Assassin (Assassin Series Book 1)
Page 2
Jake was incredulous. Had Jennings completely lost his mind? The work that Jake specialized in took careful consideration and planning to make the hit. At a busy oil exhibition, crawling with bodyguards and thousands of visitors, was not a part of any plan that he would have formulated. He had a bad feeling about this assignment already.
CHAPTER 2
Jennings had been most specific about the current mission. For reasons that he would not disclose, he had told Jake that he was merely a foot soldier and not privy to wider ranging agendas of the agency. He added that the name of the target was Mahmoud Ashram, the head of a major Dubai oil family, who in spite of strong overtures from Jennings, consistently refused to work with the CIA on clandestine arms deals being brokered by the CIA with so-called ‘strategic rebels’, that also conveniently happened to be in the best interests of the US.
Ironically, Jennings told Jake that Ashram’s two sons, both Jihad-minded subversives, were more than happy to work with the CIA. Consequently, Jake’s mission was to eliminate any opposition to the CIA’s plans, although the sons of the intended victim had no idea that their father was a marked man.
It was this kind of scenario that Jake currently had serious misgivings about. To his knowledge, the USA was not at war with the citizens of Dubai and in particular the CEO of Ashram Energy, even though his refusal to get involved in clandestine arms deals with the CIA, didn’t sit well with Jennings.
Jennings had told Jake to ensure the hit looked like an accident. The harmless looking syringe of clear liquid in Jake’s pocket, was in fact a deadly toxin that once administered into the blood stream, would not only cause instant paralysis and death, but also be totally undetectable within minutes. Another product of the government’s ‘black-ops’ department that didn’t exist!
To Jake, that was the easy part of the plan. The hard part of this assignment was to isolate the victim, quickly administer the poison and get away undetected.
Having just absorbed the magnitude of the instructions in Jennings’s text, he knew that trying to accomplish this in a crowded convention center, with obvious high security would be extremely difficult, particularly when the intended victim would most likely be flanked by strategically-placed bodyguards. Having freelanced as a bodyguard in the US before joining the CIA, Jake was more than conversant with the MO of the average bodyguard, but here in Dubai, bodyguards and their roles reached a whole new plateau, being paid massive salaries and driving luxury automobiles.
In fact, the only way he had managed his last assignment in Dubai, had been to make sure he took out the bodyguards at the same time as the target. In that instance, the quiet parking lot of a restaurant was a walk in the park compared to the manic bustle of a huge oil exhibition. A pensive thought still lingered in Jake’s mind. Did those bodyguards deserve to die? Perhaps, since in that instance they were not really independent bodyguards, but additional al-Qaida terrorists, commandeered from the ranks to protect their general, in which case, maybe they really did deserve to die as sworn enemies of the US.
* * *
The clock on the wall showed 5.10 pm as Jake finished a sandwich and a beer and prepared to leave the hotel. Exit rule number one, was to be ready to leave at a minute’s notice if things went bad, so Jake put his passport and documents in his pocket as well as the tell-tale glass case. Outside the hotel, he grabbed a taxi and quickly disappeared into the city traffic. At that time of day, the usually crazy streets, with even crazier drivers, were already indicating the beginnings of the rush hour as the taxi driver donned his daredevil persona and fearlessly sped along in the direction of the elegant convention center, with Jake sitting in the back, his jaw tightening as they raced along. Driving patterns in Dubai reminded Jake very much of his days in Calcutta, in other words, they were totally without logic and inherently dangerous.
* * *
The Convention and Exhibit Center in Dubai was an amazingly elegant building of shining glass and stainless steel and built to the latest and most modern architectural standards. Outside the delegate drop-off area, the huge signs for ‘Oilex - 2012’ could be seen everywhere as the oil millionaires of the world were converging on the exhibition. Jake took in the scene from the back seat of the cab, becoming more apprehensive by the minute. Outside the clock showed 5.20pm. He paid the taxi driver and moved quickly up the elegant forecourt to the foyer of the building.
