The Miraculous Plot of Leiter & Lott (12 page)

"No," the girl said, waving one hand and shaking her head.

"How about a tip?" David asked.

She smiled, but again refused. Then she pointed toward a line of taxi cabs waiting beyond the dock. David glanced down at his Timex watch, then back out to sea, toward the right, toward The World. It was getting late. In a few hours, it would be dark. He thanked the girl and walked up the dock to a platform where he could see that the taxis were all Mercedes. The driver in the one nearest him jumped out, and came around to open the passenger door. He stepped closer.

"Where to?" the smartly dressed Asian man asked.

David hesitated, glancing one last time out to sea. Then he said, "The Hyatt."

"Which one, sir?" the driver queried.

"If there's one in the
Deira
district, near the gold
souq
, take me there. I think I need to buy a new watch."

The cabbie dropped him off near the corner of
Beniyas
and Al-
Sabkha
roads, within sight of Swann Tower. From its wooden latticed archway entrance,
Deira's
Gold
Souq
appeared to be a smorgasbord of chains, bracelets, belt buckles, chalices, and filigree gold art. Gold coins and watches were on display in more than a dozen of its many shops. The air was scented of perfumes from the nearby Perfume
Souq
, but he also detected the fainter odor of fish from more distant Port Rashid. In one spacious courtyard he found a traditional Bedouin dance in progress. Called the
Ayyalah
, it was accompanied by fluted oboe-like instruments known as
mimzars
. The dance was being performed enthusiastically for the early evening enjoyment of both men in white
dishdashes
and some more colorfully dressed women who mimicked the dancer's movements.

Once, he almost settled on a thin gold watch with a simple face and black leather band. Since he'd first picked up and rejected a more expensive, heavy and ostentatious model, the shop owner seemed disconcerted as he simply walked away with a bow, not even attempting to haggle.
Perhaps Dubai Mall,
David told himself, mimicking what he imagined another shopper thought, passing through.

Before he began a walking tour of the area, he rechecked his cell phone for missed calls. The time was indicated on the screen, so why did he even need a watch? Only to be rid of the Timex?

Once inside the Dubai Museum, at the foot of Al-
Fahidi
Fort, he viewed a collection of 19th Century Arab weapons, including
khanjar
daggers and curved silver swords. Aerial photos of Dubai's development since the 1960s were on display there, along with a pre-oil-times collection of artifacts, and specimens of native flora and fauna. A tour of Sheikh Al-
Maktoum
the elder's house followed, and led to a walk along the dhow wharf next to Dubai Creek, where he wondered again about Etherton.

Taking out his cell phone again, he held his thumb over the call button as he tried to imagine what was happening at
Aazad's
private compound. Beside him, old men with leathery faces nonetheless smiled at customers to their wares, which were piled onto the twenty or so now obsolete yet not inappropriate wooden vessels. Assembled as they were into a kind of ancient trading port, with goods from India and East Africa, the fifty meter
al-
bateels
seemed a perfect contrast to the high rise skyscrapers of modern Dubai lined up along Sheikh
Zayed
Road in the background. It showed, better than anything could, what progress had been made by the rulers over the past two decades. No such a dramatic distinction existed anywhere that he knew, and it was even more awe-inspiring than anything planned at the mega theme park
Dubailand
, whose construction had been stalled only until the inevitable uptick in oil prices, already begun, refilled the river of money available to Arab investors.

David was still pondering whether to close his phone when it rang. Pushing the answer button, he looked to his left, up the wharf, where a woman with a black
shayla
over her face was getting out of a Mercedes, perhaps extending her visit from Dubai Mall's twelve million square feet to a back-in-time evening junket into the history of shopping.

"Hello?"

"David?" Etherton answered. "Sorry for not calling earlier. Are you okay?"

"Sure. What about you?"

"All is well. Kinda tense for a while, but understandable. Where are you now?"

"I'm at the dhow wharf in
Deira
, looking at the sunset."

"Nice?"

"Yes, very. Where are you?"

"I'm waiting for a water taxi back to the mainland. Shall we meet back at the Swann in an hour?"

David rubbed at his forehead with one hand, considering it. "Listen, Doug," he said, "I think I've outstayed my welcome. Maybe I should just stay at the Hyatt for a few nights, see the sights on my own. We can hook up before I leave for drinks."

"We
could
do that," Etherton said, any note of disappointment strangely absent from his voice, "just like you propose." He paused. "But then you'd miss the big surprise, too."

"What surprise?"

"The party tomorrow night at the El Haj."

"Party?" David asked. "What party?"

He could feel Doug smiling into his cell, now. "Well, the one that'll be attended by your friends Innes and
Cashman
, of course."

~ * ~

The
Deira
Hyatt did not cost $5000 a night, as once did the
Burj
al-Arab, or even the $2000 a night required for a sleep-over at the Trump Tower. It was not that he didn't have the money for it, but rather that, unfortunately, he also knew, somehow, that the unnecessary self indulgence would not help him apprehend what he still needed to know. As for meeting Innes and
Cashman
, that was another matter. If there was a reason he was here at all, it was to meet those two culprits.
Aazad
, coming through on his promise, and despite the intervening apprehension related to his distressed friend, had made no promise to appear in person himself at the party, so no doubt the bizarre duo would be disappointed by the billionaire's absence. But there was a ready excuse to be tendered at the end of the evening which would appear acceptable to any civilized person, gentleman or not: the preparation for a
funeral.

David ordered room service and tuned into the latest CNN reports on the internal military investigation of the attacks in Dubai. As yet, no definitive evidence had been found which linked the U.S. Army, Navy, or Air Force to the assault. The fuselage of the two drone aircraft had been damaged beyond recognition, through explosion and heat, and although there were similarities to known and missing
warbirds
, the clues so far uncovered were inconclusive, however Al-Jazeera wished to spin it. As for the Dubai stock exchange, it was still reeling, despite an uptick in oil prices and the envy of the world. Nervous too about what tomorrow would bring.

