by Will Jordan
Together they continued up the slope, following the faint tracks that Anya was able to discern. Both had their weapons up and ready, watching for any movement, any sign that this might be an ambush. Dust and sand swirled around them, stirred up by the hot breeze.
A tangle of large weathered boulders lay up ahead, blocking their advance. Glancing at his companion, Drake pointed right. Anya nodded, indicating that she would go left.
Gripping the AK tight, Drake crept forwards. The weapon was a heavy weight in his hands, the feed mechanism rattling a little with each step he took. Already the working parts were coated in dust, but he knew that didn’t matter. The AK could fire in almost any condition.
Backing up against a rock that jutted out of the ground as if some giant had hurled it there with great force, he took a deep breath to compose himself, and rounded the obstacle.
Anya moved at the same moment, and together they met on the far side. To their surprise, they found themselves staring into a small darkened fissure in the side of the hill, perhaps 4 feet high and 3 feet wide. A cave.
‘The tracks lead inside,’ Anya said, crouching down to examine the faint spoor. She sniffed the air. ‘Tea.’
Drake frowned. ‘Tea?’
‘I will go first. Stay close.’ Gripping the weapon one-handed and wielding a flashlight in the other, she crawled inside. Drake was right behind.
The passageway was rough and uneven, twisting and winding its way through the hill, always changing in size and shape. It soon grew tall enough to stand upright, though at times the passage was so tight that Drake had to squeeze between the rocky walls, feeling as if they were pressing in on him.
Anya had been right about the smell. He hadn’t noticed it outside, but he detected it now; the faint aroma of tea steeping. Someone was in here with them, but where?
Suddenly light flooded the cave around them as an electric arc light was switched on, pointed straight at them. Their weapons were up in an instant, safety catches off, fingers tight on triggers.
‘There is no need for that, my friends,’ a voice assured them. It was a man’s voice, high-pitched and nasal.
Anya’s eyes narrowed. ‘Typhoon?’
‘Please, lower your weapons.’ When they hesitated, he added, ‘I trusted you by agreeing to meet today, so trust me now. I would not want to ruin our relationship before we have even been introduced.’
They glanced at each other, seemed to reach some mutual consensus and lowered their assault rifles.
The light was turned aside, revealing a man seated on a low rocky outcrop about 10 yards away on the other side of the cavern. The powerful glow cast his features into sharp relief.
Whatever Drake had been expecting from Anya’s mysterious intelligence source, it hadn’t been this.
He was a young man, probably a few years younger than Drake, with a thin, almost gaunt face and sharp, bony features. He was balding and slender in build, with narrow sloping shoulders and a thin neck that made his shirt seem far too large. He was wearing a pair of glasses with a crack running through one of the lenses, though his dark eyes spoke of shrewd intelligence.
His attention was focused on Anya, a hesitant smile parting his lips. ‘I had given up hope of ever meeting you.’ His English was excellent, Drake noted. ‘It is very strange to see you standing before me now.’
‘I hope you are not disappointed,’ she replied.
‘Surprised, but not disappointed.’ He rose from his makeshift seat and walked towards them, moving with a pronounced limp. ‘As your American friends are fond of saying, it is better late than never.’
Halting in front of her, he held out his hand. ‘My name is Majid Zebari.’
‘Anya,’ she replied, taking his hand. ‘My companion is Drake.’
Zebari shook hands with him. ‘A pleasure to meet you, Mr Drake.’
‘And you.’
Zebari’s eyes opened wider in surprise. ‘You are English. Interesting.’ He glanced back at Anya. ‘I have brewed tea, if you would like some?’
Without waiting for an answer, he turned and limped back over to what seemed to serve as a makeshift living space. A propane gas stove had been set up, with a blackened mess tin steaming over it.
‘Forgive me for dragging you all the way out here, but I wanted a safe location for our meeting.’ He indicated the large cavern surrounding them. ‘I used to play in these caves as a boy. Believe me, I know them well enough to escape if need be.’