Expensive cars of every kind imaginable, dripping in gold and silver plating and shining chrome, were arriving, bringing princes, emirs and sheiks, all surrounded by their usual eagle-eyed bodyguards. Jake’s mind went back to the so-called lean times being survived by the automakers in Detroit, but upon reviewing the vehicles arriving, it appeared that the German and Italian automakers were conducting a more than lucrative business.
Many of the delegates were in traditional dress and at a quick count to Jake’s experienced eye, the bodyguards outnumbered their principles by at least three to one and it was readily apparent that they were all wearing what looked like bulging shoulder holsters. Jake was becoming more disillusioned by the minute. “Just great!” he whispered to himself.
Once inside the building, Jake mingled with the crowds, wearing his delegate badge after registering for the exhibition. He checked his watch and saw it was 5.25pm and when he looked up, his expression changed. Jake was already on the move.
Through the huge picture windows of the convention center, across the forecourt, he saw the gold and silver Mercedes pull up and watched as the bodyguards jumped out, checking the surrounding area for any danger. They were followed by the two Ashram sons, Jamal and his brother Anwar, both wearing Armani and subsequently by their father, Mahmoud Ashram, a small, bearded Arab in traditional dress.
Jake quickly followed the Ashrams and their bodyguards as they entered the convention center. Jamal, the elder of the two sons, had a dark, ominous look about him, clearly not a man to be trifled with, while his brother Anwar was more slightly built and somewhat less threatening in his appearance than his elder sibling.
Jake, looking like a typical delegate, followed them into the exhibit area, mingling with the crowd behind them. He was looking casually at a brochure, but his eyes never left the group in front of him.
Inside the exhibit hall, the booths of all the exhibitors were packed with visitors and affluent, long-robed Arabs seemed to be everywhere. Jake followed the Ashram family to their huge booth with signs showing ‘Ashram Energy’ hanging over it. Mahmoud was greeted by his staff on the booth and by wealthy-looking Arabs who converged on him as soon as they saw him. He exchanged friendly greetings with all of them. Jake watched his bodyguards closely. They looked to be a mixture of Arabs and Eastern Europeans. They never stood still, always hovering close to Mahmoud, their dark, dangerous eyes constantly searching the surrounding area for trouble.
Jake took in the scene at a glance, mumbling to himself. “Piece of cake....hardly!” he wandered down the next exhibit aisle parallel to the Ashram booth, melting into the crowd. To Jake’s practiced eye, the volume of people in the area made it almost impossible to envision a scenario in which he could complete his mission. He realized that the staff on the Ashram booth were also serving appetizing refreshments, another reason for Mahmoud not to leave the booth, and even if he did, Jake was convinced that it would not be without an entourage of bodyguards.
He felt like calling Jennings to tell him he was calling off the hit, but he decided to wait a little longer to see what opportunities may arise. One thing was certain, this wasn’t going to be easy.
CHAPTER 3
The offices of Midecon Industries (Mid-East Contractors), were located in one of the most impressive colonial buildings in Washington DC. The large defense contractor specialized in supplying high-tech weaponry and surveillance equipment to the US Government and to other friendly countries in the Middle East. They also supplied a wide range of security services and personnel to the large multi-national oil companies and private operators in the Mid
dle East. With a full time team of cash-wielding lobbyists, there were very few large defense and security contracts, particularly in the Persian Gulf and the Emirates that Midecon did not have strong ties to.
In these times of the professional lobbyist, it was amazing the way that copious amounts of money were constantly being thrown at various government officials for their pet projects, charities, etc. by the likes of Midecon, to ensure that they were on the front row, not only when the intensely competitive bidding for the contracts started, but more important still at the time the multi-million dollar mega-contracts were awarded.
Nancy Harrigan, Jake’s wife, a pretty, petite blonde, had worked at Midecon for the past three years as a contract logistics specialist in the oilfield services group. She was involved in making sure that all items shipped to the various large contracts, whether men or materials, were in strict accordance with the supply manifests being invoiced to the customers. She was relatively low on the totem pole, but she was very meticulous in her work.
