The Reluctant Assassin Box Set

by Lee Jackson

  Horton leaned against the wall. He blew out a long breath of air. “Whatever works.”

  Ten minutes later, Atcho and Horton peered through a small window at five men backed against a wall. Their wrists were handcuffed behind their backs and two armed guards stood across the room.

  Atcho whirled from the window. “Get me to a secure phone,” he told the sergeant. “Fast.”

  “Burly,” he said when the call had gone through. “We stopped the bombs in Kuwait. We caught the men driving the trucks.”

  “Good. I’ll inform the White Hou–”

  “We didn’t get Klaus.”

  “What?”

  “We didn’t get Klaus. He didn’t drive any of the trucks. And he placed only four bombs. He’s loose, and he still has one.”

  33

  Klaus had picked his observation post well. He occupied the highest suite in Riyadh with an unobstructed view looking east. From there, he could remain in relative safety and see the massive black shroud hanging at the edge of the horizon. In the living room, he had three televisions arrayed next to each other receiving different newscasts. The best is yet to come.

  He looked at his watch. Five minutes.

  Ten minutes later, nothing out of the ordinary had come across the news. No breaking stories, and no change to the black cloud on the horizon. He called Yousef. “I was right. They set a trap. It should have gone up five minutes ago.”

  “How many did you use?”

  “Just one. I included it in case they were foolish enough to open the suitcases. At least we’d have got the effect of one detonation. The others were filled with enough rocks to approximate the weight of the real one.”

  “Where did you hide the others?”

  “It’s best you don’t know. I’m not disappointed. Experts estimate that five to ten years will be needed to put out the fires. We have lots of time. Meanwhile, I have an errand to run. I’ll need your help. Get your police friends to set up a meeting for you and me. I’ll explain then.”

  “They’re back up to three people watching me,” Sofia told Atcho. “They keep a safe distance, but they follow me when I go out. Ivan beefed up the security force.”

  “Good idea. Meanwhile, you should sleep in the safe-room.”

  “I already do that. We have a guy upstairs at night. He comes in from the river in the evening. We bring him in when the bad guys have their shift change. They’re pretty predictable.”

  “The climb from the river has to be at least two hundred feet. Thank them for me.”

  “I will. Anything you can tell me?”

  “Only that I’m still on the job. How’s our baby?”

  “Kicking. He doesn’t like me to sleep.”

  “He?”

  “He, she. I’ll take whatever we get. Let me tell you, if not for our little nugget, I couldn’t take all this babysitting. It’s driving me crazy.”

  “I know. We’ll get through it.” They exchanged intimacies and hung up.

  Atcho woke up with a start. He sat in the dark gathering his thoughts, and then hurried to Horton’s room. He found the major sitting on the edge of his bed.

  “Are you bein’ ate up by the same thoughts bothering me?” Horton asked.

  “We didn’t see the bombs, did we?”

  “Nope. We saw four suitcases. An’ Klaus wasn’t there. He figured us out and played us.” He shook his head. “That little bugger has come a long way.” He saw annoyance flash over Atcho’s face. He crinkled his brow over a rueful smile. “Sorry.”

  “So, how many bombs did we burn? Any of them?”

  “Well it wasn’t like we could open up the bags to find out. I’d guess he had at least one live one there figuring he might get lucky and we’d set one off. He’d know that if we caught up with the guy who placed the suitcases, we’d have a plan to neutralize the bombs. He ain’t no dummy. He tested our security arrangements.”

  Atcho threw him a quick glance. “Klaus doesn’t have to be in a hurry. They’re saying the fires could burn on for years.”

  “Uh-huh, that’s right. He could go fishin’, get a tan in the Bahamas, take a world tour, and still make it back in time to set off fireworks.”

  “So, what’s he doing now?”

  Their eyes met. They uttered a single word simultaneously. “Sofia.”

  “I’m coming home,” Atcho said. His tone implied he had no stomach for argument.

  “So, you’ve caught Klaus and all his firecrackers,” Sofia said, with equal force.

