The Viking Deception

by J. Robert Kennedy

  She checked her rearview mirror to confirm the second SUV was still with them, having benefited from her clearing the way with her CIA customized vehicle that wouldn’t pop airbags or cut off fuel unless it was a truly horrific collision.

  Unfortunately, two police units were still behind them, and she could see the flashing lights converging from all directions now that they were on the outskirts of the city, and the buildings they had been surrounded by dwindled.

  “Coyote-One, you’ll be at your destination in five seconds. Our recommendation is to negotiate your way out of this. Good luck.”

  Sherrie frowned at her boyfriend’s recommendation. “I’m not sure that’s going to work out too well for us. Better tell State to warm up their lips, because I think there’s going to be a lot of ass kissing needed to get us out of here.”

  “Copy that, Coyote-One. We’ll get you out, no matter what.”

  She smiled as she slammed on the brakes, bringing them to a halt in the middle of a sand-swept parking lot of an abandoned development. The second SUV slid to a halt just behind her, creating a V that if necessary, could provide at least some cover.

  And they were going to need it.

  The first two cars arrived, lights flashing, sirens blaring, and came to a halt directly behind them. Within minutes, another dozen were surrounding them, the occupants out of their vehicles, all aiming their weapons at the two SUVs.

  “Coyote-One, the convoy of suspect vehicles is less than two minutes out. We recommend putting yourselves in local police custody for your protection.”

  “Copy that.” She turned to the others. “Langley recommends we surrender to the locals. Those other guys are going to be here any second.”

  Acton’s eyes narrowed. “What other guys?”

  Dawson turned to face him. “That call your guy was making went to someone in a convoy of six vehicles. They’re going to be here in less than two minutes.”

  Laura stared toward the road they had just been on. “There’s no way we want to be leaving here with them.”

  Acton nodded. “Agreed, but even if we surrender, we’re not out of here in two minutes.”

  Dawson tapped his Glock. “I’m not sure we want to be unarmed when they arrive.”

  Sherrie regarded him for a moment. “So, you’re thinking we shoot our way out of this?”

  Dawson shook his head. “No, but we are here for a reason.”

  Somebody on a bullhorn started blaring orders.

  “Did he just say what I think he said?” asked Sherrie.

  Dawson nodded. “Yup. And though I’d love to sit here and test the difference between bulletproof and bullet-resistant, I’m thinking it’s best we at least step outside.”

  Sherrie sighed. “Fine. But who’s going to do the talking?”

  “I will.” All eyes were on Acton.

  Dawson regarded him. “Good idea. You’re civilian, and you have a legit kidnapping story.”

  “But how do I explain you?”

  “We’re part of your private security team. We found you, came to get you, made our escape, didn’t know who to trust, so tried to make a direct extraction rather than contact the authorities.”

  Acton smiled. “I like that.”

  Dawson looked at Sherrie then Laura, appearing apologetic for what he was about to say. “You two should try to keep quiet. There’s no telling how they’ll react to a woman talking out of turn.”

  Sherrie grinned. “This is one Charlie-Foxtrot I’m happy to leave to you boys.”

  Acton chuckled. “Everyone ready?”

  Sherrie nodded. “Let’s do this.” She activated her comm. “Coyote-One to Control. We’re about to exit the vehicle, over.”

  “This is Control. Hostiles are about to arrive, over.”

  Sherrie cursed. “Company’s here.”

  Acton stuffed his weapon in the back of his pants, not sure of what was about to arrive. The police didn’t necessarily scare him, though one panicked officer could turn him into ground beef. It was these new arrivals that were of concern, and like Dawson, he was worried about being unarmed when they injected themselves into the situation.

  He opened his door, stepping out slowly with his hands up, the others doing the same. He kept Laura between himself and the SUV, so he’d hopefully take any first shots, perhaps giving her time to jump back into the bullet-resistant vehicle, buying her enough time for cooler heads to prevail.

