Dead or Alive - Tom Clancy [227]
“How far?”
“Hundred miles west, give or take. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Let’s have a chat with Bari and see where it takes us.”
With a cold glass of water poured over his head and a few light slaps to the face, they were able to rouse Bari. He blinked several times, then looked around the room, then at Brian and Dominic.
He barked a few words in Arabic, then said in heavily accented English, “Who are you?”
“The cavalry,” Brian said.
Bari squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. “My hand.”
“Just two fingers,” Dominic said. “We stopped the bleeding. Here.” He handed Bari half a dozen aspirin from a bottle they’d found in the bathroom. Bari shoved the tablets into his mouth, then accepted a glass of water from Brian.
“Thank you. Who are you?”
“But by the looks of it, we’re the only friends you’ve got left in the Medina,” Dominic said. “Who were they?”
“They’re all dead?”
“Except for the fella with the paring knife,” Brian replied. “Who were they?”
“I can’t …”
“Our guess is URC. Somebody pushed the button on you, Mr. Bari.”
“What does that mean?”
“Somebody ordered you murdered. What were they asking you about?”
Bari didn’t reply.
“Look, without help, they’re going to get you. You might be able to hide for a while, but they’ll find you. Probably your family in Benghazi, too.”
Bari’s head jerked up. “You know about them?”
Dominic nodded. “And if we do …”
“You’re Americans, aren’t you?”
“Does it matter?”
“No, I suppose it doesn’t.”
Brian said, “Help us and we’ll help you—try to get you out of the country.”
“How?”
“Let us worry about that. Who were they?”
“URC.”
“The same ones who did Dirar al-Kariim?”
“Who?”
“Web video. Guy with no head and no feet …”
“Oh. Yes. That’s them.”
Dominic asked, “What’s his name, the one with the knife?”
“I know him as Fakhoury.”
“What’s he do?”
“What you saw here. Murder. Punishment. Very low-level type of person. He bragged about al-Kariim. Talked about it.”
“Why was he after you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Bullshit,” Brian said. “You and your bodyguards were in a hurry. You knew Fakhoury was on his way. How?”
“Word on the street was that I was talking to the police. It wasn’t true. I don’t know who said it, but with these people … security is everything. Killing me was a precaution.”
“What’d they want from you? You’re their Web nerd, right?”
“Yes. Fakhoury wanted to know if I’d kept any data.”
“Such as?”
“Domain names. Passwords. Graphics …”
“Like banner images?”
“Yes. Yes, he asked about those.”
Dominic looked at Brian and muttered, “Stego.”
“Yep.”
“What are you talking about?” Bari asked.
“So what’s the answer?” Dominic asked. “Did you keep any data? A little insurance, maybe?”
Bari opened his mouth to speak, but Brian cut him off: “You lie to us and we’re going to cut Fakhoury free and leave.”
“Yes, I kept data. It’s on an SD card—secure digital, like for a camera. It’s under a tile behind the toilet.”
Brian was already moving. “Got it.” He was back two minutes later with a thumbnail-sized card.
Dominic asked Bari, “Who gives Fakhoury his marching orders?”
“I’ve only heard rumors.”
“Fine.”
“A man named Almasi.”
“Local?”
“No, he’s got a house outside Zuwarah.”
Dominic looked at Brian. “About sixty miles west of here.”
“How high up is this guy? Could he have okayed al-Kariim’s execution?”
“It’s possible.”
They left Bari alone and walked out into the courtyard. “What’dya think?” Brian asked.
“Bari’s a good catch, but it’d be nice to grab a fish higher up the food chain. If this Almasi has enough juice to green-light one of their own, it might be worth a try.”
Brian checked his watch. “Almost ten now. Figure a half-hour to get back to the car, then two hours to Zuwarah. Hit him by two, then back on the road.”
“So we take Bari, grab Almasi if we can.”
“Which leaves Fakhoury.”
“Dead weight, bro.”
Dominic thought it over and sighed.
Brian said, “He’s a stone-cold murderer, Dom.”
“No shit. Having trouble throwing the switch in my head, you know?”
“You threw it once. The kiddie-raper thing.