by Ty Patterson
The Saudi lunged at Jake, caught him by his shoulder. ‘THOSE AREN’T REAL,’ he shouted. ‘ROBOTS. SOMEONE’S CONTROLLING THEM!’
* * *
‘I count eighteen men,’ Pilgrim reported. ‘And Ahmed. No sign of programmers yet. The dogs are giving a good view of the inside. It’s all open space.’
Good tradecraft. The house provides no cover for any intruder. Clear shooting for its guards, Zeb thought as he double-tapped his mic, a signal to his crew, and began racing towards the nearest window. Bwana to his right. Meghan to his left. Another shadow further away, Roger.
‘We’re approaching,’ Bear on their earpieces.
‘We’ll move the dogs to one side. All fire will be on them.’ Burt reported.
‘Copy that,’ Zeb acknowledged. ‘Need engineers and Ahmed alive.’
And he dived into the house.
Chapter Eighty-Six
‘IT’S AN ATTACK!’ Ahmed shook Jake in frustration. Why couldn’t the man see what he had spotted? None of those animals were wounded even though they took hits. They fell but they righted themselves and kept running randomly, moving so fast that it was difficult to shoot them.
‘STOP!’ the Russian shouted, as the animals gathered in a corner and withstood the firing. ‘WATCH OUT!’
But it was too late.
Ahmed watched, as if in slow motion a man flew through a window. He landed, rolled smoothly, got to a knee and fired, all in one move.
Carter!
* * *
Zeb’s first burst went wide. He corrected even as he took in the scene.
A tall man. Beside him, a darker-skinned person. Ahmed. Further away, a bunch of guards, all shooting at the robots. Ten, twelve of them.
He had landed where the house started curving out, away from the center. Behind him he heard more thumps as his team entered.
The roar of gunfire as the sentries were caught in a crossfire as his crew at the back, entered the house.
‘GO!’ he thought he heard the tall man shout at Ahmed. The Saudi cast a look in Zeb’s direction, brought out his gun and fired wildly. Two guards went with him.
Zeb lunged to his side. Triggered fast as another shooter turned towards him. Burt and Pilgrim joined the fight. They split the robots into packs of four. Turned them into attack mode and directed them at individual gunmen.
Can’t let him escape. Zeb sprinted towards the room the Saudi had ducked into. He passed a glass-walled room. Blue light from inside. Beth opening its door. Bear giving him a thumbs-up.
He yanked the door open and dived inside, keeping low to the floor. A short landing. Stairs going down. Dimly lit.
Movement to his side.
Rounds burned the air above his head as the shooter fired, expecting him to be at full height. The gunman tried to correct. Too late. Zeb riddled him with his HK, but lost his balance and tumbled down the steps.
His rifle caught in a crack between the steps. A moment to wrestle it free and then it was clear. He stepped inside a room cautiously. A wine cellar. Bottles, casks on the wall. A tasting table to his right. A door closing ahead.
Must be an escape tunnel. He ran towards it. Saw a shadow move in a bottle’s reflection. Threw himself sideways just as two rounds punched him in the chest. He fell to the floor, gasping, bringing his HK up desperately, firing blindly, but luckily, his spray kept the shooter at bay who was hiding behind a wine rack.
Zeb fired at the bottles. Glass shattered, the smell of alcohol filling the room. Magazine fast-change. He took a gamble. Got to his feet, put his shoulder behind a cask and heaved it at the hidden gunman, who heard it coming and rose. Zeb cut him down.
Two steps to the door. A second to open it.
It was a tunnel. Seven feet high, four feet wide. Concrete. Light bulbs in the ceiling. No sign of Ahmed. No sounds of shooting from above. It was as if the passage was a world of its own.
Zeb ran lightly on the balls of his feet. Straight, smooth walls, no place for the Saudi to hide. Then a turn. He got to his belly again, peered around it. Another long stretch. No running man in sight.
He got to his feet, cocking his head to listen.
He was wrong.
Chapter Eighty-Seven
Riyaz Khalid Ahmed came out of an alcove to Zeb’s right, a shallow hide that he hadn’t spotted.
The Saudi’s round missed Zeb’s nose by inches. Zeb hit the ground, twisting his body at the last minute, left hand slashing out to knock Ahmed’s gun away, right leg kicking the man in the chest.
