by Bob Blink
Other groups had even less success thus far, and the meeting was about to break up when Raul stepped into the room.
“You’ve found something?” Carlson asked hopefully.
Raul shrugged. “Perhaps, but not as much as you hoped. “Masud ibn Tahir al-Baghdadi is a wealthy Saudi Prince, one of many. He travels the world enjoying himself, usually on his yacht, a two-hundred foot vessel. It is currently docked in Florida, and has been for some time. He has apparently been spending the summer sampling the beach bunnies down there.”
“It is interesting that he is visiting the East Coast at a time when all of this is happening,” Carlson noted. “Is he known to frequent the United States?”
“Not often. He is usually vocal in his dislike for our country, and favors Europe where, at least officially, he feels more welcome.”
“What of the others?” Carlson asked.
“I know you are interested in Abdul-Khabir ibn Barir. Your associate, Mr. Trask, indicated when you provided the names he was the one of greatest interest. Unfortunately, as yet I have been unable to find anything about this man. His name is conspicuously absent from every database I have checked.”
“And the last name?”
“Saleh ibn Tarig ibn al-Fulan,” Raul said slowly. “A man with a questionable reputation. He is a wealthy importer-exporter, known to be engaged in the arms trade, and thought to have connections in other unsavory enterprises as well. Normally keeps a low profile, so no one knows exactly where he is at any given time. He last visited the United States eleven years ago, before a warrant was issued for his detainment for questioning. He has business interests in this country, which despite his wanted status and openly expressed disdain for the United States, continue to operate.”
“Do we know where his businesses are located?” Laney asked.
“I do not,” Raul admitted, “but it is said he has facilities on both coasts of the United States.”
Carlson looked at Shaw. “Put someone on your team to work. I want to know by tomorrow’s meeting.”
With no one having anything else to report, the group broke up with the plan for select individuals to regroup at five PM to plan the evening watch of the factory discovered the night before. Jake and Laney were present for the meeting when assignments were made. The forward spotting team consisted of two men in addition to Jake and Laney. The men who would tail each of the trucks that left the facility were distributed equally at all points of the compass, far enough away so as not to attract attention. Jake couldn’t help noting that among the recent recruits to the task were several more of the agents on the short list of six who he wanted to keep watch on as possible sources of the leak to the Mob. None paid him any special attention at the meeting, but thus far they had no reason to wonder about him.
The two vehicles had returned more than an hour ago, and the crew, along with their FBI tails, had left, disappearing into the night. After all the planning, only the same group of vans had left the facility earlier on the evening. When several hours passed making it clear none of the other vehicles would be going anywhere, the remaining FBI tailing teams were dismissed for the night. Since the vehicles had returned and the men dispersed, the facility had remained dark, with no sign of human presence.
“Are we going to do this?” Laney asked finally, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. He still wasn’t uncertain how pairing with Jake was supposed to work, and he was fearful they might trip an alarm and alert the enemy to the surveillance.
“Might as well,” Jake agreed. “Morning is only a few hours away.”
Laney reached up and made sure the dome light wouldn’t come on when they opened the doors. Jake took the lead, and pushed open the door on the passenger side and made like he was about to get out. Then he pulled the door closed, and looked over at Laney.
“Something wrong?” Laney asked worriedly. “Did you change your mind?”
“All done,” Jake said with a smile.
“All done? You didn’t go anywhere.”
“No, I didn’t,” Jake agreed. “You are all keyed up and hoping to see some sign that I am able to shift backwards as Carlson and I’ve told you. Even after the attack at the mosque the other day the way this works hasn’t really set into your mind. You just witnessed the most you will ever see.”
“I don’t understand,” Laney said.
“The last time we did this, when I joined this terrorist search and I lived through this period, you and I got out of the car, sneaked through the fence and made our way inside the building over there. We spent about fifteen minutes inside, because going in we realized we had tripped an alarm, and didn’t have much time. We were just about to leave when a half dozen vehicles showed up, with a lot of armed men.”
“How did we get out?”
“We didn’t,” Jake said. “I back-tracked, and all you observed was me apparently deciding not to get out of the car, just like a minute ago. For you, the break-in had never happened, while I retained the memories of what we had done. You’ve been looking to see or experience something unique. Unfortunately, that’s all it ever is for those around me, even those who are working with me. I can tell you what we learned, but you won’t have your own memories of what we did. You don’t get to participate in the loop.”
The look on Laney’s face showed his disappointment. Jake was correct about what he had been thinking. The last time they had been here together, Laney had already learned through demonstration what Jake could do. This time that hadn’t happened and Jake was operating on a hunch as to what the man was thinking.
“So we didn’t actually go in there tonight?”
“Given the problems I’ve had, I wouldn’t want to attempt a back-track,” Jake said. “There is too much at stake to risk my becoming hospitalized, and there is no need, as you have frequently noted. I remember exactly what we found in there when we did go in before.”
“You knew that before we came out here tonight.”
