End of Days (Pike Logan #16)(45)

“You can call me Donnie.”

Salim nodded, then said, “Did you bring the money, Donnie?”

“Yes. Five prepaid Visa cards with five hundred U.S. dollars each.”

“And why did you need to come to deliver it? Why not just do what we used to?”

Donnie looked at him and said, “Okay, I’m not here to take over the operation, but I have some unique skills that may help.”

They drove in silence for the next twenty minutes, Salim exiting the freeway into a concrete jungle of alleys and apartments, the outsides dotted with clotheslines and TV dishes. He pulled to a stop, exited, and said, “Follow me.”

Salim led him to the second story of a building in need of repairs and entered an apartment. He introduced Donnie to the rest of the men, and then handed him a cold Coke.

Donnie took a sip and Salim said, “The money?”

At that, the two other men took off their headsets and put down their game controllers. Khan leaned forward in his chair.

“I told you, I have it, but first, I need to know the plan.”

“The money is the plan. Khan’s supposed to purchase weapons today, Khalid is paying off a patrol man to avoid an area, Jamal is getting explosives, and I have to pay the secretary in the target’s office for his itinerary.”

“So you don’t have a plan? Is that it?”

“No. We do. I have the itinerary; I just need to pay the woman for it.”

And Salim laid it out, piece by piece, ending with, “This will make a bigger statement, just like that CIA chief in Lebanon who was tortured to death while America could do nothing about it.”

In spite of himself, Donatello was impressed. He saw a few flaws, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed. The main problem was the end state. Capture was always harder than killing, and keeping this guy alive for days while sending out videos of his torture—while perfect for the Turtles’ needs—was exceedingly risky.

He said, “I like it, but you’re not going to be dealing with the United States coming to his rescue. It’ll be the Sunni intelligence apparatus of Bahrain. You won’t last more than a day with him, I promise. Especially if you’re paying off police beforehand. It’s a dead giveaway with a trail right back here.”

“We understand their capabilities, trust me. The policeman is Shia—one of the few. He won’t talk. He hates the monarchy just like we do. And we’re not bringing the target back here.”

“Okay, but still, may I suggest just putting out a single message with him, on the same night, and then killing him? You’ll get nearly the same impact without the enormous risks.”

Khan said, “We’re prepared to die for the cause. Aren’t you?”

“Yes, but not when I don’t have to, any more than I’d jump out that window right now for the cause.”

Salim said, “We’ll consider it. Now, time is short. The money, please.”

Donnie dug in his pack, then handed over an envelope. Salim passed out the cards to the men. After the three had left, Donnie said, “If they don’t get what they need today, do you have a backup plan for the following day?”

“No. He’s not leaving the base the following day. But the third day he’s out again.”

Donnie nodded and said, “What’s the Wi-Fi password here?”

“Why?”

“I need to call my imam, and I’m not using the cell network to do that.”

Salim gave it to him, Donnie hooked up to the internet, then turned on his Zello app, dialing Garrett. When he answered, Donnie began speaking in Croatian. “It looks like it’s a go here. They have a pretty good plan, and it’s set for tomorrow night. I’ll need to smooth over some rough edges, but I think it’ll work.”

“And do they suspect you in any way?”

“No. As a matter of fact, nobody’s questioned me about my religion or anything about my past. They just assumed I’ve been sent by Iran.”

“Good. Get this done and come home immediately. I now have the final target’s itinerary. Things are speeding up. We need to leave for Lebanon soon, before the Grand Master goes to Israel.”

Donnie glanced at Salim, saying, “Trust me, I’m out of here as soon as the capture is done. These guys are true believers, and I’m pretty sure they’ll all be dead within forty-eight hours. I don’t intend to be in the blast radius.”





Chapter 29




Sitting in a rental car on Shabab Avenue—otherwise known as “American Alley” here in Manama—I was parked right under the smiling face of good ol’ Colonel Sanders, and thinking about getting some fried chicken just to see if it was the same as in the United States. Surely the Colonel’s secret recipe of eleven herbs and spices hadn’t made it over to Bahrain. Unfortunately, it was a mystery that would have to wait. Instead, I clicked on the net and said, “Shoshana, how’s it looking?”

She came back, “I’m walking by now. Pentest is operational in the backpack. Getting some looks, but nothing sharp. I’m good.”

I said, “Roger. Blood, Aaron, you copy?”

Brett came back. “Roger all. We’re staged two minutes out. No issues.”

“Roger. Shoshana, just get the penetration test done. No crazy stuff here.”