OUTCAST Ops: African Firestorm

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The safehouse included a basement that was cold, damp, and suitable to hold an important prisoner for interrogation. There was even a cell in one corner, but Tanner had decided to leave Hassan in the center of the main basement, hands and legs cuffed to a steel chair. The chair in turn was attached to one of the support columns by several strands of heavy-duty wire.

It was nearly dawn when OUTCAST pulled into the safehouse's garage in a vehicle driven by Madelowski. The garage, built lower than the actual house, featured a passageway connecting it with the basement, each end hidden behind a steel door disguised as shelving. Once the still-hooded Hassan was cuffed to the chair they left him under the watchful eye of one of Mandlenkosi's nephews and went upstairs.

Ashcroft had laid out a meal of breads, meats, cheeses and fruit on the dining room table. The retired spy was sitting at the kitchen table, reading a newspaper while listening to a police scanner. He looked up at the team and smiled.

"A productive evening?"

"Very," Tanner helped himself to an apricot.

"Anyone need medical attention?"

Liam raised his hand. “Shot of tequila, please.”

Tanner looked at his people, all of whom shook their heads, then back at Ashcroft. "We're fine. Anything new on the police front?"

Ashcroft glanced at his scanner. "I’ve heard the first officers on the scene use the words, 'war zone,' 'carnage,' and 'massacre' frequently until a senior officer got on the radio and told them to shut up. There were also calls for the fire department, and medical help. They have no idea what happened yet, but someone did suggest it was an attack by the same group that set off the car bombs."

"Good," Tanner said. "What about Mandlenkosi and his Fire Team?"

"No problems. They all got clear before law enforcement closed in. The police found the boat about ten minutes ago, but my friend reported it stolen yesterday evening."

"Good," Tanner said, stretching with a yawn. "I want to talk to Hassan after he's had some time to stew."

"In that case," Ashcroft said, "I suggest you all get some food, a shower, and some sleep. Mandlenkosi and I will keep an eye on things until then."

It was near noon by the time the team reassembled in the dining room. Ashcroft was still seated at the kitchen table, now reading a book, with the police scanner still on next to a tea set.

Tanner took a seat on a stool at the counter. "Anything new?"

"A few things," Ashcroft replied, not looking up from his book. "There's fresh coffee in the pot on the counter, sugar and mugs in the cabinet above and creamer in the refrigerator."

Tanner got a mug from the cabinet. "How's our guest of honor?"

"Hassan’s cranky, as can be expected. He’s been alternating between threats of decapitations to promises of eight figures if he's released. He's kept under constant watch by one of Mandlenkosi's nephews, and either Mandlenkosi or I check in on him every twenty minutes. With the exception of escorted trips to the loo, he's been in that chair."

Tanner poured coffee into his mug. "What about the police?"

"Still sifting through the bloodbath you chaps left behind. The confirmed death count is nineteen, but they're still finding body parts near the beach, along with what was left of a staircase to the dock, so I expect the count is higher. The Narcotics branch has been called in, and they're suddenly very cagey on the radio about what they've found. They use a modern digital trunking system but it’s not encrypted, which is why I still have this.” He glanced at the scanner before continuing. “I already have calls out to my contacts, so we'll see how that goes."

"Anything from Hassan's organization?"

"What organization?" Ashcroft asked, looking up at Tanner. "You've killed most of his best enforcers and what's left couldn't take over a children's birthday party, let alone Hassan's criminal operations. Most of his people are either lying low or looking to carve out their own little empire. They're not worried about Hassan."

Tanner sipped his coffee. "I'm going to go down and talk to him."

"Suit yourself." Ashcroft went back to his book.

Danielle appeared in the dining room doorway. "Tanner, before you go, check this out."

He followed her through the dining room and into a small study where she had set up her laptops and the data devices they had taken from the estate. Three laptops, wired together, competed for space on the desktop with a mess of CDs, thumb drives and memory cards.

"What do you have?"

“From the SeaStar database in the warehouse, I was able to crack the encryption and access the records. It appears that Hassan was acting as a middleman between the North Koreans, the Iranians and SeaStar. He was taking cargo from incoming vessels and putting it on SeaStar ships under his own company's manifest. I isolated several dozen cargoes over the last four years with links to the Chinese import/export company suspected to be a North Korean front for items on the embargo list. Seventy percent of the cargoes on the list end up in Iran, and the rest in Syria."

