The leader of the kidnapping squad stepped away from the car and motioned to Simon. “Come. This way.”
Simon blotted away sweat from his forehead and accompanied the man to the rear of the space, where four gunmen stood, weapons at the ready. The leader told them to stand aside and they did, watching Simon as though he was going to try to lunge at them as he walked by.
When he passed through the doorway, a blast of chill air instantly dried the remaining perspiration on his face. He inhaled with barely disguised relief and eyed the room’s occupant. An ISIS commander, his rank obvious from the gray in his beard and the reasonably clean uniform he wore, nodded in greeting and approached from where he’d been sitting in an overstuffed reclining chair, watching television.
“Welcome. I am sorry for the elaborate precautions, but as you might have guessed, we take our security seriously,” the man said. “I am Zarif. Come, have tea, and let us discuss your needs.”
Simon joined him at a circular table, where a tea set was waiting. The kidnapping leader and Zarif sat in chairs, which surprised Simon until he realized that they were observing Western custom on his behalf. He lowered himself onto a wooden bench seat, facing Zarif.
The ISIS commander poured steaming cups for them all. They sipped appreciatively, and then Zarif put his cup down and leaned forward.
“Word reached me that you are seeking specialized goods,” he said.
“Yes. Russian antiaircraft missiles. Shoulder fired. Recent vintage.”
Zarif appeared perplexed. “The American version is vastly superior. Far lower failure rate and more accurate.”
“I’m sure that’s true, but I am merely a middleman. The customer was quite specific. I’m afraid a substitution isn’t possible.” Simon took another taste of his tea. “I have traveled a long way. Do you have any?”
“Everything is possible. The question is not whether it can be had, the question is what such a thing might be worth to you.”
“I’m sure you have a value in mind.”
“It is true.” Zarif smiled and named a number five times higher than the going rate.
“I only require two, not twenty,” Simon replied, his tone reasonable.
Zarif gave him an apologetic shrug. “What can I say? The value is ever-changing, and now, with the recent offensive, such items are in considerably greater demand.”
“I might be able to pay a bit more than I was told to expect, but there are limits to what the client has authorized. They are discerning customers, and if it becomes too expensive, they may well go elsewhere.” Simon shrugged back. “It’s outside my control. I have a range for the pair of missiles which I can’t exceed. I’m sure you understand.”
Simon and Zarif went back and forth on price, and when they’d concluded the negotiation to their mutual satisfaction, Zarif led him into the warehouse to one of the crates near the entry. He gestured to the fighters, and one approached with a pry bar. He wedged it beneath the lid and worked the top loose, revealing four gleaming Igla-S missiles, obviously new in the crate.
“We were fortunate enough to intercept several shipments intended for a rebel faction that wound up being absorbed into our group after seeing reason,” Zarif explained. Simon nodded, understanding that “seeing reason” was a euphemism for the mercenaries who were doing most of the fighting in Syria being offered better pay from the other side – in this case, ISIS. “We have access to virtually anything you might want, except of course, fighter jets. Although if you’d like to place an advance order…”
Simon laughed politely and studied the missiles. He made a show of inspecting the arming and targeting systems, and then looked at Zarif and nodded. “Perfect.”
“You have the money?” Zarif asked.
“Yes. In euros or dollars. Your preference.”
“Dollars.”
“When your men take me back to town, I will give them the location of my hotel and will retrieve the cash for them. We can exchange the arms for the money there, if you don’t mind.”
“That will work.”
They walked back to Zarif’s office and Simon glanced around. “I’m sorry, but do you have a bathroom? It’s been a long drive, and the tea…”
“Yes, of course. This way,” Zarif said, and indicated a door in the corner.
Simon returned two minutes later and finished his cup. “I trust that if I require any other…specialized equipment, I can contact you through our mutual acquaintance?”
“Of course. I would be delighted to accommodate you. As you can see, we have been blessed with quite a stockpile. We even have a number of American tanks, should your tastes run in that direction.”
“Impressive. How did you get those, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“The Americans left them behind when they abandoned contested areas in Iraq. They literally left a billion dollars’ worth of armaments. It has proved quite helpful to the cause. Allah works in mysterious ways, does he not?”