Brad Taylor - Enemy of Mine

After settling into Hamid’s flat, the Ghost had spent the remainder of the previous day breaking out the explosives from the computer case and monitor, then constructing the detonators. All that remained was sticking the blasting caps into the explosives, then dialing the detonators into the Burj Khalifa’s WiFi network.

He’d removed the hawaladar money from the briefcase and built a makeshift nest to protect the delicate electronics of the detonators. The explosives themselves were in a different duffel bag, separated from the blasting caps to prevent a catastrophic event.

The Ghost said, “I’ll meet you at eleven.”

“Okay. Are you sure you don’t want my car?”

“Yes. I want the ability to use multiple methods of travel. I had some issues in Yemen, and there might be someone trying to find me. I don’t want to make it easy on them.”

He picked up the knapsack containing his money and Hamid’s uniform and left the flat. He reached the ground level and surveyed around him, trying to see if anyone paid undue attention. He saw nothing but men, young and old, hawking their spices. He exited the souk and walked northwest on Al Kabeer Street, paralleling the Dubai Creek, headed to a section of town that sold electronics. He still needed an initiation device, and hoped to find it there. Hitting the first street outside the souk, he moved slowly, as if to get his bearings, but really to take a snapshot of the vehicles parked near the exit. He saw nothing suspicious.

The coolness of the morning was quickly burning off. In short order, he was sweating from the walk. He missed his turn in the congested maze of roads and was forced to backtrack until he reached Al Sabkha Road. Turning north, he walked for two blocks, until the stores on his left and right began advertising cameras, watches, and cell phones. He saw a sign for electronic security and entered a tiny mall, seeing the store in the back corner.

The shop seemed to specialize in alarms and surveillance cameras, but might have what he needed. He looked around the aisles for a few minutes, and then simply asked a clerk.

“I wish to purchase an IMSI grabber for cell phones. Do you sell them?”

“Yes, but only to government or the police. I can’t sell them to people off the street.”

“I need one that operates on batteries. It must have a life span of at least four hours, but doesn’t need to do anything fancy. It must simply register the cell phone numbers and hold the phone. The only thing I need is an alarm when an identified number appears.”

“I just told you I can’t sell you the device. Sorry.”

The Ghost leaned closer and opened his knapsack, showing the clerk a large wad of dinars. “I will pay you handsomely. Both for the device and for the service you provide in selling it to me.”

The clerk glanced to the front door, then back at the knapsack.

“It will cost you a lot of money. I’m supposed to register the sale, and I will be taking a risk.”

The Ghost simply nodded. The clerk made up his mind and locked the front door, turning around the “open” sign.

He went in the back and came out with a container a little bigger than a shoebox. He opened it, showing the Ghost the device.

“This has a range of about one hundred meters in the open. Of course, it will be much less with walls or other things in the way.”

He spent the next few minutes demonstrating the workings of the device, showing him the battery indicator, the alarm settings, and the basic operations. The Ghost listened for a little bit, then said, “I can get the rest from the manual. I need two more.”

“Three? Why on earth do you need three?”

“I have three locations. It isn’t your concern.”

The clerk hesitated, weighing the risk. The Ghost dropped the bundle of dinars on the counter.

“Get them.”

Twenty minutes later he was back on the street, looking for a dry-goods store. He found one and bought four scrub brushes, the metal bristles three inches long and mated to a steel handle. He stepped out and caught a cab.

When he arrived at the Dubai Mall, he immediately searched for a restroom. He changed into Hamid’s Burj Khalifa maintenance uniform and exited the mall on the south side, walking around the manmade lake until he reached the parking garage. The sidewalk ended, putting him in the drive for the mall itself. Following Hamid’s directions, he continued around, keeping the Burj Khalifa to his left, towering over him like a giant metal obelisk.

He reached the stairwell just as a white-panel van came up the drive, forcing him to hop on the curb. He turned into the stairwell and did a double take. He couldn’t be sure, but he believed the van driving toward the garage was the same one that had been outside the souk when he initially left. After Yemen, his survival instincts had become hyperaware, and the van sent a subconscious alarm into his primal core.

He watched it disappear, seeing a Caucasian male in the passenger seat. He continued down to the door, reflecting on its importance. Odds were it was nothing, but he didn’t like playing the odds. He hadn’t seen the driver, but if it was following him, it would be from Hezbollah. He couldn’t afford to discount it even if it was a Westerner.

He banged the door three times and stepped back. Hamid opened and smiled.

“The building is yours. The observation deck elevators are at the hundred and twenty-fourth floor, like you asked.”

“How long before they are used?”

“The first tour is at one P.M., so you have two hours.”

“Perfect. Let’s go.”

They took a service elevator with the first button marked 100. It took a full minute to reach that level. From there, they took the stairs to the 125th floor, and the maintenance room for the observation deck elevators. The Ghost left Hamid outside for early warning and entered alone.

He had done quite a bit of research on elevators in the past twenty-four hours and knew exactly what he was looking for. He needed to intercept two things-the cables holding up the elevator and the brake system that would cause it to stop if the cables failed. The bank of elevators to the observation deck consisted of two double-deck Otis systems. Two targets that the envoy would have to use, a chokepoint that would cause his death. The only other way up to the observation deck was the stairs.

He immediately moved to the roof of the first, nestled at the top with the edge of the elevator level to the shelf left and right. The cables from the elevator roof attached to the pulley above with a space of a few feet between them. He broke out the explosives, already configured to cut steel.

Both elevators had five cables, all able to support the suspended weight of the cars by themselves. He would have to cut all five. He affixed two small charges to each cable, slightly offset, one high, one low. When detonated, the opposite charges would cause a cutting effect and sever the cable. The trick was ensuring that the subsequent explosions to the cables left and right didn’t counteract the very cutting he sought to achieve. Fortunately, he had plenty of cable to work with to ensure success.

Within ten minutes, he had the basics of destruction in place. He then attached the WiFi detonator, but did not attach the blasting caps, leaving them dangling from the detonator like the legs of a spider. The detonators themselves were inert, waiting on a wireless signal to arm. Dropping to the top of the elevator, he pulled out the brushes he had purchased. He affixed one to the roof of the elevator, hanging out into the four-inch gap between the elevator and the well. He placed the second brush to the shelf of the well itself, until the bristles touched across the gap.

He then pulled out the IMSI grabber and set it on the roof of the elevator. Before he forgot, he turned off his cell phone. He attached a micro USB cable from the download hub of the grabber, then cut off the female end, exposing bare wire. He attached the wire to the steel of the brush on the elevator. He then jumped across the well, placed the WiFi transmitter for the detonators on the shelf, and cut the USB cable for it as well, splicing it into the brush on the far side.