Necessary Means

by Alex Ander

  “Who was killed?”

  O’Neill glanced at Hardy. “If you’re asking if Yamadi was one of them,” he shook his head, “the answer is no. Neither of the men matches Yamadi’s description.”

  “Who gave you your orders?”

  “The Secretary, himself,” replied O’Neill. The group reached the front door of the store. “He wanted us to move quickly. I believe he used the words ‘hard and fast’ when he gave the orders.”

  Hard and fast. Hardy could feel his pulse quickening, thinking of Secretary Gillespie and his decision to storm the building. Thank God, Abby was not here. She could have been killed in the crossfire. Gillespie was not thinking of the hostages. He was concerned only about his career and his standing with the President. Another example of a soldier turned politician.

  Jogging, an agent approached from behind and gave O’Neill four ID badges. O’Neill handed one to Hardy, Cruz and Dahlia before giving the last one to the man standing guard at the door. “A woman in a red jacket and skirt will be here to get this. Let her though.”

  Taking the badge, the man acknowledged his superior.

  Once inside the shop, Hardy saw several agents shuffling around main showroom. Some held clipboards and were writing, while others had plastic bags, picking up items with their gloved hands and placing the items into the bags. Ahead of him, Hardy caught sight of two lumps on the floor, covered with white sheets. Squatting, he pulled back the sheet and examined the body. A few seconds later, he threw the sheet over the body and stood. He joined Cruz, who was inspecting the other corpse. When she confirmed it was not Yamadi, Hardy addressed O’Neill. “Have you found anything that might be useful?”

  “Come with me.” O’Neill led everyone to the back of the store, through a doorway and down a flight of stairs. Once they were in the basement, he took them down a hallway, turned left and continued a short ways. Stopping at a door, he had a brief conversation with an agent before entering the room.

  Chapter 25: Bedframe

  O’Neill strolled to the far corner of the room and stood at the foot of a narrow bed. “My men have finished gathering fingerprints and DNA samples from this room. We believe the two hostages were held here.” He went to the head of the bed and pointed out gouge marks on the vertical slats. “These marks were made by a chain, most likely from a pair of handcuffs. Rope, zip ties or any other material would not have made such marks in the wood.” He motioned toward the door and the agents outside the room. “I was told they found some hair and dried blood on the bed. It will be tested to see if it matches that of the President’s daughter.”

  Charity joined the group, while Cruz and Dahlia scanned the bed and the surrounding area. Cruz clicked on her small flashlight and shined the beam at all the dark corners and places where the scant light of the overhead bulb was not reaching.

  Hardy’s eyes followed the beam of Cruz’s flashlight. “Do you know who owns this shop, Agent O’Neill?”

  O’Neill took a small pad of paper from his jacket pocket, flipped through a few pages and said, “Faas Essam.”

  Dahlia heard the name and whipped her head toward O’Neill.

  O’Neill rattled off the highlights from his notes. “Egyptian…forty-nine…has lived here for almost ten years…no known relatives in the States.” He flipped another page. “Not much is known about him. He hasn’t had any scrapes with the law. On paper, he seems to be an upstanding citizen.”

  “Where is he now?” Hardy motioned for Cruz to shine her light on a section of the bed frame.

  “We’ve tried contacting him, but he’s…”

  Surveying the underside of the bedframe, Dahlia was lying on her left side. Her leather jacket and skirt rose further up her legs, while she reached under the bed.

  Standing near her feet, O’Neill glimpsed the elastic band of her red thigh-high stockings. “He’s…he’s not answering his phone.” He focused his attention on his notepad. “Actually, we think his phone has been turned off.”

  “That’s convenient.” She stood and adjusted her clothing.

  “Thank you, Agent O’Neill.” Hardy shook hands with O’Neill. “Can you give us the room, please?”

  “As I said, the President has ordered me to help, so if you need anything, just let me know.”

  “Thank you. I will.”

