“Tell them to come out now or they’re dead men.” Kaplan ordered.
“Raman. Sharif. Do as he says. Lower your weapons and come out.” The imam shouted.
Two men appeared from behind a curtain. One hand raised, the other lowered, each holding his rifle by the barrel.
“Drop the guns.” Philippe shouted. “Lay face down, hands behind your back.”
The men did as requested. Philippe reached into his pocket and retrieved flex cuffs. He cuffed the two men while Jake held his gun on them.
Jake walked over to the imam, grabbed his arm, walked him to a chair, and pushed him onto it. “I’ll ask you again. Where are they going to attack?”
“I do not know.” The imam pleaded. “Khan told no one but his men. We were never to know until afterwards—Khan’s orders.”
Jake raised his fist to hit the imam.
“Please, no.” The imam cowered. “The man downstairs, the prisoner, he is one of Khan’s men. He knows the locations. Khan said he is a failure, a disgrace to Allah. My orders are to hold him here until Khan returns. I fear the fate of the young man under the hand of Khan.”
“What about the man watching him?” Jake asked. “Will he surrender or will I have to kill him too?”
The imam shook his head. “He answers to me, not Khan. He will offer no trouble.”
Kaplan led the way with the imam to the cellar. The imam was right, his man surrendered his weapon as instructed. Philippe flex cuffed him as he did the others. The prisoner, Khan’s failure, was duct taped to a chair. Wearing nothing but a thin robe, he sat there. Legs bound, arms bound, chest bound. A strip of duct tape placed over his mouth.
The imam told the three men Khan had left specific instructions that the young man wasn’t to be touched, moved, or fed. The man was a disgrace to Islam, to Al Qaeda, to Allah and would be dealt with harshly. He would never see Paradise. And anyone who touched him would be dealt with even harsher.
“Do you understand English?” Jake asked.
The man nodded.
Jake reached into his pocket and pulled out his Leatherman. He cut away the front of the man’s robe from the waist down leaving the young man exposed. “Let me tell you how this works. First I ask you a question. Then you give me an answer. If I think you’re lying, I’ll cut something off. Each time you lie, I’ll cut something else off until there is nothing left. Am I getting through to you? Do you understand?”
The young man nodded.
Jake ripped the tape from the young man’s mouth. “Good. Now tell me everything you know about Khan and the attacks he’s planned for Paris.”
† † †
Khan drove with determination toward downtown Paris. He’d memorized the planned route along with several avenues for escape—something, until now, he didn’t think he’d need. But considering the GIGN might be alerted to his plans, the escape routes became viable options.
He’d planned to return to the Mosque de Trappes after the suicide bombings to deal with the young man—an example must be made. By then, Paris would be in mayhem. The national and international medias would swarm into the city. All rescue and law enforcement personnel from surrounding communities would be called into action to help the wounded. The hospitals and morgues would be overrun. Time was on his side. The Islamic nation will have struck again at the heart of the infidel. Al Qaeda would be blamed. Khan would be victorious.
With the gendarmerie alerted to the mosque and his attacks, Khan now knew he couldn’t return to the Mosque de Trappes. A possibility he’d planned for, just in case something like this did occur. Now his alternative course of action was sealed, he’d drop off the bombers, his merchants of death, then flee the city of Paris and the country of France. He would flee undetected.
He dropped off the first two bombers across the river from the first target location. Theirs was a simple task. Walk across the bridge, fall in line with the many tourists, and wait for the designated time. Then they could shout their final prayer and detonate the vests. Paradise waited for them.
Khan dropped the second two bombers, his most reliable men, at the entrance to the great museum. Their task was to enter the glass pyramid and descend into its depths. There, they would meet Allah and be transcended to Paradise.
CHAPTER 45
THE YOUNG TERRORIST offered no resistance to Jake’s inquiries. Jake recognized the man knew his chances with Jake and Kaplan were much better than the horror of being left to deal with Khan. Philippe radioed ahead to Heuse who would send gendarmerie forces to the two target areas. The descriptions the young man gave Jake of Khan’s men were vague. The only useful information vetted was the description of the men’s clothing and which entrance would be used at the great museum.
