Exposed, page 9
“Good point. Okay, people, let’s get to work. I’ll get in touch with the UAE Embassy and get the Sheikh’s itinerary,” Amanda said. “RCMP and I will start working our networks. We’ll lean on them, hard if necessary, and put everyone on high alert. We’ll draw up a list of all the high profile events we have coming up and liaise with RCMP about stepping up security for them, but uncovering the target has to be the top priority. We don’t want to get caught with our pants down while we’re looking the wrong way,” she concluded, mixing her metaphors but getting her point across.
“Curtis,” Amanda continued, “chase the money angle. Donaldson, get that judge on standby just in case. Code red everyone, we have a crisis on our hands. We may not have long and those cells may well be in place by now. We have to find them before we have a bloodbath on our hands.”
Everyone nodded in agreement.
“You and Diana head home and get some rest,” Donaldson said to Peter. “We’ll call you as soon as we have more information.”
Diana didn’t want to leave. She was reluctant to cede control. Something might go terribly wrong, but logically, there wasn’t much for her to do until more information came to light.
“Need a lift?” Peter whispered. She gave a slight, reluctant nod.
“Diana and I will be heading out, then,” Peter announced to the room.
“We’ll call you as soon as there’s news,” Amanda promised.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE FOLLOWING DAY, Diana hadn’t been in her office fifteen minutes when her cell phone rang.
“Diana, it’s Amanda. I forwarded Sheikh Al Omair’s itinerary to you and VPD. I also got the Sheikh’s people to agree to a meeting. He’s expecting you at noon.”
“Noon? Where?” Diana asked.
“He’s staying at the Fairmont.”
“Thanks, Amanda. I’ll call Peter, and we’ll head on over.”
“I suppose I don’t need to—“
“Warn me that I should be diplomatic?” Diana asked with a chuckle. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle when I tell him his son is trying to kill him.”
“He might not believe you. Be clear and direct,” Amanda said.
“I know, I know.”
“Give me an update when you’re done.” The words sounded like an order, but Amanda’s tone was soft enough not to raise Diana’s hackles.
“I’ll call as soon as we’re finished. Any news from Curtis about the money?”
“Nothing so far, but he should have something by early this afternoon.”
“I really wish we could pick Greene up. Throw him in a cell for a few hours and let him stew. Maybe he’d come to his senses and start talking,” Diana said, massaging her neck muscles with her free hand as she spoke.
“Me too, but you know we don’t have the power to do that, and the VPD won’t do it without a warrant.”
“I know. Still, I wish we could.”
“You and me both,” Amanda replied.
“Okay, I’ll call Peter. I’ll get in touch later.”
“Great. Thanks, Diana. It’s good to be working with you again. I’ve missed you.”
Forty-five minutes later, Peter and Diana were standing in front of the door to the Fairmont’s Royal Suite, showing the two bodyguards their credentials.
“You may go in,” one of the men said in strongly accented English.
The two of them stepped through the door, walking into a luxurious room with a fireplace, couch, and chairs at one end, and a dining table at the other. The mahogany furniture was beautifully offset by the cream and pale yellow décor. Everything from the light fixtures to the art on the wall was a study in elegance, coming together to create a welcoming atmosphere for someone with discerning tastes and deep pockets.
A door opened and a short, trim man in his early thirties, Diana guessed, dressed in an extremely expensive suit, came out to greet them. “Hello, my name is Halil, and I’m His Highness Sheikh Rahid bin Said Al Omair’s personal secretary. I’m also his eldest son,” he said, shaking Peter’s hand. To her surprise, he also shook Diana’s.
“I’m Detective Peter Hopkinson, and this is my partner, Diana Hunter,” Peter said.
A voice boomed from across the room. “Halil, don’t keep the police officers! Bring them to me.”
