway 90M to Abu Dhabi or turn south into the sand desert and take their chances there. Each option carried risks.
Conner checked their fuel. The gauge was almost zero. Neither option was viable until they rectified their fuel situation. But angry men brandishing M16 assault rifles guarded the last two gas stations they had passed.
Conner didn’t see the woman’s corpse until he hit it.
Bones cracked as he bounced over the body. The jolt startled Nahla awake.
“What was that?”
“Rubble,” he lied. The heat was stifling. He wiped sweat from his brow. “Didn’t see it.”
“Where are we?” she asked, rubbing her eyes. She looked determined the first time since securing the car to remain awake.
It had surprised Conner she had sleep at all. But everyone reacted to stress differently. Nahla coped by shutting down. At least with sleep she would be more alert and lucid. They needed every advantage to escape this nightmare alive and unscathed. He didn’t begrudge her that she had slept, and he hadn’t.
“We’re leaving Al Kharj. I reckon we’re about fifty kilometers from where we crashed. That’s good progress.”
She shuddered and looked away.
He couldn’t read her expression because of the niqab covering her face. Her eyes were all he saw, and they expressed only fear.
After a few minutes of quiet driving he realized she was crying.
“We will make it,” Conner said. “I promise you.”
“I wish I hadn’t come.”
“Fair enough. But why did you come?” he asked trying to make conversation. “Nahla, back in Abu Dhabi, why did you team up with me?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why did you join me on this crazy investigation?” He looked at her. “I know I’m crazy, but you’re not. The risks just kept getting worse and worse. Back at the base you could have dropped out. Yet you’re here, with me, in the heart of this war zone.”
She gasped and pointed ahead.
Conner looked back to the road just in time. A herd of bleating goats had wandered onto the road. He drove through them encouraging them to get out of his way quickly.
Nahla shuddered. “You’ll laugh if I tell you.”
Conner chuckled. “No, I won’t.”
“Yes, you will.”
He did his best to compose himself. It had been good to share a light moment, even for a few seconds. The last few days had drained them both. “Please, tell me?”
“I’m… I’m jealous of you.”
“What?”
“I told you, you’d laugh.”
“Jealous of me?”
Her voice was small. “Yes.”
He laughed again. This was the last thing he expected her to say. No one was ever jealous of Conner Raffety. “I’m a sarcastic bastard with no friends. People always tell me I’m reckless and I’m always getting myself into trouble. I’m gay. Even though I work out and keep myself fit, I still can’t find a man to share my life with. I seem to surround myself with women friends and I don’t know why. I should have male gay friends too, but I don’t. Oh, and if I’m not an alcoholic by now, I should be. Who would be jealous of that?”
Nahla laughed with him. “That�
��s not what I see.”
“What do you see? Go on, say I look like Chris Hemsworth? Liam Hemsworth? Well, I’ll settle for any of the Hemsworth brothers.” He winked at her. “You think I look like all of them, right?”
“No,” she laughed again. “No, it’s because you don’t care what anyone thinks about you.”
“That’s a good thing?”
Nahla shrugged. “You’re comfortable with yourself. Few men are, gay or straight. That’s why you draw women to you. I would never have come here, followed the mystery this far if it wasn’t for you. You knew there was a story, so you followed it. You didn’t think about the how or the when, or where. Conner, you went with it. I like that you don’t stop to think.”
He laughed louder. He had never thought of himself in that way.
“You’re a well-respected journalist Conner. I know a lot of our peers bad-mouth you, but deep down they’re like me. They’re jealous.”
Conner didn’t know what to say. Perhaps Nahla was right. He had just gone with his gut and followed this crazy NSA conspiracy story. Followed it across three continents, almost killing himself multiple times. But he was still here. Still alive. Still searching.
“Thanks…” He didn’t know what else to say.
She didn’t either, and they drove for a few minutes without speaking. Suddenly it was awkward being together.
“Now I’m awake, what’s our situation?” Nahla asked.
He was about to answer when he noticed several pickup trucks and Jeeps in his rear-view mirror. They were speeding up to catch them. Several men in the tray wore black head scarfs and carried assault rifles. One pickup included a tripod-mounted machine gun with a man behind it. His fingers wavered over the trigger.
“Shit.”
“What now?”
Conner turned the wheel. The ground where he had been seconds earlier disintegrated into puffs of dust as bullets flew around them. Noises like tiny explosions went off everywhere. The rapid volley of high-caliber bullets on full-automatic fire missed them by centimeters.
Strike Matrix Page 25