"Any idea about what this cargo was?"

"No, but there are correlations between the arrival of these cargoes and advances in the Iranian nuclear program. The cargo containers on the Northstar Venture were scheduled to be off-loaded in Doha, United Arab Emirates, a few days from now."

"What about the stuff we grabbed from Hassan's estate?"

"Most of it is just regular stuff. Hassan likes big-breasted blondes in his porn, his tax forms are so clean, you could eat off of them, and he has his groceries delivered. However," she pointed at one of the laptops. "That one has a very strong firewall and the entire drive is password protected."

"Can you force it?"

"That's the thing. I've probed the firewall and found that it's set up in such a way that three unsuccessful log-ins in a row will wipe the hard drive — and I mean wipe it, not just delete it. It’s programmed to write the drive full of dummy data, reformat and repeat three times."

"So can you crack it?"

"Given enough time, yes. But it could be days or weeks, with no guarantees I get it right. Would be much simpler if he'd give us the password."

"I'll talk to him about that." Tanner put a hand on Danielle's shoulder. "Good work. Go get something to eat."

The basement was still chilly when Tanner and Stephen descended the stairs. A single overhead light provided the only illumination in the room. One of Mandlenkosi's nephews was on watch, carrying the short stabbing spear of the Zulu.

Hassan still occupied the chair, his shrouded head flopped against his chest, but he raised it when he heard Tanner and Stephen's footsteps.

"Who's there?" he demanded in accented English. "I demand to be released!"

Tanner motioned to the guard to remove the hood. The African yanked it free before moving to stand in the corner of the basement behind Hassan's chair, the spear's long, leaf-head blade winking in the light.

Hassan blinked in the sudden light. "Do you know who I am?”

"You are a smuggler, a drug pusher, and a criminal," Tanner said, taking a couple of steps toward Hassan.

Both Stephen and Tanner wore balaclavas over their faces, as well as long-sleeve shirts to ward off the basement's chill. In addition, Tanner wore sunglasses to hide his heterochromia. While he didn’t intend to kill Hassan if he didn’t have to, he didn’t need to worry about being identified by him and hunted down later, either.

"Americans," Hassan spat.

"Yes," Tanner said. "We didn't intend on black-bagging you, but after you tried to have us killed at the hotel, we thought it was time to have a talk."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"We're not stupid, Hassan."

"What do you want from me?" Hassan said, twisting in his chair. "Money? Name your price."

"We're interested in something else," Stephen said.

"Hassan became still. "Such as?"

"Information," Tanner said, moving to Hassan's left. "We know you've been acting as a middleman between North Korea and Iran."

Hassan snorted. "So?"

"We know that you've been smuggling cargo into Iran from North Korea," Stephen said, moving to Hassan's right. "We have the data to prove at least two dozen illegal shipments."

"You can't prove anything!"

"But there’s something special about the cargo currently on the Northstar Venture," Tanner said. "Something that caused you to send men to kill SeaStar's CEO and destroy the company database."

Tanner saw a slight uncertainty in Hassan's eyes. "Where's your proof?"

"Proof?" Stephen said. "We don't need proof, Kamal. We're not the police."

"I can pay triple what you're earning right now," Hassan said, a tinge of fear setting in. "I'm just a businessman with connections to some very important people — people who are now looking for me."

"Not interested," Tanner said. "What was on the Northstar Venture?"

"Nothing that concerns you.”

“Does keeping all of your fingers concern you?” Tanner asked matter-of-factly, removing a folding Kershaw knife from his pocket and clicking open the blade.

Stephen continued after letting that sink in for a moment. "What is your connection with the Islamic Caliphate Army?"

"Who?"

"Why did you try and have us killed?" Tanner asked.

"I didn't.”

"Why did you send Wahid Tamrez to kill us?" Stephen said.

"I did no such thing! My associate was there to do some business."

"You sent at least a dozen men to kill us in the hotel," Tanner reminded. "I'd like to know why."

