The Persona Protocol - By Andy McDermott Page 0,11
was no obvious escape route the arms dealer could have taken. Khattak checked behind the white van. Nobody there, or inside it. Frustrated, he hurried towards the Mercedes.
‘He’s coming towards me,’ Lak reported quietly. He pretended not to have registered the other man’s approach until Khattak rapped on the van’s side. ‘What?’
‘Did a man just run past you? A foreigner?’
Lak took the cigarette from his mouth. ‘Yes. I didn’t see where he went, though – I wasn’t really looking. That way, I think.’ He gestured vaguely over one shoulder.
Khattak scowled, then peered past him to check that his quarry was not hiding in the back of the van before jogging away. Lak watched him in the wing mirror. The terrorist crossed to the other side of the square to investigate the concrete stairs leading up the side of one building, but found the metal gate at their bottom locked. He spun in sheer exasperation, then took out his phone and continued down the narrow street.
‘He’s left the square,’ said Lak. ‘But I don’t think he’s going far.’
‘Watch him,’ Tony ordered. ‘If everything works here, we’ll be ready to move Syed in a few minutes. We can’t let this guy see us.’
‘Roger.’ Lak sat back, eyes still fixed on Khattak’s image in the mirror as the terrorist made a call.
4
Change of Mind
Adam and Tony followed Baxter’s team into the makeshift operations centre, the high-tech equipment incongruous against the peeling paint of what had once been the owner’s office. The former Marine clicked his fingers, and Syed was dumped on the floor.
‘Careful,’ chided Albion. ‘We can’t let him get too banged-up.’
‘The cover story’ll explain away a few bruises,’ said Tony with dark humour. ‘Are you ready?’
Albion nodded towards two metal cases, one large, one small. ‘I need to calculate the dose.’ He took out a notebook bound in black leather. ‘Mr Baxter, can you and your men help me weigh our friend, please?’
There was an electronic scale on the floor beside the cases. Baxter’s men hauled Syed to his feet – producing a groggy moan. Holly Jo gave him a worried look. ‘He’s waking up.’
‘Thought he’d be out for longer,’ said Tony.
Albion shook his head. ‘It won’t make any difference.’ Syed was manoeuvred on to the scale. He mumbled something, trying to move, only to find his limbs restrained. ‘Okay, let go for a moment, see if he can stand up on his own . . . excellent. One hundred sixty-four pounds.’ Albion noted the figure, then produced a tape measure and quickly ran it up Syed’s body. ‘And five feet ten inches. Just one more to get . . .’
He wound the tape around Syed’s head at forehead height, pulling it tight. The Pakistani’s eyes opened. Alarmed – and angry – he struggled against the ties, almost falling off the scales in the process.
Two of Baxter’s men grabbed him. ‘Okay, put him back down, please,’ said Albion. ‘Face-up, and hold him in place. I need to check his overall condition.’
Syed was lowered back to the floor, far from gently. ‘Americans!’ he croaked. ‘You – you bastards!’ A string of curses followed.
‘Yes, yes,’ said Albion, unconcerned. He knelt and shone a penlight torch over the prisoner’s face. ‘A bit scrambled from the shock, obviously, but the eyes look fairly clear, no broken blood vessels. Dark rims around them, but coloration looks healthy, so . . .’ He made more notes, muttering to himself. ‘Now, if I can just see your gums?’
‘I won’t give you anything, you shit-eating dog!’ Syed snarled.
Albion swept the spot of light over his mouth. ‘Thank you. I’d suggest a breath mint, but otherwise . . .’ More writing, then he stood. ‘All right, gentlemen, hold him there, please.’
Lak’s voice came through the team’s headsets. ‘Two more men are approaching me.’
Kyle looked up from his console. ‘Tony! The drone’s back. I’ve got eyes outside.’
Tony and Adam regarded the screens. ‘There’s Khattak,’ said Adam, spying a figure at the intersection. ‘And those are Umar and Marwat.’ The other two men jogged through the square. They passed Lak’s van to meet their comrade.
Tony’s face tightened. ‘We can’t move Syed if they’re hanging around.’
Albion snapped his notebook shut. ‘Okay, I’ve got the dosage.’
‘Do it,’ said Tony. ‘Adam?’
Adam found room alongside Syed in the limited floor space, lying down. The Pakistani glared at him. ‘Muhammad was right! You are not Toradze! You bastard, you shit! You son of a whore! I will cut off your balls and feed them to you!’