“I did, but like the other information, I feel it best to release it as the situation develops, so you learn in the same relative time as before. Besides, I wanted you to finally realize how this works.”
“And, what’s in there?”
“An assembly facility. They don’t make the gas here. They simply assemble the devices. Oh, and there is no sign of any anthrax, which suggests they are done with those weapons, or they are being made somewhere else.”
“Which means we still don’t know how this all works,” Laney said.
“There are a dozen filled canisters still inside, and perhaps twenty empty ones,” Jake said. “We will need to have our people continue to follow the installation crew so we can defuse the traps they are planting. But we still haven’t found either the source of the agents used in the weapons, nor those who are leading this effort. Most importantly, we don’t know all of the locations where they have placed weapons.”
Chapter 32
The next morning Laney gave the report with the results of the previous evening’s surveillance of the factory. He discussed both the single team that had traveled to a mall north of the city and installed the tanks of Sarin gas, and the discovery that the factory was an assembly point for the devices, but not the manufacturing facility for the gas itself.
“Tracking devices were installed on each of the vans that were used last night,” Laney explained, “but the other vehicles are still without the bugs. A read out this morning showed the devices work as expected, but because the other vehicles weren’t used, there was no opportunity to place the remaining devices. We may have over-estimated the size of the team that is involved.”
The recently assigned agents who had been on hand and for the most part not needed the previous evening were at the meeting this morning. A decision had to be made on whether they would be released back to their former duties, or kept on in case the situation changed, or assigned to other aspects of the search. Carlson had already discussed the matter with Laney and Jake, and had decided th
ey desperately needed the manpower and would therefore hang onto the resources, adjusting their assignments as additional knowledge was obtained.
“I’m surprised that someone checked out the factory,” one of the agents remarked. “I thought the risks were too high.”
“An unexpected opportunity presented itself,” Laney said, side stepping the issue of how he and Jake had obtained the information. “Bob and I were able to verify the fact that the gas isn’t being produced there.”
Laney felt a little uncomfortable with his bold statements since he’d hadn’t seen or verified anything. He had only Jake’s assurances that was what had been found inside when a mission he no longer had participated in had been conducted.
“The disposal team is already at work extracting the canisters from the new locations,” Carlson injected, wanting to turn the conversation and any speculation about the means Jake and Laney had used to obtain their information. Much as we discovered at the museums, there were other tanks, presumably anthrax, already installed in the mall. All of the canisters will be rendered harmless, and the empty units put back in place before this evening. We have found thirty-four of the deadly canisters thus far, which is far short of the number that are probably out there.”
“Are all of them synched to the same trigger data?” someone asked.
Carlson nodded. “That date can be changed, but so far all are set to be triggered at that same time.”
“Has anyone considered modifying one or more of the tanks and placing our own equipment inside to monitor whether the units receive a change of date signal, or something that directly triggers the release valves?” Felix Chang asked.
“That’s an excellent idea,” Carlson agreed. “I’ll pass it along to the technical people and see what they can come up with.”
“We found where our Muslim importer has some of his facilities,” Kirby Shaw said when he had his chance. “At least some of the local facilities. He has a large warehouse in Boston, and another facility in Newport News.”
The location in nearby Newport News and the fact the bank used for the purchase of the canisters had been located there was not lost on the group.
“Have you had anyone check out the warehouse?” Carlson asked.
“Not yet. We just learned of the connection late yesterday. I was planning on sending several agents there today and see what it looks like.”
“I’d like Laney and Bob Trask to go along,” Carlson directed. “Have someone at the Boston office take a look at the facility there, but it is enough farther away, I doubt that would be the one being used. Why use a facility a day’s drive distant, when you have one a couple hours away?”
As the meeting broke up and Jake and Laney headed across the room to coordinate the drive to Newport News with Kirby Shaw. Most of the other agents were making their way out of the room via the rear entrance. Laney jokingly commented to Jake, “I guess we won’t need to delay our start looking up the place on the maps program. You’ve already been there and know the way, right?”
As Laney finished his comment, he realized that two of the agents in the room had looped around and were far closer than he expected. They might have been close enough to overhear the comment.
“Shit!” cursed Laney. His comment had been poorly timed, and he knew he should have kept his mouth shut while in the presence of others.
Jake quickly looked around the room. He recognized one of the men that had wandered close at the time of the unfortunate slip. Don Graper was his name. He appeared to be engaged in a discussion with some of the other recently added agents. Probably trying to decide what their roles would be. He didn’t show any sign of having overheard. There was nothing Jake could do about it anyway.
Rather than drive two vehicles, Shaw suggested they take one of the larger sedans from the motor pool, and the four agents making the trip ride down together. Despite Laney’s comment, Brian Nash, one of the two agents Shaw had assigned the task to, had already printed out maps of where they needed to go. His partner, Matt Hocker, headed off to get the vehicle they would use.
