Texas Tango: A Flint Rock Novel (18 page)

“Tell me that everything has gone according to plan,” Bahaar said as soon as Jafe answered.
 

“Perfectly,” Jafe said.
 
“Of course I was not in their rooms with her, but Pagana enthusiastically told me that she enjoyed each of them.”

“And the meeting with Vatican bank officials is set for tonight?
 
What time and where?”
 
The phone was silent.
 
“Jafe are you there?” Bahaar said with a tone of apprehension.

“Oh yes, I am here—but I have not been informed about the meeting.
 
I assumed you were already told directly.
 
Is something wrong?”

At that instant, Father Ron walked into the hotel, saw Bahaar and moved toward him.
 

“I regret,” he said, “that the meeting must be postponed.
 
The head of the bank has been unexpectedly called away because of a death in his family.
 
And His Holiness has decided to take a personal interest, but he has no room on his calendar for several days.”

Father Ron was cordial and seemed genuinely sorry for the inconvenience.
 
Bahaar’s eyes glazed over as Father Ron took his leave while promising to stay in touch.
 
A threesome of men near the elevators stepped back from each other so that the one facing towards Bahaar was suddenly in clear view.
 
The man looking straight at Mo was Abdu Koreim.
 
No mistake about it.
 
He was dressed as he had been earlier at the airport.
 
The elevator doors opened, people stepped out and in.
 
Koreim was no longer visible.
 

Bahaar realized that his phone call to Jafe was still open.
 
He hung up feeling a profound rage.
 
The president of Pakistan would announce the next prime minister in less than two weeks.
 
Bahaar was the leading contender and in fact a shoo-in—but only if he could show convincingly that Pakistan had access to an abundant supply of oil that could not be blocked or diverted by any country.
 
Bahaar knew if he could secure a majority of stock in the state oil companies of Brazil and one or two other oil rich countries in Latin America, he would have no trouble in being named prime minister and vaulting Pakistan into world prominence.

Time was short.
 
His attempt a few weeks earlier to coerce the head of Venezuela’s government into a favorable agreement had been blocked by Bejing.
 
It was now critical that he have Davi’s shares of Petrobras.
 
If he could also gain a large block of Bolivian or Argentinian or Peruvian oil stocks, his coveted title as prime minister would happen.
 

It was Tuesday evening in Rome.
 
Bahaar had hoped to have a private phone call from the head of the Vatican bank to the president of Pakistan some time on the following day, Wednesday, or Thursday at the latest.
 
His plan was to have the Vatican bank store the actual stock certificates.
 
Now the phone call from the Vatican would not happen.
 
He would need to find some other place to keep the stock certificates secure.

Bahaar redialed Jafe’s mobile phone.
 
“Distribute the DVDs to Davi Ruiz, Arcana Inca del Sol, Catunta Amaru, and Juan Lucho Blanco.
 
Tell Jonathan to stand by to receive their calls.”

Jafe knocked on four doors, handed over a single DVD at each one with instructions to watch it immediately.
 
Each of Bahaar’s guests did as he was told and viewed a five minute video that showed Pagana having sex with a man whose face did not show.
 
The voice over explained that Pagana was dying of a highly contagious and fast acting sexually transmitted disease that she had passed on to each of them that very day.
 
The contagion had a fool-proof antidote which Jonathan Temple would make available if asked.
 
A mobile phone number appeared on the screen with advice to write it down immediately because the DVD would automatically garble and be unviewable forty-five seconds after it finished playing.

Three of the men dialed Temple’s cell number almost simultaneously.
 
Only one got through; the other two had to leave a message.
 
The fourth man, Juan Lucho Blanco, must have entered Temple’s number into his phone address book incorrectly because when he called, he got a message that the number was not in service.
 
So he told his phone to call Jafe’s number instead.
 
He had it in his phone’s memory because of getting instructions from Jafe about the trip.
 

When Jafe looked at his caller I.D., he first decided not to answer.
 
Then he thought he better find out what Blanco wanted.
 

“Jafe, what is the meaning of the stupid video that you gave me to watch?
 
I have talked with the Pagana woman but did not have sexual contact with her.
 
I do not need a cure.
 
I need to know what is happening.
 
You and your boss are dead unless I get a satisfactory explanation ahorita!
 
Right now!”

Jafe hung up, went from his room to the hotel lobby in search of Bahaar.
 
He looked everywhere but had no success.
 
His phone signaled again.
 
A text message from Temple said, “PENDEJO.
 
THE DEED WAS NOT DONE.
 
WHAT NOW?”

Jafe did not reply.
 
He knew that the plan was to convince the four men they had been exposed to highly contagious form of painfully lethal disease even though Pagana was not infected with anything.
 
Now that Pagana had played her part, or perhaps had not, she was a liability to Bahaar.
 
Jafe felt some affection for Pagana.
 
His head was spinning.

Jafe decided to barricade himself in his room, consider his next move.
 
However, Davi met him at the door to Jafe’s room, said nothing but hit him hard.
 
