It didn’t seem possible.
Dalton was dead. Blair had seen him murdered with his own eyes. So how could he be standing here? And why was he wearing an Arab robe?
Blair felt as if he’d been sucker-punched.
He replayed the scene in his head: Bullets flying. Dalton going down and urging him to run. Not one sign of blood. In his anxiety he hadn’t grasped it at the time. But he was certain of it now. There was no blood.
“Al-Qaeda has a particular hatred for infidels like you,” Dalton said.
Al-Qaeda? The name chilled Blair. “John, what kind of game are you playing?” he asked.
“My name is not John. You will address me by my proper name—Khalid Yassin.”
“Fine, John. Whatever you say.”
Dalton’s eyes narrowed. “Not John,” he said with menace in his voice. “Do I have to threaten you?”
“I don’t think so,” Blair said. “You’ve done enough of that to last me a lifetime.”
Dalton/Yassin shrugged. “We’re not done with you yet, Mr. Mulligan. Far from it. We have been waiting for you, knowing it was only a matter of time. Why else did we loosen your blindfold when you were released from our custody a short time ago? Did you actually believe we would make that sort of mistake? The blindfold was made to come loose so you would notice the address and be able to find your way back. Same with the garage being left open today. And the unlocked door leading into the house. It was all choreographed for your benefit.” Amusement filled his eyes. “You took our bait. And I thank you for that.” He paused.
“I hope you weren’t too attached to your car, by the way. We’ve permanently disposed of it. But let me bring you up to date. I wasn’t getting anywhere with you, so I figured Rena would have a better chance. I admit the plot to get me out of the way was a bit melodramatic. But it worked, apparently. You are so predictable. You and your fellow Americans. You made it easy for us.”
Realizing how true the sentiment was, Blair flinched.
“So you go back to Israel like a good little boy,” Dalton/Yassin continued. “And this time you are successful. You convince Jeremy Samson to cooperate, to get the DVD production moved to OTE. You return to New York and Rena says she is making arrangements to get your daughter back. What you don’t know, however, is that she is stalling. She had to give us time to put our last-minute preparations in place.
“Meanwhile, I should tell you that some of the things that happened to you were not of our doing.”
“What things?” Blair asked bitterly.
“Oh, nothing important. The bombing in the restaurant in Tel Aviv? The truck incident in Montreal? These were all instigated by a rival faction, aiming to get you out of the way and disrupt our plans. Lucky for me, they didn’t succeed. Otherwise, I would have had to start over again.”
“Lucky for you?” Blair said, disbelieving the man’s indifference, how easy it was to dismiss the attempts on his life.
Dalton/Yassin now motioned with his hand.
The light in the adjoining room came on, giving Blair a clear view through the window. It was not one-way glass, after all.
Two bearded men wearing kaffiyehs sat at a table awaiting instructions.
Dalton/Yassin stepped up to the computer and turned it on. “You will soon understand the importance of your role,” he said. He pointed toward the window. “The equipment in that room is identical to that which you will find in the office we will provide for you. You will have access to a computer and all the amenities you are used to.” His lips parted in a half-smile.
“You are a one-man show,” Dalton/Yassin said. “Our research told us everything we needed to know. Your habits, your customs, the way you run your business, and your personal life. We couldn’t have found a better candidate. Out of the three potential men we considered, you came out on top.”
“I’m flattered,” Blair muttered.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing, John. Carry on, please.”
The slap on the table reverberated across the room. “Not John! My name is Khalid Yassin. Say it!”
“I hear you. I don’t have to say it. Now, where were we?”
Dalton/Yassin gestured to the men seated in the other room. One of them typed something on their computer.
Blair noticed the monitor in the room in which he sat coming to life. Soon, he caught his name scrolling across it after a ten-second delay.
“Give me a phrase or a sentence,” Dalton/Yassin requested.
Kiss my ass, was the one he wanted to use. And he almost said it out loud. “The little brown cow,” he offered instead.
Once again, one of the men in the opposite room typed and the words appeared on the screen in front of Blair.
“Everything you do,” Dalton/Yassin continued, “no matter the time of day or night, will be observed. Trying to trick us won’t work. The built-in delay allows us to stop any information you might try to disseminate before it is released.
“We know that you are involved in every aspect of your business. For instance, the standing orders you have at your distribution center, where nothing of value can be shipped without you being present. This most importantly suits our purpose.”
Blair paused, absorbed what he’d just been told, and involuntarily shook his head.