She and Jake had been happily married for six years and she had been relieved when he came back from Iraq and Colombia and settled down to what seemed like a low risk job in government security.
One of the key stipulations that Jake had made when taking on his present post with the CIA, was that under no circumstances should Nancy ever find out what he was doing. If she had seen him now, racking his brains as to how he was going to kill a man, she would have had a coronary episode!
On a fine, cool, late fall day in the nation’s capital, Nancy and her friend and colleague Nicole were walking into the office complex from the parking garage. Nicole was making friendly conversation. “Is Jake out of town?”
“Yes, overseas.” Nancy replied.
Nicole looked curious. “Anywhere nice?”
Nancy was very open. “Somewhere in the Middle East, I think, visiting clients.”
Nicole smiled. “Pity he couldn’t take you with him.”
Nancy thought a moment. “Las Vegas, yes, but Middle East, I think I’ll pass.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
They entered the building with the other arrivals, swiping their ID badges as they went inside.
Across the parking lot, a grey Mercedes pulled into its designated parking slot and Bill Peterson, dark-haired, mid-forties, typical executive, climbed out just as his cell phone rang. He answered it walking towards the building. “Peterson?”
Jennings, Jake’s boss was on the line. “How’s your day looking, Bill?”
“What d’you have in mind?” Peterson looked round nervously.
“We have to talk.”
Peterson thought a minute. “Can you stop by about 11.00 am?”
Jennings seemed satisfied. “See you then.” Peterson clicked off his phone and entered the building.
CHAPTER 4
The crowd continued to mill around in the exhibit hall. To one side, Jake sat at a table in a bistro café having a strong coffee, where he could watch the Ashram exhibit booth without creating suspicion. He lit a cigarette and as he put the lighter away, he noticed some activity on the Ashram booth. Mahmoud, still surrounded by bodyguards, had excused himself from a group of Arab customers and signalled to two of his bodyguards to follow him.
Jake gave a wry smile, whispering to himself. “Looks like some movement!”
Across the aisle, Mahmoud was heading off, away from the booth in the direction of the men’s room, with two of the five bodyguards escorting him. Jake finished his coffee, stubbed out his cigarette and left a tip on the table, before casually following the trio in the direction of the men’s room. He was still pretending to read a brochure, but his eyes never left the entourage ahead.
After two hours of waiting around, drinking endless cups of coffee, Jake had begun to give up hope that he would get to his target that day. However, if Mahmoud needed to relieve himself, at least the semi-quiet of the men’s room would be a huge improvement on the mayhem in the exhibit hall. The problem was, anybody could walk in and if Mahmoud took his bodyguards in with him, Jake’s chances would be from slim to none of getting the job done.
Fate seemed to be on Jake’s side when Mahmoud approached the men’s room and Jake watched him signal to his bodyguards to wait outside while he entered. Jake, still reading his brochure, his pulse already racing, entered behind him, past the bodyguards who were busy in conversation. They didn’t give him a second glance.
Inside the men’s room, four Arabs passed Jake coming out, all busy in conversation as Jake walked in after Mahmoud and checked out the scene. With the exception of Mahmoud, the men’s room was empty. Jake moved over to the sink, going through the motions of washing his hands, but actually palming the syringe and concealing it in a towel, as Mahmoud, after what seemed like a nail-biting eternity to Jake, finally walked over to the sink to wash his hands.
Jake glanced quickly at the door to make sure they were still alone and as Mahmoud reached for the gold plated faucet, Jake’s hand movement was a blur, grabbing Mahmoud with one hand over the Arab’s mouth, while he injected the syringe into his throat with the other. Mahmoud dropped like a stone, Jake stuffed the syringe in his glass case that he pocketed quickly before dragging Mahmoud’s body into an open stall, pulling the door closed and moving away from the stall. He left quickly before anybody entered. Now, anyone finding the body would hopefully assume that Mahmoud had suffered a heart attack.