  “No, but there’s a good chance he’s coming your way.”

  “Which says that there’s a good chance that he’s not. Are you implying that Ivan and I can’t take care of things on this end?”

  Atcho breathed in sharply. “Of course not. I worry about you. Fault me for that.”

  Sofia took a moment to respond. Her voice softened. “I don’t fault you at all. You’re on a job that some people thought no one else could do. Maybe they were right. If the fight comes here, we’ll handle things. If you have reason to believe he’s coming this way, come home. But while it’s conjecture, stay where you can react most quickly.”

  Atcho smiled to himself. “I guess that makes sense. No wonder I married you. Someone has to keep me thinking straight.” His voice took on a somber timbre. “I’m coming home. If something happens, I want to be where you are.”

  Sofia sniffed. “I know. I wouldn’t tell you to stay out there if I didn’t believe you’d stop this thing. We’ll hold the fort until you get here.”

  Atcho chuckled. “That’s a nice romantic sentiment. Should be good for a novel. The truth is, we don’t know where he is or what he’s doing.”

  They were both quiet. Sofia broke the silence. “I’ll ride into the FBI office in Austin tomorrow, call Burly on a classified line, and get the full rundown. Maybe he’ll have some ideas.”

  34

  Klaus and Yousef met far out in the desert at Bandar’s home. They found the pilot inspecting his Mooney. They both came by circuitous routes in nondescript vehicles. Once both were safe behind high walls they met in an inner courtyard.

  “My police friends kept watch while we traveled,” Yousef told Klaus. “We can never be seen in public together again. US and Saudi intelligence keep an eye on me. The police still ask questions about my car being in Dhahran. I’ll be asked about my whereabouts tonight.” He saw Klaus react. “Don’t worry. As we speak, I am visiting an aunt at a village north of here.” He chuckled. “Having large families is a gift from Allah. Tell me what you need.”

  Klaus leaned in and spoke with urgency. His face contorted with rage as he described his motivation and his plan. “I’ve already disassembled the components of one bomb and sent them by courier. Except for the plutonium, they are innocuous. They’ve gone to different addresses, and I’ll reassemble when I arrive.”

  “What about the other bombs?”

  “They’re in a safe place.”

  “What do you need from us?”

  “Transportation. I need to get into Mexico undetected.”

  “Why not go straight into the US?”

  “Doing that is much more difficult. They’ll be looking for me. I need to move the plutonium there. Look.” He rolled out a map of the US. “Mexico shares a long border with the US. It’s hardly defended. Illegal aliens go through all the time.

  “Put me in with the drug cartels, fly me to an isolated runway, or bring me through another country. Do whatever you have to do, but get me in as close to the Texas border as possible. I want to cross some place in Mexico where they have the least migrant traffic, and I want observers on both sides to ensure I get safely across.”

  Yousef considered the proposal. “Is that all?”

  “No.” He handed Yousef a list. “I need reliable brothers in the areas of each of these addresses to pick up what I’ve sent. They must resend to me here.” He pointed out the forwarding address. “I’ll pick the items up there and assemble them.”

  Yousef
listened intently. He leaned back in his chair, sipping tea while he thought. “The plan sounds workable.” He heaved a sigh. “And expensive. That’s a lot of trouble and money for revenge against a single man.”

  “Agreed,” Klaus countered, “but the revenge would be against the Great Satan. My personal vengeance is a bonus. Did you read Kadir’s report on Atcho and his wife?”

  “I did.”

  “Then you know about their company.”

  Yousef nodded.

  “That technology was used in this war,” Klaus said. “It extended the range of vehicles. It made communications more secure. When we blow Atcho’s plant, we’ll hit a strategic target.”

  “They’ll recover quickly. I’m sure they keep regular batteries in storage.”

  “But we’ll also destroy one of the capital cities in a major state.”

  “Austin is showing signs of becoming a greater economic center, but it still has a long way to go. The population in the county is only a little over six hundred thousand people now.”

  Klaus arched his brows. “You’ve done homework.”

