Wild Justice (17 page)
Authors: Wilbur Smith
Peter said nothing, and they entered the forest, stepping carefully, for the path was slick and steep.
âAfter the death of my husband, I began to think a great deal about how we could protect the world that we know, while still remaining within the laws which were first designed to do that. With Altmann Industries I had inherited a comprehensive system of international information-gathering; naturally it was attuned almost entirely to commercial and industrial considerationsâ' She went on talking in that low intense voice that Peter found mesmeric, describing how she had gradually used her massive fortune and influence to reach across borders closed to most to gain the overall view of the new world of violence and intimidation. ââ I was not tied by considerations such as that of Interpol, forbidden by suicidal laws to involve itself in any crime that has political motivation. It was only when I was able to pass on what I had learned that I found myself coming up against the same self-destructive state of mind that masquerades as democracy and individual freedom. Twice I was able to anticipate a terrorist strike and to warn the authorities, but intention is not a crime, I was told, and both the culprits were quietly escorted to the border and turned free to prepare themselves almost openly for the next outrage. The world must wait and cringe for the next stroke, prohibited from making any pre-emptive strike to prevent it, and when it comes they are hampered by confused national responsibilities and by the complicated
concept of minimum forceâ' The Baroness broke off. âBut you know all this! You have written in depth of the same subject.'
concept of minimum forceâ' The Baroness broke off. âBut you know all this! You have written in depth of the same subject.'
âIt's interesting to hear it repeated.'
âI will come soon enough to the interesting part â but we are almost back at the house.'
âCome,' Peter told her, and led her past the stables to the swimming pool pavilion. The surface of the heated pool steamed softly, and lush tropical plants were in odd contrast to the wintry scene beyond the glass walls.
They sat side by side on a swing seat, close enough to be able to talk in subdued tones, but the intense mood was broken for the moment. She took off her hat, scarf and jacket, and tossed them onto the cane chair opposite, and she sighed as she settled back against the cushions.
âI understand from Sir Steven that he wants you to go into the bank.' She slanted her eyes at him. âIt must be difficult to be so sought after.'
âI don't think I have Steven's reverence for money.'
âIt's a readily acquired taste, General Stride,' she assured him. âOne that can become an addiction.'
At that moment the children of both Stride brothers arrived in a storm of shouted repartee and laughter, which moderated only marginally when they realized that Peter and the Baroness were in the swing seat.
Steven's youngest son, bulging over the top of his costume with puppy-fat and with silver braces on his front teeth, rolled his eyes in their direction and in a stage whisper told Melissa-Jane, â
Je t'aime, ma chérie,
swoon! swoon!' His accent was frighteningly bad and he received a hissed rebuke and a shove in the small of the back that hurled him into the deep end of the pool.
Je t'aime, ma chérie,
swoon! swoon!' His accent was frighteningly bad and he received a hissed rebuke and a shove in the small of the back that hurled him into the deep end of the pool.
The Baroness smiled. âYour daughter is very protectiveâ' she turned slightly to examine Peter's face again' â or is it merely jealousy?' Without waiting for an answer she went
straight on to ask another question. Against the background of shouts and splashes, Peter thought he had misheard.
straight on to ask another question. Against the background of shouts and splashes, Peter thought he had misheard.
âWhat did you say?' he asked carefully, certain that his expression had revealed nothing, and she repeated.
âDoes the name Caliph mean anything to your
He frowned slightly, pretending to consider, while his memory darted back to the terrible micro-seconds of mortal combat, of smoke and flame and gunfire and a dark-haired girl in a scarlet shirt screaming:
âDon't kill us! Caliph said we would not die. Caliphâ' And his own bullets stopping the rest of it, smashing into the open mouth. The word had haunted him since then, and he had tried a thousand variations, looking for sense and meaning, considering the possibility that he had misheard. Now he knew he had not.
âCaliph?' he asked, not knowing why he was going to deny it, merely because it seemed vital that he keep something in reserve, that he were not carried headlong on the torrent of this woman's presence and personality. âIt's a Mohammedan title â I think it literally means the heir of Mohammed, the successor to the prophet.'
âYes.' She nodded impatiently. âIt's the title of a civil and religious leader â but have you heard it used as a code name?'
âNo. I am sorry, I have not What is the significance?'
