The Aisha Prophecy (19 page)

“Never mind that shit,” said Haskell. “So they do want this money.”

“Charles, let’s hear the rest of it,” said the mogul.

The banker told them, “This is where the prince fell apart. He starts wailing, ‘I am dead; they will kill me; I am dead,’ referring to the Saudis, not the angel. It’s when he turned and ran out of the room. It’s when he ran into the official from Hamas, who, I told you, had turned up outside and…”

Haskell said, “No, stay with this. Future tense?”

“The ‘she will begin’ part?”

“Yes. Does that mean they haven’t yet?”

“It doesn’t seem as though they have, but they might as well have. We tried to get into a few of these accounts by entering their numbers and their access codes. Each time, the computer said the entry was invalid. My technician fooled with it for another twenty minutes before another instant message appeared.” He tapped the key. “I guess they did take a quick break for breakfast.”

The message read:

WE ARE BACK NOW.

HOW DO YOU LIKE YOUR EGGS?

WE DON’T THINK THAT YOU LIKE THEM SCRAMBLED.

Haskell said, “Scrambled eggs again. What the hell does that mean?”

“It’s their little joke. They mean nest eggs,” said the banker. “They’ve scrambled all the numbers and codes in each of the three remaining columns. The account numbers, codes and the current cash balances are no longer in sequence; they’re scrambled.”

“Can’t they be reconstructed?”

“Perhaps. Over time. By trial and error. But it wouldn’t do us any good. Each access code consists of six digits and letters plus another code, a four-digit suffix. The suffix identifies the specific off-shore bank of which, as you know, there are hundreds. They’ve deleted the suffix that shows where the money is. Without that suffix, we have nothing to go on.”

Haskell still wasn’t sure that he understood. “Say I’ve banked fifty million on Grand Cayman or wherever. I know my account number. I know my access code. Why can’t I get at my own money?”

“Because you don’t know that your money’s in Grand Cayman. It could be, as I’ve said, in one of hundreds of banks, laundered and relaundered through a half dozen others. The Saudi or Saudis who first organized the skim, had set the system up in this way to make sure that no one can bail out prematurely. If discovered, that could ruin it for everyone else. Take my word; you’d have to go through this system.”

“Except now I can’t.”

“I don’t see how,” said the banker, “but these ‘handmaidens’ can. The only unscrambled list in existence is now on the disk that Rasha made before she ran. But I still don’t think it’s Rasha who’s doing this.”

“Kessler,” muttered Haskell.

“Oh, please,” said the mogul. “It not even the work of an adult.”

“Because it sounds adolescent? That can be faked.”

“Yes, it can,” said the mogul, “but why would he bother? To mislead? He wouldn’t have to. None of this would point to him. He’s never had any truck with the Saudis.”

“Except through the Nasreens. A lot of them are Saudi women.”

“Not them either,” said the mogul. “From what I’ve heard, Leland’s right. This sort of thing is not at all like them.”

“Which reminds me,” said the banker, “is he going to help? I know that he made a call Sunday night. I saw him talking on a cell phone outside the gate as the prince and I drove out past him.”

Haskell’s eyes turned hard. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

The mogul said to the banker, “I met with him this morning. That call was to Elizabeth Stride. She’s agreed to track down that disk for him.”

“Uh-huh,” said Haskell. “He told me the same thing. But he lied. He only spoke to Roger Clew.”

The mogul was startled. He asked, “How could you know that?”

“As you’ve said, we all have our little birds.”

“You have someone at State?”

“I have someone almost everywhere.”

The mogul said, “Let me try another way. Is this someone who knows that Stride is unreachable?”

“She’s entirely reachable. I know where she is.”

“I leap to the conclusion that you have someone there. For this purpose, or to peep? Which is it, Charles?”

“If I were you, I’d be careful,” said Haskell.

The banker could see that a raw nerve was touched. He asked both men, “Who’s Elizabeth Stride?”

