by Alex Lukeman
He looked up at the complex network of ducting running along the ceiling. The hotel was forty-eight stories high. The ductwork was more than big enough to crawl through, with plenty of room left over.
Hamid pointed. "There's an access panel over there, by that big blower."
The panel was about five feet tall and three feet wide, big enough to let a man enter the ductwork with ease.
"That will do," Dayoud said.
Hamid wheeled the dolly over to the panel.
"Amin, you take off the panel."
Amin took a nut driver from the toolbox.
"What about that blower?"
"The heat will remind you of the desert on a summer day," Dayoud said.
At the look on Amin's face, he laughed.
"Don't worry, brother. I'll turn it off."
He walked over to the control panel by the blower and punched the off button. The loud whir of the big fan faded to silence.
"It won't be off long enough for anyone to notice. Amin, get to work. Hamid, help me open the cylinder."
The two men removed the cylinder from the dolly. Dayoud grasped the gauge group on the top and exerted pressure. It moved a half turn clockwise and clicked. Dayoud lifted it off and set it aside. He reached down into the cylinder and withdrew a container that had been hidden within the compressor.
"Careful," Hamid said.
Dayoud set the container down on the floor. It was painted black. It was small enough that one man could carry it in a bag, but it held enough sarin gas to kill everyone in the hotel. A few feet away, Amin had the access panel off the ductwork. He looked inside.
"It's perfect," he said. "There's a second duct branching off, about ten feet up. We can place the gas there. No one will see it, even if they look in here."
Hamid replaced the false top on the cylinder. Dayoud opened one of the toolboxes and took out what appeared to be a digital test instrument with leads. In reality, it was a timer that would release the poison gas on the afternoon of the first day of the conference, when the Israeli prime minister and the President were scheduled to speak. He set it aside and took out a rolled up package containing wire, a detonator, a battery, connector, and a package containing a kilo of Semtex.
Dayoud said, "Hamid, you and Amin hand things to me when I say."
Dayoud went through the panel into the ductwork.
"Hand me the ladder."
Hamid gave it to him. Dayoud set the ladder against the duct wall and climbed up to the branch.
"Now give me the gas."
It only took a few minutes to place the deadly container inside the branching duct. He positioned it away from the edge, out of sight from anyone looking up into the ductwork.
"Timer and wire," Dayoud said.
Hamid handed them up to him. Dayoud hooked a digital timer to the terminals on the container. It could run for a week. He set it to release the gas when he thought the Israeli Prime minister would be halfway through his speech.
A speech he will never finish.
Dayoud smiled at the thought.
"Now give me the Semtex."
Hamid handed it up to him. Dayoud had practiced setting up this kind of trap many times. It was simple enough. If someone moved the wires or the package with the Semtex, the detonator would go off. The explosion would take out half the basement and release the gas at the same time.
Dayoud climbed down from the duct.
"Seal it up."
Amin and Hamid replaced the access panel. Amin dropped one of the fasteners. It rolled away, out of sight.
"I dropped one."
"Get another," Hamid said.
Amin poked through the toolbox and found another fastener. It was a different color from the others, shiny. They finished reinstalling the panel. Hamid folded up the ladder. They strapped the false cylinder onto the dolly.
"Don't forget the blower," Hamid said.
Dayoud went to the control panel and turned it on. The big fan started up.
"Let's get out of here," Dayoud said.
As they were loading everything back into the van, they saw Kowalski coming toward them.
"You guys done already? That was fast."
"It's a great system," Dayoud said. "We didn't have to do anything. Everything's like it's supposed to be. I need you to sign this so we can get out of here."
He took a clipboard from the van. On top was an official looking form stating that the system had been fully inspected and was in good operating order.
"Sign here," Dayoud said. "You get a copy, we get a copy."
He handed Kowalski a pen. Kowalski scrawled a signature on the bottom. Dayoud took the copy sheet and handed it to him.
"Thanks for your help. You have a nice day."
While Kowalski looked at the sheet of paper in his hand, the three Iranians got into the truck. Dayoud started the engine and they drove away. In the side mirror he saw Kowalski studying the paper.
"The Americans have a saying for people like him," Hamid said.
"What's that?"
"Dumber than a sack of hammers."
The three laughed as they turned the corner out of the alley into the New York traffic.
They drove back to an underground garage two blocks from their apartment, where they'd rented a space to park the van. Dayoud parked in a spot deep in the bowels of the garage, in a dark corner. They got out of the vehicle. Dayoud opened the cargo doors.
"Peel off of the signs," he said. "Toss them in the back. We're not going to be using this again."
It took only a minute to strip the magnetic signs from the sides and place them inside the van. Dayoud twisted off the false top on the second cylinder and took out the container of gas. Hamid waited nearby, an open carryall in his hands. The bag was fitted with a space carved from gray foam, shaped to hold the gas. Dayoud placed the container of sarin in the bag and zipped it shut. Hamid got out of the van and set the bag down on the concrete floor of the garage.