  When O’Neill had left the room, Hardy lifted the mattress and had Cruz shine her light on the metal bedframe. His eyes shifted back and forth. He started to let go of the mattress, but stopped. “Shine your light over here, Cruz—a foot from the headboard.” He glanced at Dahlia, “Stand back, Dahlia,” before pushing the mattress over the edge of the frame. He sat on his haunches and leaned closer to the area lit by Cruz’s flashlight. “That’s blood. And, I’m willing to bet it’s Abby’s.”

  “What makes you so sure?” Dahlia had drawn up behind Hardy and Cruz and was squinting to see the area in question.

  “Look at the pattern of the frame.” He pointed. “There’s a section of it missing there.” Hardy got closer. “The edge of the remaining metal looks like it’s been bent back and forth several times.”

  Cruz twisted the flashlight to see the metal from a different angle. “Just like someone would do if they were intentionally trying to break it off.”

  Hardy nodded and stood.

  Dahlia switched places with him and went down on one knee. “But, why? Why would she need a piece of metal?” She held out her hand toward Cruz. “Can I see your flashlight?”

  Walking away, Hardy ran his fingers through his hair, stopping at his neck to massage the muscles. “It’s just a hunch, but over the summer, I taught Abby how to pick locks with various common items from everyday life. If she was handcuffed to this bed,” he gestured with his head, “she could have used that missing piece of metal to get out of her cuffs…possibly.”

  Cruz faced him. “Do you think she escaped?”

  He thought for a moment. “If she had, she would have contacted someone by now.” He dug his fingers into his scalp and scratched the top of his head. “No, I think this is just one more piece of evidence that proves she was here. I’m sure the kidnappers still have her.”

  Cruz stood at the end of the bed. Leaning forward, she put her hands on the footboard. “Okay, they still have her…but where?” She was thinking aloud. “It’s obvious the kidnappers were tipped off we were coming, or they suspected their location had been compromised. They moved her before O’Neill’s team got here.”

  Hardy swung his head toward Charity. “Cherry, can you get anything on Faas Essam that O’Neill wouldn’t have access to?”

  After informing the Hostage Rescue Team to stand down, Charity had grabbed her laptop before joining her teammates. She was sitting in a folding chair with the laptop resting on a second chair. “I’ve searched, but like Agent O’Neill said, there’s nothing here of value.”

  “I might be able to help.” Dahlia stood and returned Cruz’s flashlight to her. “There’s something about that name. I know I’ve heard it before…I just can’t remember where. I’ll put in some calls to my contacts and see what turns up.”

  Hardy checked his watch. “Okay, I’m overdue in reporting to Jameson.” He pointed at Dahlia. “You see what you can find out with your people.” He glanced at Charity. “Cherry, work the computer and do what you can do there.” He rotated his head back toward Cruz. “Cruz, you have the toughest job of anyone. I want you to shadow O’Neill and glean what you can. It’s a shot in the dark, but maybe he’s in possession of information that may prove useful, and he doesn’t know it.” Hardy checked his watch again and held up his index finger. “Let’s meet back at the SUV’s in one hour.”

  …………………………

  Hardy had found a secluded corner in a small diner nearby and called Director Jameson. He gave his boss an update, and Jameson got the President on the line. Hardy went over everything again. He was interrupted three times when the President was pulled away from the call by people needing to speak
with him. A call that should have taken no more than thirty minutes lasted an hour and a half. Disconnecting the call, Hardy noticed the time. He was late getting back to his team.

  Chapter 26: Nice Picture

  8:31 a.m. (Mountain Time); east of where the borders of California, Nevada and Arizona meet

  The King Air B200 twin-turboprop aircraft slowly rolled to a halt near a small hangar at the east end of a private airstrip. Shortly after the propellers stopped spinning, the airstairs of the plane opened and the pilot disembarked, followed by his passengers, a man and a woman. As the trio talked, a white cargo van approached the plane and stopped a short distance from them. Two large men got out of the van and walked toward them. As the men got to the base of the airstairs, the woman and the two men finished their conversation and the pilot headed for his office inside the hangar.