Jake glanced at his watch. Khan had set the time of detonation to coincide with one of America’s most infamous dates—9:11 a.m. Sixteen minutes from now. Jake and Kaplan were still five kilometers from reaching the destination Heuse sent them to—the Louvre museum. The target guaranteed to have the highest tourist count. Guaranteed to cause mass hysteria and panic.
As they sped through the cramped and crowded streets, Euro siren wailing, Jake wondered where Kyli was. The city was a tourist Mecca. Thousands flocked daily to visit the Parisian sights. The odds Kyli and her friend were near either of the two targets was remote, but not impossible. How could she have left Leuven without her cell phone? It seemed irresponsible due to the gravity of the situation.
The black GIGN Mercedes sped across Pont du Carrousel toward the entrance to the Louvre Museum. Philippe swerved to avoid a bus full of tourists at the entrance. Jake and Kaplan checked their weapons, loaded fresh magazines, and then tucked their Glocks in their jackets. The sound suppressors removed made for an easy, comfortable fit.
According to Heuse, the Louvre had scheduled an indoctrination ceremony in the auditorium under the Louvre Pyramid for 9:30 a.m. to honor the museum’s latest appointment to the Board of Directors, Maximilian DeBrule. Maximum capacity turnout was expected so the ceremony was scheduled early to avoid the peak tourist hours. Louvre security had been notified and asked to calmly evacuate the Under the Pyramid level of the Louvre. In reply they had informed the GIGN there was not enough time to completely evacuate the building before the bomb detonated.
Jake checked his watch, 9:06. Five minutes. The Mercedes slowed as the Louvre Pyramid came into view. “What the hell are you doing? Get us to the pyramid.”
“We must park and run.” Philippe said.
“No.” Jake shouted. “Drive across the plaza. We can’t waste any more time. Just do it.”
“But, monsieur—”
“Just do it. Now.”
Philippe floored the accelerator and the Mercedes lunged forward, bouncing over the curb and nearly plowing over a light pole. The Mercedes careened across the Louvre courtyard toward the glass pyramid. Pedestrians screamed and scattered like pigeons being chased by a dog. With its lights flashing and siren wailing, the Mercedes skidded to a stop sixty feet from the pyramid and two feet from a woman who stood frozen by the sight of the oncoming car.
The glass and metal pyramid serves as a main entrance to the Louvre museum. The pyramid was surrounded by three smaller pyramids and sat in the main courtyard of the Louvre Palace.
Jake and Kaplan jumped from the black sedan in a full sprint toward the pyramid when the sound of a distant explosion made them turn and look.
Jake saw a fireball billowing from the Eiffel Tower. Then a second fireball ballooned from the tower. He turned back toward the pyramid when he heard a gunshot from inside the building. Tourists screamed and ran in every direction. Before Jake could react, it happened.
A flash of light from inside the pyramid.
Jake felt a tremor beneath his feet.
† † †
Kyli and Kates had just reached the bottom of the stairs beneath the Louvre pyramid when a security guard began announcing the evacuation of the building due to a potential gas leak. The wait i
n line hadn’t taken them as long as Kyli estimated. A ten-minute casual stroll from the Metro station, another ten-minute wait in line and she and Kates were descending below the glass pyramid.
“You have got to be kidding me.” Kates said. “I come all the way to Europe and I can’t get into the Louvre.”
“I’m sure it won’t be for long.” Kyli reassured her. “Sounds more like a precaution. We’ll be back down here in no time. You’ll see.”
Kyli and Kates turned around and began climbing the stairs when Kyli heard the commotion above them at the entrance. People shouting, pushing, and shoving then a man ran down the stairs past her and continued toward the auditorium.
A guard leaned over the rail, “Halt.”
Kyli saw the guard raise his gun. “Kates, run,” she yelled. She grabbed Kates arm and started running up the stairs.
The guard fired his gun in the air.