The Saudi staggered against the wall, but bounced back as if he was made of rubber. He fell on top of Zeb, growling, grunting, raining punches and kicks, hitting hard and fast.
Zeb ducked to evade an eye jab, caught a blow to his neck and hissed. He brought his elbow up to protect himself, a knee up to dislodge his attacker, but Ahmed stuck to him and kept delivering blow after blow.
He’s trained, Zeb thought dimly as another punch caught his face. He’s got the moves. His attacker was in his forties but was supremely fit and agile and his punches had a wicked bite.
Zeb reared up suddenly, deliberately exposing his neck, caught the incoming blow, twisted his attacker’s wrist, applying pressure on a nerve-point. Ahmed screamed, flailed with his left hand, caught Zeb on the jaw which made his head ring and his patience snap.
He heaved up, core body strength powering his move, his chest colliding with the Saudi’s flinging him to the side and then both men were diving away to make room, standing up.
A gun on the floor. Ahmed’s.
He dived at it. Zeb got there at the same time. He didn’t reach for the gun. He got his palms around the man’s gun hand, twisted it until the spymaster shrieked and kicked out wildly.
Zeb let him go.
Ahmed sprang back wildly looking at the weapon in Zeb’s hand, and then, as footsteps pounded behind, at the newcomers.
Zeb didn’t have to look back to know his team had arrived. He sensed Bwana and Bear and the twins spreading out for a clear line of sight.
‘Carter,’ Ahmed relaxed, ‘You should have died in that attack.’
His spoke with no accent, a thin, contemptuous smile on his face, as if he had the upper hand.
‘What comes next?’ he asked insolently. ‘You’re going to torture me?’
‘Yefremov gave you up,’ Zeb said. ‘He pinned everything on you. He said these programs, the killing, everything was your idea. We’ve got his confession.’
Ahmed blanched. His eyes widened. He looked desperate for a moment, and then he laughed.
‘You’re lying. I checked in with him today. He was safe.’
Check in. So, he and Yefremov have a protocol.
‘You’ll have to do better than that, Carter. You’ve got nothing on me. I came to this ranch to check it out. I am a potential buyer. The next thing I know, you attacked it.’
‘Meghan,’ Zeb asked without turning his head. ‘You’re recording this?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Record all you want, Carter,’ Ahmed smiled arrogantly. ‘You’re too late. The G20-’
He cut himself off suddenly and put on a wooden expression.
Zeb stared at him. A cold feeling started to grip him. G20 Summit? What have they got planned for it? Clare’s words came to him suddenly. Junior minister in the Saudi Arabian Defense Ministry. Yefremov was in the Russian Defense department.
The cold became a sickening feeling. Saudi Arabia and Russia. And somehow China in the equation. What have they planned?
‘We won’t torture you,’ Zeb said, his voice sounding distant. ‘We can wring you that way, but we won’t.’
A surprised look crossed Ahmed’s face.
‘In fact, we’ll even let you go free.’
The Saudi’s eyes narrowed at Zeb’s words.
‘Meghan?’
‘Yeah.
‘Can you get the king’s number?’
‘King of Saudi Arabia?’ she cottoned on immediately.
‘Correct.’
‘Hang on.’
‘This is what we’ll do, Ahmed. We’ll call your king. And he’ll listen, once President Morgan makes a call to his aides, confirming my identity. I’ll tell your ruler that you have been involved in these algorithms. You are behind these killings. I have a feeling he might already know about everything. Or a lot.’
Ahmed didn’t respond. He had turned pale.
‘We’re going to record the call with him and go public with it. You can imagine the headlines. Saudi King behind the world-wide killings. Your name will be mentioned too, in TV channels and newspapers around the world. And then,’ Zeb paused. ‘Then, we’ll hand you over to the Saudi embassy. I’m sure you’ll know what will happen to you next. Meghan, make that call.’
‘NO!’ Ahmed pounced forward, brushed past him and wrestled with her for the phone.
She back-handed him and stepped away.
‘Talk,’ she said, ‘and you just might save yourself.’
Chapter Eighty-Eight
Riyaz Khalid Ahmed did not offer any resistance when they led him upstairs.
