“I know you don’t usually let an agent get involved when it’s personal, but I can handle this, Nick. There’s no way I could stand by and let anyone else do it,” he said.
“And if I tried to pull you out, you’d go in anyway.”
Bash actually smiled. “You know me too well.” He looked at the cases. “Well, I have everything. I’ll report on the sat phone when I have a lead.”
“I’ll keep you up to date on anything Mansur reports,” Nick promised. He held out his hand. “Good luck, Bash.”
“Hey, fools, children, and idiots named Bash, right?” Bash shook Nick’s hand, and he thought Nick squeezed it harder than usual before releasing him and stepping back.
“Right,” Nick responded. “Go on, Kilo Actual. Control will be standing by.”
With a brief salute, Bash picked up the two cases, then headed toward the battered old Jeep that he’d arrived in.
It was well after dark by the time he reached Nineveh, which suited him fine. Coming in under the cover of darkness allowed him to leave his vehicle in an alley in a rough area of the city not too far from his first destination without attracting any attention.
The dossier on Carapov indicated he favored the seedier parts of the cities he worked in — the areas where there would be far fewer security cameras. It was possible Carapov was operating in a smaller village outside of the capitol, but Bash thought not, since foreigners would attract more notice. If he were an assassin waiting for orders or an opportunity, he’d want to be close enough to his target to respond quickly, and he was almost certain Carapov would consider Faisal’s funeral almost irresistible.
The safest thing for Carapov to do would be to stay completely off the grid, but Bash had his own theories on what was happening. Carapov was having to play a cat-and-mouse game with his potential victims, stalking them from the shadows before he could pounce. Fortunately, Bash was used to thinking like a hunter himself, and that meant he was aware of what Carapov needed to do in order to carry out his mission.
News of Faisal’s death was, of course, all over the country, and the funeral would, as per tradition, take place the next day. City services were all suspended as the country went into mourning, so Bash used the deserted streets to his advantage, keeping to the shadows. Once he reached the mosque where the funeral was to take place, he pulled out his night vision goggles, then began his search. If Carapov was going to strike at the funeral, he’d need to find a position that afforded him a line of sight to his victim. While Carapov hunted for a kill shot, Bash would hunt forhim.
Mansur had said that the particular mosque wasn’t the largest in the city, but it was one that had meaning to Faisal on a personal level. The location hadn’t been announced until after Faisal’s death that afternoon, so Carapov likely hadn’t had any opportunity to look for a position until now. As Bash scanned the front of the mosque and the rooftops of the surrounding buildings, he picked up very few heat sources. There were a pair of guards at each entrance to the mosque, which he’d expected from Mansur’s information, but otherwise the streets were deserted.
The mosque was set well back from surrounding buildings, with two tall towers looking down over the rear courtyard, which contained a reflecting pool. Bash caught glimpses of movement in the towers: more guards that Mansur had told him to watch out for, since they, too, had night vision capability. Bash kept as hidden as possible, moving along a row of decorative hedges that surrounded the courtyard. While the funeral would take place inside, the procession would have to pass through the courtyard. Hopefully, the assassin wasn’t aware that Sean, against tradition, wouldn’t be part of the procession. Instead, he would both enter and depart the mosque from an armored vehicle through a private entrance. But even if Carapov somehow had that information, he’d still have to case the mosque.
Once Bash had made a circuit of the grounds, he examined each access point that offered a line of sight, moving away from the building and into the city, always keeping under cover and scanning to be sure no one was watching before moving to his next position. An assassin of Carapov’s caliber could reach his target from up to a mile away, but he would need an angle that would offer him a field of view and one where his potential target was likely to be. It also helped, in an urban setting, for the assassin to be elevated, so Bash focused on the roof of not the tallest building facing the mosque, but the one that offered the largest field of view. And as he looked, a heat source suddenly appeared in his vision, a tiny point of bright green, as though someone had lifted their head and looked over a barrier, straight toward the mosque.
“Gotcha,” he murmured. Now he had to move quickly and hope he wasn’t spotted by his target.
Bash headed toward the building, an old, blocky structure of native stone that housed offices. It appeared dark and deserted, the main entrance locked, so he moved toward the back of the building. A long alleyway ended at a loading dock, and Bash caught sight of someone climbing down a fire escape from the roof.
