THAWED! (Cole Sudden C.I.A. Thrillers Book 3), page 12
“She died before she could name the target,” Borin said matter-of-factly. “But I don’t think it is Saudi Arabia. I think it will be in Europe or America, where there is easy access from Jeddah to one of the ports served by Pan-Arabian Shipping Lines, the family company run by her father, Ghani. They would want to make a huge splash, as you Americans would say. It is a nightmare. P.A.S.L.-owned or leased ships go to hundreds of destinations.”
“Do you think the father is involved?”
“I doubt it. The stories on the Internet say he is thoroughly Westernized. Owns a big racing stable and is a jet-setter. But who knows? His daughter acted Westernized, too.”
“We have to warn people.”
“How? It would start a worldwide panic. And we have no proof. Do you think my Government will admit to their part in this? Would yours?”
“We have to do something,” Rebecca said. “If we contact the C.I.A., they can at least start looking for the virus. They can also alert the C.D.C. in Atlanta and the European Center for Disease Control. There are preparations that can be made. They can also contact your bosses in the GRU, Irina, and tell them that the cat is out of the bag. They don’t have to know what part you played, of course.”
“I’m not worried about that. If this spirals out of control, heads will roll in Moscow, and one of them won’t be mine.”
“Let’s start making some calls,” Sudden said. “And then I guess we are going to Jeddah,”
“The virus may already be on a ship somewhere,” Borin said.
“We have to start somewhere.”
CHAPTER 23 - JEDDAH
The three agents hastily packed and caught the first available Air France flight to Paris. On the way to the Marseilles airport, Sudden called Nigel Buss and filled him in. Buss listened, asked a few pointed questions, and then promised to get the C.I.A. bigwigs at the Langley headquarters busy contacting their opposite numbers in the GRU in Moscow. Both agencies would then presumably bend their efforts into finding Kaddour Nazari and the virus-filled tundra. He agreed that secrecy would be paramount, at least until the virus was located.
“I’ll call Penny. She won’t blow me off, especially after the Hadron thing.”
Penelope Parsons was the no-nonsense black woman who was the C.I.A. Deputy Director. She had backed Buss and his agents to the hilt after the billion-dollar catastrophe at the Hadron Collider, in which the rogue agent, Yunner, had been killed.
“The top dogs at Langley will love holding all this over the head of the GRU,” Sudden said.
“Let’s hope they can see the big picture, Cole. If what you say about this virus is right, then more than rivalry between spooks is at stake here.”
Buss said he would have a long-range company jet available for Sudden’s use in Jeddah once he got there.
“You will have to get to Saudi Arabia on your own,” Buss said, “but after that I want you to be able to go anywhere right away. Take a Saudi Air flight from Charles de Gaulle to Jeddah. I’ll fix it with Saudi security so you won’t have any problems with your weapons. I’ll also contact our consulate in Jeddah. I know the Agency has someone there under cover. He’s probably a junior officer, but he can drive you around.”
“What about our Russian friend?”
Sudden winked at Borin.
“I’ll tell the Saudis that it’s a joint terrorism operation,” Buss said, “without giving them details, of course.”
“I’d love to hear that conversation.”
After Sudden rang off, Rebecca asked, “Are you going to call Malek and tell him about the body in the freezer?”
“No. I don’t want to put him on the spot. If Desmoreaux finds out, he may try to stop us before we leave the country. As you said, the lady will keep. If we stop the virus, I’ll call Sami. If we don’t, it won’t matter.”
***
Jeddah is the largest sea port on the Red Sea and the second-largest city in Saudi Arabia after the capital, Riyadh. With a population of more than three million people, it is considered not only an important and modern commercial hub, but also as the principal gateway to Mecca and Medina, Islam’s holiest sites. In an effort to stimulate both commerce and tourism, the nation’s ruling elite have positioned Jeddah as a “special city” that is more cosmopolitan and open than other Saudi cities. It has thus also become something of a resort. In addition to the fishing and seafood for which it is famous, Jeddah has long been known for its money changers, who founded Saudi Arabia's first bank, the National Commercial Bank. Capital investment, especially in scientific and engineering leadership, is still strong. Its shipping ties to Marseilles are particularly close.
