Ultimate Power (19 page)

Sonti's first assumption was that Lewis Collingwood was either dead or captured. His second assumption was that it must have happened while trying to eliminate Sam East. The logical assumption would then be that Collingwood had been set up to be captured or killed.

Sam East is talking.

Would Dumas honestly be that stupid, to double-cross him? He wondered whether Lewis had eliminated Dumas, or had thought the better of it and pursued Sam East, the more important target. He liked to allow his staff some leeway in decision making. Executive intent, he called it. I need you to take that hill, how you do it is up to you.

He typed a message into Skype.
Jen, please come see me.

Nero growled. "Stay boy."

A moment later, his door opened and his personal assistant walked in. "Yes, Mr. Sonti?"

"Sit down, Jen. I have to issue some orders."

She folded her pencil skirt beneath her as she sat down, put on her wireframe glasses, flicked open a writing pad and held her pen ready.

He pushed four photos towards her. "I need a bounty on their heads."

"How much, sir?"

"One million. Each."

"Al Qaeda or the contractors?"

"Both."

She scribbled a note. "Which ones, sir?"

"All of them."

She pushed a lock of greying hair behind her ear. "All three hundred of them?"

He nodded.

She cocked her head to one side and frowned, but said nothing.

"Finance it through the foreclosure sales in Texas."

She nodded and started to stand up.

"That's not all, Jen."

She sat down uncertainly. "Not all?"

"I need to do another 911."

Her forehead furrowed into a frown, a slight smile wavering on her lips. "Surely you don't need the money, sir. Why would you want to cause another war?"

He picked up his Zippo and flicked his cigar box's lid open. "Because it's time."

"Who would you like to use, sir? Al Qaeda?"

He tapped a cigar against the table. "No, been there, done that. The strategic oil fields are ours." He lit the cigar and inhaled deeply, closing one eye as the smoke rolled over his cheek. "Let's use the Palestinians. They haven't been in the news lately." He tipped the ash into an ashtray. "Use Moktar, he has a couple of well-trained men, and he always needs more money."
 

She scribbled into her writing pad, then looked up with a smile. She was probably thinking of the nice Christmas bonus she was going to get. "Anything else?"

He took another drag, ground the cigar out in the ashtray. "Let's make it interesting this time. I want a nuke onboard."

"Ooh, that will take some organizing. North Korea, perhaps?"

"No, use Iran," he said with a chuckle. "The UN will look like fools."

"And the target, sir?"

Sonti steepled his fingers, leaning back in his chair. He shrugged. "Let's say…, New York State."

Alexa sat with Yumi at the dining room table, building a puzzle. Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she tugged it out. It said
Unknown Number
. "Hello?"

"Captain Guerra. Are you close to a television?"

"Who is this?"
 

"We'll soon have time for proper introductions. For now, I need you to witness the little charade I have put on especially for you."

She grabbed the remote and turned on the television.
 

"What do you mean?"

The man chuckled. "Consider this a little heads-up, between friends."

"Which station?"

"Any news channel will do."

She flipped to Al Jazeera. She saw a picture of the golden domed Muslim Temple in Jerusalem from afar, and the entire building came into view as the camera panned in closer. She sucked in her breath. Smoke billowed from the structure, and the side of it had collapsed. People were on their knees, their arms raised to the sky in anguished cries of despair.

She put her hand on her mouth when four black-and-white photos appeared on the screen. It was pictures of herself, Bruce, Neil and Laiveaux. The scrolling subtext said that there was a bounty on their heads for desecrating the Muslim temple in Jerusalem, one of the holiest Muslim sites in the world. Apparently they had planted a bomb and blown it up.

"What is this?"

"I suggest you get packing, Miss Guerra."
 

Alexa strode to Yumi's room and started emptying her closet into a suitcase.

"Oh, and one more thing, Miss Guerra."

"What?"

"There's going to be a plane-jacking at La Guardia in the next fifteen minutes. Your people better start assembling a rescue squad. Flight UA four seven three three. Hurry now."

The phone disconnected and Alexa stared at it with an incredulous scowl.

Alexa skidded the car to a halt on the crushed rock in front of the Palace, jumped out and ran up the stairs, heading to the temporary command centre that President Nicole Rue had set up. Laiveaux, Bruce and the President were already there. Neil was on his way to a safehouse in Paris with Yumi.

President Rue was pacing the room, a phone cradled between her shoulder and ear. The rest of them were staring at the television. An Air Emirates Airbus stood on the runway, surrounded by police cars. The door was open and a masked man was pointing a gun at another man's head. He wore a uniform, like the flight crew on the plane. A shot rung out and the hostage slumped forward. The shooter held him back by his collar before letting him go. The crew member tumbled forward and landed on the tarmac with a sickening thud.

"This happened ten minutes ago," Laiveaux said, turning to Alexa. "They're threatening to shoot a hostage every half-an-hour if their demands aren't met."

"Which are?"

"They want two high profile PLO terrorists released and given safe passage back to Palestine."

"Who are they?"

Laiveaux slipped the glasses from his head over his eyes and scanned a sheet of paper he was holding. "Sa'adat and Tirawi."

"They're serving life sentence for murder. What are the Israeli's saying?" Alexa asked.

Laiveaux shook his head. "They're not budging."

President Rue marched towards them, slipping her phone into her pocket. "Okay, the Israeli Minister of Defense, Joseph Kesef, is on standby. If all else fails, he says he is willing to negotiate." She turned to Laiveaux. "General, we need to organize a rescue party."

"Already done. I'm waiting for Neil to drop Yumi, then I'll send him to JFK to lead the extraction."

