Payback (42 page)

‘Seven three four, eight six nine, two six five eight.’

‘Yes, that’s correct. I’ll try to get clearance to disclose the other information to you, but I’m not especially hopeful that it will be granted in time. May I wish you
good luck, and don’t forget to try my number.’

Before Richter went back into the hotel, he rang several other numbers on his mobile, but in every case all he got was the ‘number unobtainable’ tone.

Dubai International Airport

The next delivery of boxes held cash. Sutter and Haig had already stowed the bullion safely, taking careful account of the aircraft’s centre of gravity, and
they’d worked out where the money should go. It was going to be a really tight fit in the cabin on the way out of Emirates airspace, but Sutter doubted if anyone would complain.

Taking samples at random, Haig had finished his checks on the bullion, and each bar had been exactly as its accompanying documentation had described. It certainly looked as if the Dubai
authorities were playing it straight, but Sutter didn’t trust anyone, and neither did Haig, so they then started checking the bank notes as well.

Dubai

‘Michael,’ Richter began when Watkinson answered, ‘we need to talk urgently. I’ve just discovered something that must be relayed to the Dubai
government immediately. Carole and I are on our way to the embassy now, and this isn’t something I can talk about over the phone.’ Their taxi was speeding along Al-Jumeirah Road.

‘For Christ’s sake, Paul, weren’t our orders clear enough? I thought you understood that we’d be taking no part in this affair.’

‘I did, and I do, but what I’ve found out may mean the Dubai government has to handle the situation completely differently. Look, let me explain it to you, and to the consul as well,
if you like, and then you can decide what to do about it. But I’ll tell you this for nothing, Michael, if you
don’t
tell the Dubai authorities what I’ve found out, then
sometime tomorrow relations between Britain and the UAE will plummet to an all-time low.’

Monday
British Embassy, Dubai

‘Who are these people?’ George Arthur Graham demanded somewhat testily of his subordinate as the four of them sat down around a table.

Watkinson had taken Richter at his word, and had requested that the consul attend the meeting, though it had been clear from the start that Her Britannic Majesty’s Consul General to Dubai
and the Northern Emirates had not been particularly keen on talking to either of them, or even having them inside the building.

‘These people,’ Richter snapped, ‘are sitting in this room with you, so the least you can do is exercise a little common courtesy and talk to us directly, instead of acting
like we’re a couple of dog turds you’ve just spotted on your carpet.’

The consul – his initials may have spelt ‘gag’, but there was no humour in the man – reacted as if somebody had just punched him in the stomach. Richter guessed that few
people ever dared address him in such a manner.

‘Who we are isn’t particularly important,’ Richter continued. ‘It’s what we’ve got to tell you that matters. But, since you’ve asked, this is
Carole-Anne Jackson of the CIA who’s currently on secondment to the Manama office of the SIS.’

Jackson smiled sweetly at Graham, who still seemed to be struggling to find words.

‘My name’s Paul Richter, and I work for an outfit called the Foreign Operations Executive. It’s loosely associated with the SIS in London, and if you’ve never heard of
FOE, that’s because nobody thinks you’ve ever had a
need
to know about it.’

Watkinson interjected, the oil not entirely smoothing the troubled waters. ‘Richter here is the officer who deduced what was happening at Nad Al-Sheba on Saturday, sir. Miss Jackson was
also involved.’

‘I don’t care who you are or what outfit you work for,’ Graham snarled. ‘You will accord proper respect to senior diplomats, particularly when invited into the embassy
itself.’

‘Respect cuts both ways,’ Richter replied, equally sharply, ‘and if you keep feeding me this line of crap, I’ll walk straight out of here.’

‘Pardon me for interrupting this high-level pissing contest,’ Carole-Anne Jackson said sweetly, ‘but this isn’t actually achieving anything except to provide an
impressive display of testosterone. We’re running short of time now, so why don’t you all
shut the fuck up
, and let’s discuss what we’ve found out?’

The three men stared at her with varying expressions of shock. Unexpectedly, it was Graham who recovered first. ‘Very well. I accept we got off to a bad start. What is this information
you’ve obtained?’