Davi removed Jafe’s Glock 19 from its shoulder holster, dragged him by his collar into Jafe’s fourth floor suite, hung him by his heels out of the window.
 
Blanco walked into the room with Temple whose arm Blanco had twisted behind Temple’s back in sharp pain.
 
Arcana and Catunta followed a minute later and closed the door behind them.
 
Arcana advised Davi to drop Jafe on his head to the ground four floors below.

Davi had dialed Temple’s number a few seconds faster than the others after watching the video.
 
He had gotten the full picture because Temple did not wait to learn that there had been no sex.
 
He began explaining that an injection was available that would stop the infection if given immediately.
 
The price was Davi’s signing over all his Petrobras shares to a corporation controlled by Mohammed Bahaar.
 
Temple had a legal document in his room waiting for Davi’s signature.
 
He said that the antidote injection was in his room as well.
 
Temple had not called Arcana or Catunta back because he was busy with Davi who had kicked in Temple’s door.
 
At that point Temple claimed that the disease curing injection was really in Jafe’s room.
 
That was what had brought Davi to Jafe’s door.
 

Jafe, dazed from the hard blow Davi had administered and seriously scared from hanging upside down out of the high window, was confused about whether only Davi and Blanco had not had sex with Pagana or whether none of the four had.
 
From his recent personal experience with Pagana, Jafe thought that she was probably a nymphomaniac.
 
He was therefore certain that Catunta and Arcana must have succumbed to her eager seductions.
 
He thought they might be willing to let him go in return for the antidote.
 
It was in his room, and he told them where as he begged for them to be lenient.
 
That was when Mohammed Abida Bahaar opened the door and found himself facing the muzzle of Jafe’s Glock in Catunta’s steady hand.

Bahaar turned to leave.
 
“I have diplomatic immunity,” he said.

“This pistol doesn’t care,” Catunta’s calm voice replied.
 
“One more step will kill you.”

Bahaar stopped.
 

Now the question was what to do with Jafe, Temple, and Bahaar.
 
Catunta pointed the Glock while Davi cut a length of strong cord from the drapery pull.
 
The three prisoners were made to sit on the floor back to back in a circle with hands behind their backs.
 
Using knots that were self-tightening if they were pulled on or struggled against, Davi tied each man’s left hand to the right hand of the man sitting to his left.
 
He tied their ankles tightly using the same kind of self-tightening knots with legs outstretched and feet wide apart.
 
Each prisoner’s left foot was tied close to the right foot of the person on his left—and vice versa for his other foot.
 

Arcana found handkerchiefs in Jafe’s and Bahaar’s pockets, stuffed them in their owners’ mouths to muffle any yelling.
 
He used a wash cloth for Temple’s gag.

Davi stepped to the suitcase in which Jafe said the injections were stored.
 
He saw five syringes already filled with solution.
 

“You know, Jonathan,” he said holding the box with all five syringes a foot from Temple’s eyes, “I believe our host had one of these for you.
 
Maybe they are not the cure for anything.
 
Maybe the injection is the real source of death.”

Juan Blanco said, “these three have spent time with Pagana.
 
She is said to be highly contagious.
 
Perhaps they caught a disease from her.
 
Let’s be kind and give them the antidote free of charge.”
 
He removed the plastic needle sheath from a syringe, injected Mo Bahaar with the full dose in his thigh.
 

“Don’t do that,” Jafe shouted.
 
“It will turn him into a vegetable.”
 
Arcana was injecting a full syringe into Jafe as he protested.
 
Temple got his from Davi.
 
Through his desperate rage, Mo looked at the door.
 
Abdu Koreim was leaning in, looking straight at Mo.
 

“Koreim.
 
You Bastard!” Mo screamed.
 
No one else saw anyone in the door.
 
Bahaar began to babble.
 
He lapsed into Urdu.
 
Then he switched back to English.
 
He confessed that the syringes contained a Russian developed psychotropic drug that had been used on some of their own top agents until it was found to cause progressive brain damage.
 
The Americans, Mo said, had a supply from Russia of a reversing agent which completely eliminated the drug’s effects if administered soon enough.

“The CIA has a supply of the reversing agent in Geneva,” Bahaar said in desperation.
 
“Let me go now and each of you gets half a billion dollars before I leave this hotel.”

“Anyone want to take his offer?” Blanco asked.
 
The other three were shaking their heads from side to side.
 
Blanco led the way out of the room.
 
Catunta closed the door, as he was the last one out.
 
He hung a “do not disturb” sign on the door handle.
 
The four men went to Davi’s room and held an impromptu conference.

Initially they agreed to forget the three bad boys and head for the airport to get back to Latin America as soon as possible.
 
Then Davi offered another thought.

“Bahaar went to trouble and expense to get control of our countries’ oil because he is greedy and also because he is politically ambitious.
 
He is likely to be named prime minister of Pakistan in a couple of weeks.
 
He covets our stock so he can control significant oil supplies.
 
If we leave those three tied up, they will be found by some maid within minutes or an hour or two.
 
Why don’t we set Jafe free in return for a full confession.
 
I have a small video camera that we can use to record it.”