Darins technicians had gathered secret intelligence about this private auction a few days ago. It had been one of many dirty dealings the Kadirs had been anticipating from their enemies. The Taj Zabbar were going back into the international black market to buy arms. According to Darins sources, the arms for sale at tonights auction would be more along the lines of weapons of mass destruction.
Judging by Petrovs background, the evenings prize would involve advanced technology. Either biological or nuclear.
Adjusting his earpiece, Tarik finished setting up and settled in to wait for the meeting to start. Crouching in the dark, he listened for anything important.
Tarik thought of Shakir, his middle brother, and of how he had recently destroyed an underground nuclear reactor plant in Zabbarán that had been designed by the Russians for the Taj Zabbar. The Kadir brothers had figured then it was only a matter of time before the Taj Zabbar tried to buy the nuclear capability they needed in the open market.
When the Kadirs had learned of tonights private auction, Tarik had gone to his old boss at the Department of Defense, trying to enlist the Americans help in gathering intel about the Taj Zabbar. Buying nuclear technology seemed a clear threat against the entire world rather than simple
revenge against old enemies. But the DOD had been reluctant to commit, saying their resources were thin at the moment.
Get me something tangible I can use to convince my superiors that this new third world nation of the Taj Zabbar is anywhere close to obtaining nuclear capabilities, General Wainwright had told him.
Tarik had tried to explain about the auction and had asked for help from his old unit in putting together a sting. Instead, when the general had turned him down flat, it had been a hard lesson in the futility inherent in a major bureaucracy.
One of the men in the room moved to the glass next to Tariks head and stared out toward the moonlit sea. Tarik held his breath and eased farther back in the shadows, quickly coming up with a name for the face. The man was one of the Nigerian terrorists his old unit had recently been trying to locate. Here in Monte Carlo and about to bid on weapons of mass destruction?
Wouldnt the DOD love to know about the Nigerians participation.
Tarik checked his equipment and made sure the video was being transmitted back to Darins computers. This Nigerian terrorist alone would have been worth his old bosss attention.
As Tarik sensed the auction was about to start, a rap came at the suites door. A heavyset man who looked a lot like the movie version of a Russian bodyguard went to answer.
Tariks pulse rate picked up again. This had to be the Taj Zabbar representative at last.
Instead of a Taj Zabbar agent, a thin man sporting a mustache and wearing a gray tuxedo waltzed into the room with three beautiful women on his arm. Tarik was stunned. Expensive call girls at a secret auction like this?
His gaze flicked to the Russian, whose expression had gone cold. But the man did not make a move to expel the newcomers. Instead he offered them all drinks. It was odd behavior. Tarik studied the new arrivals a little further. Something was not right.
One of the women laughed at the Russians greeting, the sound of her voice reverberating deep and erotic in her throat. Something about that laugh
He narrowed his eyes and looked closer, but she didnt look familiar. Her blond, pixie-cut hair was thick and shiny. Too shiny to be real. Her eyes were a violet color not often found in nature. Obviously the lady was trying to disguise herself and not doing it very well. But then, Tarik supposed, if he were a high-priced call girl, he might want to change his identity for each job, too.
He let his gaze rake down over her tight, compact body and the too-exposed expanses of exotic, tanned skin and felt a surprising thrill of recognition. Those curves had appeared in his dreams often enough.
What the hell ?
Another knock on the suites door grabbed everyones attention. When the new man and his entourage entered, Tarik sucked in a breath. Not only had the Taj Zabbar sent a representative to the auction, this one was none other than the Elder Nabil bin Khali Taj Zabbarthe general in charge of Taj Zabbar armed forces. With him was a bodyguard and another man Tarik believed to be the new head of Taj Zabbar secret police, Malik Kasim Taj Zabbar. The Taj Zabbar had sent their big guns.
CIA covert agent Jasmine OReilly worked hard not to fidget in her too-tight, scratchy dress while she surreptitiously checked out the men in the room as they greeted the newcomers. Who knew rhinestones could be this uncomfortable?
She was accustomed to wearing six-inch stilettos on special missions, but the flashy hooker-style dress was turning into more than shed bargained for. How did women wear all these spangles and zippers? The simple answer came to her before she finished the question. The dress was not meant to be worn for long.
Pulling her attention back to the targets, she catalogued what she knew of them. The most important man in the room to her was not the Russian mafia character and his cohorts whod called this meeting. No, with great glee she fixed her thoughts on the Nigerian terrorist shed been after for the past six months.