Dangerous Alliance, page 34
“Thank you, Miss—”
“You may call me Rikon.”
Jung Gi and the boys shook her hand before strapping into empty seats. When Rikon walked by, the edge of a seat caught her jacket, lifting the edge above her waist.
Soo noticed the holster clipped to Rikon’s belt. Why is she armed? Is this something else to worry about?
***
Four days later, three black Chevy Suburbans rolled along I-495 toward the Queens Midtown Tunnel. Red and blue grill lights flashing, the convoy was a familiar sight, moving dignitaries to and from events at the United Nations Headquarters.
Exiting the tunnel, the vehicles continued into Manhattan, looping through several streets before turning left onto First Avenue. The convoy slowed as it entered United Nations Plaza, turning right, and stopping in front of the Secretariat Building.
AJ Lynn keyed her Covert-In-Plain-Sight communications device. “Security Team One—check forward perimeter.” Responsible for the continued safety of her principal, she performed her duties with utmost dedication.
Two men jumped from the first Suburban and scanned the area. Moments later, one of them responded. “Clear.”
“Security Team Two—check rear perimeter.”
After the second team reported, AJ turned to the principal. “Are you ready, sir? We’ll take you inside to a waiting area near the Security Council chambers.”
Dressed in a suit underneath his body armor, Tahliil nodded. “I’m ready. What happens now?”
“I’ll remain in the waiting room with you until you’re called in front of representatives of the five permanent members on the Security Council. When you’re finished, we’ll return you to the safe-house.”
“I see. Will they allow me to speak?” Tahliil rubbed the deep worry lines on his forehead.
“Yes. They’ll also have questions, I’m sure.”
The security teams repeated their ‘all clear’ message to AJ. “Affirmative. Moving now.”
She stepped out of the vehicle and assisted Tahliil. They hurried toward the entrance, the security teams closing in on them.
Tahliil stumbled.
Blam!
The sound of a shot followed Tahliil’s collapse. AJ grabbed an arm and yanked him forward, two of her men assisting. The others scoured the nearby buildings, searching for a position where a shooter might be hiding.
Once inside the building and away from any windows, AJ paused to examine Tahliil.
“No sign of entry or exit wounds. Are you able to speak?”
Tahliil inhaled and let the air out in measured breaths. “I’m fine—a bit winded from the dash into the building. My foot caught on a broken piece of pavement, causing me to stumble.”
He grinned at AJ’s concerned expression. “Don’t worry, my dear. I know the difference between the sound of a vehicle’s backfire and someone shooting at me. I’m fine.”
AJ nodded. “Okay, if you’re positive you’re alright. We’ll proceed to the waiting room.”
***
Scheduled to arrive at the UN fifteen minutes later, a different three-vehicle convoy rolled into the Holland Tunnel. Once the black Suburbans left the tunnel, they weaved their way to the Secretariat Building.
Rikon assisted Ambassador Soo out of the middle vehicle. Her men converged on them in a diamond formation and they dashed toward the entrance.
A smooth transition, Rikon breathed a sigh of relief when she had the ambassador secured in a separate waiting area outside the Security Council chambers. I’m getting too old for this escort duty. Time to find something else.
“Ambassador, we’ll wait here for your appearance in front of the council members. Do you require anything?”
“No, thank you. How long must I wait?”
“Until someone comes for you. I’ll remain here until you’re called, and I’ll be here for your return.”
Soo nodded but remained silent, his hands clasped together as if he were praying.
***
Someone entered the waiting room from the chambers and beckoned for Tahliil to follow. He stood and glanced at AJ, half-expecting her to join him.
AJ shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Wardi. I’m not allowed inside the chamber.” She reached out and touched his arm. “Good luck.”
Inside the room, four men and a woman stared at him. A task force representing the Security Council’s permanent members—Russia, China, France, United Kingdom, and the United States—remained silent until he took a chair facing them.
The female representative from the United States was the first to speak. “Mr. uh, Wardi. Tahliil Wardi. Is this correct?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You are here before us to explain your role in North Korea’s weapons for oil campaign. I understand, acting under the aegis of al-Shabaab—a known terrorist group, you controlled a number of pirates.”
Tahliil shrugged. “Some call it a terrorist group while others refer to them as freedom fighters.”
“Hmmm. Men under your control seized cargo ships for ransom and switched to oil tankers for the sole purpose of obtaining weapons from North Korea.”
“Yes, it appears so. But the pirates didn’t take orders from me—I made suggestions as part of a three-person ruling council. As you will have read in my written deposition, my true intent was to disrupt al-Shabaab and remove its evil influence from my beloved country. I further wanted to claim my rightful place in Somalia’s government.”
“I see. No further questions from me at the moment. I’ll allow my fellow representatives to speak.” She glared at Tahliil. “I will ask more questions later.”
***
Two hours later, the door to the waiting room opened. A tired-looking Tahliil entered.
AJ stood. “How did things go? You’ve been with them for hours.”
Tahliil shook his head. “I’m not sure. One or two appeared to understand my intentions. Another didn’t hear me at all—called me a terrorist.”
