man, adept at playing several games at once.
“That is one option.”
“General, let’s get on with this. What is your preferred option?”
“You are in such a hurry, Jeremy. Well, first of all, we want our ten million dollars back.”
“Done,” said Juba. “Plus another million for you personally, because of the inconvenience I have caused.”
“I don’t know. There is already immense pressure.”
“Two million, then. Bank account of your choice.” Bribery,
Al-Shoum went around the desk and took a chair, looking even smaller until he tucked a pillow beneath him. “Can you do that from here?”
“If your people will bring in my laptop, sure.”
“Then there is another point, the matter of the auction itself. I have decided that we won the bidding, so you turn over the formula to me. That is indeed a mighty weapon that was deployed in California. I want it.”
“Wait a moment, General. I give you all of your money back, plus two million more, and the formula for free?”
“That sums it up very well, Jeremy. Either that or you will be killed trying to escape…after we force the information out of you.” The dark eyes were stones now. “We will get that formula. Voluntarily, chemicals, or skinning knives, it is of no matter to me. The best choice is to remain friendly so you can leave this building alive.”
Juba looked down at his hands for a moment, quiet in his soul, even while negotiating for his life. The secret hidden in his body seemed to be pulsing signals to him. “I don’t have any choice, do I?”
“No, not really.” The little general smiled.
Juba feigned reluctance. “I hope that your government will use the information to strike the infidels?”
“What we do is not your concern, my friend.”
“But I get to keep the other money that was put up for the action?”
“And your life, Jeremy. I think that’s fair,” said al-Shoum. “Turn it over and you leave this meeting rich and healthy.”
“I still don’t like it.”
“I don’t care. Give it up. Now.”
Juba stared at the general and let his shoulders slump. “You win, General. I think it may be best anyway because the project has become too unworkable for one man. You will see what I mean.”
“How will you get it to us?”
“Right here, right now. It’s all encrypted on my laptop. I will transfer the money and download the formula so your chemists can check it out.”
Now it was al-Shoum’s turn to think hard. This was too simple. Juba was willing to give back the ten million, hand over the formula, and transfer a sizable sum into the general’s personal account. It was not in the man’s character to give up anything without a fight.
“You have something else, don’t you, my friend? Something that prevents me from taking all of the things you offer and then still hanging you from a meat hook in Martyr’s Square? What is it?”
Juba showed a hint of a smile, almost flashing fangs with the anger boiling within him. “Back before the war started in Iraq, Saddam moved many of his special weapons and special ammunition into your country under the supervision of Unit 999. The Americans never found those records, but I know where they are, General al-Shoum, because my boss, the man known as Saladin, helped move them and had me hide the records somewhere in Tikrit- Saddam’s home territory. Even if you tortured me to get the information, you still could not retrieve them because of built-in safeguards. That is my insurance policy. Should I not return safely, those documents will automatically find their way to the Americans. Imagine how happy Washington would be to finally know exactly what happened to those WMDs. You let me leave Syria alive and I will destroy them and send you proof.”
Al-Shoum laughed aloud and slapped the desk. “Excellent! I knew you would not disappoint me. So we have an agreement. The only condition is that you remain here in Damascus as my guest at the Four Seasons Hotel until our chemical experts examine the formula. One day. Then we will help you get back to Iraq to eliminate that WMD data.”
“And kill more Americans.”
“Yes. That, too.”
The computer was brought in for Juba, and he shifted the funds, put the bank material onto a disk, and downloaded File 999, the London poison gas recipe. He slid the computer over to al-Shoum, and the deal was done.
25
DAMASCUS, SYRIA
GENERAL AL-SHOUM KEPT HIS end of his bargain with Juba, which might or might not be important in the future. As soon as the government’s science experts concluded that the formula provided by the bloodthirsty maniac was as deadly as advertised, the task switched to spiriting the killer out of Syria. Two Land Rovers from the Ministry of the Interior picked Juba up at the hotel the following afternoon and headed out on the long drive from Damascus to the border town of Abu Kamal on the Euphrates River. There were many places along the route where Juba could have been killed and buried, but al-Shoum wanted those WMD papers, although he had doubts as to their existence. He did not bother to say good- bye.
At the border, Juba was given one of the Land Rovers and drove off on his own into the bleak country. Once word was received that he was gone, the shrewd little general triggered the next part of his plan. He had kept his word to Juba, but now he had more to do.
The diplomat was waiting, scarecrow-thin Foreign Minister Rustom Talas, when he entered the conference room. The intelligence chief did not begin with formalities.
Al-Shoum put Juba’s laptop computer onto the slick, polished table and shoved it toward the foreign minister. “Here it is. Everything about how to make that devil bomb.”
Talas asked, “And the money?”
“The wire transfer has already been made. All ten million is back in the treasury.”
“Your decision on this, General al-Shoum, is most unusual, and I say that with all respect. As a diplomat, I always look for leverage in political negotiations. This information about the weapon could help me pry substantial favors from the United States.”
Al-Shoum switched to English. “Mr. Foreign Minister, you are a fucking moron! If they find out that we have this formula, the United States of America will come after it. They have lost almost five thousand American lives because of this and want to hold somebody responsible. They would not bargain, they would demand, and we could be the next country invaded! Is that what you want?”
“No, of course not.” The foreign minister coughed. “I was speaking in the broadest terms.”
“Just listen, you old fool, and stick to the story. We pulled Juba off the plane as soon it arrived, but he killed two security guards and got away. Are you with me so far?”
Minister Talas was almost grinding his teeth over being spoken to like a schoolboy. “Yes.”
“Then we launched our own search, and a security camera outside the airport showed him getting into a waiting vehicle, a Land Rover. We issued a nationwide alert and discovered that he has crossed the border into Iraq. We deeply regret that this mass murderer slipped through our security net, but he is indeed a formidable opponent, as the Americans know.”
“So what do I tell Washington about the weapon?” Talas said. “That information is worth its weight in diplomatic gold if we hand it over.”
“Tell them nothing! We don’t know about any formula, because Juba got away from us! Understand that? Instead, deal them this information: Our informants tell us that Juba may be headed toward the city of Tikrit in