Killgallon Logistics was the company he used to handle his warehousing and shipping needs. He and the owner, Larry Killgallon, a broad-shouldered man in his mid-fifties, liked each other, socialized together, and had grown fond of one another.
A year ago, a shipment scheduled for Walmart had ended up going to Toys ‘R’ Us. The product was stickered with the Walmart code and was priced at two dollars less than their competitor. It didn’t take long for the Toys ‘R’ Us buyer to become aware of this price discrepancy. And even though he had paid the same cost as Walmart, he held Blair’s company accountable. This resulted in a price concession of over thirty thousand dollars. In addition, because the promised ship date to Walmart was missed, he was hit with a five-thousand-dollar fine.
Blair immediately instituted a new policy. By paying a premium to Killgallon Logistics, they agreed to have a person on staff dedicated solely to his company’s needs. This was someone who would check the veracity of each shipment before it went out.
Despite this precaution, however, another incident occurred that was far worse. It involved a major release of a new, television-advertised product. An action-figure line licensed by the latest trading-card craze originating in Japan. The top three retailers, Target, Toys ‘R’ Us and Walmart, had each clamored for an advance release. But Blair had refused. Unfortunately, when it came time to ship the product, the person in charge at Killgallon Logistics missed most of the Bills of Lading and only shipped Target. By the time the error was caught, Target ended up with the advantage all three had requested in the first place. The grief Blair got from Toys ‘R’ Us and Walmart was severe. No explanation could mollify either one.
The person at Killgallon Logistics was fired. From that day forward, the only way a major release could go out was by Blair supervising the shipment in person. An inconvenience, but one that he felt was necessary.
Now, Blair very much regretted ever having put the policy in place. And he realized he was about to find out how much this policy was going to cost him.
The door opened. The two men he’d seen in the other room entered. They were guiding a small table on wheels in front of them. Something was hidden beneath a nylon covering, which was not unlike an oversized, opaque scarf.
Dalton/Yassin made a show of removing the covering and a sample of Cyber-tech was revealed. It had been split apart, its guts exposed. There were few wires. The motherboard contained mostly snap-in modules.
An alarm clanged inside Blair’s head.
“I said before that you were the best of our three candidates,” Dalton/Yassin said. “You see, no one else had access to what we truly needed.” He pointed to the broken-apart sample on the table. “Here, let me show you something,”
He picked up the sample of Cyber-tech and brought it closer. “This is called a capacitor. It is used to divert the electric charge from what was originally intended. In today’s world of miniaturization, you have transistors that are infinitely smaller and more versatile. All we had to do was insert a capacitor, then convert the starter to a trigger mechanism so that this innocuous-looking substance over here can be ignited.”
Blair could see nothing but a minuscule, colorless blob that resembled a swatch of hardened glue.
“NC3,” Dalton/Yasin said with pride. “The latest, most versatile form of plastique available today. Thanks to your generosity, Cyber-tech comes with its own batteries. All the customer has to do is pull out this flexible tab like so.” He demonstrated. “And the contacts are no longer protected. Just turn on the switch, and voila…”
Sparks flew, and a strange sound was emitted, “phht,” like a flame igniting.
Dalton/Yassin laughed. “Imagine if the wiring was in place now?” he said. “You and I would be visiting with Allah as I speak. But here comes the best part. Thanks to your ingenious marketing plan, the total production of one hundred thousand pieces will have a specific lay-down date on the evening of September 7th.” He paused. “Why do all good things happen to you Americans in the month of September, I wonder? Anyway, precisely at midnight, Walmart, Target, and Toys ‘R’ Us will keep their doors open to allow their foolish customers to be the first in line to purchase this latest technological device.
“Imagine the headline: ‘Cyber-tech, now coming to you with enough plastique to blow you to smithereens.’”
His laugh rose in pitch, sounding eerie, almost demented.
“You see what I’m getting at, my friend? One hundred thousand homes filled with children. Nieces and nephews. Grandchildren.”
Envisioning exactly what was being described, Blair began to feel sick.
“To be honest with you,” Dalton/Yassin said, “there is the possibility that not all one hundred thousand pieces will sell out the first night. And even if they did, it is highly unlikely that everyone will turn them on as soon as they reach their homes. After all, some will be purchased as gifts. But worst-case scenario, say only twenty-five thousand units are activated. This will result in a minimum of twenty-five thousand people, or more likely double that amount, being killed.” He smiled. “And your company will become famous. Can you not see the irony, Blair Mulligan?”