Shadow of the Burj

by J Jackson Bentley

  But the expense had not ended there. He had been obliged to burn Aara, who had provided him with the best girls he had ever had. Between them, he and Aara had transported over two hundred girls at an average cost of less than five thousand dollars each, but with a sale value of over thirty thousand dollars each. That was real business. Now the final batch from Dubai was in the air, according to Conrad, and after this delivery they would have to start looking for another supplier of pretty Asian girls.

  Conrad came back into the room and coughed to attract the boss’s attention. Polletti looked around. Conrad was every inch Pete Adams’ brother; same features, same wild fair hair and the same blue eyes.

  “We received a message from The Possum. It says Pete and the girl will be sitting just off the coast of Karachi this evening their time. They will be sailing around Karachi, avoiding the main port, and docking at the creek. A car will pick them up at the Raffles club in the morning and take them to Karachi International. They fly from Karachi to Bangkok and then change to the charter. They should be in Melbourne day after tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, Conrad. When the girls arrive have them delivered here for the first night. We deserve a party.” Both men smiled.

  ***

  The bombs had all been safely destroyed by two in the morning, and the agents had slumped onto their beds and fallen asleep in seconds. Their relief was palpable, and after the adrenaline rush came the wave of weariness born of such relief.

  Max was the first to look for breakfast, although he could hear the rowing machine and treadmill running along the corridor. He poured some orange juice and made some instant oatmeal, or porridge as he called it back in the UK. The laptop was in sleep mode but the desktop was already awake and showing the latest emails. Max scanned the latest from Vastrick and then from the Dubai police, who had been searching for Khaweini, Aara and an Australian called Pete Adams.

  There was nothing on Khaweini, who was obviously keenly awaiting a series of explosions which would never happen. He would have planned to run, Max thought. The next email concerned Aara and Adams. Neither had passed through passport control or crossed any border, as far as the authorities were concerned. In fact, until just an hour ago it had been assumed that they had gone to ground in Dubai.

  Max opened the attachment to the email from the Brigadier’s assistant. The attachment was an email from the UAE Naval Vessel Rashid. Rashid was a brand new Corvette that was still in sea trials but which was assisting with the war on piracy by patrolling the seas around the Gulf and picking up radio traffic. The email explained that the attached file had been picked up from a ship-to-shore frequency reserved for non-commercial users.

  Max clicked on the link labelled message.wav. Windows software opened automatically, and a scratchy recording played through the speakers whilst a green voice print appeared against a black background on the screen. The software said the recording was twenty seven seconds in length.

  Max listened to the message from the skipper of The Possum, which explained exactly where Pete Adams and Aara would be landing and when.

  “Todd! Jamie!” Max yelled as he closed the window. “Pack a bag. We’re going on a trip.”

  Chapter 51

  Executive Air Terminal, Dubai International Airport, Dubai:

  5th March; 11:30am.

  Todd, Max and Jamie relaxed in the luxurious white leather recliners that served the Middle Eastern Royal families, Sheikhs, celebrities and others who regularly travelled by private jet from Dubai. The plane had been made ready, and they were now waiting for the Sheikh and the Brigadier to arrive.

  Max’s plan had been simple; go to Karachi, alert the authorities and have the two fugitives returned to Dubai to face justice. That had been the plan, until diplomatic exchanges had made it clear that if Aara was apprehended in, or returned to, any GCC country, including the UAE, out of courtesy the ‘Princess’ would be returned to Saudi to face justice. There was a strong likelihood that she would be subjected to a form of house arrest that would have prevented her ever leaving the Kingdom, or at least until her infamy had faded. That seemed to the team like an inadequate punishment for a woman convicted of trafficking in other women, and who had actively participated in the attempted assassination of Todd and the whole team.