“Lovely woman. An angel,” said the mogul.

“Anyway,” said Haskell, “She’s not doing this. This handmaiden crap isn’t like her at all. She doesn’t play games. It’s not her.”

The banker said to the mogul, “Who the devil is this woman? Will someone please explain…”

The mogul touched the banker’s leg with his racquet, a signal that he’d best drop the subject. His eyes fell to the laptop. They narrowed. “I’d like a few moments to study these, please. My sixth sense says there’s something we’re missing.”

He took the laptop from the banker and exchanged his racquet for it. He walked with it to the farthest end of the dock. He placed the laptop on a table that was meant for cleaning fish. He stood, fingers drumming, deep in thought.

“His sixth sense?” asked the banker.

“He thinks he has the gift. Let him have his psychic moment. Now, what happened with this rag-head from Hamas?”

“Don’t dismiss him with that term. As it happened, he was dressed in a business suit and tie. He looks more European than Arab.”

“Whatever.”

“His name is Rajib Sadik. Ever heard of him?”

“No.”

“One of their top fund-raisers. No fanatic. Well respected. He’s a doctor, educated, I believe, in western Europe. Beyond that, we don’t know much about him. The story is that he gave up a lucrative practice to return to his roots and help to build a new country. I’m telling you this to help you understand why the prince would spill his guts to the man.”

Haskell closed his eyes. “How much did he tell him?”

“Too much,” said the banker, “but he put his own spin on it. It’s all the Nasreens. They kidnapped his daughter. First they forced her to copy those files by threatening to assassinate him if she didn’t. She agreed, so great was her love for him. But she scrambled them first so that they couldn’t use them. She realized that nobody else could either, but she intended to restore them as soon as she got out. The Nasreens, however, found out what she’d done and have tortured her to get her to fix them. She refused and bravely went to her death. Ergo, the money is safe for now. Access to it will soon be restored.”

“Sadik knows it’s ten billion?”

“He didn’t. He does now. And that most of it’s been stolen. He knows that charities don’t use numbered accounts unless someone doesn’t want them to be audited.”

“What about the Nasreens? Was he buying that story?”

“Of course not,” said the banker. “It was clearly absurd. His own account was accessible until three days ago. The prince’s daughter’s been gone for three months. And he knows the Nasreens. He knows they’d do no such thing. Incidentally, he knew that they’d got Rasha out. The prince had tried to enlist Hamas, among others, to find her and capture her or kill her.”

“Why Hamas?”

“Because Hamas has supporters wherever there are Arabs. There are Arab communities all over western Europe and all over the United States as well. All the same, Sadik refused him. He knew why she ran. Still, he might have tracked her down if he’d known about the disk. But, back then, the prince didn’t dare tell a soul that his daughter had copied those files.”

“Then why, God damn it, did that schmuck tell him now?”

“He didn’t have much choice. Here’s this foreigner, me, playing with this computer at Saudi Overseas Charities. The prince proceeded to explain what I was doing there. He told Sadik that I, too, am a banker and that I, along with other men of great wealth are such friends of the prince that we rushed to his aid. And you, by the way, are his best friend.”

“He named me?”

“Oh, yes,” said the banker. “And he didn’t stop there. He claimed that Howard Leland is an ally in this matter and so, therefore, is your government. Even better, so is The Bohemian Club of which the prince claimed to be a member. He told Sadik that we’d just flown in from the Grove, dispatched to either restore these accounts or cover any losses ourselves. He told Sadik that we’ll now fly back to the Grove where you and Leland are awaiting our report.”

“We’d cover their losses?”

“I amended that. Not those of the thieves. I said those of the legitimate charities. I thought he’d buy that more easily, but he didn’t. I said we’d begin with his own two million. Charles, I think we’d be wise to let him have it.”

Haskell raised a hand. He said, “Not so fast. Had Sadik ever heard of the Bohemian Club?”