  “I’m an American citizen that was kidnapped!” he shouted to no one in particular. “Does anyone here speak English?”

  The second vehicle slowly emptied out, taking their cue from the first, and Acton winced as he spotted his friend, Karlsson, held between Niner and Atlas, his face bloodied and swollen, though appearing much better than he had just a few minutes ago, Niner’s expert medical care already breathing life back into the man.

  That and the halt to the never-ending flurry of blows.

  “Identify yourself!” came the reply over the speaker.

  “My name is Professor James Acton. This is my wife Professor Laura Palmer,” he said, motioning toward Laura. “The injured man is Professor Viggo Karlsson. He was kidnapped and brought here against his will. We were coerced into coming here to negotiate for his release. The others are part of our private security team. We’re the victims here.”

  His words had little effect, and he wondered if they were even understood.

  But it didn’t matter, the conversation over as engines roared and six large SUVs rolled up on the scene, fanning out then stopping in a solid line of headlights, illuminating the situation and blinding everyone as to what was happening.

  Doors opened then slammed shut, the beams cut by silhouettes of the occupants advancing. Acton held up his hand to block the glare when Dawson shouted a warning.

  “They’re armed!”

  The new arrivals walked through the cordon of confused police, marching toward Acton and the others, weapons raised.

  “Prepare to defend!”

  Acton’s heart hammered as the Delta team all drew their concealed weapons, aiming them at the new arrivals and not the police. Acton pulled his own weapon, Laura doing the same as she advanced to take position at his side.

  “I think this is about to get ugly.”

  Acton agreed, the police now shouting at the new arrivals to lower their weapons, and too many of the officers were beginning to panic, several aiming their guns at one group of what they considered hostiles, then the other. “If someone panics, get back in the SUV and hit the deck.”

  “After you.”

  “Oh, I’ll be right on your ass, don’t you worry.”

  Dawson approached from his right, stopping between Acton and Sherrie. “We’ve got a Mexican standoff here, ladies and gentlemen. These rarely end well.”

  The hostiles continued advancing, ignoring the police and the barked orders from the Delta team to halt.

  Dawson activated his comm, whispering something.

  Two bursts of sand erupted at the feet of the hostiles, followed by two more, the report of sniper rifles reaching them a split second later.

  Bringing the advancing horde to a halt.

  Two more shots, slightly closer, had them backing away, and Acton suppressed a satisfied grin at the fear now on display as they looked about, trying to figure out where the shots were coming from.

  Dawson winked at Acton. “You didn’t think we came alone, did you?”

  Acton grunted. “A little heads up would have been nice.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  A door opened behind the wall of light then shut, a man in traditional Saudi robes striding into view, a level of arrogance and confidence on display that Acton had rarely seen.

  It made him want to punch the man in the face.

  Repeatedly.

  For his demeanor left little doubt he was the man behind everything.

  He walked up to them, ignoring all the weapons trained on him, then stopped, his eyes roaming
from man to man, the women ignored. “Who is Professor Acton?”

  Acton bowed his head slightly. “I am.”

  “You have something that belongs to me.”

  Acton shook his head. “No, I have something that belongs to everyone.”

  The man stared at him, slightly puzzled, as if he weren’t used to being contradicted. “I don’t understand.”

  Acton regarded him. “What makes you think that a ring, discovered in Sweden, dating back over one thousand years, belongs to you?”

  The man’s lip curled slightly. “I don’t think it belongs to me, Professor, I know it does.”

  I have to hear this.

  “How?”

  “It is a story handed down from generation to generation, a shameful one meant to remind us of how selfishness can destroy everything, and of how thinking of ourselves before others can result in punishment from Allah that lasts generations.”

  Laura stepped forward, her weapon at her side. “Fatima Halabi was your ancestor?”

  “Yes.”

  “And she dishonored your family by marrying a Viking?”