  Todd’s alternative plan had shocked Max, but Jamie had not objected, and so Todd placed his plan before Sheikh Mahmoud. The conversation had been heated and uncomfortable. Todd had concluded by saying, “You’ve got what we need in the police evidence store, waiting to be destroyed. All I’m asking is that you let us put it to good use. I guarantee that it’ll find its way back into the hands of law enforcement and it will be destroyed. Sheikh, I’ve done everything you asked, and I’ve nearly died for your cause, more than once. You owe me.”

  That had been two hours ago, and now they were waiting to board the Learjet 70 which would whisk them off to Karachi, where they could lie in wait for Pete Adams and Aara.

  The door to the lounge opened and all heads turned to see the Sheikh, the Brigadier and the Crown Prince enter the room. The Prince nodded to a few of the people in the lounge, all of whom were dressed in the finest quality robes and whose wrists and necks were adorned with gold. The Crown Prince was approached by an older man, who placed his hands on the Crown Prince’s shoulders and kissed the young man on both cheeks before they touched foreheads. Up until that point, none of the three agents had noticed that they were rubbing shoulders with the Kuwaiti Prime Minister.

  Eventually the entourage reached the three operatives, who were standing as a mark of deference. The Crown Prince beckoned everyone to a secluded alcove. He sat on a deep leather sofa and asked for everyone else to be seated, too. They all sat obediently, and the Crown Prince gave the Sheikh the floor.

  “You know we cannot condone this unlawful and diplomatically reckless plan of yours. It is not too late to change your minds. We can return the package to the police evidence locker and no more will be said. However, if you continue and are apprehended, you will be subject to the laws of the country you are in, and you will be given no support from us and, I suspect, very little from your own governments. These are the risks.” The Sheik paused. “Mr Michaelson, as the author of the plan you have used all of the goodwill you have earned here. It will not be possible for you to return to the UAE in the short term. Perhaps in a year or two, but for now your demands have been too onerous and your insistence too aggressive to be ignored. We appreciate your great work here, but the Crown Prince has had to sacrifice much to accede to your demands. Likewise, both I and the Brigadier are sworn to uphold the law, and yet we find ourselves uncomfortably placed in opposition to it today.”

  “I understand, Sheikh. I have nothing but respect for the UAE, the Crown Prince and the two of you. But without the plan there would be no justice for us, for Ron Styles or for the hundreds of women Sheikha Aara sold into slavery out of Dubai. We’re sticking with our plan.” Todd’s tone was respectful but firm.

  “So be it,” The Crown Prince said as he stood and shook all three by the hand before departing with the Brigadier and the Sheikh in his wake. Left behind on the floor beside the leather recliners was the package for which Todd had sacrificed the goodwill of the Sheikh and the UAE. He would not be able to return to the UAE any time soon, or possibly at all. He would have to hope that everything went according to plan.

  ***

  Aara gathered up her scattered clothing. She did not relish seeing the smirk on Pete Adams’ face when they coincided on the small yacht later. She had already rebuked herself for succumbing yet again to the Australian. It seemed she did not have the willpower to resist his rough sexual advances. She flushed with shame when she remembered her animal cries late in the night, and recalled looking up to see him grinning down at her, knowing that he was in complete control of her satisfaction.

  Aara generally despised men, but a very few could touch the nerve that unleashed her carnal self, her uncontrolled self, the self that wou
ld not stop the man until she had shuddered under his touch. Shame and embarrassment aside, she could not dwell on her past now; she could only promise herself she would not weaken again.

  Her weakness for sex had begun in London, when she had allowed herself to taste the forbidden fruits of unfettered sex with a wealthy suitor. He had paid her, handsomely, but he had unearthed desires that could never remain satisfied for long. She soon found herself playing the good charity worker during the day and the predatory siren at night. Night after night she took sexual partners of all ages and races, searching for the man who would satisfy her sexually, intimately and emotionally. There were plenty of men who drove her into mad paroxysms of sexual ecstasy, but none who could match their masculine lust with power and control, until Pete Adams.