Nigel Buss had come through. Sudden and his companions had no trouble with Saudi security, either boarding their plane in Paris or on landing at Jeddah’s King Abdulaziz International Airport. A Saudi security officer handed them off to their American contact from the consulate. He looked to be about 25 and was wearing a lightweight tan suit and a hopeful expression. Sudden was dismayed. The kid was obviously a C.I.A. rookie and probably as lightweight as his suit. Oh well, at least he can probably drive.
The man held out his hand to Sudden.
“Welcome to Jeddah,” he said “My car is right over there.”
“And you are?”
“Brian Gamble, Deputy Secretary for Agriculture,” the man said loudly, apparently for the benefit of bystanders.
“Good Lord,” Sudden said, as Rebecca stifled a laugh.
“Excuse me.”
“Nothing, son,” Sudden said.
“Well, then,” Gamble said uncertainly, “can I help you with your bags?”
“No, thanks. We can manage our carry-ons.”
“The ladies should sit in the back,” Gamble said when they got to the car, which turned out to be a Land Rover. “I’m sorry, but this is Saudi Arabia.”
There was a bag in the back seat.
“I’ve taken the liberty of providing you with abayas and scarves to wear when you are in public places,” he said from the front seat. “I was only able to get them in black on such short notice.”
“Barbarians,” Borin said.
“Ignore her, Gamble,” Sudden said. “It was a rough trip. She’s cranky and hungry, as we all are.”
“You can freshen up and get something to eat at your hotel,” Gamble said.
“We should go right to the shipping line,” Borin said.
“There won’t be anyone there. They are closed now. When I got the cable from Langley, I went there to reconnoiter. They will open at 9 AM tomorrow.”
“Where does Ghani Nazari live?” Sudden asked. “We can go to his house, can’t we?”
Sudden and the others had decided that the quickest way to find Kaddour Nazari was through his father.
“I don’t know,” Gamble said, apologetically. “I was only told that you were interested in Pan-Arabian Shipping. It could take some time to find out where he lives. The rich Saudis have several homes and they are quite secretive. It’s not like they are in the phone book.”
“How long have you been with the Agency, Gamble?”
“Two years.”
“Yale?”
“Princeton?”
Sudden sighed.
“We might as well go to the hotel. We’re all bushed. We’ll get an early start in the morning.”
Gamble pulled away from the curb.
“When I was at the shipping office, I did get a list of all the P.A.S.L. ships that left Jeddah in the past week,” Gamble said, “as well as their destinations. Will that help?”
Sudden decided that he might have sold Gamble a bit short.
“Yes. It might. Thanks.”
They passed a huge outdoor terminal covered by large white tents.
“What is that?” Irina Borin said.
“It’s the Hajj Terminal,” Rebecca Soul answered, “built to handle the millions of pilgrims who pass through the airport on their way to Mecca or Medina.”
“You’ve been here before?” Gamble said.
“I’ve made a few trips to Saudi Arabia,” Rebecca said, dryly.
Sudden smiled. He knew that she had never been to the country on C.I.A. business, so she was recalling some work she did for Mossad. Which undoubtedly meant that people died.
They drove by a construction site, where a huge building was seemingly rising into the stratosphere.
“That’s the Kingdom Tower,” Gamble said in a travelogue tone. “It was supposed to be a mile high but they scaled it down to a kilometer because the ground wouldn’t support the taller structure. But at 3,200 feet it will still be the tallest skyscraper in the world when completed. Almost 600 feet taller than the Burj Khalifa in Dubai.”
“It looks like a huge dick,” Borin said.
“Can you imagine if it gets a hard-on,” Gamble said.
It was good line, Sudden thought, as they all laughed.