‘First, let me do a quick recap,’ Richter said. ‘Four terrorists have smuggled a nuclear weapon into the Burj Al-Arab and will detonate it unless the Dubai government pays them
three billion dollars. Once they’ve got it, they’ll climb into their Gulfstream and head off into the wide blue yonder. While making their getaway, they’ll set the nuclear device
to explode on a timer, and then radio the abort code to the Dubai government so that the bomb can then be disarmed. Is that a fair summary?’ Watkinson and Graham both nodded.

‘Now, I asked Carole this same question, but she didn’t know what the hell I was talking about. Does the area around Shaikh Zayed Road remind you of anywhere else? And, before you
answer that, let me ask you another – why did the terrorists pick the Burj Al-Arab?’

‘The answer to your second question’s easy,’ Watkinson replied. ‘Because the Burj is Dubai’s best-known landmark, and it’s instantly recognizable
worldwide.’

Richter nodded encouragement. ‘But why did they pick
that
particular building if all they wanted to do was threaten the government? Why not pick somewhere with a much larger
population density? Take the worst-case scenario: if that weapon detonates, the Burj Al-Arab will be destroyed. It would be a spectacular bang, of course, but the loss of life would be fairly
insignificant, precisely because of the hotel’s offshore location. But if they’d chosen somewhere like the Crowne Plaza – which would have been no more difficult tactically
– the potential death toll would have been enormous, and that would have provided a much greater lever to threaten the government. So why the Burj?’

Neither man replied, but Richter didn’t seem surprised.

‘Let me take it from the beginning. You’re right, the Burj is as much a symbol of this city as the Houses of Parliament are for London, or the Eiffel Tower for Paris. Or the Twin
Towers used to be for New York. I mentioned Shaikh Zayed Road, because many people think that district resembles Manhattan.’

‘I can see where you’re going with this, but it’s preposterous,’ Watkinson said. ‘You’re trying to equate Dubai with New York but there’s no real
similarity at all.’

‘You’re wrong, Michael,’ Richter said quietly. ‘Both cities are symbols of their countries, and both are major financial centres – or, at least, that’s what
Dubai is trying to become. Both have – or had in the case of New York – iconic buildings that immediately identify them.’

‘So what are you suggesting?’ George Graham sounded puzzled.

‘I’m suggesting that the huge ransom demand is only the secondary reason for this attack, but that’s what everyone’s become focused on. As a result, they’re not
seeing the bigger picture. They haven’t recognized the real reason why there’s now a suitcase nuke sitting primed and ready at the top of the Burj Al-Arab.’

‘And that reason is what?’ Graham persisted.

‘This attack has almost nothing to do with money, and everything to do with revenge. These four Americans haven’t the slightest intention of transmitting the abort code for their
weapon. They intend to take the money and run, leaving the bomb still ticking, and laughing at the stupid Arabs for believing them. And when it detonates, the Burj Al-Arab will come crashing down
just the way the Twin Towers did in New York. They’ve picked Dubai and the Burj for the same reason that Osama bin Laden picked New York and the World Trade Center – because
they’re outstanding symbols of those cities. They intend to visit upon Dubai the same sort of devastation and catastrophe that a handful of Arab terrorists managed to achieve in Manhattan.
Revenge for 9/11 – that’s the
real
reason for all this, and that’s what nobody here in the government of Dubai has worked out yet.’

‘And what about the ransom?’ Watkinson asked. ‘If you’re right and this is a revenge attack, why didn’t they just detonate the bomb as soon as they got it into
place?’

‘The ransom is payment for the job,’ Richter replied. ‘This has been a long and complex operation, and these four guys intend to be well rewarded for their efforts.’

‘This is all very interesting, Mr Richter,’ Graham interrupted, ‘but it’s mere speculation. You haven’t talked to these terrorists, so you can’t be certain of
what you’re saying. The Dubai government is satisfied that this is just a case of extortion and that, once the ransom demand has been met, the incident will end peacefully. And I agree with
them.’

‘You’re wrong, and so’s the Dubai government, and I can prove it.’

‘How?’ Watkinson demanded anxiously.

‘You really believe the terrorists will transmit the abort code once they’re clear of Emirates’ airspace?’ Richter asked, and the two men nodded. ‘Well, I know that
they won’t, for one very simple reason.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Because they haven’t got the fucking abort code, that’s why.’