  She once fleetingly thought that she loved Pete Adams, but she didn’t. She loved the way that he didn’t really care about her, and yet still knew exactly how to drive her wild with passion before allowing her to peak at his discretion. He would often laugh as she lay exhausted, sometimes sobbing, sometimes still tightly bound, gasping for post coital breath. It was Pete who had first persuaded her to utilise her talents for procuring ‘at risk’ girls to make a profit. Since then she had come to see that these girls were common, weak and filthy things who deserved no better than to be the playthings of the powerful and wealthy who hired or bought them.

  She looked out of the porthole and could see land on the starboard side of the yacht. It was the coastline of Pakistan. The plan was for The Possum to weave its way through the shipping lanes, bypass the Port at Karachi and anchor offshore for the night. Early the next morning they were to take the yacht’s RIB, Rigid Inflatable Boat, and land surreptitiously at a jetty close to a golf course, just a few hundred yards from the Raffles Club. After breakfast and a couple of hours in the spa, they would head off to the airport, where they were booked on the Thai Airways jet that would whisk them off to Bangkok before they embarked on the final leg of their journey to Australia and a new future.

  ***

  The chartered Emirates Learjet 70 reached cruising altitude and the sleek plane, which was able to carry seven passengers in absolute luxury, headed across the Gulf and out over the Indian Ocean. It would land at a private executive airstrip just outside Karachi tonight.

  The three passengers discussed their plans, which needed precision timing and a whole lot of luck. All three of the agents were known to Aara, and so they would have to keep out of sight. Of the trio, Pete Adams knew only Todd, but he knew him very well indeed.

  Todd had been accepted by Pete Adams and his brother as if he had been a third brother. Vincente Polletti referred to them as the three musketeers or the three blind mice, dependent upon whether they agreed with his plans. Todd had spent almost a year under cover with the Polletti organisation, and by the time he was extracted, and Polletti was indicted, he had gathered volumes of documentary evidence which condemned the crime boss. With the full trust of the brothers and Polletti, there was little in the criminal empire that Todd had not been allowed access to and, because there was such trust and affection, his betrayal had been all the harder for them to accept.

  The death threats, as well as a few half-hearted attempts on his life, had persuaded the authorities that he should be sent safely out of the country until the trial was due. Polletti’s lawyers were masters at delaying justice, something which seemed to be commonplace to rich criminals. Todd had consequently been in Dubai for a year longer than was originally forecast before he was forcibly teamed up with Max and Jamie. The last few weeks, however, had been amongst the most enjoyable of his life to date. He would miss his companions and even Dubai, but he was effectively exiled from Dubai for the immediate future. He only partly regretted his determined (some would say oppressive) approach to getting what he wanted. What he wanted was now sitting in a suitcase with a tag marked ‘Diplomatic Status - Private: Dubai Government Property’.

  Todd sat back in the seat and pressed the button on the armrest, allowing his armchair to recline almost flat. He closed his eyes and made his plans and fell asleep in minutes.

  Chapter 52

  DHA Golf Course Jetty, Karachi, Pakistan:

  6th March 2012; Dawn.

  The white Apex rigid inflatable boat cut through the even waters of the inlet almost silently. The pilot was taking it slowly and creating only a tiny wake.

  Through the binoculars Todd could see that the passengers were Pete Adams and Aara. “Are you getting this?” he asked Jamie and Max, who were concealed elsewhere and armed with video and still cameras respectively. The water was startlingly blue and calm, the wake white and clean as the boat was tracked by the three watchers in the soft light of dawn. To Todd’s relief, both Aara and Pete had wheel-along suitcases with them. Aara’s was probably around thirty inches tall, Pete’s was smaller at twenty four inches, but that was what might normally be expected when a man and a woman travelled together.

  The boat slowed and slewed around as it reached the tiny wooden jetty, which was more of a decorative architectural addition to the links golf course than a practical landing point for sailors. The pilot steadied the boat as Pete climbed out and assisted Aara. The pilot then passed the suitcases up to them, and waved as he headed back to The Possum, which shared the same painted design as the inflatable.