He didn’t move a muscle while he watched his quarry descending, although he considered just taking out his gun and blowing the man away. Unfortunately, there was a slim chance that this wasn’t Carapov - and even if he managed to stop the Russian, it wouldn’t give him any information about the identity of the traitor, which meant Moscow would still be able to call the shots.
The man jumped the last few feet to the ground, and just as Bash was about to follow, he stopped. A second person clad in robes had stepped out of the shadows and into the light cast by the building’s security floods, walking over to the first. They talked softly, too low for Bash to catch any words. The night vision goggles couldn’t resolve faces at this distance, so Bash took a risk, removing the goggles and moving closer until he could recognize the blond hair and harsh features of Arseny Carapov.
The discussion was brief, and before Bash could get a good look at the robed figure, the two men separated. Bash was forced to make a split second decision. Should he follow the assassin or the traitor?
Going with his gut instinct, Bash put his goggles back on and followed the man in robes. Carapov’s plan seemed to be for him to strike from a distance, which meant keeping Sean safe was a matter of never being out in the open, a situation that was easily dealt with. Indeed, Mansur could post men to the rooftop and capture Carapov upon his return. But Bash was certain Carapov wouldn’t give up the identity of the traitor no matter what they did to him, and Wagner Group had other assassins at their disposal. This might be Bash’s only chance to put an end to the threat against Sean once and for all.
Carapov slipped away into the shadows, while the man in robes headed down the alleyway toward Bash, his face unfortunately hidden in the shadows of his keffiyeh. Ducking quickly behind a dumpster, Bash waited until the man had moved past him, then followed him out to the street, hoping to get close enough to make an identification.
It was far more difficult to tail someone when the streets were deserted than it was in a crowd. Bash had to stay well back and move from shadow to shadow to keep from being observed, while also checking behind to make sure that he himself wasn’t being followed. When his quarry turned away from the area of the mosque and headed down a side street, Bash was hard pressed to keep up with him without giving himself away.
He was over a block behind his target when the man climbed into a vehicle waiting at the curb. The car’s taillights flared in the darkness, and Bash let out a growl of frustration. He couldn’t read the license plate with the night vision goggles, so he ripped them off, moving more quickly as he tried to identify the vehicle. He still couldn’t make out the number, but as the vehicle sped away, he noticed the flags mounted on the front, flapping with the speed of the car’s passage. It was an official Akkadian sedan, used only by the highest members of government — and Bash knew Mansur had tagged every vehicle with GPS transponders to help him track the movements of everyone who might be the traitor.
Bash stopped dead, and a cold smile curved his lips. “Checkmate.”
26
Waiting sucked.
Pacing back and forth along the luxurious carpet of his suite, Sean imagined he could now sympathize with how a caged lion must feel, knowing there was danger everywhere but unable to do anything about it. All he could do was wait and hope Bash could find Carapov and his accomplices without getting himself killed.
He’d been king for all of about fourteen hours now, but it sure didn’t mean he was empowered to do anything about the events swirling around him. Mansur had asked him to remain in his rooms as much as possible and allow him to handle everything. There wasn’t really anything for Sean to do, anyway. For all his position now as king, he had no skills that would add to what Mansur and Bash could do. He supposed he could help with the death duties for his grandfather, but his grandmother and her fellow wife were in charge of the ritual cleansing and wrapping of Faisal’s body in preparation for burial.
Sleeping was, of course, out of the question. There was too much adrenaline in his system, and Sean dreaded the sort of nightmares he’d have even if he could doze off. He’d tried settling with a book or watching television, but he couldn’t focus on anything for more than a couple of minutes before he had to jump up and walk around.
He’d given fleeting thought to pouring himself a stiff drink from the bottles Bash had left secreted in his room, but he’d probably have to get plastered to find any relief at all, and that simply wouldn’t do. Sean sighed, pausing in his steps to rub at his temples, trying to ease the chaotic jumble of thoughts running through his brain. It was after two in the morning, and he both anticipated and dreaded the thought of the upcoming funeral, which would take place at ten in the morning. He would be allowed to leave the palace, but he knew his life was in danger the moment he stepped out the door. Even though both Mansur and Bash would do everything in their power to keep him safe, Sean still couldn’t quell the nagging doubt that they would miss something, and Sean would end up dead despite their best efforts. Even knowing Bash would die before he’d let Sean be hurt was little comfort, since the thought of losing Bash was even more frightening than his own potential death.