Diana looked in the direction of the voice and saw a man in his late fifties standing by the dining table. He was clearly fit, and she had to admit, extremely attractive with silver hair and a closely cropped mustache and goatee. What surprised her more was that he wore a dark gray suit rather than the traditional Arabic keffiyeh, and dishdash.
“Of course, Your Highness,” Halil said quickly, though the half-smile he wore indicated he was used to his father’s impatience. “Please, come,” he said to Peter and Diana.
“This is Detective Peter Hopkinson and his partner, Diana Hunter from the Vancouver Police Department, Your Highness,” Halil said with a short bow.
“Yes, Halil, I heard,” the Sheikh said with a small smile.
“As salaam alaikum, Your Highness,” Diana said, fluently.
“Wa alaikum salaam, Ms. Hunter,” the Sheikh replied, grasping her hand firmly, his eye contact strong. She noticed approval in his eyes.
The Sheikh shook Peter’s hand and invited them to take a seat at the table. Peter left the one next to the Sheikh free for Diana. Her heart flooded with appreciation at the gesture. Once everyone was seated, the Sheikh started, “So, what can I do for the Vancouver Police Department?”
“We are here on behalf of a number of organizations, including the Canadian Security and Intelligence Service, Your Highness. Not just VPD,” Diana said.
The Sheikh’s eyebrows rose, but he said nothing. “Unfortunately, we have credible intelligence that your life is in danger. An attack is planned to take place while you are in Vancouver.” Diana watched the Sheikh closely for his reaction.
“What?” Halil exclaimed. “How can this be?” Halil’s jaw dropped and his eyebrows rose. Pink spots appeared on his cheeks, and his eyes were hard and flinty. Halil was genuinely surprised, unlike his father.
The Sheikh’s look of astonishment lasted too long to be real. His expression was asymmetrical, and the left side of his face displayed a greater level of intensity. Real emotions show symmetrically on the face, both sides being similarly intense. The Sheikh was not surprised someone was trying to kill him.
“Halil, let them speak,” the Sheikh said curtly, lifting his hand to silence his son.
“My partner and I personally collected the intelligence from our source in Dubai. According to them, the attack will take place at the Vancouver Opera.”
The Sheikh pursed his lips and turned them down, nodding his head several times in quick succession.
“Really? Not many people know that I plan to attend the opera tonight. In fact, very few people are aware of this trip at all. This is a private visit. I’m here to see my daughter, and only those closest to me know my itinerary.”
“Right now, it really doesn’t matter how the information leaked, Your Highness. What’s important is that we protect you,” Peter said. “We’d like to assign you additional security detail.”
“But if you are aware of when the attack is to take place, why would you need to do that? Can you not just secure the Opera?” It was obvious from his body language that the Sheikh didn’t want them anywhere near him.
“We can protect you, Your Highness,” Diana said, her tone soft. “There’s no guarantee your enemies will not change their plans. You are the target, not the Opera. There are other elements at play, and they could get to you. And that’s why we’d prefer you had additional security with you at all times.”
The Sheikh’s expression was inscrutable.
Diana licked her lips and took a deep breath. She glanced over at Peter nervously.
“There’s no delicate way of putting this, Your Highness,” Peter jumped in. “Your son, Firat, is a member of the group arranging your assassination. He’s been heavily involved in the planning.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“THIS IS NOT possible!” the Sheikh exclaimed. The higher pitch of his voice, the faster cadence of his speech, his chin thrust forward were all signs of anger. Diana would have assumed it was aimed at them had the Sheikh not broken eye contact and looked to the side. He was recalling something. A memory had sparked his anger. And then, the next expression to grace his face was one of resignation. His eyes dulled.
“You are not as surprised as you want us to believe, Your Highness,” Diana said softly.
The Sheikh’s eyes cut back to her face. “Are you accusing me of lying?” he snapped.
“No, but I do believe you are trying to protect Firat.”
