A Deceit to Die For (17 page)

“Dr. O’Brien, I have been looking everywhere for you.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Davenport. I’m afraid I’m running a bit late this morning. Is everything quite alright?”

“Would I be looking for you if it were?” she said without the hint of a smile.

“Sometimes, I almost think your affection for me is purely self-interest,” with the same expression she had just given him. She managed a weak smile.

“We sent the coffee machine out for repair yesterday. Well, the repair shop called and said the heating coil needs to be replaced and, on an old model like this one, the parts and labor will run about the same as a new machine. The copier has also broken down and several of the breakout session leaders are asking if they can run off some last minute handouts.”

Ian sighed and waved her off. She could tell he was preoccupied, but she also knew that within fifteen minutes a solution for each of those problems would be set in motion.

“Good morning, Zeki.”

“Good morning, Ian. You don’t look so well. I hope everything is okay.”

“Just running a bit late and we have a few logistical problems I need to deal with.”

“I see. Well, I just wanted to talk to you about the document.”

“If it is not urgent, maybe we could discuss it tomorrow.”

“Of course, that is fine. I wanted to have a closer look at that seal. Shall we have breakfast together tomorrow?”

“Sure. How does seven o’clock sound?”

“If you can arrange feta cheese and olives, I would meet you at the crack of dawn.”

Ian chuckled. Every Turk he had ever met felt the same about breakfast.

“You are my guest. After the lessons in hospitality you gave me in Turkey, I shall not fail you. I think you’ll like this place.”

“Okay. Tomorrow at seven o’clock then.”

“Right.”

Zeki turned and entered the conference hall and Ian stared at the closing door. Zeki’s manner had been disarming. He had always felt there was a genuineness about the man, in spite of his guarded nature, and yet last night’s revelation had changed everything.

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Dr. Brown walked into the department secretary’s office on the fourth floor of A block. There was a copier humming in the back room, but no one was there and he sat down to wait. He was surprised five minutes later when Dr. O’Brien came through the door.

Ian nodded in greeting.

“Good morning, Dr. Brown. What a pleasant surprise. I would have thought you would be at the conference. Is there something that I can help you with?”

“Good morning, sir. I stopped by to ask if I might see that document again.”

Ian set his briefcase down beside the secretary’s desk and began to search for the office phone directory on her desk. Without looking up, he asked,

“Did you check your email? My secretary sent you a digital copy of that yesterday.”

“That’s curious. I checked my mail again not five minutes ago, and I still hadn’t received it.”

“Might have gotten hung up on a spam filter and sent to your junk mail folder. Did you check?”

“I did. No worries, though. I can catch her later, or leave a note asking her to resend it.”

Brown made for the door and then stopped.

“You don’t happen to have it with you, do you?”

“Dr. Brown, I would actually like nothing better than to sit down and go over that document with you again. I have done a bit of research myself and have a few questions of my own. However, right now, there are more pressing matters that I must deal with even if they are far more trivial. Why don’t we talk about it over a cup of tea soon?”

“Of course. I understand. That sounds wonderful.”

“Call me some time and we’ll set up an appointment for next week, after the conference is over.”

Ian found the directory and started flipping through the pages, looking for the number to the repair shop. He dialed the number and as he waited for someone to pick up, he wrote on a sticky note,

Please resend file to Dr. Brown. He didn’t receive it.

“Hello. Yes, this is Dr. O’Brien from King’s College, London . . . Fine, thanks . . . I believe you have a coffee machine of ours... Yes, that’s right. Look, we really need that machine today if at all possible. If not, we’ll need to borrow one until ours is fixed.”

The secretary walked in as he hung up the phone. With some frustration in his voice, Ian asked, “What are we going to do about the copier? There will certainly be people wanting to make use of it and it won’t do to have everyone coming over here.”

“I just spoke with an aide in the library. She said that they have spare capacity during the summer break, and she is having one of the technicians move two of the library’s copiers into the conference foyer.”

“Wonderful.” Ian looked at his watch and sighed. The first session was more than half-way finished and he wouldn’t be able to attend even the first afternoon session if he was to be at the airport on time. Well, the least he could do was send Dr. Jones a text message and tell him that something had come up and apologize for not making the session. He flipped the phone open and cursed silently. The battery was dead.

CHAPTER
14

C
AIRO
  
The sun had almost certainly set in another blaze of glory on the horizon west of Cairo, but massive thunderheads blocked any view of it. It was late, but Ahmet had no intention of going home. He had hoped that word of their success would have reached him by now. He was a patient man though, and these operations were delicate. There was no need to risk making a mistake now. It had remained hidden for almost three hundred years, and Allah had seen fit to alert them of its presence as soon as it was rediscovered. His man had probably spent the day gathering intelligence and making preparations and would wait for the cover of darkness.

