by Brad Taylor
She nodded.
I continued. “As soon as you’re off the train, call my cell phone so you can simply hit redial in an emergency. Call me every thirty minutes. If you don’t get through, if I don’t answer, get out. Go straight to the hotel. Lock the doors and wait. I’ll get in touch. If I don’t hear from you, I’m coming straight here, to the mall. If anything happens, try to stay in the area, create a scene, whatever you can do to give me a clue on finding you.”
“Whoa — are you serious? You think it’s that bad? I can’t believe this. All right… I’ll try to leave a bloody napkin or maybe a finger for you to find.”
“Come on. That’s not funny. I don’t think it’s that bad, but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared.”
“Okay, okay. I can handle myself. I’ll stay in crowded areas and scream my head off if someone tries anything. What about you? You’re going straight to the one place that has people like you, the one place that can hurt you. What if they’re the ones that did it? Maybe we should just call your unit.”
I shook my head. “They change numbers every three months. I can’t call. Even if I could, it’s not the Taskforce. No way. That’s not what they do. If anything, they can figure out what’s going on.”
The train pulled into Pentagon City.
“This is you. Don’t get hurt.”
Jennifer smiled. “I’ll be okay. Trust me; I can deal with a shopping mall.”
She jumped out just as the doors were closing. I continued to stare out the window, seeing her pull out her phone to call me. My phone rang as the train pulled away. I gave her one more admonishment about being alert, then hung up. I was wondering if splitting up was such a hot idea. The cell phone contact plan was of more psychological help than anything else. It would allow me to know she was safe but wouldn’t do anything to help me find her. If she didn’t call, I knew there would be very little I could do.
I put myself at ease with the thought that nobody had paid us a second’s worth of attention on the drive up here, and both hotels had checked us in without question. While the police were probably ripping my boat apart in Charleston, we hadn’t been on any news programs I had seen. I’d just have to hope our luck continued.
69
Lucas assessed his assembled team, satisfied that they could get the mission done. He had called ten men, needing at least five for the mission. Four of the ten were already contracted on another assignment. Out of the remaining six who answered his call, four were ex-U.S. Navy SEALs and two were ex-U.S. Army Special Forces. All were ruthless, intelligent, and very highly trained. After thanking them for coming, he started the PowerPoint slideshow, giving them the background on the targets.
He began with Jennifer, getting juvenile comments on her looks and heckling about why their skills were needed.
The demeanor changed when he got to Pike. The men became serious, taking notes and asking questions.
After the background, he gave them the mission statement.
“Both of these targets are to be terminated. There are no specific constraints on the termination. The only rules of engagement are that they are both out of the picture, and the act cannot be traced back to us. Collateral damage is acceptable as long as it is restricted to five or less.
“We know they’re coming here, to D.C. In fact, they may already be here. Through information from other sources, we believe they’ll make contact with an individual or individuals here in Washington. One of those individuals is tied to this phone.”
He held up the cloned handset. “This is our only lead. We’ll set up a duty roster, with this post manned 24/7. During the day, you’ll stay here, just like that mission against the defense contractor six months ago. The bunks are still in the back, Xbox and cable still hooked up. At night, if you’re not on duty, you’re free to do what you want, as long as you can get back here in thirty minutes on a recall, sober and ready to work. Along with the man minding the phone, half the team will bunk here each night on a rotating basis.
“The actual mission will be fluid, no set plans or rehearsals. The Fort Bragg op was a pretty good template to use. Get this done, and we get a pretty good paycheck.”
He turned to the SEAL directly to his right. “Mason, you’re the team chief. Set up the duty roster however you see fit. Assign positions and issue out the necessary kit. Sean’s out front with your beepers and cell phones, all new and clean.”
Lucas paused. “All of you look at me.”
He waited until he had their undivided attention, “This Nephilim character’s picture is next to the definition of badass in the dictionary. Do not underestimate him. We need to take him out quick. If you get him in your sights, and can meet the rules of engagement, take him down. We can deal with the girl at our leisure, but make a mistake against this guy, or let him know he’s being hunted, and he’ll kill you. Any questions?”