Kyli looked down at the fleeing man and then back up at the guard. She realized the implications. The man who ran down the stairs was Arab—clean-shaven, clutching his jacket. Time with her grandfather had taught her that evil people surrounded them and radical Muslim sects were some of the most dangerous. They had no respect for life or for the lives of women and children. They didn’t fight like soldiers, but like cowards. Suicide bombers were worst of all, their objective was to take as many lives as possible.
“Faster, Kates. Faster.” Kyli yelled. “We need to get the hell out of here fast.”
Arm in arm, the two women ran up the stairs, taking two steps at a time, until they reached the top of the stairs. They dashed for the exit. Hundreds of people were running across the Louvre courtyard, fleeing for their lives. Kyli had a firm grip on Kates hand when they reached the doorway. The two women were in synchronous stride, running as fast as they could, when there was a deafening explosion behind and below them.
The last thing Kyli saw were Kates’ eyes as the blast lifted them in the air, ripping their hands free from each other and catapulting them across the courtyard.
† † †
By the time Jake recognized what had just happened, the glass pyramid exploded. Glass, metal, and bodies flew outward, tumbling across the courtyard. Windows in the Louvre Palace shattered from flying debris and the shock wave of the explosion. Jake was hit by the concussion wave knocking him to the concrete. Bits of glass ripped and buried into his skin. He felt like he’d just been attacked by a swarm of bees, stinging his entire body.
Jake looked at Kaplan who was struggling to stand, his face covered in blood. A large piece of glass buried in his forehead. He looked back at the GIGN Mercedes; a four-foot piece of twisted metal had sliced through the windshield impaling Philippe to the front seat.
Jake picked up his gun and ran toward Kaplan. “Gregg, you okay?”
Kaplan wavered. “My gun. Where’s my gun?”
“Gregg, sit down.” Jake looked around. Kaplan’s gun was knocked twenty feet away. “I’ll get your gun. You stay still.”
Jake retrieved Kaplan’s gun and looked across the courtyard. Only about a dozen people were still standing. Dozens of bodies littered the courtyard, some intact, others not. It looked like a war zone. Painful moans echoed through the plaza. Smoke billowed from the crater that just seconds earlier was where the pyramid stood.
“Jake.” Kaplan pointed toward the crater. “There, it’s not over.”
Jake followed the direction Kaplan’s hand was pointing and saw a man staggering toward the crater, clutching his jacket, and chanting in Arabic. A chant he’d heard before and knew too well.
“Allahu akbar.” The man chanted over and over. “Allahu akbar.”
Jake yelled. “Stop.”
The man reached the edge of the crater and turned toward Jake. His jacket was torn from the blast. Jake recognized the vest, a suicide vest packed with explosives.
The man looked at Jake. “Allahu akbar.”
“Allahu akbar, my ass.” Jake squeezed the trigger. The man’s head recoiled then he fell into the pit.
CHAPTER 46
KYLI THOUGHT SHE was dreaming. Her entire body screamed with pain after tumbling across the Louvre courtyard. In a deafened fog she saw a man walking across the courtyard aiming a gun in the direction of the blast. His torn shirt and pants spotted with blood. The man looked like Jake, but that was impossible. Jake was two thousand miles away. She saw the muzzle flash, his gun recoil, but deafened by the blast, she heard no sound.
The last things she remembered were the blast from under the pyramid, Kates being torn from her grip, and the pain as shards of glass ripped at her skin, stinging and burning. The back of her head felt damp and sticky.
She tried lifting her head, but it wouldn’t move. The man who fired the gun turned around and was walking toward her. Her eyes tracked his movements. She struggled to lift her blood-covered arm. All it did was drag across the concrete. She tried raising it again, but only her fingers twitched. “Jake.”
A wave of pain flooded her brain and the man disappeared into the darkness.
† † †
Jake scanned the courtyard and did an assessment of the situation. There were dozens of bodies scattered across the ground. Some alive, some dead. All bleeding. Jake counted thirteen people standing, moving around checking on the wounded, searching for lost loved ones, and trying to cope with the reality of what just happened.