âI am not sure, even my own sources are obscure and confused.' She sighed, and they watched Melissa-Jane in silence. The child had been waiting for Peter's attention, and when she had it she ran lightly out along the spring-board and launched herself, light as a swallow in flight, into a clean one-and-a-half somersault, entering the water with hardly a ripple and surfacing immediately with fine pale hair slick down across her face, immediately looking again for Peter's approval.
âShe's a lovely child,' said the Baroness. âI have no
children. Aaron wanted a son â but there was not one.' And there was real sorrow in the green eyes that she masked quickly. Across the pool Melissa-Jane climbed from the pool and quickly draped a towel around her shoulders, covering her bosom which was now large enough and yet so novel as to provide her with a constant source of embarrassment and shy pride.
children. Aaron wanted a son â but there was not one.' And there was real sorrow in the green eyes that she masked quickly. Across the pool Melissa-Jane climbed from the pool and quickly draped a towel around her shoulders, covering her bosom which was now large enough and yet so novel as to provide her with a constant source of embarrassment and shy pride.
âCaliph,' Peter reminded the Baroness quietly, and she turned back to him.
âI first heard the name two years ago, in circumstances I shall never forgetâ' She hesitated. âMay I take it that you are fully aware of the circumstances surrounding my husband's kidnapping and murder? I do not wish to repeat the whole harrowing story â unless it is necessary.'
âI know it,' Peter assured her.
âYou know that I delivered the ransom, personally.'
âYes.'
The rendezvous was a deserted airfield near the East German border. They were waiting with a light twin-engined aircraft, a Russian-built reconnaissance machine with its markings sprayed overâ' Peter remembered the meticulous planning and the special equipment used in the hijacking of 070. It all tallied. ââ There were four men, masked. They spoke Russian, or rather two of them spoke Russian. The other two never spoke at all. It was bad Russianâ' Peter remembered now that the Baroness spoke Russian and five other languages. She had a Middle European background. Peter wished he had studied her intelligence file more thoroughly. Her father has escaped with her from her native Poland when she was a small child. ââ Almost certainly, the aircraft and the Russian were intended to cover their real identity,' she mused. âI was with them for some little time. I had forty-five million Swiss francs to deliver and even in notes of large denomination it was a bulky and heavy cargo to load aboard the aircraft After the first few minutes, when they realized that I had no police escort, they relaxed and
joked amongst themselves as they worked at loading the money. The word “Caliph” was used in the English version, in a Russian exchange that roughly translates as “He was right again” and the reply “Caliph is always right”. Perhaps the use of the English word made me remember it so clearlyâ' She stopped again, grief naked and bleak in the green eyes.
joked amongst themselves as they worked at loading the money. The word “Caliph” was used in the English version, in a Russian exchange that roughly translates as “He was right again” and the reply “Caliph is always right”. Perhaps the use of the English word made me remember it so clearlyâ' She stopped again, grief naked and bleak in the green eyes.
âYou told the police?' Peter asked gently, and she shook her head.
âNo. I don't know why not. They had been so ineffectual up to that time. I was very angry and sad and confused. Perhaps even then I had already decided that I would hunt them myself â and this was all I had.'
That was the only time you heard the name?' he asked, and she did not reply immediately. They watched the children at play â and it seemed fantasy to be discussing the source of evil in such surroundings, against a background of laughter and innocent high spirits.
When the Baroness answered, she seemed to have changed direction completely.
There had been that hiatus in international terrorism. The Americans seemed to have beaten the hijacking problem with their Cuban agreement and the rigorous airport searches. Your own successful campaign against the Provisional wing of the IRA in this country, the Entebbe raid and the German action at Mogadishu were all hailed as breakthrough victories. Everybody was beginning to congratulate themselves that it was beaten. The Arabs were too busy with the war in the Lebanon and with inter-group rivalries It had been a passing thing' She shook her head again. âBut terrorism is a growth industry â the risks are less than those of financing a major movie. There is a proven sixty-seven per cent chance of success, the capital outlay is minimal, with outrageous profits in cash and publicity, with instant resultsâand potential power not even calculable. Even in the event of total failure, there is still a better than fifty per cent survival rate for the participants.' She smiled
again, but now there was no joy and no warmth in it. âAny businessman will tell you it's better than the commodity markets.'
again, but now there was no joy and no warmth in it. âAny businessman will tell you it's better than the commodity markets.'
The only thing against it is that the business is run by amateurs,' Peter said, âor by professionals blinded by hatred or crippled by parochial interests and limited goals.'
And now she turned to him, wriggling around in the canvas swing seat, curling those long legs up under her in that double-jointed woman's manner, impossible for a man.
