“I’ve been monitoring your comms since Union Station.” Ali pointed at his Bluetooth earpiece. “We have scanners, too.”
The SA-7 was the Russian version of an American shoulder-fired Redeye antiaircraft missile, perfectly capable of taking out a thin-skinned civilian helicopter. When Libya fell, dozens of SA-7s fell into Iranian hands, though they had plenty in their arsenal already.
Pearce lowered his pistol. “Start talking.”
Ali tapped his earpiece, shutting down the comm link. He didn’t want his associates to hear the proposal he was about to make to the American.
“You are a businessman, so let me get down to business.” Ali motioned to a chair. Pearce refused. Ali took a seat anyway, putting his feet up on a nearby table.
“I need safe transportation to Tehran.”
Pearce laughed. “Oh, really? Well, I have a need, too. A powerful need to throw your ass through that plate-glass window and watch you break your scrawny neck on the dugout railing. You tortured and murdered one of my friends and I mean to pay you back with interest.”
“You mean the Israeli spy who came to Mexico to capture me? Don’t be such a child. His duty was to capture me; my duty was to kill him. I did my duty, he failed his. For soldiers such as ourselves, it is as simple as that, is it not?”
Pearce clenched his fists. He was definitely going to enjoy beating this cold-blooded bastard to death with his bare hands.
Ali leaped to his feet and kicked his chair aside.
“If you think you have what it takes to kill me, I welcome the battle. In fairness, I should warn you: if I don’t win and you emerge from this suite without me, a thousand people will be killed in this stadium by explosive charges. Is that price too high to pay for you to get your vengeance?”
Pearce inwardly raged. There was no question he could take the Iranian out. But Ali had beaten him at every turn so far. Better let this thing play out.
“Why don’t you let the Mexicans ship you out?”
“We are no longer on friendly terms.”
“Because you were the one behind the Bravo attacks here in the States.” Pearce grinned. “The Mexican government must be pretty pissed off at you.”
“You have a gift for stating the obvious. They are as eager to kill me as you are.”
“What do I get in exchange for transporting you in one piece to Tehran?”
“Information of the highest order. Information that affects the vital national security of your country. It’s far more valuable than my worthless skin.”
“What’s the information?”
“Do we have a deal?”
“If the information is solid.”
“It is, I assure you.”
“And if I don’t agree to this deal?”
“Then I walk out of here, and when I am in a secure position, I will remotely disarm the wireless detonators, and no one need die today, and I will find another way home.”
“How do I know you’ll actually disarm them?”
“You don’t. The only thing you can be certain of is that if I don’t leave here under my own power, the explosives will be detonated.”
What would Myers say? Should he try to contact her first? Pearce was completely off the reservation now —maybe too far off. Letting Ali go posed significant security risks that he wasn’t authorized to incur. But Pearce was the one who had boarded this runaway train. It was up to him now to decide when and where to get off.
“We have a deal. Now quit jawing me to death and tell me what you know.”
Ali nodded, satisfied that he’d finally set the hook. He crossed back over to the bar, opened up the fridge, and found another cold club soda and poured himself one over ice. As he poured, he nodded at Pearce. “You might want to pour yourself a whiskey. You’re going to need it.”
Pearce finally holstered his gun, then poured himself a drink.
Ali laid everything out. Iran and Russia had forged a secret alliance to dominate their relative spheres of influence—the Middle East and Western Europe. The Russians had engaged the Iranians to provoke the Americans into a ground war in Mexico in order to keep them distracted while the Russians secured the rich oil fields of the Caucasus. A second Mexican-American war would also drive up oil and gas prices, which benefitted both Iran and Russia.
“And who was the brain behind the plan?” Pearce asked.
“Ambassador Britnev formulated the original plan.”
“And the Mexican government had no part in this?”
“Did I say that?”
“What role did they play in your scheme?”
“Since you killed both Castillo and Bravo, the Barrazas accepted my offer of protection against your government and the civil war that is about to erupt beneath their feet.”
“Then why did you attack the president at the Hidalgo church?”
“Hernan Barraza ordered the attack on his brother.”
“Why would he want you to attack his brother?”
“He wanted his brother to think that you Americans were trying to assassinate him.”
“But that drone could easily have killed the president.”
Ali shrugged. “Hernan wants to be president. He is already making plans for another attempt.”
“What proof do I have that you aren’t just making all of this up to get your dick out of the wood chipper?”
“It is normal in a business transaction to secure a contract with a deposit in good faith, particularly when one is doing business with a new partner.”
Ali reached into his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper and set it on the bar. Pearce read it.
“I don’t believe it. The navy would have picked this thing up a long time ago.”
“Believe it. There are several Russian subs that operate with impunity in the Gulf of Mexico. You Americans are not as clever as you think you are. This submarine has been assigned exclusively to my unit for supply and transport.”
“Then why not use it to get back to Tehran?”
“I made that request. The Russians refused to allow me to ‘abandon my post,’ as they put it.” Ali was lying.
The Iranian pointed at the paper. “GPS coordinates and radio codes are valid for the next seventy-two hours, then they change again. I will not provide new ones.” He picked up his windbreaker and pulled it on as he headed for the door.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Pearce asked.
“I’m leaving.” He pointed at the stadium. “Baseball bores me. I prefer American football. You are welcome to stay, of course. There is excellent room service that has already been paid for.”
“You aren’t going anywhere.” Pearce’s hand drifted toward his pistol.
“Of course I am. I told you, if I don’t leave here under my own terms, a thousand people will die. Maybe more. If you don’t find what I promise on that paper, then you have no need to fulfill your agreement with me. But if you do find that submarine, then you contact me with the cell number also on that paper and we will agree to a meeting place and time.”
And with that, Ali left.
The Quds Force officer had him by the short hairs and they both knew it.
Pearce’s face darkened.
