Tears of God (The Blackwell Files Book 7)
Page 18
“Okay, are we all agreed this is the plan?” asked Alton.
A round of nods and yeahs confirmed it.
“Okay,” said Alton. “We’ll designate Mallory and Silva as Alpha team, with the mission parameters they just described. Your goal will be to acquire a passcode generator and either set up a time to let us in or hide it outside the perimeter wall. Your secondary mission will be to provide site intel—the number of guards, their location, the nature of additional security, and anything else that might increase our odds of success.
“David, Gilbert, and I will be Bravo team. We’ll gather up the tactical equipment—lethal and non-lethal—and wait for your signal. Once received, we’ll agree on an assembly time and place and proceed into the Menagerie as we discussed earlier. Once inside, we’ll make for the animal containment room. That’s the most-likely spot for discovering details about the project. If we can’t find any good information, we seek out Safi himself.”
“What good will that do if he has a bunch of guards?” asked Gilbert, looking a bit uneasy.
“We wait for a moment he’s alone and kidnap him. That will give us time to persuade him to share some details about his research.”
“Alton,” said Mastana, “what about me?”
“I promised your mom I’d keep you safe. I’m not crazy about leaving you here by yourself, but I can’t bring you with us. It’s too dangerous.”
“I came with you to the Pasha Tech site.”
“True, but I didn’t have a choice then. This time it’s different. You’re in a hotel room in an Australian city, not stranded in the middle of the desert outside Kandahar.”
Mastana looked unhappy but said nothing.
“I’ll tell Vega about our plan,” said Alton, “including the fact you’ll be staying here. I think we’ll be successful in our mission. But if we’re not…and we’re not back here in a couple of days, he’ll get you out of here. I’ll leave you his cellphone number. But don’t worry too much. We should be fine.”
“How do you know you will be fine?”
“I don’t. But we’re here to find out what Safi is really up to…what was so important it was worth murdering American investigators to keep secret. No matter how formidable the Goldmine’s site security is, the only way we’ll learn anything is to find a way in there.”
CHAPTER 49
Unlike Kabul, Alice Springs remained quiet in the mornings. No blaring calls from imams interrupted the early calm. A knock on the hotel-room door, though, did cause Alton to start.
“A little on edge there, Sweetie?” asked Mallory.
“I guess. I suppose I’m ready to get started.”
Mallory opened the door to David and Gilbert. Ten minutes later, Silva and Mastana arrived.
Alton activated the screamers and faced the group. “Alpha team, to be in place by nine o’clock, you’ll need to leave Alice Springs no later than eight. Agent Silva, why don’t you round up some water bottles for your vehicle so your rescuers won’t wonder why you’re in the desert without it. The rest of us will go pick up the tactical gear from our storage locker and load it into Bravo team’s SUVs. David and I will grab some breakfast for all of us on the way back, then Alpha team will need to roll. Once they’ve left, Bravo team will buy a few days’ worth of rations for our part of the mission.”
The team nodded and filed out of the room, past the lobby desk, and out the main entrance.
As they walked through the parking lot towards their vehicles, Alton glanced at Mallory. She seemed to be in a far-off place, somewhere remote and lonely.
He looked at her again. “You okay?”
Mallory turned to Alton, her eyes glistening. “I was just thinking about Safi. We’ve been so focused on following his trail and figuring out our next steps, I forgot for a while…this is the guy who killed my dad—or at least ordered him killed.”
Alton reached out and squeezed her hand. “Time to bring him to justice.”
No need to tell her of the fear that had found a home in the pit of his stomach, a fear of losing his wife in the pursuit of this dangerous criminal. Surely, she knew already. And forming his thoughts into words would only distract her from a mission in which one misstep could prove fatal.
Ten minutes later, most of the NSA team traveled through Alice Springs to pick up their military hardware.
David, who rode with Alton and Mallory, turned in surprise at the sight of a line of tourists riding atop camels plodding single-file into the desert. “Since when did camels live in Australia?”
“Beats me,” said Mallory. Her mood seemed to have lightened, for a mischievous grin crept over her face. “If you’re a good boy, I’ll let you ride one when we come back.”
David snorted. “Thanks, but I’ll stick with the SUVs. Better AC, you know.”
“I think Mastana would enjoy watching you balance on top of one.”
“Ha! All the more reason I’ll stay on the ground. I’ll let her ride one if she thinks it’s so cool.”
The team pulled into the storage facility and stopped in front of their locker. At the early morning hour, the NSA team members had the facility all to themselves. They loaded their gear into Alton and David’s SUVs and made good time back to Quest Alice Springs, Alton and Mallory’s lodging.
The team assembled in the hotel room to review the details of their plans one last time. As they did so, Mallory and Silva slipped pocketknives into their purses and four-inch blades into scabbards inside the waist of their pants, held in place with elastic bands. They donned visors and sunglasses, looking for all the world like Americans on vacation.
The review complete, David spoke a few minutes with his adopted daughter, offering reassurances of his speedy return from the upcoming covert mission. Alton and Mallory did the same. Her eyes welling with tears, Mastana excused herself and retreated to the bathroom.