“Charles, he’s no hick. He’s a cultivated man. He asked the prince whether we still sacrifice babies and dispose of dead whores in the lake.”

“No hick, but he believes that?”

“Oh, he wasn’t serious. He was needling the prince. Sadik would know that those stories are nonsense. He also knew that there was no way in hell that the prince would be considered for membership. But regardless, yes, he’s quite aware that it exists. He’s also heard of you and, of course, Trans-Global Oil. And he certainly knows who Howard Leland is.”

“Wait a minute,” said Haskell. “Those two were outside. How could you know what they were saying?”

“Because Sadik pushed past him. He came into the office. He’s no dummy; he wanted to see for himself and he wanted to hear it from me. While the prince was standing there wetting his pants, he repeated all that the prince had just told him. However, I was obviously less than prepared. The girl’s death by torture was news to me. Sadik could see that on my face.”

“And then?”

“He gave the prince a look. The look, I thought, said, ‘You’re right. You’re a dead man.’ He turned to me and said, ‘Men like you don’t have friends. Men like you have only accomplices.” I swore up and down that we weren’t there to steal, that we really only wanted the names. Sadik understands blackmail, so that he believed. More than believed, I think he approved. He said, “They deserve that and more.”

Haskell raised an eyebrow. “So you think this guy’s straight?”

“I do. He’s Hamas. They’re not like the PLO. Hamas doesn’t tolerate corruption.”

“Go on.”

“I said that some of what the prince told him was true. I said whether the daughter is dead or alive, somebody, somewhere, got hold of that disk and we’re trying to track down who is doing this. He said, ‘Show me these messages.’ So I did.”

“Because?”

“The prince had described them. How could I not? All Sadik had to do was pick up the phone and have Saudi Security drag us off to a cell. But Sadik seemed more interested in the messages themselves. He, too, thought the language didn’t sound like the daughter.”

“He’d met her?” asked Haskell.

“There at the office. This was not his first visit. Anyway, he then sat down at the keyboard and read through that series of messages. He cleared the screen and brought up the search engine. After turning the monitor so that we couldn’t see it, he typed in a code and sat reading what came up. He said, ‘Same three words. Wherever we look. She seems to be coming to a great many places. Everywhere there are Muslims. Not just Iran. But the Saudis seem to have first priority.’”

Haskell didn’t understand. “Now he’s sharing this with you?”

“Not really,” said the banker. “More like thinking out loud. He hit a few more keys. What came up made him smile. He shook his head and muttered, ‘Bad girls.’”

“Meaning what?” asked Haskell. “He knows who is doing this?”

“I asked. He ignored me. But I had that impression. I think he’d just realized who might be behind it. Not just Rasha. Bad girls. He used the plural.”

“The plural,” said Haskell. “So what? So would I. Handmaidens is a pretty good clue.”

The banker’s chin came up. “Would you rather not hear this?”

“Keep talking. What happened next?”

“I’m telling you that something had clicked in his head. From that moment, he showed no further interest in us. Whatever he was thinking, he put it aside. He asked, ‘When all these Saudis come looking for their money, will they see this series of messages?’ I said, ‘No, it’s off line now, but when they try, I think they’ll probably still get She is coming.” Then that smile again. He said, ‘So will they be.’”

“Meaning?”

“My impression? He meant that they won’t sit and wait. They’ll move heaven and to track down those behind this. Sadik is fully aware of that prophecy. You should read it. Here’s a copy. There’s some interesting wording.”

Haskell took it. He said, “Later.” He asked, “How was this left?”

“I don’t think you’ve quite grasped the point of his remark. It won’t be just us who’ll be hunting down that disk. Nor will it be only the disk that they’re hunting. They’ll be hunting down the source of the prophecy, Charles. The source seems to be one and the same.”

It damned well is, thought Haskell, and that source is Kessler. Score one for his hackers. Those three words. They were right. Three words beamed from Belle Haven to the whole Muslim world. He said, “So we’re now in a race.”