protocols.”
“The pretargeting protocols were his responsibility,” said Fareed.
“That’s not what I want to hear,” said Liquida. “It’s not healthy for either one of us right now. Think about this. Right now these people are worried about it, that with Leffort gone they got a hole in the program. If I go back and tell them you know about the protocols, there’s no problem. It makes you more valuable. You turn over the software, and you move on to Mexico.”
Liquida glanced quickly over his shoulder as if someone might be listening outside the door, then turned back to Raji and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I am not supposed to tell you this but the facility is in Mexico, in the Yucatan near Coba. They have been set up there now for over two years. They have several of these people, scientists, what you call, you know the thing what was Leffort…”
“Astrophysicists?” said Raji.
“Yes. They have several of them working there. From what I hear, this is an easy one for you. They probably did most of Leffort’s work for him already.” Liquida spoke quickly. He was still leaning in close, whispering. “I heard one of them say that Leffort had been sending information down to Coba for the last two years. So how much could be left to do? If you give us the software and tell me that you can help out even a little with these protocols, they’ll be happy and you will live. Do you understand? Don’t be a fool.”
Raji wondered if any of it was true. But what difference did it make? If it was part of an elaborate lie devised to gain his trust, that meant they were going kill him anyway, the minute he turned over the targeting software. Fareed had nothing to lose. “I know a little about the protocols.”
“You want to be careful not to undersell yourself,” said Liquida.
“OK. I am very familiar with them. I know a lot.”
“That’s better.” Liquida leaned back in the chair. “That leaves only the first item. The software.” He arched an eyebrow at Raji.
“I would need a few minutes and an Internet connection.”
“So you don’t have them here?”
“They’re online at a remote site. And they’re encrypted. The decryption software is in my computer.”
“So you must download it, is that it?”
“Correct.”
“That can be arranged. It may take a few minutes. Don’t go anywhere.” Liquida smiled, stood up, and pushed the chair back against the wall. He turned toward the door, started to walk, and then suddenly stopped. Like an animal who had picked up the scent of prey, he looked down at Raji. For a moment he gave him a cold dark stare as if he were sniffing the air for signs of deception, trying to read what was going through Fareed’s mind. “You would not be so foolish as to lie to me, would you?”
“No!”
Liquida walked over and rapped twice on the door. Bruno’s man outside in the hallway unlocked it. A second later Liquida was gone. The door closed, and the key turned in the lock once more.
Before it was even shut, Raji stood up from the bed, opened the laptop on the desk, and grabbed his glasses from the drawer in the nightstand. He got his jacket from the armoire that served as a closet and sat down in front of the computer ready for his ritual of transferring notes onto the flash drive.
It could all be a lie. Nevertheless, Raji was desperate to get the information about Mexico onto the hidden drive-the Yucatan near Coba, the two-year lead time. If it was true, the information would rock them to the core. He had no idea where Coba was. But he knew they would find it in minutes once he got the information to them. Satellite overflights would tell them the rest. All that mattered now was to get it embedded onto the flash drive and to do it fast before Joaquin came back.
Raji knew they would never leave him in the room alone with the Internet up and running. Still, there might be a way. After all, in order to download the data they wanted, he would have to do a handshake online with a remote site. They would expect this. If instead of downloading, Raji was transmitting the information from the flash drive in the other direction, would Joaquin or whoever was with him know the difference? It was a long shot. But it was the only chance he had.
Sitting in front of the screen, Raji assembled the paper tent over the port to the flash drive at the side of the machine. He put on his glasses and scratched under the lapel of his jacket once more. In less than ten seconds, the two drives showed up on the margin of the computer screen. He started typing as fast as he could.
If Joaquin came in now, Fareed was dead.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Some people have a natural gift for hand-eye coordination. Sarah Madriani was one of them. Adin was surprised how well she had done on the FBI’s indoor firing range.
He thought that the triple-burst recoil on the short-barreled MP5 would intimidate her, but it didn’t. She sucked it up, held the muzzle down, and, with a thirty-round clip, blew out the target, chest high, center mass.
It was with Adin’s handgun, the Glock, that she seemed most comfortable. With it she was able to punch intersecting holes in several of the targets, something a first-time shooter almost never did.
Adin was impressed. Of course, shooting paper targets was a lot like playing golf. Nobody was firing back. A novice with nothing to lose could afford to be relaxed. A single muzzle flash in their direction and the heart rate would jump threefold. The conscious brain would turn to jelly. It was why the tips of the spears, the international badasses who faced fire for a living-the Navy Seals and Delta Force in the States, Special Air Service in Britain, and Shayetet 13 in Israel-often required that each of their members put a million rounds downrange in training situations each year. In the field, under fire, the only part of themselves they wanted to bring to the game were their hair-trigger automated motor skills.
“Can we stay a little longer, just a few more rounds?” Sarah was like a kid, smiling, glad to be out of the condo. She was wearing one of the official FBI baseball caps the range master had given her when she and Adin first arrived.
“I wish we could, but we can’t,” he told her. “I have to make a phone call.” Adin looked at his watch. “And I’m already late.”
“Hot date?” She looked at him and winked.
“No. Actually, it’s business.”
“OK, then I guess we can go,” she said.
They cleared the firearms, released the empty clips, and opened the chambers to make sure there were no live rounds inside. Adin held up the MP5 for the range master to see. The guy waved him over and Adin placed the submachine gun back in the rack. He put his Glock in his side pouch empty, though he had two fully loaded clips in the zippered pocket. They headed out.
“I want to thank you,” she said. “I haven’t had that much fun in a long time.”
“Perhaps we can we do it again.”
“You think so?”
“Sure, if we can find the time. Look at your schedule, and we’ll see if we can set it up.”
“Yeah, right,” said Sarah. “I’ll just call my secretary and have her check my calendar. You know, I don’t think you realize how lucky you are.”
“In what way?”
“You have a job, a career that takes you all over the world.”
“I have to admit, at the moment, as you Americans might say, ‘life doesn’t suck,’ ” said Adin.
“But I’m left here to worry about my father, who is off someplace God knows where and for God knows how long. I’m left in a helpless position totally powerless to do anything. Everyone treats me like a child, and I’m not. I’m left to sit with Bugsy, the only one who seems to understand me. I want my father back. I want my life back.”
“You have to admit, the dog’s pretty nice,” said Adin.
“Well, thank you. I’ll tell him you said so. And Herman was worried about what you might do to me. Now I know. You’re just using me to get to Bugsy. You just want to kidnap my dog.”
