Shadow Tyrants

FOURTEEN

Of the Nine Unknown, Xavier Carlton was the richest by far. All of them had private jets, but he was the only one with his own personal Airbus A380 wide-body airliner. His second one, actually. The first had disappeared eighteen months ago, never found by searchers except for a few pieces of wreckage that washed up in Oman and Yemen. The insurance company had been dragging its feet about the payout, but he didn’t need the money for its replacement. He could buy five more of the luxurious made-to-order planes without straining his bank account.

As the descendants of the original Nine who had been bestowed with the knowledge of propaganda, Carlton’s ancestors had invested in some of the most influential newspapers in Europe. With that wealth, his family had branched out into other types of media as radio, television, and then the internet came to dominate news and entertainment.

Now Unlimited News International was one of the most influential, wide-ranging media companies in the world. Still, that reach hadn’t helped Carlton definitively pin the sabotage on any of the other Nine.

The latest estimate for completing repairs to the Colossus 5 was one more week. The satellite dish had been totally destroyed, but Carlton found an identical one intended for an internet company in São Paulo and purchased it for three times the going price. It was now headed to the ship for its installation.

All of that would be good news for the meeting of the Nine set to take place in India the next morning, the first gathering in more than a year where they were all present. Carlton was on his plane, waiting on the Heathrow tarmac for the overnight flight to Mumbai. His guest for the voyage was supposed to arrive soon.

Carlton was in his main deck private office going over his plans for the meeting when there was a knock at the door.

“Enter,” he said.

His personal assistant, Natalie Taylor, came in carrying a gold platter with a teapot and cups. She was dressed in slacks and a blazer, her blond hair barely touching her shoulders. She set the platter on the desk and said, “Mr. Gupta’s plane has landed, and he will be here momentarily.”

“Show him in when he arrives.”

Taylor nodded and left.

Carlton leaned over to the window and saw a black SUV pull up to the boarding stairs. An obese man in his fifties emerged from the backseat. Carlton shook his head at the way Lionel Gupta had let himself go. Carlton, trim and rock solid at forty-eight, was known for his fitness regimen, even having a private gym installed on board his jet so he could exercise while he was traveling.

A minute later, Taylor opened the door, and Gupta entered his office breathing hard from the climb up the jet’s stairs. Taylor, who was in even better shape than Carlton, looked amused but said nothing. Carlton stood to shake Gupta’s hand and waved for him to sit, which Gupta did gladly.

“Tea?” Carlton asked.

Gupta nodded. “Cream and three sugars.”

Taylor poured two cups and glided out of the office.

“The media world has been good to you,” Gupta said as he drank his tea and looked around at the lavish furnishings, many of which were gold-plated. The fabrics were made of the finest silks, and every piece of wood was hand-carved Indonesian teak.

“Let’s get down to business,” Carlton said, taking a sip from his own cup. “We both were given a massive head start in life and we’ve built even greater riches from it. You wouldn’t have one of the largest engineering companies on the planet if it weren’t for being part of the Nine, and I wouldn’t be where I am without that position, either.”

Gupta shrugged. “So we’re both privileged. I don’t apologize for that.”

“And you shouldn’t. But we have a responsibility to do something with that wealth.”

“I agree. That’s why we all have combined our resources for the Colossus initiative.”

“Maybe not everyone agrees,” Carlton said. “The attempted kidnapping of Jason Wakefield is concerning.”

Gupta set the teacup down. “He’s lucky to be alive. Is he still coming to the meeting tomorrow?”

“As far as I know. But he’s gone into hiding until then.”

“Maybe we should, too.”

“You’ll be safe on my plane. It has all of the latest defense features, and I travel with a squad of former Special Forces operatives at all times.”

“It’s too bad that the defensive capabilities weren’t enough to save your son. Again, my condolences.”

Carlton pursed his lips at Gupta’s hollow words of sympathy. “It was a necessary sacrifice. I thought he might change his lazy, spendthrift ways and become an heir to my seat of the Nine Unknown, but it was not to be. Besides, I have four more sons to choose from.”

Gupta gave him a mirthless smile. “Of course.” He paused, then said, “You don’t seem very concerned about Wakefield’s incident in Sydney.”

“Why should I be?” Carlton leaned toward Gupta. “Were you behind it?”

“Certainly not. Are you accusing me of—”

Carlton smiled and waved his hand. “Relax. I know it wasn’t you.”

“How?”

“Because I know who did it… Do you?”

“I had suspected Wakefield of being behind the attack on the Colossus 5 until yesterday. In fact, I spoke to him right before he was assaulted, hoping to catch him in a lie. Now you seem to have all the answers. Who is it?”

“Romir Mallik.”

Gupta sat back as if he’d been slapped. “Mallik? But he’s always been so enthusiastic about the Colossus Project. How sure are you?”

“Sure enough to blow up one of his satellite rockets two days ago.”

“You did what?” Gupta shouted, his eyes bugging out. “Are you crazy?”

“Far from it.” Carlton stood and went to the door. “Walk with me.”

Gupta followed him out of the office. They passed a conference room into the upper lounge and walked up a wide staircase to a second lounge, this one with a baby grand piano as its centerpiece.