Drake had suspected as much. Any assault team who tried to storm the place would have a tough time securing all the exits. There was no telling how deep or how far the cave network ran.
‘And as you can probably tell, I am not so light on my feet these days,’ he added with a shy smile that somehow made him seem much younger.
Easing himself down onto his makeshift seat, he stretched his left leg out. Drake caught a glimpse of a metal brace holding his ankle stiff.
‘A little memento from the invasion,’ he explained, with a glance at Anya. ‘A bomb exploded outside my office. I was trapped in the rubble for two days.’
His implication was obvious. He wouldn’t be a cripple right now if Anya had met him when they’d first agreed.
‘Majid, I was told that you were a highly placed intelligence source inside Hussein’s regime …’ Anya began, ignoring his subtle rebuke.
At this, the young man snorted in amusement. ‘Highly placed? Far from it. Still, I should be grateful I wasn’t, otherwise I would likely be dead or in prison by now. No, I was an analyst for the Mukhabarat; little more than a filing clerk, really.’ He adjusted his cracked glasses, which had begun to slip down his long nose. ‘And now here I am, a penniless computer repair man with a false name and a broken pair of glasses.’
Anya’s face fell, and Zebari smiled at her reaction.
‘But even computer repair men can be useful.’
‘At last! We’ve got them,’ Frost exclaimed.
Dietrich was by her side in moments. ‘Where are they?’
‘We just downloaded the tracking signal from Magellan,’ she said, pointing to the latitude and longitude coordinates laid out on the screen. ‘According to this, it’s a spot out in the southern Iraqi desert, about a mile from a village called Ash Shabakah.’
Fishing out his phone, he dialled Franklin’s number at Langley. It only took one ring for the man to answer.
‘We’ve found them.’
‘Six years ago I was working for Directorate Eight of the Political Bureau,’ Zebari explained. ‘We were responsible for logistics and technical support for covert operations. Then, all of a sudden I was transferred to a special project, working under Colonel Mohammed al-Masri. They wanted someone to keep records, log transactions, monitor the flow of money through the Bureau. Our budget was one hundred and fifty million US dollars, with the option for another fifty if needed.’
Anya leaned forward, staring at him intently. ‘What was the goal of the project?’
‘The purchase of chemical and biological weapons from a foreign supplier. Fifty tonnes of weaponised anthrax spores, five tonnes of VX nerve agent, and five hundred pounds of highly enriched uranium, plus centrifuge technology and design blueprints for primitive tactical nuclear warheads.’
Drake stared at him. ‘My God …’
‘The intention was to use it as a deterrent to invasion,’ Zebari explained. ‘It was an insane gamble, but those were desperate times. The government knew an invasion would happen sooner or later, and they were looking for any possible way to repel it. The chemical and biological weapons would be useful, but it was the nuclear technology we wanted most of all. With that, we knew the US would have to deal with us diplomatically.’
‘Who was the supplier?’ Anya asked.
Zebari took a sip of his tea. ‘I do not know. I never met the man, but he claimed his name was Yevgeni and that he used to be with Russian military intelligence.’
Jesus, no wonder the Russians were so interested in An
ya, Drake mused. If she had exposed the fact that one of their own was selling nuclear secrets to the Iraqis, the repercussions would have been devastating.
‘He seemed to be legitimate. He was able to provide us with full technical details, plans for how the delivery would be made, and samples of all the materials he was selling as proof of his commitment. In return we made an initial payment of ten million dollars to secure the rest.’
‘So what happened?’ Drake asked. ‘Where are these weapons now?’
‘Nowhere,’ he replied flatly. ‘The deal never went ahead. When the Americans invaded Afghanistan in 2001, factions in my government knew they would soon turn their attention to lraq. Your president was eager to fight, and after the attacks in New York he had all the justification he needed. We realised we could never develop nuclear weapons in time to prevent an invasion, so the deal was cancelled, we destroyed our existing stocks of chemical and biological weapons and Yevgeni disappeared.’
Anya leaned back, crushed by the news. She had banked everything on this, on being able to secure the proof of WMD programmes that the Agency so desperately wanted. What she had found was the exact opposite.