The outside corridor was still empty and the two bodyguards were still chatting about twenty feet away from the door to the men’s room. Jake forced himself to walk away casually but, unknown to Jake, what had gone very smoothly so far, in an extremely difficult circumstance, was about to go drastically wrong!
It began when Ivan, from Serbia, the senior of the two bodyguards, decided to go and check on their boss. He passed Jake who was walking casually down the corridor away from the men’s room and after Jake had passed the other bodyguard Dimitri, from Russia, who was on his phone and not taking particular notice of Jake, Ivan came rushing out and screamed at his colleague in Russian. “Quick, come here, it’s the Sheik!”
Jake heard Ivan shout out as the alarm in his voice alerted Jake that he had found the body and there was a sudden look of urgency on Jake’s face. “Oh, shit!” he muttered as he quickened his pace away from the entrance to the men’s room.
Dimitri was about to follow his colleague back into the men’s room, but stopped, a second instinct kicking in as he turned and saw Jake now hurrying away. He looked back at Ivan, who had also reached the same conclusion, that Jake was the culprit, as Ivan screamed at Dimitri. “The Sheik’s dead! Go get him!” he was pointing at Jake who was now disappearing into the crowd.
Dimitri, thick-set, athletic-looking, set off after Jake, screaming at him, his gun raised ready to fire. “Stop! Stop, or I will shoot!” he screamed in broken English. Jake carried on running and Dimitri fired a couple of shots before Ivan screamed after him. “Not inside the building, you moron!”
Jake was sprinting along towards the exit with Dimitri now in pursuit. People were beginning to panic after hearing the gunshots when Jake hurried around the corner, followed by the gun-toting Dimitri. Jake looked desperate. “Just great!” he mumbled, anxiously looking ahead for an exit.
Ivan rushed back to the exhibition booth, screaming at the security personnel out of earshot and pointing to the men’s room. He arrived at the Ashram booth white-faced and breathless and urgently signalled to Jamal that he needed to talk to him immediately. Jamal sensed the urgency, excused himself from his business contacts and went over to Ivan, who whispered in his ear before they both rushed off the booth, quickly followed by Anwar.
Across the crowded entrance area, people stopped and watched as Jake turned another corner, pushing his way past delegates, Dimitri still in pursuit. People started screaming and looked for cover, seeing the gun in Dimitri’s hand as Jake finally crashed out through the doors and down the forecourt towards the taxi arrival area.
Back at the curb, Dimitri arrived breathless and waved to the back-up SUV driver, who was day-dreaming, having a smoke. He looked up, saw his colleague waving, threw away the cigarette, revved the engine and pulled up in a squeal of tires. Dimitri jumped in and the SUV set off in pursuit of Jake.
Jake was now driving crazily through the heavy traffic, the SUV giving chase, firing a shower of bullets that strafed the sides of the taxi. He was furious. “Exit strategy my ass, now what the hell do I do?”
Jennings’s comments about things going wrong, were reverberating in his head. The last thing he needed was a high profile chase, with bullets flying and hundreds of people watching, hopefully, none of them with a camera.
He roared down the freeway, the Ashram goons still behind him, with his mind going as fast as he was driving. He realized that they had still not recognized him close up, although he knew he needed to jettison the tell-tale beige jacket. He was struggling to grab his documents from the jacket pocket, trying to stuff them in his slacks and tear off the jacket, all at the same time. He was hurtling along, careening all over the road.
Behind him, his pursuers in their super-charged Mercedes SUV were gaining on his modest, little, pink-topped taxi. He looked around and he appeared to be getting away from the big, impressive buildings and into the lower income district where the traffic was even more congested. He swerved around another corner and bounced off a Rolls Royce coming the other way, badly scratching the side of the Rolls. He looked over his shoulder. “Hope you got a good deductible, buddy!”