They continued aft past four sumptuous staterooms, one of which would be Gupta’s. In the tail section, they reached a third lounge. This one had an array of leather chairs on three low risers that were tiered higher toward a set of spiral stairs at the back. A door behind the stairs separated this room from the workers’ quarters and galley. The walls were decorated with a wide assortment of ancient weapons, everything from scimitars and spears to crossbows and throwing stars.

Gupta examined the armaments closely.

“I wouldn’t want to be in this room during turbulence,” he said.

“They’re all securely fastened to the wall,” Carlton said. “I understand that you’re a fan of weapons like I am.”

Gupta nodded. “But my tastes go more toward firearms.”

Carlton shrugged. “Difficult to collect in England.”

Gupta stopped at an edged weapon shaped vaguely like an ampersand, with a short spike projecting from just above the hilt at one end and a two-headed axe that had a pointed blade on one side and a wicked curved hook on the other.

“I’ve never seen one of these before,” Gupta said. “What’s it called?”

“A hunga munga. It’s an African tribal weapon. Although it can be used to hack at an enemy, it’s even deadlier in the hands of a skilled thrower.” Carlton gestured at one of the chairs. “Please take a seat.”

While Gupta settled into it, Carlton pressed a button on the wall, which lowered to reveal a huge monitor.

“Are we watching a movie?” Gupta snidely asked while he checked his phone. “What does this have to do with Romir Mallik?”

Carlton rolled his eyes. “I guarantee you will want to see this.”

Gupta put away the phone and crossed his arms. Apparently, his initial shock at Carlton’s accusation was gone, replaced by a generous dose of skepticism.

“Is this going to be a video of the rocket explosion? Because I’ve seen it already. Your networks have been broadcasting it on a loop since the failed launch.”

“No,” Carlton said. “But I do have a mole inside his satellite launch operation. That’s how I was able to destroy the rocket.”

“A mole?” Gupta asked. “Why would you go to that trouble?”

“For months now, I’ve been annoyed by the minor setbacks in the Colossus program. Faulty programming, production hiccups, delayed schedules. Nothing that would be noticeable as outright sabotage, but when added together, all of these small problems pointed to a delaying tactic. Someone has been slowing down our progress.”

“Why haven’t you brought this before the entire Nine?”

“Because I didn’t know who to trust. Any one of you could have been behind it.”

“How do you know these aren’t just the normal types of problems you find with any large engineering project?”

“Because I asked Colossus. According to its calculations, there is a ninety-six percent probability that all of these small problems are being caused deliberately.”

Gupta’s eyes went wide. “That’s incredible!”

“You can ask them yourself. You’ll get the same answer.”

“I will when we’re done here. It said that Mallik is the culprit?”

“No, it couldn’t know that. I couldn’t be sure until the attack on the Colossus 5. When that happened, I knew I was right and that I had to take action to deliver Mallik his own setback.”

“But that still doesn’t prove he’s responsible,” Gupta protested.

“This does,” Carlton said.

He took a remote control from his pocket and cued the video.

The soundless image showed the Colossus 5 in the background, lit up at night, docked in the Moretti Navi shipyard, which was owned by Daniel Saidon, a member of the Nine. A still-standing crane was in the foreground, and a man was coming down the stairs. His face wasn’t clear from this distance. When he reached the bottom, he was confronted by two dockworkers, who were animatedly talking to him. Suddenly, one of them ran up the crane’s stairs while the other two men continued to talk.

Moments later, there was a flash, and the crane toppled over onto the Colossus 5. Then the dockworker who’d confronted the stranger collapsed to the ground. The man turned and put a gun back under his uniform. He looked around and walked out of view.

The image then cut to a different camera. This was another static view of the ship. Men were running in the background and waving their arms. Then the view was obscured for just a second as someone walked past the camera.

“Remarkably, this was the only clear view we got of the saboteur,” Carlton said.

He reversed the video and hit pause when the man was in front of the camera. His face was blurry but recognizable.

Gupta leaned forward and stared at the screen in astonishment. “That’s Asad Torkan.” He turned to Carlton. “How did you get this? Were you expecting the attack on the ship?”

“It seemed to be a logical step if we were about to launch the Colossus 5 and Mallik wanted to prevent that from happening before he completed his satellite network. Without telling Saidon, I arranged to download all of the camera feeds from his shipyard in Naples.”

“You spied on Daniel Saidon’s own facility?”

“As I said, I didn’t know who to trust. But it turned out to be Romir Mallik’s man. I think the proof I did collect is clear enough.”

“You’ve got me convinced,” Gupta said, rubbing his temples. “What a mess! Torkan was the one who saved Wakefield yesterday.”

“A clever setup, I’m sure,” Carlton said with a smile, pleased that Gupta agreed the evidence was incriminating. “No doubt to cast suspicion away from him and onto one of us.”

“We’ve got to tell the others.”

“We will. At the meeting. But that’s not enough. We have to shut down Mallik’s satellite ambitions.”

“What is the satellite network for?” Gupta asked. “Why is it so important?”

“I believe it’s something that could destroy the Colossus Project, but my mole couldn’t confirm its capabilities. In fact, I’ve lost contact with him. The last message he sent me was that another satellite will soon be ready to launch in place of the one I had destroyed.”

“Then we need to stop Mallik.”

“Exactly,” Carlton said. “And we need to convince the others in the Nine. That’s why I asked you to join me on this flight. We have some planning to do to take him down. Tomorrow you’re going to help me spring the trap.”