‘Let me guess – Yevgeni never returned his deposit,’ Drake remarked.
Zebari nodded, the movement dislodging his glasses again. ‘Indeed. We searched for him, but by that point we had far more pressing concerns. The whole thing was such a fiasco that nobody wanted to be reminded of it, so it was all swept aside.’
‘So what the hell do we have here?’ Drake said. ‘A weapons deal that fell through, a mysterious Russian supplier who disappeared with ten million dollars in Iraqi money, weapons of mass destruction that don’t exist …’ He shook his head. ‘We’ve got fuck all.’
Anya looked away for a moment, deep in thought. Then, after a moment, she turned her gaze on Zebari once more. ‘You say you know little about the supplier, except the name he gave you?’
‘Correct.’
‘And you never saw him in person?’
He shook his head. ‘He was careful to preserve his anonymity. But he was a thorough man. He had already drawn up plans for getting the material covertly into the country.’
‘How, exactly?’
Zebari sighed, searching his memory. ‘Through a private shipping company that he controlled, based out of South Africa, I think. They were called … Infinity Exports.’
Drake heard the sharp intake of breath, and turned to look at Anya. She was staring wide-eyed at Zebari, her face frozen in shock and horror. The colour had drained out of her, as if her very blood had stopped in her veins.
‘What is it?’ he asked.
She ignored him, focusing on Zebari. ‘You are sure of this? You are sure it was Infinity Exports?’
He thought it over for a moment, then nodded affirmation.
Anya stood up and turned away, holding a hand against her forehead. ‘No … It’s not possible,’ she gasped. ‘It’s not possible.’
Striding over to her, Drake gripped her arm and spun her around to face him. ‘Anya, talk to me. What’s going on?’
‘Infinity Exports is a front company,’ she said. ‘They handle illegal arms shipments all over the world. They even helped supply the Mujahideen rebels when I was operating in Afghanistan.’ Shrugging out of his grasp, she turned away again, trembling with barely suppressed fury. ‘It’s the Agency, Drake. They set up the entire thing.’
Chapter 65
‘WE’VE GOT THEM,’ Franklin said, unable to hide his smile. ‘They’ve stopped near a small village in southern Iraq. We have satellite coverage of the entire area. Dietrich and his team are gearing up to intercept them right now. They can be on site in under an hour.’
But to his surprise, Cain’s face remained stony and impassive as he surveyed his subordinate across his desk.
‘That won’t be necessary, Dan.’
Franklin frowned. ‘I … don’t understand, sir. We’re ready to roll on this one. We’ve been chasing them for—’
‘I said it won’t be necessary,’ Cain repeated, his voice cold and hard. ‘I can’t afford to let them slip through the net again. I’ve got my own team who will handle the takedown.’
Franklin couldn’t believe what he was hearing. They had been on this case since the beginning, and at the final moment Cain has them removed? ‘Sir, I—’
‘Order your team to stand down. I won’t ask you again,’ the older man said. ‘Do you have a problem with that?’
Franklin opened his mouth to protest, then thought better of it. Cain could relieve him of duty with a snap of his fingers. ‘No, sir.’
‘Good.’ Cain turned his attention back to his work. ‘You have your orders, Dan. Now follow them.’
* * *
‘What is the meaning of all this?’ Zebari asked.
‘It was a set-up,’ Drake explained. The pieces had fallen into place for him almost as fast as they had for Anya. ‘The CIA were trying to sell your country illegal weapons because they knew their case for invasion would eventually hinge on it. One of their men poses as a Russian arms dealer, sells you the gear and vanishes, then a couple of months later their tanks roll into Baghdad and they find everything they need to justify the war.’ He shook his head, stunned by their audacity. ‘Fucking unbelievable.’
Zebari blanched, dumbstruck by what he had just learned. In that moment, the deal he’d gambled his future on had ceased to exist. He was an enemy of the CIA, not a potential ally. He alone possessed the knowledge and evidence to expose what they had done.