David felt the same nervousness, so he did not touch the lamb served with creamed spinach, nor the sautéed mushrooms. Instead, he contemplated the remote possibility that his patented optics system had somehow actually been used by the drone attackers in their night vision targeting instruments. He was just rejecting the idea, and tasting his room service meal, when a special bulletin came on featuring a CNN investigator claiming to have stumbled on a CIA memo that was a copy of a restricted email, yet discarded in the trash. The network then projected the memo onto the screen.

To: TL418, United Arab Emirates

From: DS672, Hoover Building

Decrypt 747RP

Unable to pinpoint identity
unsub
Skywayman
. NSA culling

known U.S. rogue anti-terrorists for technical expertise linked

to wreckage evidence. NCIS running internal audit. Next

report prior 2 PM EST, or as warranted.

Question: has Langley a list of
unsub's
probable targets within the
Burj

Khalifa
yet, related to possible gains from this?

To: DS672

From: TL418

Decrypt 330GN

Don– No, still collating. Just received word that the USAF

has an AWACS recon plane en route to the UAE. They're

requisitioning satellite surveillance of the ground, too, but

it's unlikely they'd be able to shoot down any drone aircraft,

even with radar tracking. Not only is such a target small,

but at the tower's base are 19 other residential towers, a lake,

9 hotels, 30,000 new homes, and the Dubai Mall. Still, they

should be able to identify the take-off site if it happens again,

and/or jam the controller's radio signal. Otherwise, do

you know how many acres of plate glass are still waiting

to be shattered? –Ted

To: TL418, United Arab Emirates

From: DS672, Hoover Building

Decrypt 641TR

5 PM EST Progress report attached. Summary: no red flags

regarding home grown terrorists or WTC companies.

Fourteen leads and follow-ups near dead end. Procurement

of aircraft parts judged to be secondary surplus aftermarket.

Confirm your conclusion that engineering profile shows

high level of sophistication, requiring CNC machine shop

and significant investment. Confirm drone construction

indicates private engineering based on early military prototype.

The respondents were identified as Don Sherman, FBI, and Terence
Lefcourt
, CIA. "Heads are going to roll on this one," the anchor commented, with a dry laugh.

"Which heads, theirs or ours?" the pretty female co-anchor shot back, before realizing both comments had been ill advised.

Dribbling spinach, David shook his own head, then opened the drawer of his night table in search of tissue more absorbent than his silken napkin. What he found, next to a copy of the Koran, was an Arabic-English dictionary and thesaurus. Curious, he flipped through the pages, found the word
drone
, and read the second set of entries under listed synonyms. Beyond
hum, buzz,
and
whirr
, was
parasite, leech, passenger,
and
bottom feeder.

Sunday in America, he knew, meant visiting churches that were mainly identical steepled red-brick edifices with aisles patrolled by gaunt-faced deacons. Sunday in Dubai, by contrast, meant the beginning of the work week---the first or second day of which depending on whether one was a practicing Muslim or not. In American churches, after the requisite hymns and sermon, most participants in the social and spiritual exercise crammed into local restaurants before returning to their own red-brick shrines to the gods of sport, just as Gregg Swann had said. There, they slumped onto couches to watch their favorite coaches railing against rulings, and while they consumed the chips, sodas and ice cream which had vaulted the land of the free to first place among nations in number of heart attacks.

Meanwhile, in the new phoenix mecca of Dubai, the rich went shopping.

Getting out of a cab in front of the Dubai Mall, David was arrested by the immensity and grand vision of its design. Here, at the largest shopping center in the world, it was possible to buy almost anything, if one believed the advance publicity. A virtual shrine to consumerism, bigger than any ten churches or mosques, the structure spanned an area greater than any sporting stadium operated or proposed by the NBA or NFL Dioceses. When it was too hot to sand-ski the desert dunes, there was snow skiing here. When weather or hassle precluded snorkeling, there were multi-colored Gulf fish, rays, and sharks on display in a walk-through Plexiglas aquarium. For those seeking fashion or Thai fusion cuisine, there were innumerable upscale shops and restaurants next to luxury car dealerships with the latest models ready to test drive on site. Wines from the cellars of the best chateaus in France were available, too. No indulgence was discouraged, however profligate, including the wish to be a foolish American for an hour. For those brave souls, fast food from McDonald's and Burger King awaited, although a Whopper cost eight dollars here.

After a walk of almost ten minutes, David arrived at last at the center of a vast promenade, a huge circle of Venetian marble inlaid with mother-of-pearl forming the symbol of the Emirates. Beneath a massive chandelier--like an upside down and golden three-story Christmas tree--he wondered if there were any ancient secrets to be divined in such a place, other than the secrets of worker exploitation hidden by the builders and architects. He sat on a nearby bench, and stared upward in awe at recalling that this was not the only mall in Dubai, either, and that there were also others, almost as big, like the Bur
Juman
and the Shopping Festival.

He watched the shoppers around him. Mostly women, some wore
shaylas
decorated with gold chains, and sashayed happily between soaring marble columns that supported three levels of paradise. Many clutched shopping bags bearing the emblems of Gucci,
Fendi
, Yves Saint Laurent. For others it was Godiva or
Parfumerrie
. The women smiled, eagerly accepting their role. By contrast, Arab men
stolled
leisurely, or confidently, according to their inclinations. Not smiling, but still oblivious to the larger world of financial anxiety and job pressure known by those who paid higher prices for gasoline and the resultant costs of manufacture and transportation.