  The man was clearly annoyed at being addressed by a woman, but he replied, keeping his eyes on Acton. “It went beyond that. Perhaps she might have been forgiven if it were simply that. Instead, as the story is told, she was betrothed to another of a higher family, and before they could wed, her suicide was faked as a prelude to kidnapping by a Viking prince. Her husband-to-be was enraged and sent a fleet of ships to rescue her. In the end, it was a member of my family, her eldest brother, who discovered the truth.”

  Acton lowered his weapon. “That she faked her own suicide and was in love with this Viking, and that there was no kidnapping.”

  The man frowned, but nodded. “There was a challenge to settle the matter, lives were lost, and so was the ring that belonged to Fatima’s husband-to-be. What my family didn’t know, what they couldn’t have known, was that this ring was not only a precious family heirloom, handed down from generation to generation, but it was a gift from the Prophet Mohammed himself, peace be upon him. Because of my ancestor Fatima’s selfish actions, for a millennium, my family has carried that shame, and no matter what level of success we’ve attained, only the ring’s return can right the wrong from so long ago, and completely restore our family honor.”

  Acton shook his head. “Why didn’t you just ask?”

  The man stared at him. “We shouldn’t have to ask for what’s rightfully ours.”

  “That very well may be, but if you had applied through proper channels, it would have been returned to you, I’m sure.”

  The man regarded him for a moment. “Perhaps in time, but how many infidels would have touched it in between? How many blasphemous fingers would have been thrust through this sacred artifact before it was returned?”

  Acton ignored the hate in the man’s voice. This was clearly a zealot, the very worst of what Islam had to offer, and unfortunately, far too common to be excused. “Some, perhaps, though never with the intention of dishonoring it.”

  The man spat. “For a thousand years it has been dishonored simply by being on your corrupt soil. Now, it will be returned to holy land, to sacred land, where it will never again be seen by the likes of you.”

  Acton sighed. “You know, it was a symbol of love, not hate.” The man seemed unmoved. Acton played another card. “We have Fatima’s remains. If you would like, we can have her returned so she can rest in peace with your family.”

  He spat again. “Any woman who would lay with an infidel is not worthy of returning to sacred land.” He stepped closer, his eyes boring into Acton’s. “All I want is the ring.”

  Acton shook his head. “So many have died, so many have been hurt, all for something as trivial as a ring, as trivial as family honor for a sin committed over a thousand years ago. Don’t you see anything wrong with that?”

  “No, I don’t, and frankly, Professor, I don’t intend to be lectured by you. Though you may have snipers positioned strategically around us, you are vastly outnumbered, and you will die.”

  “So will you.”

  “Perhaps, but I’m prepared to meet Allah. Are you?”

  Acton decided he had pressed his luck far enough, his thirst for answers quenched. He turned to Karlsson. “It’s up to you, Viggo, what do you want to do?”

  “G-Give him the damned thing.”

  Acton nodded, returning his attention to the sheik. “What assurances do we have that you’ll let us go?”

  “None beyond my word.”

  Dawson stepped forward. “I’m not sure that’s enough.”

  The man regarded the Special Forces operator for a moment. “I am not my government. When an Al-Zayani gives his word, it is enough.”

  Dawson turned his back on the man, lowering his voice. “Your call, Doc. This operation is a Charlie-Foxtrot at the moment. My orders are to get you three out, but once you give up that ring, we have no leverage beyond the sniper teams.”

  Acton drew a deep breath. “I’m guessing those orders included not getting captured operating on Muslim soil?”

  Dawson grunted. “It was definitely implied.”

  Acton eyed him for a moment. “How were we getting out?”

  Dawson shook his head. “Best you don’t know.”

  “Can we get out?”

  Dawson glanced over his shoulder at the throng of police and the sheik’s men. “Yes, though maybe not without some casualties.”

  Acton regarded him for a moment. “You seem rather confident.”