Bodies were laid out in the house, the majority of them dead, the few who were alive, were bound and gagged. The robots were in a corner with Burt and Pilgrim making repairs to those damaged.
The Saudi’s eyes lingered on the tall man who was sprawled on the floor, lifeless.
‘Who’s he?’ Zeb asked him.
For a moment it looked like the Saudi wouldn’t answer. Then, his shoulders slumped. ‘Jake Zacharovsky. He was the center head.’
‘That’s what you call them?’ Beth’s lips curled in disgust.
Ahmed kept silent. He sat in the chair; a man defeated.
‘All engineers are alive,’ Meghan murmured as she went past Zeb. ‘They aren’t talking, but then we haven’t questioned them.’
‘What’s going to happen at the G20 Summit?’ Zeb stood in front of the Saudi. It was a power move, reinforcing that they were in charge.
Ahmed swallowed. He licked his lips. He looked away from Zeb, to the dogs who were huddled in a corner, Burt and Pilgrim with them.
‘Why don’t we torture him?’ Bear asked helpfully. ‘And then hand him over to the Saudis. We’ll leave him alive so that there’s enough of him for them to work on.’
Their captive shuddered.
‘My King, the Russian and Chinese Presidents…they’ll make a joint statement. The formation of an army.’ His voice was so soft that they had to strain to hear it. ‘To be deployed wherever there is a conflict. Syria. Africa. The India Pakistan border. To make peace.’
‘Peace is not what you’re after, though,’ Broker said grimly after they had digested his words. ‘It’s a land grab. Where there are weak governments, you’ll install your leaders.’
It would work, too. A large enough army, with those countries behind it, will make the United Nations’ Peace Keeping Forces irrelevant. That organization itself will lose stature as these countries go about reshaping the world. Zeb’s mind raced. The US and its allies were increasingly following a non-intervention policy around the world. These three countries can step into that vacuum. China has a huge economy. Russia already has significant political clout in the world. Both countries have highly advanced militaries. And Saudi Arabia has money. Zeb rubbed his forearms as if to ward off a chill. The coming together of the three countries was a fearsome combination.
‘What about these algorithms? Why did you need them?’ Beth asked. ‘This military announcement…you didn’t need the programs for that.’
‘They did.’ Meghan snapped her fingers. ‘The creation of a new army wouldn’t be enough by itself. They had to create a climate around the world. Of fear and distrust in governments. That would greatly help their announcement. People would welcome it.’
Ahmed’s nodded in confirmation. ‘It was working. Until you came into the picture.’ He glared at Zeb defiantly. ‘It was a great plan. Military domination. Financial-’
He stopped abruptly again and looked away.
Bwana sighed. He unsheathed his Benchmade and shouldered past Zeb. ‘This won’t hurt,’ he promised, ‘not much.’ And brought the knife down on the captive’s thigh.
‘STOP!’ Beth shouted.
Everyone looked at her in surprise.
‘There’s no need for that,’ she smiled wickedly at Ahmed and brought out a coin. She tossed it high in the air. ‘Call, heads or tails?’
‘What?’ the spymaster shook his head in confusion.
‘Heads, we deliver you to your embassy. Tails….’ She paused, letting the tension build, ‘we call Mossad. Their agents can be here in a couple of hours. We’ll leave the interrogation to them.’
Zeb smiled inwardly when Ahmed shuddered. Clever move. The Israeli agency played by different rules. It wouldn’t play nice. Nope, nice isn’t what they do.
Ahmed screamed, sweat pouring down his face. ‘STOCKS. WE BOUGHT STOCKS IN THE BIGGEST INTERNET AND DATA COMPANIES.’
‘That would give them control,’ Meghan whispered, staggered by his revelation. ‘They could run these algorithms, manipulate just about anyone, anywhere.’
Zeb shook his head, reeling from the confession, from the scale of the plan. Create fear and unrest in the world. Form a world military force. And then, have the means to influence people in any country.
‘Why did you come here?’ he asked. ‘You could have stayed in Riyadh.’
‘To reactivate the European program.’
‘Why?’
‘We wanted a last burst of killings in Europe and America.’
‘Those are still happening in the US.’