âYou are ahead of me, Peter.' She caught herself. âI am sorry, but General Stride is too much to say, and I have the feeling I have known you so long.' The smile now was fleeting but warm. âMy name is Magda,' she went on simply. âWill you use it?'
âThank you, Magda.'
âYes.' She picked up the thread of conversation again. âThe business is in the hands of amateurs â but it is too good to stay that way'
âEnter Caliph,' Peter guessed
âThat is the whisper that I have heard; usually there is no name. Just that there was a meeting in Athens, or Amsterdam or East Berlin or Aden â only once have I heard the name Caliph again But if he exists already he must be one of the richest men in the world, and soon he will be the most powerful.'
âOne man?' Peter asked.
âI do not know. Perhaps a group of men â perhaps even a government. Russia, Cuba, an Arab country? Who knows yet?'
âAnd the goals?'
âMoney, firstly. Wealth to tackle the political objectives â and finally power, raw power.' Magda Altmann stopped herself, and made a self-deprecating gesture. âThis is guesswork again, my own guessing â based only on past performance. They have the wealth now, provided by OPEC and â myself
amongst others. Now he or they have started on the political objectives, a soft target first. An African racist minority government unprotected by powerful allies. It should have succeeded. They should have won an entire nation â a mineral-rich nation â for the price of a dozen lives. Even had they failed to gain the main prize, the consolation prize was forty tons of pure gold. That's good business, Peter. It should have succeeded. It
had
succeeded. The Western nations actually put pressure on the victims, and forced them to accede to the demands â it was a trial run, and it worked perfectly, except for one man.'
amongst others. Now he or they have started on the political objectives, a soft target first. An African racist minority government unprotected by powerful allies. It should have succeeded. They should have won an entire nation â a mineral-rich nation â for the price of a dozen lives. Even had they failed to gain the main prize, the consolation prize was forty tons of pure gold. That's good business, Peter. It should have succeeded. It
had
succeeded. The Western nations actually put pressure on the victims, and forced them to accede to the demands â it was a trial run, and it worked perfectly, except for one man.'
âI am afraid,' said Peter softly, âas afraid as I have ever been in my life.'
âYes, I am also, Peter. I have been afraid ever since that terrible phone call on the night they took Aaron, and the more I learn the more afraid I become.'
âWhat happens next?'
âI do not know â but the name he has chosen has the hint of megalomania, perhaps a man with visions of godlike dominationâ' She spread her fine narrow hands and the diamond flashed white fire. ââ We cannot hope to fathom the mind of a man who could embark on such a course. Probably he believes that what he is doing is for the eventual good of mankind. Perhaps he wants to attack the rich by amassing vast wealth, to destroy the tyrant with universal tyranny, to free mankind by making it a slave to terror. Perhaps he seeks to right the wrongs of the world with evil and injustice.'
She touched his arm again, and this time the strength of those long fingers startled Peter. âYou have to help me find him, Peter I am going to put everything into the hunt, there will be no reservations, all the wealth and influence that I control will be at your disposal.'
âYou choose me because you believe that I murdered a wounded woman prisoner?' Peter asked. âAre those my
credentials?' And she recoiled from him slightly, and stared at him with the slightly Mongolian slant of eyes, then her shoulders slumped slightly.
credentials?' And she recoiled from him slightly, and stared at him with the slightly Mongolian slant of eyes, then her shoulders slumped slightly.
âAll right, that is part of it, but only a small part of it. You know I have read what you have written, you must know that I have studied you very carefully. You are the best man available to me, and finally you have proved that your involvement is complete. I know that you have the strength and skill and ruthlessness to find Caliph and destroy him â before he destroys us and the world we know.'
Peter was looking inwards. He had believed that the beast had a thousand heads, and for each that was struck off a thousand more would grow â but now for the first time he imagined the full shape of the beast, it was still in ambush, not clear yet, but there was only a single head. Perhaps, after all, it was mortal.
Other books
The Cleaner by Brett Battles
A Regency Charade by Elizabeth Mansfield
Anchorboy by Jay Onrait
Diario. Una novela by Chuck Palahniuk
Mia a Matter of Taste by Coco Simon
Awakenings - SF1 by Meagher, Susan X
El Druida by Morgan Llywelyn
Inside Threat by Jason Elam, Steve Yohn
Certainty by Madeleine Thien
B007Q6XJAO EBOK by Prioleau, Betsy