  Ashar Yamadi spoke to the two large men in Arabic. “Be careful with the package and put it in the back of the van. Make sure it’s secure and cannot move around.” He faced his female companion. “Calista, wait for me in the van.” He motioned toward the hanger. “I’m going to settle up with the pilot. I want to be gone as soon as possible.”

  Calista nodded her head and made her way toward the van. She cranked her head around, when she heard the two men exiting the plane, carrying a large Pelican Roto Molded Single Lid Flat Case. The exterior dimensions were more than four-feet by two-feet by three-feet. The men struggled to get the case out of the aircraft and down the stairs. Once the case was on the tarmac, they rolled it to the back doors of the van.

  Yamadi entered the hangar and scanned the entire area. He could see no other people. He found the pilot’s office and saw the man sitting at his desk, staring at a computer screen. After taking one more look around the area, he crossed the threshold of the man’s office and closed the door. He stood in front of the pilot’s desk and placed a briefcase on a small stack of papers. His eyes were drawn to a picture frame on the desk. He picked it up. “Nice picture. Is this your family?”

  The pilot diverted his gaze from the computer screen. “Yeah, that’s my wife and two daughters.” He was a small man in his late thirties with prematurely graying and thinning hair. He had one hand on the computer mouse, while the other hand stroked his chin.

  Yamadi smiled. “Identical twins, I see.”

  “We got married right out of high school and they were born a year later. This is their first year in college. I haven’t seen them since Thanksgiving. They’re coming home for Christmas. In fact,” he craned his head to glimpse a clock on the wall behind Yamadi, “they should be waiting for me when I get home tonight.” He spied the briefcase. “Is that the rest of it?”

  “Uh-huh,” replied Yamadi, setting the frame on the desk and pushing the latches of the briefcase outward. The motion produced a popping sound.

  “That sure is going to help pay the tuition.” He went back to analyzing the computer screen.

  “Now, you’re absolutely sure our flight was off the radar.”

  The pilot shifted his gaze toward Yamadi. “I’m positive.”

  “I’m paying you a lot of money, so I can go undetected, and I’d hate not to get my money’s worth.” Yamadi lifted the lid of the briefcase and fumbled around with the contents.

  “Trust me,” said the pilot, glancing at the briefcase, trying to see around the vertical lid. “This isn’t the first time rich guys like you have wanted to get from one place to another without anyone knowing about it. The only other person who knows you were even here is me.” He stood and gestured toward the briefcase. “Now, give me what I’ve got coming to me.”

  Yamadi finished rummaging through the briefcase and locked eyes with the man. The right side of his lips curled upward. “Very appropriate choice of words, Mr. Alders.” Yamadi raised a small nine-millimeter pistol above the lid of the briefcase. The weapon had a sound suppressor attached to the muzzle.

  “What the hell is this?” The pilot put his hands in front of his chest and took a step backward.

  “The conclusion of our business deal,” said Yamadi, pressing the trigger of the weapon four times. Four muffled shots filled the small office. The pilot grabbed his chest and fell backward into a metal filing cabinet before sliding down the cabinet and landing on his right side. Yamadi strolled around the desk and pointed the pistol at the man’s nose.

  The pilot’s chest heaved, while he gasped for oxygen. “Please, mister…I’ve got a wife…and—”

  Yamadi squeezed off one final shot before finishing the man’s sentence. “Two daughters…Yes, I know. I saw the picture.” Taking the partially spent magazine out of his pistol, he stowed it in his jacket pocket. Inserting a full magazine into his gun, he shot the computer’s hard drive multiple times. Sparks flew and smoke slipped past the cracks in the computer tower.

  Yamadi returned to his briefcase, removed the sound suppressor from the pistol, put both items in the case and closed the lid. Securing the latches of the case, he slipped his fingers into the handle, picked up the case and left the office. Taking one last look around, he ambled out of the hangar and headed toward the cargo van.

  Chapter 27: Coffee and Fries?