‘This last spate…it will be unlike anything seen.’
‘TALK!’ Bwana grabbed his hair and lifted his head savagely.
‘WASHINGTON DC,’ Ahmed stammered. ‘PROTEST MARCH. DAY AFTER TOMORROW. WE WILL HAVE SHOOTERS.’
‘How can you time it like that?’ Meghan asked, aghast. ‘These people on the internet…they can’t be directed with such accuracy.’
‘Not from the internet,’ the Saudi bowed his head. ‘We have got killers for this. Lone gunmen. Yefremov has them on standby.’
‘Who are they?’
‘I don’t know.’ He recoiled when Bear moved threateningly. ‘I SWEAR I DON’T KNOW. ONLY YEFREMOV KNOWS WHO THEY ARE AND WHERE THEY WILL BE.’
‘When will this happen?’
‘On the day of the march. He, Leslie and I will call one another and coordinate the attack.’
‘Leslie? That’s the Chinese man?’
‘Yes.’ Ahmed was broken. He answered readily, his voice a monotone, sweat and fear emanating from him. ‘Duan Shuren. I call him Leslie. We use aliases for one another. Yefremov is Phil Williams, I am Jack Smith. Shuren’s very senior in the –’
The face popped up in Zeb’s mind, triggered by the spymaster’s words. A grainy photograph captured by a long-distance camera. A man passing through revolving doors in a Hong Kong hotel, several years ago. That was the only image of the spymaster in existence. Every Western intelligence agency had tried to find more on him, but had failed. And then, had come the news that he had died.
‘MSS, Ministry of State Security, their intelligence and security agency,’ Zeb completed, mechanically. It was one of the most secretive organizations in the world and carried out counter-intelligence operations. ‘I know Shuren. Knew of him. He was killed in a shootout with a Mossad team. He was carrying out clandestine operations in Israel. There is no record of him anywhere except one photograph. That’s why I didn’t recognize his voice in Indonesia.’
‘He didn’t die.’ Ahmed said, chillingly. ‘That body Mossad found, was a cover. It was burned beyond recognition. Shuren left his blood behind. That was how the body was identified.’
Zeb felt as if he had been punched in the gut. Duan Shuren had been one of the most feared spymasters. He had turned several CIA and British spies, had recruited Chinese students to spy for their country while studying abroad,
and ran lethal assassination teams.
Yes, he thought. Shuren is capable of such a conspiracy. He’s got the smarts and the political reach.
‘This would have required political backing,’ Bear said, looking like he wanted to riddle Ahmed with holes.
‘We had that,’ their captive said. ‘Once we had proved what the programs were capable of, the three of us reported directly to the deputy heads in our country. I reported to the Prince. Yefremov to the Russian prime minister, and Shuren, to the Chinese premier.’
‘They know everything?’
‘Not everything, but the overall plan, yes. They are the ones who are working with our defense ministers for the combined security force.’
‘Where is Yefremov now? He’s at the Content team’s place?’
‘You know that, too?’ Ahmed stared at him.
‘He’s in the Mojave Desert,’ Meghan replied from behind. She held up her phone when Zeb turned to her. ‘Daniel Klouse came through, an hour ago. He’s at Nevada Evergreen, a power station fifty miles from Boulder City.’
‘How did you know?’ Ahmed whispered.
No one replied to him.
‘We check-in every morning.’ Their captive moistened his lips, when all eyes glared at him. ‘What will happen to me, now?’
‘I want to kill you,’ Zeb said bitterly. ‘But, you’ll live. As long as you talk.’
Chapter Eighty-Nine
Riyaz Khalid Ahmed confessed everything he knew.
Hyde, the name Yefremov had coined, was Shuren’s idea. He had broached it to Yefremov who liked it instantly. Russia was already involved in manipulating elections in various countries and propagating fake news. The Chinese spymaster’s plan took such influencing to a different level.
The two men had then approached Ahmed discreetly.
‘I didn’t trust them at first,’ he admitted. ‘But when they revealed their identities and outlined Hyde, it made sense. The US is our ally but we know there’s no real love for us in the West.’ he said bitterly. ‘With Shuren’s plan, we would be a true world player. My king has always wanted to break away from the West. This was an opportunity of a lifetime.’