Traffic as much as distance dictated their drive, and it took nearly four hours to drive the one hundred and seventy miles south to Newport News. They wound their way through the unfamiliar city, finding the warehouse district near the port without much difficulty. A combination of the maps that Nash had printed out and the GPS guidance system led them directly to the place. The large warehouse looked much like the others on the long block where it was located. In the half hour they had been watching the place more than a dozen large container trucks had come and gone, bringing in goods that had supposedly cleared customs, and hauling off containers destined to be loaded onto a ship for export.
“One could easily hide a shipment of those canisters in that place,” Matt Hocker announced. “It would take a multi-day search by a dozen agents to find them.”
“They might already have been shipped off anyway,” Nash replied. “The facility that Laney and Trask here checked out, had a number of them. There might be any number of small factories like that where the assembly was taking place. I doubt the large container trucks would be making deliveries to locations we are interested in anyway.”
Nash didn’t realize it, but he had just described the operation. There were multiple assembly facilities scattered around the DC area, and all had been supplied with their allotment of canisters some weeks before. The warehouse across the way still held more than a hundred and fifty of the canisters, but those were destined to go unused.
“I think we’d have to be concerned about small delivery vans of the kind we found in Alexandria,” Laney suggested. “We can’t be certain they had farmed out all of the canisters, and the gas and anthrax have to be coming from somewhere. The agents might be hidden on one or more of those containers, and then are being distributed. I can’t see them attempting to manufacture the stuff in a place as busy as this.”
“It’d be risky to try and bring it in by those containers,” Nash disagreed. “They have to pass through customs.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time money exchanged hands so something could be smuggled in. They sneak in whole loads of people, why not a few containers of chemicals?”
The drive back to Washington wasn’t any faster than the trip down had been. The four men arrived back at FBI headquarters late in the afternoon, and headed directly to Carlson’s office. They had called ahead, so Shaw was waiting there as well. Plans were made to use some of the recently added manpower to set up a watch around the warehouse, while a smaller team continued to monitor the activity at the local factory.
They’d skipped lunch with all the driving, and when Laney suggested to Jake that they go out to dinner together, he immediately agreed. Laney knew a great Italian restaurant. Jake knew Laney’s assessment was right having enjoyed the dinner with the agent the last time around. He looked forward to enjoying the fantastic meal a second time. Besides, last time, this evening had been one of bonding between himself and Laney. It was a chance to get to know one another, and that time was the first that Laney had kept his memories of their working together. The situation was somewhat different this time around, but hopefully the same kind of relationship could be formed. Jake didn’t anticipate any back-tracking, or truthfully even if he was still capable, and hoped the two would be able to regain the relationship they shared before.
The place was noisy, crowded, and mostly because Laney knew the greeter they were able to simply drop in and get a seat. They passed by the bar where a number of patrons were drinking and eating, which had openings unlike the crowded dining area. They were led to the back, to a booth that was surrounded by high-backed seats with a continuous row of potted plants in a planter built into the area behind and around the seats. They were partially isolated from the chatter around them, but the background level was still higher than Jake was used to.
Jake smiled. Laney was trying. While they sipped their drinks and waited for the main course to be delive
red, Laney asked a number of questions about their previously shared exploits, actions that Laney knew now that he’d never really shared. He wanted to know what would happen if he was shot, as he’d almost been the other day. Could Jake work around that?
Jake was uncomfortable talking about such things in a public area, but before the events that had driven him back to this period, he’d been somewhat less aware of the risks. When he and Laney had had dinner here before, they had had this discussion. This time Jake looked around, checking for anyone close by, but the noise level, plus their relative isolation behind the greenery surrounding their booth probably provided sufficient security. No one more than a few feet away would be able to overhear their discussion. Even so, he chose his words carefully. By the time they had finished dinner, he and Laney appeared to have mended some fences.
Laney insisted on paying, and offered to drive Jake back to his hotel several miles away.
“I think I’ll walk around for a bit,” Jake said declining the offer. “I want to do some shopping for Karin, and when these things finish up there isn’t always time.”
The two men parted, and Jake set off along the street. There were other restaurants and a large number of upscale shops along either side of the boulevard. With the comfortable evening coolness, the streets were packed with Friday night diners and shoppers. Jake moved slowly, scanning the windows for an appropriate gift for Karin. He didn’t know what he was looking for. The last time he hadn’t brought anything home, but that time he’d left California under better circumstances. This time Karin had been reluctant for him to come to Washington, and every night when he called home, he had to reassure her that nothing had required him to attempt to back-track.
Jake had just stepped out of a jewelry store when by chance he spotted him. Grigori Varennikov. A Russian agent who officially didn’t exist. Jake’s spotting the Russian hadn’t happened the last time around. Of course, even if Jake had been here like this the last time around, he wouldn’t have recognized the Russian. They learned about Varennikov much later. Last time Jake had taken Laney’s offer and been driven back to the hotel. He was now operating off script. Varennikov was a key player in the events that were taking place, and last time when Carlson and her team had closed in on the leaders, he had somehow melted into the shadows and disappeared. Jake couldn’t help wondering if he might learn something useful by following the man to see where he was headed.
