The Panic Zone Part 26

"Stinson told you of security breaches in Brazil, Dar es Salaam and other places," General Dimitri said.

"It's your job to take care of them," Sutsoff said.

"We have, but the longer this takes, the greater our vulnerability."

Goran the trafficker scowled at Sutsoff. "I don't like what I'm hearing, Doctor. My people don't like it. We want results now!"

"I've told you, the prototype's been launched," she said. "Watch for news reports. Watch how they'll scramble. Every indication points to a successful outcome. All that remains is for me to obtain the key component to strengthen our formula, then initiate the last stages to activation. I leave tomorrow to personally oversee the final part of the operation."

"You haven't told us what the ultimate target is," the general said.

"The Human World Conference in New York City."

"That's just over a week away. Will you be ready?" Downey asked.

"Yes," Sutsoff said. "That's when E.D. will demonstrate its power to reshape human destiny. The return on your investment will exceed anything you could ever imagine."

Goran smiled.

"Now, Drake, if you will." Sutsoff nodded and Stinson began removing the cork from a dark bottle and pouring its contents into six gla.s.ses. "My apologies to our host for violating local custom with this wine, but I picked up a lovely red in Paris and I believe we must toast destiny."

Jehaimi checked his cell phone then excused himself from the room, making Sutsoff curious as to why he was leaving just as all the men joined her in raising their gla.s.ses. Each of them drank; however, Sutsoff's gla.s.s held wine from a different bottle.

As each of the men swallowed his wine, Sutsoff smiled.

"Now, if you'll allow me to say good evening, I'd like to head back to my hotel. I have an early flight."

Sutsoff had started down the corridor but was halted by the sound of footfalls of several people approaching. It appeared to be an entourage. Jehaimi was among them, walking beside a large man in a white suit. "Doctor," Jehaimi said, "allow me to introduce Shokri Kusa, senior science advisor to the colonel, he flew up from Tripoli."

"I was in Surt, actually." Kusa's bored eyes fell on her. "Jehaimi speaks highly of you." Sutsoff had been promised privacy. She shot Jehaimi a look of betrayal as Kusa continued. "I've been on the phone to the colonel telling him about your research. He'd like to meet you and invites you to be his dinner guest in Surt tomorrow."

Sutsoff stretched her neck to see something behind Kusa, beyond his entourage. Her attention was drawn to a man in his late twenties wearing a wrinkled navy suit. He had his eyes fixed on them from far across the hall, watching as Stinson and the others exited the meeting room to join them. The man in the suit aimed something at them, then hurried off.

"Sorry, that man there--" Sutsoff said "--he took our picture!" Kusa, Jehaimi and Stinson looked to where she was pointing. "The young man in the blue suit heading down the hall! Ibrahim, do you see him?"

Jehaimi shouted something to two university security guards among the entourage who spoke into their walkie-talkies.

"Drake," Sutsoff said into his ear, "do something!"

"I'm on it. We've got our people here." Stinson fished into his pocket for his cell phone. "Clay? Yes, did you see that? White male, late twenties, dark blue suit. He was headed to the west doors."

"Excuse me, everyone, but I must leave," Sutsoff said. "I have an early flight in the morning. Ibrahim, thank you. Mr. Kusa, please pa.s.s my regrets to the colonel. I have to decline the honor. I have pressing matters I must take care of. Ibrahim, can you show me another exit and have my driver meet me there now?"

"By all means. I don't know how this happened."

Sutsoff leaned to Stinson's ear.

"Find that f.u.c.ker and deal with him, Drake."

35.

Benghazi, Libya.

Adam Corley knew he was being followed.

Voices echoed behind him as he headed down an empty hall and into an elevator, relieved he was alone.

Six floors to the lobby and the exit--he had to work fast.

He turned on his camera to check the images he'd captured of Drake Stinson, ex-CIA, and Dr. Auden, the scientist, along with other players.

Jesus, it was true. This was huge.

The information Corley's group had received from their friends in Rio de Janeiro and the Bahamas was dead on. It was another critical piece that brought them closer to putting this file together.

He had to alert headquarters.

He stopped the elevator on the third floor, stepped into an empty cla.s.sroom and pressed his director's cell phone number, praying that the call would work. After several moments of static, the line crackled and his call was answered in London.