  12:28 p.m. (Mountain Time)

  Dahlia was the first person to see Hardy. “It’s about time.” She watched him climb into the SUV, sitting behind the steering wheel. “Did you get lost? We were getting ready to send the Hostage Rescue Team out to find you.” Eyeing the two large white paper bags in his hands, she leaned forward from her right-rear seat in the vehicle. “What have you got there?” She took a deep breath. “Do I smell coffee,” she breathed again, “and fries?” She stuck her hands between the front seats. “Come on, let’s have it.”

  Hardy opened one bag and removed four cups of coffee, four burgers and three side dishes; French fries, onion rings and mozzarella sticks. Each of the women took a cup, a burger and a side dish. Cruz claimed an extra coffee and burger for Hardy, who picked up the unopened bag and left the SUV. He went to the second SUV and handed the bag to the team leader of the Hostage Rescue Team. Grateful, the men thanked Hardy before jockeying for their share of the food and coffee.

  Hardy got back inside his SUV. Cruz handed him his cup of coffee. He peeled back the tiny flap on the lid and took a couple sips. “I hope this keeps me in good graces with all of you. The President wanted in on the phone call with Jameson and,” Hardy closed his eyes and shook his head, “never mind…Any good news?” Undoing the paper wrapper surrounding his burger, he took a big bite. His stomach was operating on Eastern Time, telling him it was mid-afternoon. In between bites, he reached for different side dishes.

  “I struck out.” Charity gave everyone a summary of what she had done in the last hour and a half. When she had finished, Cruz took her turn.

  “I was able to get some more information from Agent O’Neill.” Cruz jerked her thumb toward the back seat. “Charity went over everything, but nothing new came of it.” Before chomping on her burger, she addressed Dahlia. “Dahlia, you’re up.”

  Dahlia was starving. She had eaten very little of her food when she, Hardy and Cruz were in New York. That was eight hours ago. Dahlia stuck her finger in the air before pointing at her burger. She was determined to finish her food before she said anything. A few minutes more was not going to make much of a difference.

  Five minutes later, she crumpled the paper wrapper into a ball and tossed it into Hardy’s lap before taking a sip of coffee. “Oops, I was aiming for the empty bag.”

  Hardy shook his head, plucked the paper ball from his lap and tossed it into the bag. “Okay, Dahlia, you’ve had your food and your fun. Tell us what you found out.”

  She took another sip and put her cup in the cup holder. Without any preamble, she got right to the point. “I found a connection between Essam and Yamadi.”

  Hardy had taken another large bite of food. He stopped chewing and looked at Cruz, who had stuck a couple fries into her mouth. She took them out and dropped them into the pa
per bag. She and Hardy twisted in their seats to face Dahlia. She had their full attention.

  Dahlia pointed at Hardy’s puffy cheeks. “You should swallow that. It’s not polite to talk with your mouth full.” She reached for her cup. “Faas Essam owns multiple shops in cities all across the Western United States. They are all antique shops, featuring Egyptian artifacts, relics and knockoff products.” She took a sip of coffee and put the cup back in the cup holder. “All of them, except for the one in Denver, are registered under a different name—Cadan Halim.”

  Hardy swallowed and cocked his head. “Who is Cadan Halim?”

  “Cadan Halim is Faas Essam. They are one in the same man. Halim slash Essam is wanted by the Mafia on the West Coast. He’s taken a big chunk out of their illegal smuggling operations, and they are willing to pay big for his head.”

  “How do you know the two are the same?”

  “One of my contacts made the connection, and I was able to confirm it with two others high up in the organized crime chain of command. Trust me. Essam is Halim.”

  “Assuming you’re right…”

  “I am.”

  Hardy nodded. “Assuming you’re right, what’s the connection to Yamadi and how do we find Halim?”

  “Halim specializes in smuggling…” Dahlia paused, “well…everything that needs to be smuggled.”

  “We got that, Dahlia.” He rolled his hand. “What’s the connection?” He wanted her to get to the point.

  “All right, stay with me on this. It’s just a theory, but it fits.” Gesturing with her hands as she spoke, she made her case. “Why would Yamadi want to kidnap the President’s daughter? One, he could kill her. No, he would have done that already, if that were his intent. Two, he could use her for a trade, releasing one of his men from custody.”