  “Which should be expected to keep support.”

  Klaus took note of the comment with a stony expression. He had not expected resistance. He let it slide. “But Austin is becoming a high-tech area.”

  Yousef saw his expression. He reached over and covered Klaus’ hand with his own. “Patience, habibi, patience. We haven’t said no.”

  Klaus’ head jerked up. “We?”

  Yousef smacked his lips. “Usama bin Laden took personal interest in your activities. He wants to help, but first he wants something.”

  Klaus eyed Yousef with a neutral expression. “What does he want?”

  Yousef took his time to answer. “If I’ve kept track correctly, you still have four bombs. One of those you wish to take to Texas.”

  Klaus nodded.

  “Three of the remainder you have hidden away.”

  “I think that’s best. That way no one can be coerced to reveal their location.”

  “No argument. But let me ask, have you ever detonated a similar bomb? Do we know from experience that they work?”

  Klaus hesitated. “You know I haven’t. How could I? But–”

  Yousef raised a palm. “We know Dr. Veniamin Krivkov’s work in France and Rayner’s contributions to Soviet weapons systems. They enjoy sterling technical reputations. The bombs should work.” He took a sip of tea. “But do they? They were never tested.” Klaus remained speechless.

  “Look.” Yousef leaned forward. “No one doubts your ability or dedication to jihad. You could have taken the money and disappeared to a comfortable life. We want to make sure your efforts turn results. Does that make sense?”

  Klaus rubbed his eyes. He nodded reluctantly.

  “No one wants to stop you, not even your trip to Texas. But if the bombs don’t blow, you’ve wasted time, money, and effort. If I understood you correctly, all three bombs you set in Berlin failed to detonate. Is that right?”

  Klaus nodded. His face had gone slack.

  “You still have one of those bombs and it’s been rewired. One of your new ones failed to go off in the oilfields…”

  “They probably dropped it into one of the oil-well fires and melted the trigger,” Klaus muttered.

  “Maybe. The point is, it did not detonate.” He drew a deep breath. “We’d like to make an offer.”

  Klaus sat back startled. “What kind of offer?” He barely concealed his skepticism.

  “Don’t worry,” Yousef smiled, “your money is safe. You can have it back at any time and keep your bombs. You’ll be happy to know that your investment has grown by two hundred thousand dollars.” He watched Klaus’ surprised reaction.

  “That’s nice, but the money is not why I entered jihad.”

  “You proved that. Think of this. The more money you have, the more good you can do. If you accept our offer, we can put unlimited financial support behind you and help you organize. You can pick your targets subject to approval. If your bombs are viable, we’ll produce more of them and pressure the black markets for more nuclear material.” He studied Klaus.

  “I’m listening. What do you want me to do?”

  “Detonate a bomb.”

  35

  The conversation with Yousef sent Klaus’ mind into a whirl, his nerves on edge. He had never considered that his bombs would not work or that someone might ask for a demonstration. In retrospect, that oversight felt foolish. He had never questioned Veniamin’s design since it was first explained to him. The bombs had been affirmed as operational by three East German nuclear engineers, one of whom designed weapons for the Soviet Union.

  He had wondered why none of them detonated, but Rayner’s explanation seemed plausible—Veniamin sabotaged them with his wiring scheme. Now, Klaus had to demonstrate that they would perform as promised. What happens if they fail?

  He had little doubt that he could request receipt of his money and disappear with it—as Yousef had said, the word of a hawaladar was inviolate. However, taking the money would probably end his access into the levels of influence that opened so many doors so easily. Likely, no other hawala would accept his business.

  Taking the offer carried other risks. If he tested a bomb and it did not detonate, his standing in the loose organization in which he found himself would be diminished, possibly demolished. He could then be down to two questionable bombs and have to find his own way to Texas.

  “I accept conditionally,” he told Yousef. “I want to inspect the bombs again, check their wiring, their components and communications systems. If everything checks out, where do you want me to explode one?”

  Yousef smiled enigmatically. “Let us know when you’re ready. We’ll transport you to the site.”