Dubai International Airport

They’d opened thirty cash boxes in all and run five hundred notes of various currencies through the forgery detector, and every one had proved genuine.

That suggested the Dubai authorities were going to comply with O’Hagan’s demands, and so there should be no problems the following morning, when the financial instruments were due to
be delivered.

The two men would stay on board the Gulfstream that night, with the cabin door locked and surrounded by cash and bullion, and they both thought they’d sleep perfectly well. With any luck,
Sutter thought, as he phoned O’Hagan’s mobile to confirm the authenticity of the money, they’d be on their way out of the UAE in less than eighteen hours.

British Embassy, Dubai

A long silence followed Richter’s words, finally broken by Michael Watkinson. ‘How do you know that?’ he demanded.

‘I know because I’ve got the right contacts and I know what questions to ask. I called an officer named Viktor Bykov who’s number three in the hierarchy of the GRU, the Russian
military intelligence organization. He knew all about the suitcase bomb. In fact, he was responsible for releasing details of the theft to the West. He told me that the abort code was
never
stored with the weapon. It was always kept in a sealed envelope, along with the maintenance and other documentation. All the Americans took from Zarechnyy was the nuke, and I know that because
Bykov had everything else sitting on his desk at the Aquarium.’

‘Aquarium?’ George Graham queried. ‘I don’t—’

‘It’s a slang term for GRU headquarters,’ Jackson told him. ‘It’s a building at the Khodinka airfield in Moscow.’

‘The Americans,’ Richter repeated, ‘have
only
got the weapon. They haven’t got the abort code, so there’s no way they can transmit it to the Dubai
government. If they do set the timer, it’s because they intend that weapon to detonate.’

‘But they might only pretend to set the timer running,’ Graham suggested, with a hint of desperation.

‘In that case, why bother with getting a genuine nuke at all? They could have just knocked up a convincing fake and used that instead. No, I’m certain the weapon is real, and unless
somebody does something pretty damn quickly it’s going to explode. And I don’t want to even think about the consequences of a group of American terrorists detonating a Russian nuclear
weapon in Dubai.’

‘I’m still not convinced,’ Graham said, stubbornly.

‘That’s your decision, but if you won’t do anything, I’ll just shove the whole thing to my boss back in London. He’s extremely persuasive, and I’ve no doubt
he’ll be kicking any number of aristocratic arses in the FCO before the afternoon’s over just to get things moving. If he does, you’ll probably be first in the queue down at the
job centre next week. Why not tell the Dubai government what we suspect? Just tell them that we have received information suggesting the terrorists don’t have the weapon’s abort code
and leave it at that. If they do nothing, it’s their problem, but at least you’ll have told them. That way you’ll have done all you can.’

Crowne Plaza Hotel, Dubai

‘What do you think they’ll do?’ Jackson asked Richter as they re-entered their hotel.

‘I don’t know. If Watkinson does check with Bykov through Vauxhall Cross, he’ll be able to confirm what I’ve said, but that only makes the situation worse, not better.
Until I stuck my oar in, the Dubai government was probably resigned to paying the money and saving the Burj. Now, whether they deliver the rest of the funds or dig their heels in and refuse,
there’s a good chance there’ll be a hell of a bang down at Jumeirah Beach tomorrow. Right now, I can only see one way of stopping this.’

‘How?’

‘Play along with the terrorists: give them the ransom and let them leave the hotel. Then get a team into the suite to disarm the weapon, and stop the terrorists at the airport, or
wherever, and retrieve the loot.’

Jackson smiled gently. ‘It sounds easy the way you say it,’ she said, ‘but there are a couple of problems with that scenario.’

‘I know, but it’s the only way I can see this business ending without that nuke going off. Every other approach is likely to involve a fire-fight at the Burj, and the possibility
that the terrorists will go ahead and trigger the weapon.’

They sat down at an empty table and placed their order for drinks.

‘I do have one ace up my sleeve that nobody knows about,’ Richter revealed. ‘When I talked to Viktor Bykov, he—’

‘Oh, yes, I meant to ask you about him,’ Jackson interrupted, ‘but the atmosphere back at the embassy didn’t seem conducive to a discussion about your precise
relationship with a high-ranking officer in the GRU.’