Dayoud opened one of the toolboxes and took out the top tray. He reached inside and pulled out a square box. He placed the box on the floor of the van, opened the lid, and made an adjustment. He ran a wire from the box to one of the back doors. He climbed out of the van, closed the door most of the way, and hooked the wire to it. Carefully, he closed the door. He didn't lock it.
"Aren't you going to wipe everything down?" Amin asked.
"Why?"
"I thought that's what you're supposed to do. You know, fingerprints."
"You've been watching too much TV. There's no need. I've left a little surprise for whoever finds the truck. Besides, no one is looking for us. Not yet."
"Plenty of people will be looking for us in a few days," Hamid said.
"They can look all they like. They won't find us."
"God willing."
"Yes, God willing."
Dayoud picked up the bag with the sarin. The three men walked out of the garage.
CHAPTER 43
Nick and the rest of the team sat on the couch in Elizabeth's office. Stephanie was off to the side with her laptop. The only person not present was Freddie, but then he wasn't exactly a person. Nick was pretty sure Freddie was listening, just the same.
"How's the arm, Lamont?" Elizabeth asked.
Lamont's left arm rested in a blue sling. "It's okay, Director. I have to wear the sling for a little while, but it comes in handy."
He reached inside the sling with his right hand and took out a small pistol.
"Perfect for my .380."
"No permanent damage?"
"Nope."
"I'm glad to hear it," Elizabeth said.
She tapped her pen on her desk.
"Nick, you stirred up a hornet's nest over there. The part of Egypt where you found Solomon's gold used to be in ancient Israel. When you told the Israelis where the treasure was, they sent in a Sayeret Matkal team to defend it."
"Special forces," Nick said. "Those guys are the cream of the crop."
"I'l
l bet the Egyptians didn't like that," Ronnie said.
"That's putting it mildly. At the moment there's what the diplomats like to call a 'tense situation' going on at those ruins. The Israelis are refusing to withdraw. The Egyptians have troops facing them. Nobody's quite sure what's going to happen. Both sides are in negotiations. Of course, both of them want the loot."
Nick reached in his pocket, took out the coin he'd taken from the temple floor, and placed it on Harker's desk. She picked it up and looked at it. It was made of gold and irregularly shaped. The coin was bright with the reddish color of pure gold. It looked as though it had been minted yesterday.
"That room was stacked with chests filled with coins like this," Nick said. "There were statues of gold, bars of gold, silver. Jewels, rubies as big as goose eggs. Probably diamonds and sapphires and everything else as well. The Israelis aren't going to give it up without a fight. Aside from it's value, it's their heritage. Not to mention a stone box that probably contains the bones of King David."
"This is the sort of thing that makes lawyers rich," Stephanie said. "There will be legal battles over who owns it for years."
"At least it's not our problem anymore," Nick said. "I've seen enough of Israel to last me a long time."
"The Israelis identified the men who tried to kill you as agents for VAJA, Iran's intelligence service."
"Sooner or later, someone's going to have to teach Tehran a lesson," Nick said.
"That's not our job," Elizabeth said. "Our job now is to see if we can confirm the threat to the Jewish conference. We only have two days until it begins."
"Director," Nick said, "we know there's a threat. Why else would an Iranian spy pretend to be Jewish and get a job at the Jewish Museum? She had to be gathering information. We all know what Iran thinks about Israel. With the prime minister scheduled to speak, it's a perfect target."
"It's worse than that," Elizabeth said. "President Corrigan is also going to address the conference."
"That's nuts," Ronnie said. "He can't take risks like that."
"Corrigan needs Jewish support if he wants to implement his programs. He's already announced his intention to speak. Outside of a few people, no one knows about the threat. If he doesn't show up, it will be seen as a slight to Jews everywhere. It will look like he's been pressured by elements in his party to stay away. His enemies would have a field day, claiming he was anti-Semitic."
"Is he?" Nick asked.
"I don't know," Elizabeth said. "I don't think so."
"I don't understand why anybody wants to be a politician," Ronnie said. "No matter what you do, somebody's going to attack you for it."
"I like what we do better," Lamont said. "At least we get to shoot back."
"We need more information," Nick said. "What do we know, aside from the fact that Miriam, or whatever her name was, was an Iranian plant?"
"Not much," Stephanie said. "When I searched Miriam's apartment, I found a pad I thought was blank. Freddie discovered a phone number on it. It belongs to a throw away. Langley is monitoring it and so are we, but no one's used it. It's our only lead at this point."
"You think it belongs to another Iranian? A terrorist?"
"Based on what we know about her, that's a safe assumption," Stephanie said.
"What's security like at the event?"
"As tight as it gets," Elizabeth said. "It's being put in place as we speak. The conference is the day after tomorrow. The NYPD will handle traffic and external security, the kind of thing they normally do when there's an important event. There will be FBI snipers covering the building, Secret Service everywhere, FBI agents outside and in. Metal detectors, pat downs, all the usual precautions in spades. No one's going to be able to get in there with a weapon. They're already going through the hotel looking for bombs or anything else suspicious."
"I've heard that before," Nick said. "I don't care how tight it is, there's always a way to get past security."
"What about the guests?" Selena said. "What about their rooms? Someone could have checked in before security was put in place."