Ten minutes later they pulled up to the Jeddah Mariott, located in the Corniche, a seafront neighborhood noted for the King Fahd’s Fountain. Gamble left the Range Rover with the valet and escorted them to their third-floor rooms.
“I booked two adjoining,” he said. He looked at the two women. “I did not know how you wanted to arrange things.”
“You have a dirty mind,” Sudden said. “You could have put us in a closet. We all need our beauty sleep.”
“I didn’t mean …”
“Just funnin’ with you, Brian.”
They all went into one of the rooms and threw their bags down.
“I’m calling room service,” Soul said, picking up a phone. “Any special requests?”
“I’m not fond of camel,” Sudden said.
“Anything,” Borin added.
Sudden opened the connecting door and went in to the other room. He soon emerged with a paper bag, from which he pulled out a bottle of Johnny Walker Scotch.
“This was on the bed,” he said.
“It’s illegal to produce, import or consume alcohol in Saudi Arabia,” Gamble said, with mock seriousness. “But the Saudi elite flout the rules and I don’t think anyone will bother you, especially after how I saw Saudi security laying out the red carpet. We keep a stash at the consulate for special occasions. I thought you might like a drink.”
“You are changing my opinion of the Ivy League, Brian.”
After Gamble left, a room-service waiter laid out their meal. When he departed, Sudden looked at the spread, which consisted of cheeseburgers, French fries and vanilla ice cream with caramel syrup.
“No falafel? Whatever happened to ‘when in Rome, do as the Romans do’?”
“These fanatics may force me to wear their goddamn shrouds,” Rebecca said, “but I’m going to eat American!”
“It’s perfect,” Borin said. “I love cheeseburgers!”
The food was delicious, and after they ate and finished most of the Scotch, they went to bed. Sudden took one room; the women the other. And they all slept soundly.
CHAPTER 24 - DOORNAIL
After showers and a quick room-service breakfast, the three agents met Brian Gamble and his Land Rover in front of the hotel.
“I hate wearing this crap,” Irina Borin said, tugging on her scarf.
“How do you think I feel,” Rebecca Soul said. “A Jew in Saudi Arabia.”
“This country must be confusing to a transgender,” Sudden commented.
“Not really,” Gamble said, pulling away. “If you are found out, you might be killed.”
“Lovely,” Rebecca said.
“I take it you are not a fan of the Saudi ruling class, Brian,” Sudden said.
“Did you read those 28 pages from the 9/11 Commission that were classified since 2002?”
“I read those pages years ago, pal.”
“Oh. I guess you probably would have. The Saudis have a lot to answer for, even the ones who didn’t fly the planes into the buildings. And, of course, there are people at the Consulate who remember the attack in 2004.”
Sudden knew Gamble was referring to an Al-Qaeda raid that killed five Consulate workers. The attack team was led by a former member of Saudi religious police.
“I won’t argue with you about any of that, Brian. But we have to keep our eye on the ball. Now, we have to find Kaddour Nazari.”
“Of course, sir. But just what exactly is the ball? I was not given much information.”
“All I can tell you is that he is a terrorist and he’s planning an attack. A big one. We don’t know where or when. We only hope we are not too late.”
“Did you get a chance to look over that list of Pan-Arabian sailing? Do you think he is on one of them?”
“Yes. And I don’t know. That would be good luck for us, since I sent the names of the ships to the Agency. None of them have reached their destinations yet, either in Europe or America, and I think they can all be searched when they dock. I’m most concerned about the ships heading to American ports, of course. And the possibility that Nazari, if he is aboard one of the vessels, may have transferred to another smaller ship. We don’t know if his sister contacted him when we first approached her.”
Gamble looked very worried. With our concern about ships, Sudden realized, he’s probably thinking about an atomic weapon being smuggled into a port city. Good. That will keep him focused. If he knew about the real threat, he’d be rooting for a nuclear bomb.
“Here we are,” Gamble said as he pulled up outside a large, modern building on the busy waterfront. A sign over the door, in both English and Arabic, identified it as the world headquarters of the Pan-Arabian Shipping Lines. “Do you want me to come with you? To translate?”