He had been reading and mulling over the case file for more than a day. They had been fortunate. No mistake about that. This document could have turned up anywhere. It would most likely have turned up in Tunisia or Morocco. Or, it could have surfaced in any of the Balkan republics and gone public before anyone was aware of it. It could have turned up in Australia as the incomplete Spanish copy it was meant to destroy had in the 1970s, almost two hundred and forty years after the fact. Instead, it had turned up right under their nose, in a place where they had abundant resources.

London was not only a bustling center of finance, but had also become one of the organization’s most productive regional centers over the past thirty-five years. Oil could open any door. It had changed the face of the Middle East and ushered in a new era of influence that exceeded their wildest dreams. It had helped them amass incredible capital. After decades of being wasted by lecherous sheikhs, it was finally being funneled to wise men of faith who would advance the cause instead of being squandered.

He shifted his attention back to the screen. He should have at least had a scouting report back by now. His fingers began flying over the keyboard. He wanted an update.
Eternal vigilance is the price of power
, he reminded himself. The rationalist infidel, the American president, Thomas Jefferson, had said it was the price of freedom, but that could never be as gratifying, as exhilarating, and as addicting as power.
Let the Americans dream of freedom; it will do them no good when we have the power.
He hit return and leaned back in his chair to wait.

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L
ONDON
  
On the other side of the Thames, Salih’s cell phone buzzed again. He flipped it open. Not in attendance. The message was relayed immediately as a comment on three different blogs.

Not at conference. IT has made no intercepts. Package probably on his person. F&F contact details secured. Estimated Time of Resolution—8 hours.

Ahmet got his message. He didn’t like it, but patience was the gift of Allah to the faithful.

CHAPTER
15

Ian spotted them sitting at the back of the pub in their private corner. Gwyn called it ‘face time’. She looked fresh and confident with her hair up in a bun. The tangerine sundress fit her personality—bright and sweet. Like her mother, she was cultured, demure and though she had an intelligence that bordered on genius, she did not aspire to make a name for herself. She was also the spitting image of her mother, with strawberry blond hair and blue-green eyes that sparkled like the sea one moment and shone like a cloudless day the next.

Like every father with young children, her brother Gilbert looked a bit ragged and tired. His red, white and blue Valentino Garavani tie hung loose around his neck. Ian looked instinctively at his son’s lapel. A US flag in the shape of the Twin Towers was still there.

“Daddy, you look wonderful. I’m so glad we were able to do this.”

Ian wrapped his arms around her neck. “You get prettier every time I see you, darling”

“Hi, Dad. Thanks for coming.”

“Glad I could make it, son. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

“Have we ordered?” Ian asked.

“No, of course not, Daddy. What are you hungry for?” asked Gwyn.

“I’ll just have the usual fish and chips I guess.”

“Vinegar not ketchup?”

“Of course.”

“Gilbert, what do you want?”

“I’m really not that hungry to be honest.”

“Come on, you can’t just sit there and watch us eat. Daddy, what was that Turkish proverb we learned about that being bad luck or something?

“I don’t remember what you are talking about, dear.”

“Daddy, you of all people should remember.”

“I remember the trip. It was unforgettable. A fabulous six-day tour of Topkapi palace, the Basilica Cistern, Hagia Sophia, the Blue Mosque, the Grand Bazaar, the Hippodrome . . . , but I don’t remember any proverb.”

“Remember when I was sick and we stopped for lunch at one of those places that serve . . . Oh, what was it called? Almost like pizza, but with a Turkish twist.”

“
Pide
.”

“Oh, yes.
Pide
. Anyway, I was dreadfully sick to my stomach and didn’t want to eat anything, but Zeki made a big to-do over it, and I finally ended up having a lemonade just to appease him.”

“Well, I don’t remember exactly, but it was something like ‘All hell breaks loose if one eats and another watches.’”

It clearly hadn’t changed Gilbert’s feelings about dining with them.

“I know you mean well, Gwyn, but I think I may have an ulcer or something. I’d rather just have a cup of coffee so that I can finish my work on the plane.” A look of mock horror came over Gwyn’s face.

“An acidic cup of coffee is the worst thing you could have, Gilbert.”

Her look was earnest, like her mother’s, and he could tell there wasn’t going to be any arguing.

“You don’t feel well because you don’t eat well. Ginger does her best, but you have to do yours. Now, you find something healthy on that menu, no matter how small and eat it. If you go to sleep on the plane, that will be because you need it. Besides, who knows when we will be together again? Can you imagine one of the disciples telling Jesus at the Last Supper that he didn’t feel well, and passing on the bread and cup? Come on now. Let’s make a memory here!”