12:28 p.m. (Mountain Time)
Dahlia was the first person to see Hardy. “It’s about time.” She watched him climb into the SUV, sitting behind the steering wheel. “Did you get lost? We were getting ready to send the Hostage Rescue Team out to find you.” Eyeing the two large white paper bags in his hands, she leaned forward from her right-rear seat in the vehicle. “What have you got there?” She took a deep breath. “Do I smell coffee,” she breathed again, “and fries?” She stuck her hands between the front seats. “Come on, let’s have it.”
Hardy opened one bag and removed four cups of coffee, four burgers and three side dishes; French fries, onion rings and mozzarella sticks. Each of the women took a cup, a burger and a side dish. Cruz claimed an extra coffee and burger for Hardy, who picked up the unopened bag and left the SUV. He went to the second SUV and handed the bag to the team leader of the Hostage Rescue Team. Grateful, the men thanked Hardy before jockeying for their share of the food and coffee.
Hardy got back inside his SUV. Cruz handed him his cup of coffee. He peeled back the tiny flap on the lid and took a couple sips. “I hope this keeps me in good graces with all of you. The President wanted in on the phone call with Jameson and,” Hardy closed his eyes and shook his head, “never mind…Any good news?” Undoing the paper wrapper surrounding his burger, he took a big bite. His stomach was operating on Eastern Time, telling him it was mid-afternoon. In between bites, he reached for different side dishes.
“I struck out.” Charity gave everyone a summary of what she had done in the last hour and a half. When she had finished, Cruz took her turn.
“I was able to get some more information from Agent O’Neill.” Cruz jerked her thumb toward the back seat. “Charity went over everything, but nothing new came of it.” Before chomping on her burger, she addressed Dahlia. “Dahlia, you’re up.”
Dahlia was starving. She had eaten very little of her food when she, Hardy and Cruz were in New York. That was eight hours ago. Dahlia stuck her finger in the air before pointing at her burger. She was determined to finish her food before she said anything. A few minutes more was not going to make much of a difference.
Five minutes later, she crumpled the paper wrapper into a ball and tossed it into Hardy’s lap before taking a sip of coffee. “Oops, I was aiming for the empty bag.”
Hardy shook his head, plucked the paper ball from his lap and tossed it into the bag. “Okay, Dahlia, you’ve had your food and your fun. Tell us what you found out.”
She took another sip and put her cup in the cup holder. Without any preamble, she got right to the point. “I found a connection between Essam and Yamadi.”
Hardy had taken another large bite of food. He stopped chewing and looked at Cruz, who had stuck a couple fries into her mouth. She took them out and dropped them into the paper bag. She and Hardy twisted in their seats to face Dahlia. She had their full attention.
Dahlia pointed at Hardy’s puffy cheeks. “You should swallow that. It’s not polite to talk with your mouth full.” She reached for her cup. “Faas Essam owns multiple shops in cities all across the Western United States. They are all antique shops, featuring Egyptian artifacts, relics and knockoff products.” She took a sip of coffee and put the cup back in the cup holder. “All of them, except for the one in Denver, are registered under a different name—Cadan Halim.”
Hardy swallowed and cocked his head. “Who is Cadan Halim?”
“Cadan Halim is Faas Essam. They are one in the same man. Halim slash Essam is wanted by the Mafia on the West Coast. He’s taken a big chunk out of their illegal smuggling operations, and they are willing to pay big for his head.”
“How do you know the two are the same?”
“One of my contacts made the connection, and I was able to confirm it with two others high up in the organized crime chain of command. Trust me. Essam is Halim.”
“Assuming you’re right…”
“I am.”
Hardy nodded. “Assuming you’re right, what’s the connection to Yamadi and how do we find Halim?”
“Halim specializes in smuggling…” Dahlia paused, “well…everything that needs to be smuggled.”
“We got that, Dahlia.” He rolled his hand. “What’s the connection?” He wanted her to get to the point.
“All right, stay with me on this. It’s just a theory, but it fits.” Gesturing with her hands as she spoke, she made her case. “Why would Yamadi want to kidnap the President’s daughter? One, he could kill her. No, he would have done that already, if that were his intent. Two, he could use her for a trade, releasing one of his men from custody.”
Hardy interjected. “Did you forget about the note, demanding the release of Anderson Cole in exchange for Abby’s life?”
Dahlia shook her head. “That doesn’t add up. Cole is a nothing when it comes to terrorists. Yes, he made headlines when he killed all those people in Minnesota. Up until then, however, he was a zero...nobody. I don’t think Yamadi wants Cole.” Dahlia put her hands on the front seat headrest, pulled herself closer and turned her body to the left to include Charity in the conversation. “I think this whole thing with Cole was a diversion. Cole wasn’t supposed to talk. He was in U.S. custody, lawyered up and not saying anything. Yamadi was betting on a combination of our politicians not wanting to make hard choices, and our lawyers abiding by our judicial system to buy him the time to carry out his real plan. He never anticipated you transferring Cole to another country, interrogating him and getting Yamadi’s name.”
“So, what’s his real plan?”
Cruz answered his question. “Yamadi wanted us, and the whole U.S. Government, focused on Anderson Cole and his possible role in the kidnapping, while Yamadi used his underground contacts to smuggle Abby out of the country.”
“Exactly,” said Dahlia, leaning back in her seat.
“Think about it, Hardy.” Cruz fixed her eyes on him. “Is there a better ace in the hole than a sitting President’s daughter? Yamadi could play that card multiple times, getting whatever he wanted from the United States. James Conklin may be the President, but he’s also a father. No father would be able to resist demands to keep his daughter safe.”
Hardy was mulling over everything the two women had been telling him. It made perfect sense. Frankly, it scared the hell out of him. If Yamadi succeeded in getting Abby to another country, the United States would have lost control. Right now, the situation had been contained within the country’s borders. All the federal agencies and state and local police could be deployed, along with the nation’s intelligence services, to search for Abigail. Once she was outside the country, however, that control would be greatly diminished, and the situation would go global. Abby could be smuggled into any country and never kept in one place for too long, keeping intelligence services always guessing. “We cannot allow Abby to leave American soil. How do we find Essam,” Hardy corrected himself, “Halim?”
Dahlia spun her head toward Charity. “That’s where Charity, and her facial recognition software, comes into play.”
Charity cocked her head and stared at Dahlia. “We don’t have a picture of Halim. I’ve already checked for everything on Essam, and there’s no picture of him. If you say the two are one in the same…” She let her voice trail off and held out her hands. “We still don’t have a picture to plug into my software.”
Dahlia grinned, held up her phone and twisted her wrist. “We do now.”