David watched her go with pursed lips.
“She’ll be all right,” said Alton.
“Yeah,” said David. “I know. I just have this funny feeling—like I’m not going to see her again.”
“Don’t say that. You’ll be fine. We all will, as long as we stay sharp.”
Mallory and Silva set out due west on State Route 2, straight into the heart of the outback. In two minutes, the last signs of civilization disappeared. A long shadow from the early-morning sun projected in front of their SUV onto the blacktop. On either side of the highway, brown and pale-green scrub brush dotted a landscape of a distinctly red hue. In the distance, a line of sandstone mountains rose above the horizon.
After traveling thirty minutes down the lonely road, they waited until no cars could be seen and pulled over onto the shoulder. Silva hopped out and raised the hood of their SUV. She reached deep into the engine compartment and snapped something.
She smiled at Mallory. “The delivery driver won’t be able to get it started now. He’ll have to take us with him.” She unzipped the cotton jacket she had donned to ward off the early-morning chill, revealing a low-cut tank top. Seeing Mallory’s raised eyebrows, she added, “Insurance.”
Mallory laughed. “I should have thought of that myself.”
“You’re pretty enough without it.”
“What about me?” asked a voice from behind the vehicle. “Will I make them stop?” Mastana emerged from the SUV’s cargo space.
“What you are doing here?” asked Mallory. “You’re supposed to be back in the hotel room.”
“I came on this mission to help capture the man who killed your father. I cannot help if I am in the room.”
“Do you really think you’ll help us by being here?” asked Silva.
“Yes, I do,” said Mastana with calm defiance. “Some men…they like a younger girl. I know from my captivity in Afghanistan that I can speak to men in ways that are pleasing to them. I think that is what you need. If one of you cannot get a passcode generator, perhaps I can.”
“Why didn’t you tell us that back in the hotel room?” asked Mallory.
Mallory glanced at the black, digital watch on her wrist. “She’s right. The driver will be here any time now.”
“So do we scrub the mission until tomorrow or push forward?” asked Silva.
The cry of a wedge-tail eagle echoed in the distance, and a soft breeze pushed a strand of hair across Mallory’s face. “I say we push forward. With our vehicle disabled, we really have no choice. Plus, I agree with Mastana’s assessment. She may be able to learn something before either of us can. It won’t hurt to have another woman on the job.”
Mastana broke into a grin.
Silva shrugged. “Okay. You gonna call your husband and let him know?”
Mallory glanced at her phone. “No signal.”
“It’s okay,” said Mastana. “I sent an e-mail to my father so he will know where I am.”
Nearly an hour later, a delivery van appeared on the horizon and crept towards them.
“We may as well make this good,” said Silva, stripping off her jacket altogether and stepping to the edge of the asphalt.
All three women waved their arms as the delivery van approached. The van slowed to a stop with a squeal of aging brakes.
A brief conversation ensued, in which Mallory explained their predicament. The youthful driver, a tall fellow with sandy hair and a company shirt of navy blue, couldn’t seem to decide on whom to focus his attention.
“Could you pleeeeese give us a ride to wherever you’re going?” said Mallory. “It’ll be hot out here soon. There’s no cellphone signal this far out of town, so we have no way to call for help.”
“Yeah, you ladies need a satellite phone if you’re heading out this way,” said the driver, Mark.
“I’ll do that as soon as we get back to Alice Springs, but how about for now? Can we bum a ride?”
Mark scratched his head. “Yeah, of course. But I’ll be making deliveries all day before I head back to Alice. You’ll have to come along for the ride. Just stay in the truck when we get there. Those blokes at DTI are a nasty bunch.”
“I don’t know the place,” said Mallory, “but if they have a landline we can use, maybe we can hop out and make a call.”
“All right,” said Mark, running his eyes across Silva’s lithe frame. “Climb in.”
CHAPTER 50
The Director and Vaziri dined in a private booth in the company cafeteria, far away from the other employees.
The Director smiled. Hiring an Afghani cook had turned out to be one of his best decisions. Nothing beat a steaming plate of traditional Tukhum-Bonjan—a dish of fried eggs and tomatoes—to start the day.
Vaziri satisfied herself with an apple-walnut tea cake. “You have some news?” she asked between bites.
“I received a message from Killjoy.”
“It’s about time. What took him so long?”
“He didn’t say,” said the Director. “In fact, his message was rather brief.” He removed his cellphone from a jacket pocket and opened its message app. “‘US investigators may know Goldmine location. Advise caution. Watch for…’” He turned off the phone and looked up. “The message ends there.”
Vaziri drummed her fingers on the table. “It isn’t much to go on, is it?”
“No. And Killjoy doesn’t indicate whether the Americans know what we’re doing here.”
“Why did the message end like that? Was he caught?”
Safi took a sip of hot tea. “Possibly, or maybe just interrupted. Regardless of what happened, we have all the more reason to accelerate Tears of God.”
Vaziri shifted her weight, perhaps sensing the Director’s unease. “You’ve always told me how important it is to craft the right product, that our precision is what sets us apart from our competitors. Is it wise to rush and risk compromising our quality?”