"All that's been considered," Elizabeth said. "Everyone staying in the hotel has been checked out. Most of the rooms are reserved for people attending the conference. The prime minister won't be in the hotel except when he's speaking. President Corrigan will arrive a few minutes before Reubenstein, so he can greet him outside for the photo op."
"I want plans of the hotel," Nick said.
I have a complete set of plans in my database. Would you like me to print them for you?
Freddie's voice boomed through the office.
"Damn it, Freddie, how many times do we have to tell you to turn down the volume?" Stephanie said.
I apologize, Stephanie.
"Print the plans. Use the printer downstairs in the operations room."
Yes, Stephanie.
"Sometimes I think he does that on purpose," Stephanie muttered.
"Do they have cameras at the hotel?" Nick asked. "If somebody accessed the hotel that shouldn't be there, they could be on tape."
"The Bureau is already going through every tape from the last week," Elizabeth said.
"We have to be on site during the conference. I want total access. Freedom to go anywhere without anybody having anything to say about it," Nick said.
Elizabeth nodded. "That's not a problem."
"We need a comm set up that lets us talk to each other privately and can patch us into central command."
Elizabeth made a note. "Stephanie will take care of that. Anything else?"
"Make sure the Secret Service and the Bureau know we're armed. Everybody gets jumpy when there are weapons around the President. Israeli security also."
"All right," Elizabeth said.
"Whatever it is they're planning, I don't think it's going to be one of those lone gunman scenarios. My bet would be on a truck bomb, or something similar."
"No one will be able to get anything like that near the hotel," Elizabeth said. "Vehicle access will be blocked off except for the President and the prime minister."
Nick said, "Try telling that to the people killed in the last year by madmen driving trucks through security barriers."
"Suicide bomber, maybe?" Ronnie said.
"He'd never get through security," Elizabeth said.
"I don't believe in never," Nick said.
CHAPTER 44
Elizabeth's phone signaled a call from DCI Hood's direct line.
"Hello, Clarence."
"Good morning, Elizabeth. The number you found in that woman's apartment was activated ten minutes ago."
"Did you get a trace?"
"Only a general area. Somewhere on the Lower East side of Manhattan, between Avenue A and the river, bounded by 21st St. to the north and 4th Street to the south."
"That covers a lot of territory."
"Yes, but it's a start. The phone was turned off after a short conversation."
"Were you able to capture what was said?"
"No. We'll see what NSA comes up with. They'll have it in their database somewhere."
"By the time they find it, it could be next month," Elizabeth said.
"I know, but there's nothing we can do about it. We have to hope they use it again."
"It can't be a coincidence that it goes active now, this close to the conference."
"I don't think so," Hood said. "Unless they turn it on and start talking, we don't have much chance of finding it."
"I hate this part."
"The waiting?"
"Yes. We know something is going to happen. It's a credible, priority threat, but nobody is willing to cancel the conference. We've got high profile targets, as high as it gets. It's a perfect set up for everything to go wrong, and all I can do is sit here and hope something turns up to give us the information we need to head this thing off at the pass."
"I did my best to persuade Corrigan to stay away, but he wasn't going to hear it. His Chief of Staff gave me the impression she though
t I was being disloyal."
"She's bad news," Elizabeth said. "She's a narcissist, caught up in her own little world of reflected power. With people like her in the White House, we don't need enemies."
"Why don't you tell me what you really think about her, Elizabeth?"
"I was being nice."
"I'm hoping we can still take that vacation," Hood said. "Perhaps after the conference..."
Someone said something in the background at Langley.
"Elizabeth, I'll call you back. There's a development."
Hood disconnected.
A development. I hope it's a good one.
Five minutes later Hood rang back.
"We might have something. The Bureau has been going through tapes from the hotel where the conference is being held. A white van with three men in it pulled into the service alley two days ago. The men were contractors of some kind. They went into the hotel with toolboxes and a ladder and came out about forty-five minutes later."
"That doesn't sound unusual," Elizabeth said.
"No, except that the van's a rental. Contractors who could work in that hotel have vehicles with a commercial license plate. They wouldn't be renting something."
"What kind of contractors?"
"The tape isn't very good. There's a sign on the side of the truck, but we can't read it. The angle is wrong."
"What's the Bureau doing to follow up?"
"Checking with the rental agency as we speak. They are also questioning people at the hotel."
"You think the van was being used by the terrorists?"
"It's a possibility. The only possibility we have, so far. It may turn out to be nothing."
"If it isn't nothing, it means they've already been into the hotel and done something. I suppose it could've been reconnaissance. But what if they planted a bomb?"
"The Bureau is going through that hotel with a fine tooth comb," Hood said. "Dogs, explosive detectors, the works. So far, nothing's turned up."
"Maybe they were just contractors."
"Let's hope so," Hood said.
CHAPTER 45
On the afternoon of the day before the conference, FBI Agent Jock Silverton was looking for the white van. The rental agency had provided the paperwork for the rental. The New York driver's license used to rent the van had turned out to be a phony. Finding the van had now become a high priority.