They continued questioning Hassan, who replied with denials, threats and offers of money. They circled him, like sharks around a meal, firing off questions, Stephen asking several of them in Arabic. But Hassan kept his cool.

After fifteen minutes, the sound of a phone made Tanner and Stephen stop. They looked around and saw a phone on the wall near the stairs.

"Upstairs calling," Mandlenkosi's nephew said, pointing his spear at the ceiling.

Tanner went over to the phone and picked up the receiver.

"Sorry to bother you," Ashcroft said. "How's the interrogation going?"

"He still has all of his body parts, and we still have a lot more that we want to know," Tanner summed up, looking back at Hassan, who quickly lost his smug look.

"That well, huh?" the British spy said. "Why don’t you and your partner come up. There's been a few developments you should hear about. Might give you a wedge against our friend, there."

"All right, we're on our way." Tanner hung up and turned to Stephen.

"We need to get upstairs."

He glanced at the Zulu guard. "Put the hood on him. We'll be back in a few minutes."

The African nodded, stepped forward and slipped the hood back over Hassan's head. Hassan started cursing in English, Arabic and Afrikaner.

Tanner and Stephen climbed the stairs into the kitchen, where Ashcroft sat, but instead of his book, he was looking at photos spread out across the table.

"What do you have?" Tanner asked, pulling the balaclava off his head.

"A few things. After my conversation with Stephen and Naomi yesterday, I contacted some of my old sources at the airport and told them to keep an eye out for any suspicious groups flying in."

He flipped around one of the photos and pushed it across the table to Tanner. "These gentlemen arrived this morning by business jet from Turkey."

A sequence of photos depicted a dozen young men in good physical shape walking in small groups toward the camera. Tanner noticed that they didn't look like weary businessmen. Their eyes were alert, each scanning in a different direction, generally looking as if they were on high alert.

"Military-trained," he said.

Ashcroft nodded. "Stephen," he said, handing the former CIA agent a photo. "I think you'll recognize this gentleman leading the group."

Stephen took the photo, looked at it, and nodded. "Colonel Ramin Rezael, senior member of the Iranian Quds Force. Their best field commander."

"Which means we must be dealing with more than the usual cargo."

Ashcroft nodded. "He's here to find out what happened with the Northstar Venture, and he's not going to be very bloody happy when he finds out what happened. I think it might be a good time for your team to…as they say in the American cinema…'get the hell out of Dodge.'"

Tanner shook his head. "Not just yet. What else do you have?"

"The police are looking for Hassan, and not only because he was kidnapped. Seems that one of the few structures you didn't destroy on your little midnight walk contained enough heroin and cocaine to overdose every single man, woman and child within a fifty-kilometer radius. Street value, in American dollars, is between six and seven hundred million dollars. No telling what else they'll find."

"That's not going to endear him to his 'friends,'" Stephen said.

"Oh no, they'll run from him like scalded dogs," said Ashcroft cheerfully. "Assuming he manages to escape your clutches, he's going to be a hunted man, by both the Iranians and the South African Police. He'll have no friends, no money, and no power. Couldn't happen to a more deserving chap!"

Tanner frowned. Stephen looked at him. "What's wrong?"

"I think I know how to make him open up." He pointed to the pictures and eyed Ashcroft.

"Can I borrow these, a TV, the police scanner, and a tape recorder?"

Tanner and Stephen returned to the basement an hour later, this time along with Liam. Wearing a balaclava like the others, he carried a small table. Stephen had a small TV from an upstairs room, while Tanner brought a manila folder. He looked at the guard and motioned for him to remove Hassan’s hood. The African snatched off the hood before retreating into his corner.

Hassan blinked and smiled at Tanner. "Ready to let me go?"

"Not yet," Tanner replied. He turned to consider the basement, then spoke to Liam and Stephen. "Put the table over there and the TV on top of it.”

"Do I get entertainment?" Hassan asked.

"Actually, you are the entertainment right now," Tanner said. "And I will be making a one-time special offer that you're going to take. But first, an update on what's going on since your unfortunate disappearance. Take a look."

The TV displayed an aerial view of Hassan's estate, with a news crawler running along the bottom and a graphic above the crawler reading, "DRUG WAR."

The uncertainty was back in Hassan's eyes. "What did you do?"