Anya stayed out of the conversation. Her mind was in turmoil.
Turning her attention back to Zebari, she strode over and gripped him by his narrow, bony shoulders. ‘You can prove all of what you have just said?’
‘I kept a digital record of all the email conversations, all the signed agreements, bank account numbers … everything.’
The woman’s expression hardened as a plan took shape in her mind. ‘Then listen to me, and listen well. Forget the CIA, forget the Russians and the Iraqis. Your life hangs in the balance now. If you want to stay alive, you will come with us and do exactly as we tell you.’
The young man stared at her wide-eyed. ‘You will honour our deal?’
She nodded again. ‘It might not happen the way we planned, but I will see to it that you get a new life and all the money you need. But only if you deliver your proof.’
He paled visibly at her threat, but raised his chin and did his best to meet her baleful gaze. ‘I will not let you down.’
Drake gripped the woman’s arm. ‘What are you planning, Anya?’
The look in her eyes reminded him of that moment in Khatyrgan when she had stood over the corpse of the guard she’d killed, drenched in blood and smiling with vicious glee, only it was colder, more controlled now. And somehow, he knew that was far more dangerous.
‘Retribution.’ She looked at Zebari again. ‘Come on. We don’t have much time.’
‘What do you mean we’ve been denied?’ Dietrich raged. ‘We’re on the ready line, for Christ sake. We can end this thing right now.’
‘This came straight from Cain,’ Franklin said, hating every word. ‘He’s ordered us to stand down.’
‘And what do you say, Dan?’
Franklin looked down, still clutching the phone to his ear. Dietrich was asking him to disobey direct orders from the director of the entire division.
‘It’s not my call. I’m sorry.’
‘Yeah. Me too.’ The derision and scorn in his voice was obvious even on a bad line from the other side of the world.
Saying nothing further, Franklin shut down the call and laid his cellphone on the desk, staring at it for a long moment as the anger and resentment boiled away inside him.
‘Fuck!’ he snarled, slamming his fist down on the polished surface.
His thoughts were interrupted when his desk phone started ringing. Gritting his teeth, he snatched it up.
‘What?’ he demanded.
>
‘I-I’m sorry to disturb you, sir,’ a voice stammered, unnerved by his harsh tone. ‘It’s Sinclair in the ops room. We’ve got a problem here.’
Who doesn’t? ‘What is it?’
‘We just lost the satellite feeds from the target area. We’re blind.’
He frowned. ‘Are they out of range?’
‘No, sir. I called the National Reconnaissance Office and the bird is still overhead. The feeds have been rerouted internally. Someone shut us down.’
In that moment, the truth dawned on him. It was Cain. He didn’t want them to see what he was about to do.
‘I …’ He trailed off, his gaze resting on the picture taken of himself and Drake when they were serving together in Afghanistan. Both young, both grinning like idiots, both convinced of their own invincibility.
‘Come up to my office right away, Sinclair. Hurry.’
What he was about to say had no place on an internal phone.
Emerging into the blinding light of early evening, they stood blinking for a few moments as their eyes adjusted. The Hilux lay where they had left it, perhaps 50 yards further down the slope.
‘We will cross the border back into Saudi Arabia tonight,’ Anya decided, starting towards the vehicle. ‘Then we will contact as many news agencies as we can find and give them Zebari’s evidence.’
‘You know this could bring down the entire Agency,’ Drake warned her, matching her stride. ‘When news of this gets out, it won’t stop.’
Already he could envision the chain reaction of scandals, investigations, resignations and disgraces, each compounded by the ones that had come before, each bringing the entire US intelligence machine closer to disaster. Personal grudges would resurface, old wounds would be reopened, mistrust and paranoia would spread like wildfire, until at last the entire thing collapsed like a house of cards.
Her eyes flashed like steel. ‘I have no loyalty to them now.’
I will show no mercy. I will never hesitate. I will never surrender.
Drake could see the determined set of her shoulders, the purpose in her stride, the tension in her back. She was committed to this cause; she would see it through to the end, or die trying.