  “I have two sniper teams that these guys aren’t even looking for, and if you notice, the positioning of the cars is intentional. We have cover from two of the three sides, and the doors are reinforced, covering much of the third side.”

  Acton glanced uncomfortably at their own position, outside the protected area. “So, we’re the only casualties?”

  Dawson smiled slightly. “If the shit hits the fan, hit the ground and roll under the SUV. We’ll provide cover fire. Whatever you do, make sure you concentrate your fire on the sheik’s men. The police are not our enemy here. When our enemy has been eliminated, we’ll surrender to the police if we have to.” He leaned closer. “That all being said, I think the best way out of this is a negotiated one.”

  Acton nodded. “I agree.”

  Everyone turned as an engine roared, a police car racing onto the scene, a man in full regalia stepping out of the rear, approaching as if he were accustomed to being in charge.

  His eyes seized on Acton. “You are Professor James Acton?”

  Acton bowed his head slightly. “I am. And you are?”

  “I am Chief Al-Numairy. You are under arrest.”

  Acton’s eyebrows rose slightly. “On what charge?”

  “Armed robbery and attempted murder. I have orders to escort you to the airport for repatriation to Sweden, where you will face these charges.” He paused, and for the first time seemed to notice the sheik and his men. “Who are you?”

  “I am Sheik Mohammed Al-Zayani.”

  Chief Al-Numairy took a step back, his head lowering in near reverence despite the fact Muslims didn’t bow, all considered equal in the eyes of Allah. This was fear, not respect, and a chill rushed through Acton as he realized why the name sounded familiar. The Al-Zayani clan were an integral part of the Wahabi sect, a sect of Islam responsible for much of the world’s troubles today with their deep pockets and extremely strict interpretations of the Koran.

  They were dangerous, and that fact could change everything.

  “I’m sorry, I did not realize you were here,” said Al-Numairy, his voice bereft of the confidence it had only moments before. “What, umm, business do you have with these people?”

  “They have something of mine.”

  Al-Numairy spun toward Acton. “Then give it to him!”

  Acton smiled slightly. “It’s not that simple.”

  But it could be.

  Acton eyed the Delta operators for a moment
, thinking of everything they had done for each other over the years, and how their being caught here could cause serious problems not only for them, but their country.

  And he came to a decision.

  “I will happily return the item, under several conditions.”

  Al-Zayani glared at him, his jaw clenched. “And those are?”

  “First, that Chief Al-Numairy is allowed to fulfill his sworn duty and arrest myself and my wife and return us to Sweden.”

  “And?”

  “And that you immediately let my friends leave. Their only crime was trying to save us from your men.” Acton chose his words carefully, family honor clearly important to the sheik. “None of this would have been necessary if those you trusted had handled the situation better. I’m certain you didn’t want any of what has happened to actually occur. I’m certain you gave clear instructions to recover the ring, and those instructions were executed poorly. If we’re all willing to acknowledge that it was those you hired, who now lie dead at the Burj Khalifa, already facing Allah for His judgment for their misdeeds, then this can all be settled peacefully. Agreed?”

  Al-Zayani regarded him for a moment, while Al-Numairy stared at both him and Acton, unsure of what to make of the proceedings, but wisely keeping his mouth shut.

  Al-Zayani finally sighed. “You are right, of course, Professor, that my family did not want any of this to occur. As long as it is agreeable to Chief Al-Numairy, then I will agree to your request that your friends may leave.”

  Dawson put a hand on Acton’s shoulder and a mouth to his ear. “What are you doing? We’re not leaving without you.”

  Acton turned his head, lowering his voice. “We don’t have a choice. You guys leave and get clear. These police officers have nothing to do with what’s been happening. They’re going to arrest us, take us to the airport, and put us on the first plane back to Stockholm.”

  “Assuming everyone keeps their word.”

  “Yes, but if they don’t, then they were never going to, and we’re probably all dead regardless. If we did manage to survive, it would be to spend the rest of our days in some prison somewhere.”