Jake noticed a young woman nearby, tall and thin, calling a name. The back of her clothes covered in blood, her arms and legs covered in abrasions. At first he couldn’t understand whom she was calling. He could see she was scared and wandered aimlessly. Then, as she got closer, he heard the name she called. His heart sank—Kyli.
He hurried toward the tall woman. She was at least fifty feet away. If she was Kyli’s friend, then he needed to get to her.
He noticed Kaplan sitting against the Mercedes holding a small child, probably unaware of Philippe’s dead body behind him. There was a woman rocking back and forth on her knees, the child in front of her looked dead. Dozens survived the blast only to bleed out from fatal penetration of glass shards.
Jake stepped over rubble as he moved toward the tall woman calling Kyli’s name when he noticed a woman laying face down, dozens of shards of glass protruding from her back and the backs of her legs. She had the same color hair and size as Kyli. Her face was covered in blood, her bloody arm stretched along the concrete toward him, fingers twitching.
“Kyli.” Jake reached down and moved her slightly. The woman was already dead—not Kyli. He let her fall to the concrete.
Adrenaline coursed through his veins, he had to find Kyli. He sidestepped a twisted piece of metal and spotted the tall thin woman again. He took two steps toward her and froze. He heard his name. He looked in the direction of the voice. Blood, glass, and debris covered the concrete between him and the voice.
He heard the voice again and recognized Kyli. She was laying face down, drifting in and out of consciousness. Glass sliced her skin on her arms and legs. A large piece was wedged just below the base of her skull. Her clothes covered in blood. Jake needed to get help.
Within seconds the courtyard filled with police cars and emergency vehicles. It became an amphitheater of noise and a kaleidoscope of flashing lights. Victims wept for those lost and called for those still missing. Sirens reverberated in Jake’s ears. He sat next to Kyli, holding her head still until the medics arrived. He looked at his hands. They were covered with blood—Kyli’s blood. It was happening again. His mind flashed back to Savannah, when he was holding Beth, his hands covered in her blood. He could think of only one thing.
Khan.
He would hunt Khan down.
Hunt him down and kill him.
CHAPTER 47
KHAN FLED PARIS sooner than he’d originally intended. He hadn’t anticipated the gendarmerie closing in on the mosque as soon as they had, almost thwarting the planned bombings. He’d noticed two Americans in the GIGN Mercedes, one fair-skinned with light
er hair. The other his polar opposite; dark skin, dark hair, and dark eyes. The two could be trouble. He wondered if they were somehow connected to the failure in Australia or the explosion in Yemen. If so, they were tracking him so he needed to proceed with extreme caution.
He decided to stick with his original plan, a week in San Sebastian playing the rich Spanish playboy. His French was good, his Spanish better. He’d change his appearance the first full day in Spain, haircut, shave his beard, and a new wardrobe. When he made his connection in Madrid, he knew he’d be scrutinized. His olive skin and dark features would lend him the air of authenticity he needed as a citizen of Spain traveling west for a visit to America for a business conference.
Khan wasted an hour in downtown Paris abandoning the van in a seedier section of the city, leaving the keys in the ignition. He walked to the nearest Metro station, changing trains multiple times until he ended up at the Porte d’Ivry station. He walked the half-kilometer to a nearby garage where a stolen black Audi had been stored.
At each Metro station television monitors broadcast the devastation at the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower. Khan had drastically overestimated the damage the bombs would cause at the Tower. Although closed for inspection, the damage to the Eiffel Tower was minimal and the number of casualties low. Conversely, damage to the Louvre was extensive, the pyramid entrance completely destroyed.
Khan drove the Audi on a predetermined route westward toward the Bay of Biscay via Le Mans, Poitiers, arriving in Bordeaux in early afternoon where he ate lunch at a small sidewalk café and toured a winery east of town. With France on high alert from the bombings, he played the part of the upset Spaniard lamenting the destruction of two of France’s icons.
From Bordeaux, Khan drove to Bayonne, France where he left the stolen Audi and retrieved a brand new red flame Volvo C70 convertible with a Spanish registration. His playboy image almost intact, Khan drove the coastline to San Sebastian with the top down enjoying the cooler October weather.
The Toymaker Page 18