“If properly done, yes. I’m making good progress in the lab.” He took another sip of tea. “Ask the Carmichael brothers if they would agree to an exchange in three weeks rather than the two months to which we had previously agreed.”
“I’ll ask them, but I’m pretty sure they’ll be good with that. They’ve always said the longer the lead time before the election, the better.”
“Good.” Safi thought for a moment. “I don’t know how the Americans picked up our trail, but it’s possible DTI’s servers are compromised. We need to be especially careful over the next few weeks. Don’t use DTI networks for anything but the Razor project until the Carmichael deal is complete. Any communication regarding Tears of God should be conducted over our private channel only.”
“Yes, sir.”
He sat back and stirred his tea. “Once the exchange is complete, we can lay low for a while, minimize our communication traffic, stay under the radar until the Americans give up.”
“What if they don’t give up? What if they show up here?”
“Then we kill them. After all, that is our specialty.”
CHAPTER 51
As the NT delivery van approached the Goldmine site, Mallory watched the property’s perimeter wall fill the horizon. The place was enormous. The southern wall stretched for a half-mile on either side of the main entrance. The eastern and western walls looked to be even longer, certainly over a mile. The costs of fortifying this place must have been staggering. No wonder DTI had no marketing budget.
Mallory leaned back against her seat as the delivery van trundled up to the main entrance and stopped at the security shack.
The DTI guard checked a clipboard. “NT noon delivery? Okay, you’re good.” He began to wave the van through but stopped. “Wait. Who are those people in there with you?”
“Just some American tourists,” said Mark, the driver. “Their car broke down about an hour back, where there’s no mobile reception. They just need to call a tow truck to pick it up.”
The guard frowned. “The Director won’t like it. He says authorized personnel only.”
“You want me to drop ‘em back in the desert?”
“No,” said the man with a scowl.
Mallory leaned toward the guard. “Why don’t you let him take us to your security HQ? That way it’s their problem, not yours.”
The guard perked up and nodded. “All right, drop them at the security office. First on the left, past building one. I’ll call the boss and let him know you’re on the way.”
The van lurched forward, its diesel motor producing the usual cloud of noxious fumes and noise. It moved past an initial courtyard containing a sprinkling fountain centered in a circular drive and continued down a narrow paved road bordering the eastern perimeter fence.
Mallory examined the surroundings, trying to commit them to memory. Seeing this site tops-down in a satellite image was one thing; seeing it at ground level—with all the usual detail such a view afforded—was another.
The perimeter fence consisted of an unbroken surface of vertical steel. Concertina wire topped it in dense clusters, eliminating any hope of scaling the wall. Pulsing lights atop aluminum turrets signaled the presence of motion detectors and floodlights.
As the truck rumbled down the narrow road, the initial two-story, brick building on the left slid behind them. A smaller edifice with “Security” stenciled in black letters appeared. More motion detectors had been mounted on brackets at the corners of both buildings. Perhaps every building would contain these devices. If DTI had deployed infrared optical scanners in the open areas between buildings, they were well hidden.
The van rolled to a stop in a small parking lot. The security building lay behind an expanse of sidewalk and a collar of desert shrubs used as landscaping. Another building could be seen behind it, and the Menagerie loomed in the distance, further down the access road on which they had traveled.
Mark moved around the front of the van and opened the door for the ladies. “Come through here. Security should be able to get you
back on your way in a jiffy.”
“Thank you so much,” gushed Mallory. No time like the present to get in character.
The ladies slung over their shoulders duffle bags containing their scant belongings. Mark walked his temporary companions towards the building’s entrance. “Listen, once you’re back in Alice, any chance you’d like to catch up for some sightseeing?”
Mallory smiled. “I’d have to ask my husband about that.”
The driver looked a bit crestfallen. “Oh…right.” He glanced at the other two. “Of course, the offer’s good to all of you.”
“We’ll think about it,” said Silva.
Mark drew a pen from behind his ear and scribbled on the back of an old shipping manifest. “Here’s my number. Give me a call if you want to take me up on it. I know these parts pretty well. Lots to see off the tourist track.”
Mastana smiled and took the paper. She folded it carefully and slipped it into her pocket, eliciting a smile from the driver.
The group reached the Security office. Mark pushed through steel double-doors and led them up across the lobby’s expansive linoleum floor to a waist-high desk topped with sleek granite.
A bulldog of a man stuffed into a guard’s uniform rose from a plush office chair. Beneath his bald pate, a pair of undersized eyes scrutinized the bedraggled trio. “Who’s this?”
“Stranded Americans,” said Mark with a smirk. “Their car broke down a few clicks back. They had no mobile service out there, so just need to use your phone to call a tow truck. Didn’t the guy at the front call you about this?”
The Bulldog said nothing. He examined the women again.
Mallory waited in silence. In an effort to widen the group’s appeal, she had maintained her conservative attire, while Silva had continued to sport her revealing tank top. Mastana had used a rubber band to tie her hair up in a ponytail to accentuate her youthfulness.
The security guard’s eyes landed on Silva—her chest, to be precise. Mallory prayed her colleague would remember her role and not take offense.