“I cannot believe my son would have me killed,” the Sheikh said slowly. He crossed his arms and leaned back – another distancing tactic, and one that said he clearly didn’t believe a word he was saying. Coupled with the avoidance of his son’s name, it was obvious to her that the Sheikh not only knew his son was trying to kill him but was expecting it.
“Has he tried to have you killed before?” Diana asked.
“Of course not!” the Sheikh exclaimed.
“Your words say one thing, but your body language is telling me something else.” She was taking a big risk. She, a woman, was challenging a Sheikh. Diana was stepping over some big, time-honored boundaries.
“You were nodding just now. The real answer to my question was ‘yes,’ wasn’t it? Your one-sided shrug indicates you have no confidence in what you’re saying. You’ve been caressing your other hand, a self-comforting gesture. That’s something people do when they don’t believe what they’re saying. Your Highness, I believe you‘re protecting your son, and unfortunately, in doing so, you’re risking the lives of your other children, your personal security detail, and the members of the public who will be in your vicinity.”
The Sheikh looked at her. “I was told you are very astute, Ms. Hunter. I can see why.”
Diana looked surprised.
The Sheikh smiled, “Canada is not the only country with an intelligence service, you know.”
“Of course, Your Highness. It’s just that I’m surprised I’m considered important enough to be brought to your attention.”
“Your background does make for very interesting reading, Ms. Hunter, currently of VPD, TFI, formerly of CSIS.” He looked at Peter, “As does yours, Major.”
Peter shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Diana acknowledged the Sheikh’s words with a small smile.
The Sheikh sat up straighter, his voice stern. “My son has tried to have me eliminated before, which is why he is closely watched. I know about your visit to my country.”
“Why haven’t you done anything?” Peter asked.
“What would you have me do? Have him executed?” the Sheikh snapped.
“Some time in prison might give him the opportunity to think about things.”
“You are correct. Unfortunately though, while I have considered this course of action, there has been insufficient physical evidence to convict him. He’s a smart boy, always has been. Given to excesses but clever enough to rein himself in just enough to be effective, at least, thus far. Things will catch up with him eventually. They always do.”
The Sheikh bowed his head and looked down while his hand came up to touch his forehead. It was an indication of deep shame.
“Do you really not have the evidence?” Diana asked. The Sheikh looked up quickly, surprise on his face. Real surprise this time.
“Of course not,” he said. And he was telling the truth. “If I did, I would take action.”
The Sheikh’s features hardened once more. “I love all my children dearly, but Firat is blinded by his ambition, his ego, and his resentment. I cannot sacrifice myself or my children, but I need to have evidence.”
“Your Highness,” Diana said, “all we want to do is protect you. We want to ensure that you enjoy your time in our country and are able to leave here safe and sound. We have intelligence that clearly states that a threat to your life has been planned while you are with us. I’m sure your men are well-trained, but we insist that you allow us to assign additional protection to you. We also ask that you avoid the Vancouver Opera and other major public situations for the duration of your trip.”
The Sheikh studied both of them without saying anything for a few moments. “I’m sorry, but I cannot accept your offer.”
Peter said, “But, Your Highness—“
The Sheikh held a hand up. “If I were to accept protection from your country, if it got out that I were under threat from my own son, what message do I send my people? I would be humiliated. No. I cannot accept. I thank you for the offer, and I will change my public plans. I will not go to the Opera tonight, but I cannot accept your protection. I will make my own arrangements.”
Peter opened his mouth to say something but Diana gently placed a hand on his arm.
“Your decision is disappointing but very well, Your Highness. If you become party to more information or something happens that concerns you, please call us.” Diana took out her business card and pushed it toward Halil.
“We will, Ms. Hunter. Once again, thank you for coming.” Halil was remarkably calm considering they had just revealed that a serious threat to his life had been made.
The Sheikh crossed his arms and leaned back once more. He had dismissed them.
They said their good-byes and left. Peter waited until they were outside before he voiced his thoughts.
“What the hell, Diana? His son wants to blow him up and not for the first time, and he still doesn’t want protection?”