Tanner turned up the volume and stepped aside. The female reporter doing the voice over sounded breathless."…men killed and fifteen wounded. We have been told by several SAPS sources that the drugs were found in a bunker-like building located on the estate grounds, and that it has since been removed and stored in a secured location for further investigation and processing. Police are not providing details on what happened here overnight, only to say that it appears a drug war has started between two rival gangs. The police are asking for any information on Kamal Hassan's whereabouts. Anyone with any information is asked to call—"

Tanner muted the TV and faced Hassan. "You’re a wanted man.”

He took out a digital voice recorder and turned it on. "Here’s what's on the police channels."

The first transmission was an SAPS officer asking for additional crime scene technicians and officers to search the estate and to guard the "massive amount of drugs" that had been located. The second communication was a detailed description of Hassan, wanted for questioning in connection with the attack on his estate, as well as the disturbance at the Cape Africa Hotel. The third highlighted a report that Hassan was seen at the Capetown airport.

Tanner turned the recorder off. "You're public enemy number one."

"You fake that," Hassan said, voice quavering with uncertainty.

"No need to. The police know you're a drug lord."

"You planted that evidence!"

"Bullshit. They found your warehouse, Kamal, with tons of cocaine and heroin. We didn't get a chance to blow it up, so the police found it when they went through the place looking for bodies.”

Hassan began straining against his bonds. "I have powerful friends."

"Who have suddenly forgotten your name," Stephen joined in. "Right now, you are radioactive."

"But the police are not the only ones who want to talk to you," Tanner said. He opened the folder and pulled out a photo. "Does he look familiar?"

Hassan leaned forward, eyeballed the photo and went rigid. "Y-you're bluffing!"

Tanner smiled. He knew full well that Hassan was perfectly capable of keeping his emotions in check. For this photo to elicit such unmasked sentiment from the hardened criminal could only mean one thing.

"Colonel Rezael scares the shit out of you, doesn’t he?”

The room remained silent until Stephen added, “He and a dozen of his men landed in Capetown this morning. They're out there right now, looking for you."

Hassan shook his head, struggling to regain his composure. "I don't believe you."

"Rezael's here to find out what happened to his cargo, and thanks to you, you're the only person alive who can tell him."

"He'll kill me!"

"Probably," Tanner said. "But if you don't tell us what we want to know right now, we're going to drop you off in one of the worse neighborhoods in Capetown, then take bets on who gets to you first after we make calls to the police and Colonel Rezael."

Hassan’s eyes bulged from their sockets. "What happens if I do tell you everything?"

"Then we drop you off in a better neighborhood, wait twelve hours before calling the police and Rezael. What happens to you after that I don't give a damn about. But you’d at least have a chance."

"We could shoot him once in the leg for every answer we don't like before we let him go," Liam suggested.

"Or we could give him a hundred rand for every helpful answer he gives us," Stephen said. "I don't think his normal revenue sources are open to him."

"That sound fair to you, Kamal?" Tanner asked.

"I don't trust you.”

"The feeling is mutual," Tanner said. "But I dare say that's a better deal then you'll get from Rezael or the police."

"It's not that simple," Hassan said. "If I betray these people, they will kill me. Maybe not today, not next week, but they will."

"I agree you don't have too many good choices," Liam said. "You can end up going to the police and spend years in prison, you can suffer ‘enhanced interrogation’ at the hands of Rezael and his fanatics… Your associates will kill you if you talk…As far as I can see, we're the only people giving you any chance to escape."

"Some chance.” At last, Hassan’s voice held a tone of defeat. Tanner seized the moment.

"You're a businessman. Which is the best deal?" A beat, then, "We'll give you a few minutes to think about it. Meanwhile, Rezael’s people are no doubt spreading through the city, turning more and more of your contacts against you, offering them tempting rewards for information…"

Tanner turned toward the stairs, but Hassan's sharp, "Wait!" stopped him.

"Made up your mind?"

"I will take your deal, with a couple of conditions. First, I choose which neighborhood I get dropped off in, and second, I want a quarter of a million American dollars in unmarked, non-sequential bills."

"No problem with the first one. The second may be more difficult, but I’ll see what I can do."

"When I get the money, I will tell you anything you want to know."