The agent walked to a nearby electric golf cart. Badr got in, and they started down the pier.
“You probably noticed the dock is not concrete,” the agent said.
“I did.” In fact, the surface had a slightly terra-cotta hue to it.
“It’s a composite material-something akin to synthetic decking material, I’m told, but much stronger and durable, and the color will hold for a lifetime. The designers thought it a more attractive alternative to standard gray concrete.”
They stopped before a warehouse at the far end and got out. “You mentioned the need for privacy,” the agent said. “Will this do?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“As you can see, it’s a corner unit, with water-access points at the front and the side. Enough to accommodate two ships of three hundred feet each. Of course, tracked derricks are available for lease, should you require them.”
The truth was, Badr knew little about his client’s requirement beyond the size and layout of the warehouse and the period of time it would be needed. Access and privacy, he’d been told, were paramount.
“May I see the inside?” he asked.
“Of course.”
The agent produced a card key and slid it through a reader beside the door. There was a soft beep. The agent pressed his thumb onto a pad beside the reader. A few moments later the lock clicked open.
“The card keys and biometric reader are fully programmable by the lessee. You and you alone would control who has access to the facility.”
“How is that done?”
“Through our secure website. Once your account is created, you simply log on, program the cards, and scan in the fingerprint records. All the data is encrypted with what’s called TLS, or Transport Layer Security, and digital certificates.”
“Very good. And the police?”
“In the last ten years I can count on one hand the number of times the police have asked for warrants to search our facilities. Of those, all but one were denied by the courts. We pride ourselves on providing security and anonymity-both within the legal bounds of the Emirates, of course.”
They stepped inside. The space, which measured two thousand square feet, was empty. The floor and walls were made of the same composite material as the dock but tinted off-white. No windows, either, which had been an item on his client’s wish list. Not a must but certainly a plus. The air was cool, hovering in the low seventies, he judged.
“Comfortable, yes?” the agent asked.
Badr nodded. “Fire- and theft-control systems?”
“Both. Monitored by our control center less than a mile away. In case of fire, a halon suppression system is activated. In case of unauthorized breach, the lessee is contacted for further instructions.”
“Not the police?”
“Only on the lessee’s approval.”
“What about your company? Surely you have access to-”
“No. If a lessee’s rent is found to be overdue by seven days, we make every attempt to contact them. At the fourteen-day mark, if contact still hasn’t been established, the card reader and biometric scanner are removed and the locking system dismantled-an expensive and time-consuming process which would, of course, be charged to the lessee’s account, as would any reinstallation of these systems. Similarly, all contents of their warehouse would be forfeit.”
“You won’t have that problem with us, I assure you,” Badr replied.
“I have no doubt. We do have a minimum one-year contract, with six-month increments beyond that.”
“A year should do.” A month would do, actually, he’d been told. The warehouse would sit empty after that, its purpose-whatever that was-having been served. In fact, within days of his client’s departure, the financial artifices put in place to affect the lease would be the only thing left for the authorities to find, and even those would lead only to more closed accounts and front companies. The “money trail,” which the American intelligence community was so good at following, would be ice-cold.
“We can also provide assistance in streamlining the customs process, should you have cargo to offload,” the agent said. “Export licenses would be your responsibility, however.”
“I understand,” Badr replied with a barely suppressed smile. Something told him the last thing his clients were concerned about was export licenses. He took a final look around, then turned to the agent. “How soon can you have the lease drawn up?”
Though Adnan would never know it, his counterparts were not only further along in their mission but were riding in the relative comfort of a charter boat-albeit a converted Russian landing craft.
For days Adnan and his men had been traveling up the coast road along the Kara Sea, through fishing hamlets and abandoned settlements and the whited-out desolate landscape, seeing only the occasional vehicle on the road, and none heading in their same direction-a fact that Adnan was doing his best to not take as an omen. He had trouble imagining anyone living here voluntarily. At least in the desert you could take cheer in the sunlight. Here, gray overcast skies seemed more the rule than the exception.
As he’d expected, finding shelter for their nightly stops wasn’t hard, but finding shelter that was little more than a shack was something altogether different. On the first night they’d been lucky enough to find an abandoned wall tent with a working woodstove, and while the canvas walls were pitted and had lost their waterproofing, the support poles were buried deep in the ground and the support wires were still taut, so they’d spent the night in relative comfort while outside near-gale-force winds whipped the snow and ice against the canvas like shrapnel and the waves roared against the rocks. The second night they’d been less fortunate, having to huddle together in their sleeping bags in the rear of the truck as the sieve-like canvas sides rippled in the wind. After several hours of trying to sleep, they’d given up and spent the reminder of the night drinking tea brewed on their portable camp stove and waiting for the first signs of dawn.
And now, after three days of travel, they were within a day or a day and a half of their destination-or so said the map, which Adnan consulted warily, taking care to double-check its markings and measurements against the readings on his own handheld GPS unit.
Despite the brutal cold and meager rations, not one of them had uttered the slightest complaint. They were good men, faithful to both Allah and the cause-which were, of course, one and the same. And while he was reasonably confident they would remain steadfast when he finally revealed the purpose of their journey, he knew he couldn’t let down his guard. The Emir had personally chosen him for this mission, and their job was too important to let fear turn them away.