"I'm going with," Alexa said.

"No," Bruce and Laiveaux said almost simultaneously.

"If he's going, I'm going."

"I said no, and that's an order, Captain," Laiveaux said firmly. "No point in arguing, we need you here."

"I can't stand around doing nothing."

"We're questioning East and Collingwood, we need your help."

"Why interrogate them? East gave me Sonti's number. Make a call from Collingwood's phone and trace the call."

Laiveaux and Bruce turned to each other, a sheepish grin on their faces. "Now why didn't I think of that?" Laiveaux asked.

Neil was driving down the A6 heading towards Paris, exceeding the speed limit. He wanted to get Yumi to a place of safety as soon as possible; he had been ordered to lead the hostage extraction from the hijacked plane and he had no time to waste. The traffic was moving slowly, and he had to resort to yellow lane driving. He checked over his shoulder. "You okay?"

Yumi nodded. She was strapped in, playing with her doll, oblivious of what was going on around her.

Neil swerved around a large truck, thanking his lucky stars that Interpol had the German Sedan available in the car pool and not the 1100cc Korean model that he usually had to be satisfied with.

He touched the brakes as a truck swerved in front of him, forcing Neil back into the center lane. He checked his mirrors as two trucks closed in on his left and right. Then Yumi shrieked as the back window exploded.

"What the hell?" he shouted, looking back. Yumi's hair and lap were covered in shards of glass.

"Yumi, unfasten your belt and get down behind my seat."

She did as he said. "What's happening, daddy?"

"I don't know my baby, stay down there, okay?"

He slammed into the truck on his right, creating some space. He jammed the brake, passing the truck in the yellow lane. He glanced in his rearview as a black super bike screamed towards them. Neil ducked as he heard a pistol bark and the front window exploded. When he looked back up, the front windscreen was shattered into millions of tiny cracks, hampering his visibility.

He removed his Glock from its holster, fired half-a-dozen shots through the window and proceeded to slam out it with the muzzle of the pistol. He managed to clear a large enough section to see through before slipping on his dark glasses to protect his eyes from the wind.

Another shot fizzed and shattered his left-hand mirror.

"Screw this," Neil said and braked hard, swinging the steering wheel to his left. He pulled up the handbrake and accelerated hard, the tires screeching in protest as Neil fought to get the car's rear-end back into line. The bikers swung out of the way, missing him by inches.

He checked his rearview mirror. Through the smoke of his tires, he could see the bikes spinning around and accelerate his way. He looked up as he heard a loud hoot and swerved out of the way of an oncoming bus, sloughing over the island in the center of the highway and crashing through a hedge. The car bounced and careened from side-to-side as he pulled branches out of the steering wheel and tossed them through his window.

He accelerated onto the shoulder of the road, spinning up large chunks of neatly manicured lawn and flower beds, plunged through several pink rose bushes and swung back into the oncoming traffic.

He could see the silhouettes of the motorcycles through the green hedge to his left, racing ahead and slowing down, searching for an opening. Neil pulled the Glock from his shoulder holster and took aim. He fired three shots, and one of the bikes crashed through the hedge behind him and careened over the blacktop, sparks flying as it spun. It slammed into an oncoming car.

He looked back as the other biker used the opening in the hedge to join Neil's side of the highway, its engine protesting as the driver opened the throttle full blast. The bike was gaining fast, zipping between the cars, using its smaller size and maneuverability to its advantage. Within a couple of seconds, it pulled up next to him and Neil noticed that there was a passenger on the bike doing the shooting. They were dressed in black leather and black helmets with gold-tinted visors. The bike was a Kawasaki Ninja ZX-14, there was no way he was going to outrun that.

He swerved towards the bike, but it merely swerved out of the way as well. The passenger lifted his arm and took aim. Neil shifted the gears down and accelerated past a slower moving truck on his left. He pushed into an opening and another shot barked, exploding into the plush leather upholstery of the back seat.

"Yumi, you okay?"

"I'm fine, Daddy. Shoot them!"

He swerved into the middle lane and the bike zipped in beside him again. He emptied his clip on the bike, held the steering wheel straight with his knees and slammed another magazine into the Glock.

Yumi came up from her seat. "Get down, Yumi," he shouted, pushing her head down. He swerved into an opening and gunned the car through a clearing in the traffic. They were driving out of town, heading towards the suburbs.

"Don't worry, Daddy. You got them," Yumi said, standing on her knees and peering out the back window.

He checked his rearview. Traffic had stopped behind them, two bodies lay sprawled on the ground, the bike was on its side, burning on the edge of the road.

He breathed deeply and took an overhead bridge. It merged back onto the highway, leading back towards the city.

He craned his neck as he slowed down and drove past the accident scene. One guy was struggling to his feet, but the other lay motionless, a pool of blood beneath him.

"Okay, buckle up." He breathed a sigh of relief as he slammed his foot into the throttle and headed for the Presidential Palace, the safest place he could think of taking Yumi.

Sergeant Leo Conrad tossed his hand luggage into the overhead storage compartment and headed to the toilet at the back of the plane. Both restrooms were occupied, and another guy was waiting in front of him. Shit, he shouldn't have had those damn beers before boarding.

He stood around for a couple of minutes, and when he felt about ready to burst he slammed the door with his fist. "Hey, you going to be much longer?"

He heard the door unlock and a young guy slid it open. "Yes?"

"I need the toilet, man."
 

The guy nodded. "I'll be another minute," he said and closed the door after Leo briefly glimpsed a blue duffle bag on the floor. He had spoken with a strong Arabian accent.