“You had your opportunity to speak, so try to put things behind you.” AJ picked up Tahliil’s body armor. “Time for the protective gear so I can take you home.”
***
Soo paced the waiting room, glancing at the wall clock from time to time. What’s taking so long? I’ve been here for hours.
“Ambassador Soo?” A young man held the door open to the room. “Sorry for the delay. The council is ready for you. Would you please come this way?”
Soo entered the council chambers and walked with measured steps to a chair facing the members. Once he sat, he smiled—no one returned the gesture.
“Ambassador Soo.” The Chinese representative spoke first. “You are in front of this esteemed group to explain North Korea’s attempt to trade weapons for oil.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is it not true you were the architect of this program?”
Soo rubbed his chin, weighing his words. “Yes, I created the weapons for oil program to circumvent existing sanctions against my country. But there are mitigating circumstances.”
Five unsmiling faces glared at Soo. The Chinese representative continued. “What mitigating circumstances?”
“None of our allies would assist us.” Soo stared at the Russian envoy before turning his gaze on the speaker. “Not even Russia and China. Despite my most desperate pleas, not a single country would help.”
“I’m sure the Russian representative would agree when I say the UN sanctions prohibited us from helping you. Anything else to say in your defense?”
“Yes. Wook, our Supreme Leader—how I detest his grandiose name—held my wife and children hostage. He threatened to put my wife—his sister—in a prison camp to serve as a prostitute if I did not find an oil source. Who knows what he planned for my sons?”
The Chinese delegate’s expression appeared to soften after hearing Soo’s words. “Please explain to us everything regarding this program.”
Three hours later, the burden of his actions lifted, Soo returned to the waiting room. He smiled at his escort.
Rikon stood and returned the smile. “Well, Ambassador, you spent some time with them. I hope it works out for you.”
“Thank you, Rikon. I feel a heavy weight has been removed from my conscience. May I be with my family now?”
“Yes. Once you have your body armor on, we’ll return to the vehicles and back to your family.”
***
After a heated debate behind closed doors, the Security Council released a statement.
The five permanent members of the United Nations Security Council, having heard testimony from a high-level North Korean defector, have approved by unanimous decision, further tightening of sanctions. North Korea’s attempts to bypass existing sanctions to obtain oil through the hijacking by Somali pirates in exchange for weapons cannot be ignored. The new sanctions will be released in a few days.
Given the wanton disregard for human life by the Somali pirates and al-Shabaab, new measures, including the potential use of UN peacekeeping forces, will also be announced.
In a separate matter, the Council encourages the Somali government in the strongest terms to return all property of the Wardi family seized by unlawful means and return them to Mr. Tahliil Wardi. The Council also requests new presidential elections be called within ninety days, with Mr. Wardi being considered a viable candidate, should he wish to pursue what was taken from his father in the cruelest manner.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Bedlam Headquarters
Whitehall, London, England
An overcast sky threatened to unleash a downpour on London’s visitors. A light drizzle turned into a torrent as people on the sidewalks huddled beneath umbrellas. They dodged water spraying from tires of passing traffic. Two black cabs weaved their way through Whitehall until they reached the Old War Office Building.
Three men exited each taxi, dashing through the cold deluge toward a side door. An armed Ministry of Defence police officer motioned for their identification. After confirming the group’s identity and their authorization to access the building, he nodded to another official who flicked a switch. “Room eleven, gentlemen—they’re waiting for you.”
Motion detectors controlled the downlighters as the group strolled along the hallway, stopping at room eleven. The shortest one twisted the knob and pushed the door open, allowing the others to enter first.
“Welcome home.” Sir Alex stood and shook each man’s hand in a two-handed grasp. Evelyn followed with a hug and gave each man a peck on the cheek.
After everyone took a seat, Sir Alex began. “A rough assignment—bad enough with a single complex mission but compounded with Prince George’s abduction. Well done to all.”
The expanded team and Evelyn nodded.
“Of course, we required a bit of extra assistance—Willie for one. While Bedlam Alpha deployed to Brize Norton, their services weren’t needed in an operational role. We put their time to good use, however, when they participated in some joint training.
“Alf, while you misplaced your charge—”
The room erupted with laughter. Alf’s face turned red, and he scooted down in his chair, a hand over his eyes.
“I started to say, despite misplacing your charge, your performance in assisting with Prince George’s rescue was outstanding.”
“Thank you, Sir Alex.” Alf’s flush faded as everyone applauded.
“Now, Evelyn, my dear. What will become of you since you’ve ‘retired’ from MI6? Any ideas?”
“I’m sure something will pop up, Sir Alex.”
“You are to be commended for your efforts in working with Tahliil and Jamiila over the years. Now that you’ve escorted them from Nairobi to MI-6 Headquarters for a debriefing, we need to find something challenging for you.”
Sir Alex glanced at his hand-written notes. “There are a few more details to cover. First, thanks to everyone present, Bedlam Bravo smashed the North Korean plot to use Somali pirates to hijack oil tankers in exchange for weapons. The al-Shabaab terrorist group’s grip on Somalia has loosened, but they still control much of the country.
