“In a tanker, of course, along with our finest security detail.” He paced around the room before continuing. “We are going to succeed. There is no doubt in my mind. You continue making preparations so you will be ready when everything is finally in place.”
“Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!” the men chanted again.
Everyone except Omar Totah.
CHAPTER 14
Asir Mountains, Saudi Arabia
MALIK BASHIR SETTLED INTO HIS CHAIR at his desk and opened his secure email account. Being on a terrorist watch list of every country in the European Union as well as the U.S. and other western nations, Bashir recognized that his need for security was paramount. In order to fortify his palatial hideout, he utilized a series of stopgaps along with a hefty payroll of Saudi government officials, all of whom were eager to assist in the cover up.
From the U.S. intelligence reports Bashir had obtained, the most they knew about his location was the region of the country. But gathering any more information proved challenging since Bashir’s people in the government routinely denied the U.S. access to the area. Bashir learned that one time several of his Saudi soldiers detained a pair of CIA agents who’d been snooping unauthorized in southern Saudi Arabia. Their arrest strained relations between the two nations before the agents were eventually released but with a stern warning not to embark on any such intelligence-gathering missions again without prior approval.
As a precautionary measure, Bashir never conducted anything other than business transactions at his hideout. Yet, it was there that he chose to display all the rare artifacts he’d collected. This decision was founded on his belief that if a western nation ever identified his hideout, it would hesitate to strike because of the rare historical documents contained inside. In short, Bashir saw it as a backup insurance plan that prevented his mountaintop hideout from getting obliterated were anyone of consequence to ever discover it.
Bashir scanned through the subject line from numerous emails sent to him. His inbox was filled with banal messages that pitched products like Viagra or promised him great wealth if he would only send the Nigerian prince a small sum of two thousand dollars.
If only I could direct a missile at these scumbags . . . .
Bashir almost skipped over an email from a Gmail account. Then he stopped and opened it.
Dr. Ngozi!
Bashir’s face broke into a smile as he began reading the email.
Mr. Bashir,
I am writing to inform you that I have recently unearthed a rare archeological find and wondered if you might be interested in acquiring it from me. During my most recent dig, I found what my colleagues and I believe to be the Severus Scroll.
For such finds, I usually feel inclined to inform the benefactors of the expedition about it. However, we have been treated poorly by them, and I’ve already informed them of another object we found that will help them more than recover their costs. I also have several personal projects I would like to embark upon that I know would struggle to get funding. And I’d like to use the sale of the Severus Scroll to pay for these projects. There’s also a possibility that I may even find the artifact you crave the most for your collection on one of those subsequent digs.
Due to the asking price for this artifact, I believe it’s something you’ll want to see in person. Would you like to come to Cairo to examine it for yourself, or would you like for me to bring it to you?
Let me know within twenty-four hours as I need to move this manuscript within three days.
Regards,
Dr. Tarek Ngozi
Bashir stood from his desk and contemplated what having the Severus Scroll would mean to the value of his collection. It would be a significant addition, one that would result in the artifacts he’d compiled to be worth more than two hundred million dollars.
Bashir paged Hasim Sattar to discuss setting up a visit with Dr. Ngozi.
“What is it, sir?” Sattar asked.
“I need to set up a meeting with my archaeologist friend. Can you gather a vetting team for me in two days?”
“A vetting team? Did the previous buyer back out?”
Bashir shook his head. “No, this is personal.”
“Sir, I’m not sure we have the manpower right now to accommodate the security detail you’ve placed on the product.”
“That’s your job.”
“I know, sir, but your hiring process requires intense scrutiny, something which can’t be done in a matter of days, much less mere hours. Is there any way you can push the meeting back?”
“It must happen in two days or else I will lose my opportunity to purchase an object of significant value to me—and to the rest of the world.”
“So, this isn’t a business deal?”
“It’s personal. Dr. Ngozi wants to sell me another artifact.”
“I’d be suspicious of any such motivations, especially right now as you’re about to close out a major transaction.”
“You’re on dangerous ground right now,” Bashir said, wrapping his hand around the grip of his pistol. “Are you questioning me?”
Sattar shook his head. “No, sir. Just trying to be helpful.”
“Why don’t you be more helpful by doing what I asked you to do? Think you can do that?”
Sattar nodded. “Set up the meeting with Dr. Ngozi. He’s been here before, so it shouldn’t be too difficult. I will handle it.”
“Good. That’s why I hired you. Now go make it so.”
Bashir waved his hand, dismissing Sattar. The weapons dealer opened a website that detailed the history of the Severus Scroll. The longer he stared at the ancient manuscript, the more he wanted it. He sat back down and composed an email to Dr. Ngozi, informing the Egyptian archaeologist that there was significant interest—and that price was no object.
Bashir stood and wandered toward his room full of valuable items he’d collected over the years. It rivaled any modern museum for both its state of the art preservation system and display cases.