Diana shrugged. “It’s all about politics and image. He has to show strength, and in his eyes, accepting our protection makes him look weak.”
“I know, but he’d rather be dead, his children too? Not to mention the innocents around him that could get caught up in the mess!”
“I know it’s frustrating, but it is what it is. We can’t force him to accept protection. We can put a detail on him and let them keep an eye on him from a distance.”
Diana pulled out her phone. “I have to call Amanda. Hopefully, Curtis has something for us.”
Peter’s phone started ringing. “Hey, what’s up?” he said into the phone.
Diana waited silently.
“We’ll be right there,” he added, frowning.
“What’s wrong?” Diana asked when he ended the call.
“Curtis couldn’t find a concrete link between Greene and the transfer of money, but the RCMP decided to barge in and arrest him anyway. Said they didn’t need a warrant because of suspected terrorist activities, blah, blah. He’s in lockup at VPD right now.”
“Okay, so what’s the problem? We knew they were hotheaded, and Greene is in it up to his neck. It doesn’t seem like the worst decision ever made.”
“That idiot Lyndon refused to wait for us.”
“And…?
“Greene demanded his lawyer, who is now screaming bloody murder. We’re never going to get anything out of him now.”
Diana gave him a shrewd look. “Oh, don’t be so certain. Let’s get down there before VPD is forced to release him.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
“DAMN YOU, RCMP,” Donaldson said. “You jumped the gun, as usual. I told you to wait for evidence, for Diana, but you wouldn’t listen.” Diana was standing outside the interrogation room in VPD headquarters with Bill Donaldson, Lyndon, and Burke of the RCMP, and Peter. If the whisper-shouting, dilated pupils, frown, and tightness under his eyes were any indicators, Donaldson was furious. Lyndon stared over Donaldson’s head, Burke looked mulish.
Diana placed a hand on Donaldson’s arm. He looked at her and relaxed immediately. “Can you work your magic? He’s here now. We’ve got nothing to lose, and maybe we’ll get something out of this mess.” He spoke the last words through gritted teeth and glared at the two RCMPs.
She smirked. “I’ll try.”
“So, how shall we do this?” Peter asked her. “The usual?”
“Not this time. I want you in the other room, watching, backing me up. Lyndon can be in there with me.” She turned to the RCMP. “You stand behind Greene and slightly to the side. I want you just inside his peripheral vision. But you don’t say a word, you understand? Just by standing there silently, you’ll distract him enough so he can’t give his full attention to controlling his expressions. It will make things go faster.”
“This is a waste of time. He’s not going to tell you anything. His lawyer won’t let him say a word,” Lyndon said.
“And whose fault is that?” Donaldson continued glaring at the other man. “Shut it. You’ll do as you’re told. If anyone can get him to talk, Diana can,” Donaldson said.
The disbelief Lyndon felt showed on his face, along with a slice of barely concealed contempt. How nice. But it didn’t matter. It was actually better. The more hostility Lyndon exuded, the more uncomfortable Greene would be.
“I don’t need him to talk,” Diana said with a smirk. “But I will need the list of events that are potential targets.”
“Here,” Lyndon said, handing her the file he was holding. She wanted to slap the look of scorn off his face, but there were more important things at stake than his condescension right now.
“Thank you,” she said. “Peter, give me about twenty minutes, then come in and hand me a note. Look pleased, okay?”
“What note? Why?” Lyndon asked.
“You’ll see,” she said. She squared her shoulders. “Let’s get to it.”
Lyndon grudgingly opened the door to the interrogation room and let her through. She nodded to him in thanks and walked in. “Hello, Mr. Greene,” she said as she took the seat opposite. His lawyer sat next to him.
“Who the hell are you?” the lawyer demanded.
Diana raised an eyebrow and gave the man a quelling look. “Watch your tone,” she snapped. “I’m Diana Hunter. I consult for VPD. And you are?”