“By the way, Royal Marines raided the pirate camp near Ras Hafun. Engineer Smith is safe, and they recovered the body of Patterson, the young seaman, which will be returned for a proper burial. They also freed fifteen crew members who were captured when the pirates seized a freighter over a year ago.”
Trevor tapped on the table. “Hear, hear.”
“With testimony from Ambassador Soo and Mr. Wardi in front of the UN Security Council’s task force, we must hope for a peaceful resolution in Somalia and an end to the terrible North Korean regime. However, I suspect these issues will remain for some time.”
“What happened to Major Kim and Mi-Cha?” Trevor asked.
“The last information we received indicated they were back in Seoul.” Sir Alex rose and walked to the end of the conference table. “This brings me to Prince George. While I recognize Alf’s work in his recovery, there’s no doubt in my mind—”
A polite tap and the door opposite Sir Alex swung into the room. Alice, his personal assistant, appeared.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but you have an important visitor. I didn’t think I should turn him away.”
Alice stepped away, replaced by a tall man with red hair. Everyone jumped to their feet.
“Please sit down.” Prince George, dressed in tan chinos and a blue polo shirt, entered the room. “I wanted to stop by and pass along my personal thanks. If I didn’t, Granny would remind me to do so.”
Everyone chuckled as the prince worked his way around the table, shaking each person’s hand. Once he finished, he sat in the chair vacated earlier by Sir Alex.
“This is a splendid team and shows how international cooperation can overcome impossible odds.” Prince George’s face lit up. “This will be in the papers I’m sure, but Granny took quite a shine to Miss Stefani. We ate lunch together yesterday.”
“Well done, Your Highness.” Sir Alex doffed an imaginary hat in the prince’s direction.
“Yes, well, things will follow their own course.” Prince George stood. “I must be getting back—plenty of things to finish.”
“Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule.” Sir Alex waved to encompass the room. “We will always remember this moment.”
After Prince George departed, Sir Alex addressed the others. “One more item for the group.” He gazed at each member in turn. “You are aware we’re organizing a third Bedlam group, which will be under the guidance of Harris Robertson, the Australian National Security Advisor. Bedlam Charlie will be based in Canberra.
“I coordinated with Admiral Blakely and Mr. Robertson—both are in agreement with my announcement.” He turned to Alf. “We want to offer you a position on the new team.”
The others applauded and left their seats to slap Alf on the back.
“Are you willing to leave Prince George and help forge the newest Bedlam operational team? By the way, the prince supports this offer.”
“Yes, Sir Alex.” Alf’s eyes shone, whether from excitement or tears, no one knew. “I accept.”
Gerhard grabbed Alf in a bear hug and lifted him off the floor. “Ag, man. From the first moment we met, I knew you belonged with us.”
“Many thanks, Gerhard—I think. Now, put me down.”
After the hubbub died away, Sir Alex stepped to Evelyn’s side. “My dear cousin, since you’re without a job, we want you to be Charlie’s team leader.”
“Oh, Alex—I mean, Sir Alex. Of course, I accept.”
The applause began again, louder than before. Alice reappeared, this time carrying a tray with various liquors and shot glasses.
Several toasts later, Sir Alex pulled Trevor aside. “Before you go, the accountants have been hounding me over a voucher from your stay in Mombasa. Would you please pop into their office and explain why you required a suite?” Sir Alex laughed. “I’m sure they’ll accept your explanation.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
London, England
New Homes, New Beginnings
A man dressed in a blue Savile Row suit, blue shirt, and white tie strolled into the Gaucho Grill in London’s Canary Wharf area, accompanied by two children. Escorted to his favorite table, he sat and opened his newspaper while the children colored the paper mats placed in front of them.
“Excuse me, Mr. Wardi. Would you prefer your normal breakfast today or would you like to peruse the menu? What about the children?”
Tahliil smiled at the young Somali waiter. “Our usual, if you please.”
“Thank you, sir. Here is your tea and two glasses of milk for your grandchildren.”
Tahliil nodded and returned to an article of particular interest.
The Somali government announced plans to dissolve today. New elections are expected to be held in four months’ time. The Somali Ambassador to the United Nations called for Mr. Tahliil Wardi to register his interest in campaigning during the election. The ambassador also stated he would endorse Mr. Wardi, should he run.
Tahliil smiled and closed the paper when their breakfast arrived. He buttered toast and cut sausage for his grandchildren. After eating, he paid his bill and left a generous tip for the waiter.
Once outside, they sauntered back to his two-bedroom apartment on Milligan Close in Canary Wharf. He tucked his grandchildren into the study and tuned the television to one of their favorite programs.
Tahliil headed toward the kitchen when the doorbell rang. Before he reached the foyer, the door opened.
“Hello, Father.” Jamiila glanced around the room. “Where are Abuukar and Bayda?”
“In the study learning from a children’s program.”
“Something educational, I hope?”
“Time for educational stuff later. They’re watching ‘Wile E. Coyote and the Road Runner.’”
Jamiila rolled her eyes. “Father, when did cartoons become educational?”
“After what they’ve been through, my dear, I don’t believe cartoons will hurt them.”