  Planning and coordination for the trip had been done for Klaus. Several days later, after he had checked the bombs and given the go-ahead, Yousef made a series of phone calls. The next morning, Bandar flew Klaus with one of his bombs to a private airport near Dubai in the United Arab Emirates.

  Another pilot picked him up there. They flew in a Beechcraft Baron B58, a twin-engine plane with better than a nine-hundred-mile range. “We’re not stopping to clear customs or immigration in Pakistan or Afghanistan,” the pilot explained. “Those arrangements have already been made.” He did not give his name. “We’ll refuel at the destination. I’ll wait, and when you’re done, I’ll fly you back to Dubai. Bandar will pick you up there and return you to Riyadh.”

  On takeoff, they headed due east over the Gulf of Oman, and then turned north to enter Pakistan. Initially, the outside air was warm. They flew across the Pakistani coast at low level and hugged the western border. As they encountered mountain ranges, they flew higher and higher. Crossing into Afghanistan, they weaved between mountain peaks. The pilot’s skill attested to having flown this route before.

  Klaus stared down over the Hindu Kush range. Jagged, snow-covered peaks jutted through clouds. Against a misty gray sky, they caused Klaus to shiver in the aircraft’s freezing cabin. The pilot said the outside temperature was minus thirty-three degrees Fahrenheit. The heater was on full-blast, but even with heavy boots and jacket, he shivered.

  As they descended, the layer of snow on the mountains thinned, revealing bare, rocky slopes. Air became noticeably warmer. They flew over valleys etched by streambeds with winter-resistant vegetation spread out on either side.

  Finally, after five hours, they landed in a hidden valley with barely enough room to taxi. Cross-winds buffeted the aircraft as it settled onto the loose-gravel runway. Klaus was more than happy to thank Allah when he finally stepped onto solid ground in weather that was almost warm. He carried his suitcase with him.

  The pilot pointed to a group of fifty-gallon drums at the edge of the runway. A tent set fifty meters away. “That’s our fuel, and that’s where I’ll stay until you get back.”

  Klaus turned in a full circle to observe the mountain peaks and the long, nar
row valley surrounding them. “So, this is Tora Bora.”

  A tall man on a dark horse rode across the field leading another horse. He had a long flowing beard, loose clothing typical of the area, and a chitrali, the flat hats favored in Afghanistan by many mujahedeen, the fighters for jihad. Across his chest he carried an AK-47.

  He approached the airplane and reined in. No expression crossed his dark face, but he placed a hand on his chest. “Mahdy,” he said.

  Klaus studied him and then put his own hand on his own chest. “Sahab.”

  Mahdy’s eyes took in the airplane and the two men. Then, with a sweep of his arm, he indicated the trailing horse.

  Klaus secured the suitcase to the saddle, mounted the horse, and rode away with the tall mujahedeen.

  Long before sunrise the next morning, Mahdy rousted Klaus from his sleep in a bare room inside a compound on the side of a bare, rocky mountain. After breakfast, they set out on foot with an armed escort of five other men. Mahdy led them. They offered Klaus an AK-47, which he gladly accepted. His suitcase went into a bag slung on his back. For the remainder of the day, the group walked along narrow paths, climbing on steep slopes that sometimes gave way to sheer cliffs plunging thousands of feet below them.

  They camped that night in a well-used cave and set out again before dawn the next morning. They passed the snow line, and still they climbed, bracing against the freezing wind. Around noon, they stopped at a cave entrance. At first it seemed shallow, but once inside, Klaus saw that it looped around to his right. Mahdy shined a light and pointed. Klaus’ eyes followed where the light shone.

  The roof of the cave arched down. At the point that it should have reached the floor, it continued down. Mahdy moved closer but held his arm out to hold Klaus back. The light illuminated the ground at their feet. Two feet beyond, the floor dropped into a chimney-hole. Mahdy picked up a loose rock and tossed it into the middle of the chasm. He put his hand to his ear and gestured for Klaus to do the same.