Huge cranes and derricks twirled through the air as ships of all sizes were being loaded. Trucks and fork lifts raced around noisily. Men in hard hats worked and shouted in the morning heat, which Sudden knew would soon top 100 degrees.
“That won’t be necessary,” Rebecca Soul said from the back seat. “I think I can get by.”
“Why don’t you talk to some of the dock workers,” Sudden suggested to Gamble. “Sometimes they know more than the executives. If we need you, I’ll come and get you.”
Upon entering the building, they were met with a blast of air-conditioned air. A man behind a reception desk looked up and smiled. He said something in Arabic. Rebecca answered.
“I speak English, yes,” the man said. “How can I help you?”
“We would like to see Mr. Nazari,” Sudden said.
“Mr. Nazari is not here.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“I’m afraid I am not at liberty to say.”
“Who would be at liberty to say?”
The man looked confused, but then brightened.
“Can you wait a moment, please? I will get Mr. Al-Jeheni, perhaps he can help you.”
The receptionist disappeared through a door and emerged a moment later with a tall, handsome man dressed in a dark suit.
“I am Fayez ibn Awwad Al-Jeheni,” the man said, smiling broadly, and nodding politely at the two women. “Mr. Nazari’s nephew. What can I do for you.”
“I am here on official business for the United States Government,” Sudden said. “The matter is urgent and confidential. I must speak to Mr. Nazari.”
“I wish I could help you, but my uncle is not here.”
“Is he at home?”
Al-Jeheni smiled.
“He is rarely at home, or here at the port, or even in Jeddah. He flew out two days ago.”
“Where to?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know. He is a noted horseman, with stables and farms all over the world.”
Irina Borin moved next to Sudden.
“What about his son, Kaddour? Where is he?’
It was obvious that Al-Jeheni did not like being questioned by a woman, or her tone, but he replied politely.
“I thought this was a matter for Mr. Nazari.”
“It is a matter for the whole family,” Sudden said, easily. He decided to up the ante. “I’m afraid I may have some bad news about Mr. Nazari’s daughter.”
Al-Jeheni looked concerned.
“Amira?”
“Yes. If we can’t tell her father, we would like to speak to her brother.”
“Of course. But he is not in Jeddah, either. He went to a conference in Riyadh. I may be able to find out where it is. Will you give me a moment?”
“Of course. And thank you.”
Al-Jeheni disappeared through the door.
“Excuse me, sir.”
It was the receptionist, who had come around the desk.
“Yes. What is it?”
“I don’t think Mr. Al-Jeheni is correct about Mr. Nazari’s whereabouts. I mean the son, Kaddour. He flew to America with his father. It was so nice. They were not always close. I went to the airport with him myself, to help with his luggage and other crates.”
“Crates?”
The man smiled.
“Kaddour is not fond of American food. He wanted to bring delicacies from home.”
“Shut up, you fool!”
The voice came from the doorway. Sudden looked over the receptionist’s shoulder. Al-Jeheni was standing there, his face a mask of rage. Sudden’s eyes drifted to the Uzi in his hand.
“Cole, look out!”
It was Rebecca. The next minute was a blur. Al-Jeheni’s first burst stitched the receptionist in his back, flinging him into Sudden and knocking both to the floor. As Sudden struggled to reach his gun with the wide-eyed dead man on top of him, he saw both women struggling to get their own weapons out from under their abayas. Both collapsed as they were hit by bullets. By the time Sudden got his own automatic out, Al-Jeheni was standing over him, smiling and pointing the Uzi at his head. The killer nonchalantly kicked Sudden’s gun away.
“Aren’t you supposed to say ‘Allahu Akbar’,” Sudden said, bitterness welling up inside him.
“I will, after I kill you. Tell me about Amira.”
“Why should I?”
“I will make it quick, if you do. Otherwise I will make you suffer.”
“In that case, she is deader than a doornail. In fact, she’s frozen so solid you could probably use her for a doornail.”
