Free Moon over Maalaea Bay by H. L. Wegley Page A

hours Navy Seals could take your yacht before you even realize they’re there. You don’t have the luxury of time. We can only help you if you act now.”
    James refused to be backed into a corner. “Call me back in twelve hours and I’ll let you know my decision.”
    “That might be too late.”
    “I’m willing to take my chances. Good-bye, Mr.…shall I say…VEVAK?”
    He heard the man draw a sharp breath before James hung up on him.
    James drummed his fingers on the table. “Nguyen…we need to talk.”
    Nguyen cocked his bald head. “How did you know his name was Vevak?”
    “If you’re going to continue doing business with me, you need to do more reading. There are a lot of organizations with agents lurking in the shadows, agents who could cause us trouble, cause our imprisonment, cause our death.” James paused and stared at Nguyen with a deep frown. “VEVAK was a guess on my part. Evidently, a correct guess from the man’s reaction. VEVAK, VAJA, MOIS, they’re all the same bunch, the intelligence arm of the Iranian government. There are enough rogues among them that I would classify them as a bunch of terrorists.”
    Nguyen cocked his frowning head. “What made you suspect VEVAK?”
    Nguyen was testing his patience. “I’m going to help you understand what’s going down here. But keep in mind that I expect you to deduce these things on your own and, in the future, report them to me. No more surprises. Do I make myself clear?”
    “Perfectly clear, Mr. James.” Nguyen’s eyes stared blankly, the look of confusion.
    Clear like mud, you ignoramus. “Nguyen, why did we stop using the Internet to coordinate our business? Why was Trader running his own cell service on the Olympic Peninsula?”
    “It was becoming too easy for certain organizations to track us.” Nguyen gave a wide grin with his answer.
    “And how did that sad state of affairs come about?” James waited.
    No answer from Nguyen.
    “Wasn’t it because of the work of a handful of brilliant people, like Jennifer Akihara, that collaboration over the Internet became much easier to detect? Before you answer that, Nguyen, tell me what Jennifer Akihara was working on when she detected the operation on the Olympic Peninsula?”
    “I’m not sure. Something about cell-phone communication?” The shar-pei look returned.
    “If you had been following all of the news after she broke up the operation in the Northwest like I told you to do, you would have known that she was working on cellular- and wireless-intercept analysis, preparing to do the same thing with wireless communications that she had done with the Internet. It seems those who support terrorists don’t want the communication mechanism they are now using to be compromised. They view taking Miss Akihara—now Mrs. Brandt—as a preemptive strike.”
    “I see.” Nguyen’s eyes widened. “Iran, VEVAK, Miss Akihara, terrorists funded by Iran—it makes sense. But why didn’t they take her before this? And some place where it would be easier to—”
    “Why do you suppose, you…” James paused before the insult left his lips. Nguyen was dense, but James still needed the man’s cooperation. “No one knew what she was doing until the story about her rescuing the abducted girls hit the media. The news media leaked the information, like they always do. That’s why I subscribe to several online newspapers, and it’s why I search them every day, as you should also be doing.”
    Nguyen nodded then frowned again. “What are you going to do about the five-million-dollar offer?”
    “Either way, these Iranians are bad news, and I refuse to trust them. You know what the prince will do if we sell to another something he wants badly—something we promised him?”
    The shar-pei frown returned.
    “That’s right, Nguyen. So what do you suppose I’m going to do? Would you cross the prince?”
    “No.” Nguyen shook his wrinkled brow. “He would kill us like—”
    “Like he has