"Pritchett."

"Oliver, it's Corley in Benghazi."

"How did it go?"

"Fantastic." Corley heard the distant slam of doors, voices. "I don't have much time. I'll back things up the usual way."

"Can you give me a quick summary?"

"Our Brazilian links are definitely tied to other tentacles of the trafficking ring. Our university source here pa.s.sed me tons of new data out of Tanzania, the U.S., everywhere. It's incredible. I've got too much to send you now. I'll go through it and send you my report when I get to Rabat."

Corley heard voices getting nearer and hurried his call.

"Oliver, children are being stolen around the world, but there's a rumor that it's all linked to--"

Corley stopped.

"I have to go. I'll start writing my report on the plane. I'll probably need a new cell phone and camera after this."

"Good work, Adam, be careful."

Corley dropped the phone, ground it to pieces, scooped them up and returned to the hall and elevator.

Voices called to him but he got back on the elevator, quickly dropping the fragments of his cell phone down the shaft through the small gap in the floor. As the car descended to the main lobby he double-checked his digital camera then adjusted his tie.

The doors opened to several grim-faced men in suits. One of the men had a small scar on his cheek and confronted Corley in Arabic.

"Excuse me, sir, did you just come from upstairs?"

"Yes," Corley said.

"Your identification, please?"

Corley handed him his cards and pa.s.sport.

The men pa.s.sed them to each other. Some of them took notes, while others spoke quietly into cell phones and radios.

"You were born in Dublin, Ireland, and reside in Morocco. What is your business there and here in Benghazi, sir?"

"I'm an international student at Mohammed V University in Rabat. I'm a doctoral candidate, completing my PhD. I was invited by professors here at the university to attend the Clean Water Symposium."

Corley tapped a folded letter of invitation tucked in his pa.s.sport. The other men who were still scrutinizing his identification and talking into their cell phones eyed Corley coldly.

"We have reports that a man matching your description took unauthorized photographs," said the man with the scarred cheek.

"Yes. It was me. I was unaware of any restrictions."

"It is a serious matter."

"Look, what I did is harmless. I have a small internal newsletter for international students studying global warming. I was taking photos for it."

"Whose photo?"

"I saw an entourage and thought that it was the colonel."

"May we see your camera?"

Corley pa.s.sed it to the man, who asked him to display the pictures. Corley clicked through them.

"We'll have to confiscate your camera."

"Confiscate it? Are you joking? That camera was a gift."

"We are keeping it, sir. Do you have a cell or mobile phone?"

"No."

"Then you don't mind if we search you?"

"Search me?" Corley hoped he conveyed the right amount of indignation. "This is outrageous."

"Sir, may we have your jacket?"

Corley scowled and slid it off.

He watched them place his personal items on a desk--keys, hotel key card, cash, air ticket back to Morocco. They looked through his wallet at everything, checking and double-checking, as others patted him down.

"This is insulting. I'm going to write to the secretary, the ministry of education and call my emba.s.sy."

When the security men were satisfied, they allowed Corley to collect his items and leave, but without his camera. He inhaled deeply as he stepped into the clear evening air, catching breezes rolling in from the Mediterranean Sea.

He hailed a taxi, trying to focus on getting the h.e.l.l out of Libya and getting all of his new information to London. He needed to check out of his hotel and get to the airport. He had a long flight across the top of Africa. He'd start writing his full report on the plane.

Christ, it was true. This was huge.

Children were being stolen around the world by a global trafficking ring and he had more information and now pictures of the key players. Corley inspected the back of his tie, checking the tiny memory card, the backup he'd affixed to his tie clip.

It was all there.

He was free and clear, he thought, as the lights of Benghazi flowed by.

36.

Los Angeles, California.

Emma Lane looked at the woman in the mirror.

She stared into her red-rimmed eyes, at the tiny ridges on her cheeks and hair that needed to be brushed.

Was she crazy for what she was about to do?

Emma searched her room. She was in the same hotel that she and Joe had used when they came to the fertility clinic two years ago, after making the biggest decision of their lives.

She was terrified then.

"Why are you afraid?" Joe had asked her.

"What if it doesn't work? What if we never have a baby?"

"It's going to work out."

He took her in his arms and her fear melted because she believed him.

It was going to work out. It had to work out.

And it did.