“You son of a bitch!” she yelled, turning toward the street, unable to bear the sight any longer.
Hurried footsteps came toward her.
“Hey, are you ok?” said a stranger as he approached. “Oh, shit!” he yelled when he saw the body. He lifted his hand to his mouth and stepped away. With fumbling hands he took out his mobile phone.
“Yes, uh, we need police. Someone’s been murdered.”
22
Kalakia poured a black coffee and went over to the window while he waited for Stirner to show up for their meeting. The Burj Khalifa in Downtown Dubai was the tallest building in the world, so Kalakia had a perfect view of the city and the surrounding sea and desert. He had visited Dubai a few times after the construction of the ambitious skyscraper, where The League had secured a penthouse high enough to see over the landscape but not too high that it drew unwanted attention. As usual, Kalakia wanted everything within sight while himself remaining out of the public eye.
He might as well have been looking down from a tightrope, considering the diplomatic fine line he had taken in the previous week. The reason behind his latest trip to The Emirates and the circumstances surrounding it had been kept secret, even from the upper echelons of The League. The Neutralaser situation had to be dealt with delicately. Global stability depended on it, and possibly more. Francois had advised Stirner and The Council by phone that a significant development was taking place but told them nothing else. Keeping The Council in the dark was one of Kalakia’s biggest gambles, but he trusted that he could keep Stirner on ice until the worst was behind them. The Generals of Africa, Europe and The Americas were told to have their teams on standby, including their interrogators, liquidators, enforcers and espionage teams. Kalakia had feared the worst from the onset, expecting Inselheim’s allies to strike hard to protect their valuable investment. As time passed, Kalakia came to realise how much of a lid Inselheim had kept on the project. Securing the facility underneath the Kazakh desert was easier than Kalakia could have imagined. There were no militia or government soldiers protecting the site. Inselheim was alone with his invention. Expecting stiff resistance, Kalakia had taken a second gamble and called Dastan Navolov in Sochi to oversee the Neutralaser takeover. Navolov was the General of Asia, after all, so the facility was on his turf.
Murmurs came from the bottom throughout the week, but they were minimal. As a precaution, Kalakia had Vidrik eliminate Pilz immediately after their interrogation of Inselheim. Pilz was too lowly ranked for such high-level knowledge. Kalakia had thought for a long time then decided not only to let Vidrik live, but to involve him directly in the operation to secure the Neutralaser site alongside Navolov’s commandos. Vidrik was smart enough to keep his mouth shut, and too ambitious to let a slip-up ruin his chances of taking over at the helm — a chance Kalakia would never give him.
Kalakia checked the time. Stirner was already fifteen minutes late, which was unlike him. Kalakia dialled Francois.
“Where is he?”
“He’s just arrived,” replied Francois.
Kalakia closed the connection and continued looking out into the Dubai desert which had sprouted a city at a breathtaking pace.
With his last sip of coffee came a loud beep from the front door. He paced over to the security monitor and saw Stirner in the lobby outside. He pressed the button to grant him access. The door slid open and revealed Stirner, his aged, clean-shaven face glazed with sweat from the heat outside. He was wearing a navy blue suit that had been tailor-made for his round body. He wiped down his head of silver hair and gave Kalakia a nod of greeting.
“Come in, Horst,” said Kalakia, motioning with his hand.
Kalakia poured Stirner a glass of water and was about to give it to him when he waved it off.
“No, I’m fine,” he said.
Kalakia watched him for a few seconds then gave a shrug and placed the cup back on the table. They were standing beside the collection of black leather sofas in the open living area. Stirner set himself down in a one-seater and Kalakia sat across from him.
“Stressful journey?” asked Kalakia.
“It was fine,” said Stirner, waving the question away.
Stirner was not a man for pleasantries or for complaining. Kalakia knew this already. He was not asking. He was probing.
“Good,” he said. “So straight to business. Word from The Council?”
“Yes. To be frank, they’re concerned,” replied Stirner.
“Oh?” replied Kalakia, making an effort to appear surprised.
“Nobody appreciated last month’s meeting being cancelled without explanation, or that cryptic phone call from Francois. It left a lot to the imagination. So naturally, they feel like they’re being kept in the dark. I must say I echo their concerns.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. We’ve also been receiving troubling news from the Generals. You’ve been mobilising various teams.”
“I have.”
“That’s why I suggested this meeting. If you can tell me what’s going on, I can go back to Budapest and put The Council’s mind at ease.”
Kalakia was seated with one leg crossed over the other, his fist cupped over his mouth.
“That is not possible at this stage,” said Kalakia.
“Can I ask why?” said Stirner, tilting his head and shifting in his seat.
“We are acting to eliminate the threat. That is