  Pete and Aara wheeled their bags along the short wooden jetty, whose uneven boards bounced the luggage up and down with a click-clack sound as they walked along towards the shore. At the end of the jetty a six seater golf cart with a colourful canopy was waiting to collect them. The Pakistani driver and the golf cart were liveried with the logo of “Raffles”. The man stepped down from the cart and politely took the cases from the travellers before placing them in the back of the cart.

  “Make sure that they are transferred to the limousine when it arrives from the airport,” Pete said as he clambered aboard. The driver smiled and said something that neither Pete nor Aara understood, and began to drive in the direction of the Raffles Club just a few hundred yards away. The temperature was already in the low 80s Fahrenheit and a refreshing breeze was blowing in from the sea, but the sounds of the wind did not prevent the parabolic microphone picking up Pete Adam’s instructions to the driver. “Right, everyone. Let’s follow, and play it by ear,” Todd ordered.

  Max drove their golf cart, keeping the landscaped mounds and bunds between their cart and that of the new arrivals as they headed in the direction of Raffles.

  So far, the plan had worked well. They had landed at the private airport and had given their passports to a woman in a red uniform, who asked them to wait in a small lounge with their limited luggage. A Pakistani guard approached them and asked them where they were from. Jamie answered the question and asked the man if he wanted to examine their luggage. The man waved his hand and said that there was no need; this was the VIP terminal for friends of Pakistan. He had also seen the Dubai Government stickers and had decided that, on this occasion, retreat would serve his career better than dedication to duty.

  Their passports and visas were returned to them and they drove to their hotel, although they were back in their car just a few hours later and heading towards the Defence Housing Association Golf Course, which housed the landing jetty and which was adjacent to the Raffles Club.

  ***

  Aara and Pete stepped out of the golf cart and walked straight into the reception area, where they were directed towards the breakfast buffet. The golf cart pulled up beside the entrance canopy and the driver lit a cigarette out of sight of the main guest entrance. He was puffing away when a man in a smart chauffeur’s uniform approached him.

  “Excuse me.” The driver jumped guiltily, and tried to discard his cigarette. “It’s OK. Finish your smoke. Are these the cases for the limo?” Max asked.

  “Yes, sir. I will bring them to the lobby, sir,” he answered quickly.

  “No need, Anwa,” Max said as he picked up the cases. “I’ll take them to the conci
erge, who can hold them until the guests are ready to leave. These rich people think that they are too clever to have to carry luggage, don’t they?” he finished. Anwa laughed and nodded, and returned to his cigarette.

  Max wheeled the cases into the lobby and then into an alcove where Todd and Jamie were sitting on a sofa, well away from the breakfast room. As soon as he placed the cases in front of his two colleagues Jamie opened the simple padlocks on the cases with a TSA master key. Todd opened the larger pink suitcase and unzipped the lining to reveal the pull handle sliding mechanism. He pulled out a thick black bag from his own suitcase and duct taped the bag to the plastic body of the case and the steel channels that housed the retracting handle. He zipped up the lining and closed the case. Jamie replaced and relocked the padlock. This had all taken place in less than a minute.

  Max already had Pete Adams’ case open and was looking for a suitable place to hide his package. At the bottom of the case, in a black zipped carrier, he found a sound dock for an mp3 player. It had built in stereo speakers and was made by Bose. “Bit of a bonus,” he said, smiling, as he placed the sound-dock in Todd’s case and replaced the contents of the Bose zipped bag with his package, which fit in the space easily. He replaced the bag at the bottom of the case and put the clothes back over it. He then closed and locked the case.

  Less than five minutes after collecting the bags from the golf buggy, the cases were suitably stowed in the concierge’s cupboard, with strict instructions that they should be transferred to Mr Adams’ limousine as soon as it arrived.

  ***

  Relieved at having successfully transferred their illicit packages, the team seemed happier, and would have tried the famous Raffles English Breakfast if Aara and Pete had not been close by.