Vengeance: A Derek Stillwater Novel (Derek Stillwater Thrillers Book 8) by Mark Terry

his chair, tipping it back on legs.
    Picking up his phone, Chaadayev texted someone then turned back to Derek. “Tell me more about him.”
    “Quid pro quo?” Derek said.
    “Of course, Doctor. I do not believe the United States, the Russian Federation, or the Assad government have any desire for the Nazif Brigade to gain too much power in Syria or the Middle East.”
    They spoke for three hours, drinking black coffee and focusing on what they both knew about the Syrian government’s chemical weapons capabilities, which were significant.
    “But why use them?” Chaadayev said. “They are killing plenty of people using traditional weapons.”
    “They are an excellent weapon of terror,” Derek said. “And because they often contaminate medical workers, NGOs and other aid workers become less likely to want to provide assistance.”
    Chaadayev sighed. “I am not sure I understand the moral distinction between poisoning innocents with chemical weapons and blowing them to pieces with bombs.”
    “Low-hanging fruit,” Derek said.
    “What do you mean?”
    Derek shrugged. “From a practical point of view, I’m mostly concerned about keeping biological and chemical weapons out of the hands of terrorist organizations. From a military point of view, chemical weapons are ineffective and biological weapons are ineffective and difficult to control. But you deal with them. But in terms of low-hanging fruit, it’s a lot easier for governments to give up use of them. They had no particular plans to use them anyway. So they become something governments are willing to
negotiate with.”
    “Except Syria.”
    “Syria has limited military weaponry. Chemical weapons are cheap and easy to make. They become strategic rather than tactical.”
    “The threat is more important than the actual use.”
    “For governments. But when it comes to terrorists, they can do an enormous amount of damage to civilian populations and create a lot of panic and death using chemical weapons.”
    “And you think that is what the Nazif Brigade was doing?”
    Derek hesitated. “It’s complicated. But yes.”
    “It’s always complicated, isn’t it?”
    A knock came at the door and a tall angular woman with black hair pulled into a bun stepped into the room. “Ah,” Chaadayev said. “Ogafia. Thank you for coming. Dr. Derek Stillwater, this is Dr. Ogafia Pac.”
    Derek shook her hand. She was probably about sixty years old with a long, lined face and dark brown eyes. She wore reading glasses around her neck on a silver chain. Her suit was black, unflattering, and severe.
    “You’re American,” she said in English with a British accent.
    “Yes.”
    “And you have a question about an Egyptian terrorist?”
    “He encountered Sheikh Hussein Nazif,” Chaadayev said.
    Her gaze sharpened. Sitting down opposite Derek, she folded her hands in front of her. She had not brought in anything with her—no computer, no files, not even a cup of coffee. “Tell me,” she said.
    So Derek ran through it again. She nodded along, but asked no questions. When he was done she said, “We have a name, but no photograph or image. Could you help us produce an image?”
    Glancing at his watch, Derek said, “I need to spend some time with my son, but yes. I can come back tomorrow and work with you on that. What do you know about Nazif?”
    “Almost nothing. Except he was thrown out of the Muslim Brotherhood for being too radical.”
    “He has a brother. He’s at Guantanamo Bay. I don’t know much more than that yet,” Derek said.
    “Perhaps your government knows more about the Nazif Brigade than we do, then. Here is what I do know. We are worried about them. They are very radical. They seem to have resources. They appear to be intent on destabilizing Syria, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Iraq and Iran, with the additional goal of destroying Israel. And for Egyptians, they seem to be very hostile to Egypt.”
    “That’s fairly standard AQ dogma,” Derek said.
    “We