‘29° 34’ 44” north, 36° 21’ 24” east? You can’t be serious, my friends. This is just north-east of Al Mudawwara.’
‘Yes, not far from the border with Saudi Arabia. We know, Tahir.’
The Jordanian looked at them in confusion.
‘There are no phosphates there. It’s desert. The minerals there are useless.’
‘Well, Tahir, we have great confidence in our engineers, and they feel they can extract a significant amount of phosphates in that area. Of course, as a gesture of our good will, there will be a small commission for you.’
Tahir’s eyes grew wide as his new friend opened his briefcase.
‘But that must be…’
‘Enough for the wedding of little Myesha, right?’
‘My friends, there is no doubt that you are both men of great worth and knowledge. I’m sure your business will be welcomed in the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan.’
Despite Peter and Frank’s sugary smiles, Tahir kept racking his brain as to what it all meant. What the hell were these Americans looking for in the desert?
As much as he wrestled with the issue, he never came close to guessing that in a few days this meeting was going to cost him his life.
6
NEW YORK
Orville found himself in a darkened room. The only light came from a small lamp shining at a lectern ten feet away on which his report sat along with a remote control, just as the executive had told him. He walked over and picked up the remote. As he examined it, wondering how to begin the presentation, he was suddenly startled by a bright glow. Not six feet from where he was standing was a large screen twenty feet wide. On it was displayed the first page of his presentation, with the red Netcatch logo.
‘Thank you very much, Mr Kayn, and good morning. Let me begin by saying that it’s an honour-’
There was a small buzz and the image on the screen changed, revealing the title of his presentation and the first of the two questions:
WHO IS FATHER ANTHONY FOWLER?
Clearly, Mr Kayn valued brevity and control, and had a second remote to hand in order to speed up the process.
Orville pressed the remote to bring up the next page. It showed a priest with a thin, craggy face. He was balding and whatever hair he had left had been cut very short. Orville began speaking to the darkness before him.
‘John Anthony Fowler, alias Father Anthony Fowler, alias Tony Brent. Born 16 December 1951 in Boston, Massachusetts. Green eyes, roughly 175 pounds. Freelance agent for the CIA and a total mystery. Solving this mystery took two months of research carried out by ten of my best investigators, who worked exclusively on this job, as well as a considerable amount of cash in order to grease the palms of some well-placed sources. That explains in large part the three million dollars it cost to produce this report, Mr Kayn.’
The screen changed again, this time displaying a family photo: a well-dressed couple in the garden of what looked like an expensive home. At their side, an attractive, dark-haired boy about eleven years old. The father’s hand seemed to be squeezing the boy’s shoulder and all three wore tense smiles.
‘The only son of Marcus Abernathy Fowler, business magnate and owner of Infinity Pharmaceuticals. Today it’s a multimillion-dollar biotechnology company. After his parents died in a suspicious automobile accident in 1984, Anthony Fowler sold the company, along with the rest of their assets, and donated everything to charity. He held on to his parents’ mansion in Beacon Hill, renting it out to a couple with children. But he kept the top floor for himself, and had it converted into an apartment containing some furniture and a whole bunch of philosophy books. He stays there every once in a while, whenever he’s in Boston.’
The next image showed a younger version of the same woman, this time on a college campus and dressed in a graduation gown.
‘Daphne Brent was an expert chemist who worked at Infinity Pharmaceuticals until the owner took a liking to her and they got married. When she fell pregnant, Marcus turned her into a housewife overnight. That’s all we know about Fowler’s family, except that young Anthony went to Stanford instead of attending Boston College like his father.’
Next slide: young Anthony, looking not much older than a teenager, with a serious expression on his face, standing beneath a banner that read ‘1971’.
‘He graduated magna cum laude at the age of twenty with a degree in Psychology. The youngest in his class. That photo was taken a month before classes ended. On the last day of the term, he collected his things and walked into the university recruitment offices. He wanted to go to Vietnam.’
An image appeared on the screen of a worn yellowed form that had been filled out by hand.
‘This is a photograph of his AFQT, his Armed Forces Qualifying Test. Fowler scored ninety-eight out of one hundred. The sergeant was so impressed that he immediately sent him to Lackland Air Force Base in Texas where he went through basic training, followed by advanced parachute regiment instruction for a Special Ops unit that retrieved downed pilots behind enemy lines. While at Lackland, he learned guerrilla tactics and became a helicopter pilot. After a year and a half of combat, he returned home a lieutenant. Among his medals is a Purple Heart and an Air Force Cross. In the report you’ll find details of the actions that earned him those medals.’
A snapshot of several men in uniform at an airfield. At the centre stood Fowler dressed as a priest.
‘After Vietnam, Fowler entered a Catholic seminary and was ordained in 1977. He was assigned as military chaplain to Spangdahlem Air Force Base in Germany, where he was recruited by the CIA. With his language skills it’s easy to see why they wanted him: Fowler speaks eleven languages fluently and can get along in fifteen others. But the Company is not the only outfit that recruited him.’
Another photo of Fowler, in Rome, with two other young priests.
‘At the end of the seventies, Fowler became a full-time agent for the Company. He retains his status as military chaplain and travels to a number of Armed Forces bases all over the world. The information I’ve given you so far could have been obtained from any number of agencies, but what I’m going to tell you next is top secret and was very difficult to come by.’
The screen went blank. In the light from the projector Orville was just about able