Lucas spent the next thirty minutes answering a barrage of queries on everything from the title trace of the cars they would drive to the response time of EMS vehicles at an automobile accident. Holding true to the ethos of the special operations units they had come from, Lucas let the planning evolve from the bottom up. He gave out the guidance and let them sort through the gritty details.
Forty-five minutes later, they had the skeleton of an operational plan, with various straw man scenarios rehearsed on whiteboards and individual assignments dictated. They could now execute a multitude of plans on a moment’s notice, with only the actual location of the operation unknown.
* * *
Sayyidd watched Bakr pace back and forth in their small hotel room, clearly impatient that a message hadn’t arrived. Sayyidd had checked the account every hour on the hour, but they’d received nothing. Bakr stopped pacing and walked to the door.
“I’m going out. I need to get some air. This is driving me crazy.”
“Allah has shown us the way throughout this journey. He’ll continue to do so. There’s no reason to worry or get angry. He’ll speak again when He’s ready.”
When Bakr didn’t respond, Sayyidd thought maybe he was getting through to him. He had convinced Bakr to choose this path, and now wondered if Bakr himself had the courage to believe in their destiny. Maybe he was looking for a reason to fail. Sayyidd had seen it before. Otherwise brave, righteous men cracking under the pressure placed upon them by the word of God. Not wanting to fail, but unable to simply leave, they ended up doing foolish things to ensure their place in heaven. He needed to prevent that with Bakr. He knew his limitations. Sayyidd had proven time and time again that he could accomplish missions against all odds, but always as a member of a team. Never as a leader. Or, in this case, on his own. Without Bakr, he knew he would fail.
He booted up the M4, praying that Walid had answered. He checked the next Yahoo! address and immediately deflated. It was empty. Behind him, he heard Bakr say, “Still nothing?”
Before Bakr could get angry again, Sayyidd said, “Let me check the other addresses. Maybe it went to the wrong one.”
Sayyidd went to the next address on the list, watching anxiously as the new Web page loaded. There were two messages, one spam and the other from The Sheik. A shiver ran through him. Finally, an answer. He opened the message. It was short, and to the point.
Praise Allah, my pilgrims have made it to the land of Walid. I have passed your message, and Walid has replied that he gave you instructions, which you did not follow. He will contact you again, but requests that you send the e-mail address you wish to use to ensure there are no more mistakes. May Allah smile on your mission. All are aware of your journey, and all praise your quest. Wait for his contact, then smite the infidels with his help.
Sayyidd breathed a sigh of relief. It had all been a simple mistake. He felt a huge weight leave his shoulders. Everything was going to be okay. He turned away from the computer, smiling, only to see Bakr, his face drained of blood, staring at the screen as if he had seen his own death. Sayyidd had had enough.
“What is it no
w, you old woman? Can’t you be happy about anything? Thirty minutes ago you were whining like a dog about not getting a message, now you’re mad about getting one.”
Bakr sat in silence. He finally said, “I’m taking the weapon in the morning. We’ve been discovered.”
Sayyidd was stunned. “Taking the weapon? Have you lost your mind?”
“Walid sent us a message, but we didn’t get it. Now we get the next message on the next e-mail address. Why? Why didn’t The Sheik send the message in the order he dictated us to use? It’s because there was a message, and he thought we had received it, thus that e-mail address was no longer usable. We didn’t get it because someone else retrieved it. Someone has that e-mail address, and might have the others. I have no idea of the technology the Great Satan employs, but it’s not impossible.”
Left unsaid was the mistake that Sayyidd had made in Guatemala.
“Quit it,” Sayyidd said. “You’re constantly afraid of your own shadow. Why does everything have to be some evil plot against us? Why can’t you trust in Allah to protect us? Just once?”
Bakr spoke in a dangerously quiet tone. “Dog, it’s because of my caution that I live. I have killed more infidels in a month than you have in your life. I have no idea why Allah has shined a light on you and allowed you to survive with the mistakes you make, but I’m not going to repeat them.”
Sayyidd felt a chill. Bakr was not a man to test, and Sayyidd could sense the mission falling apart, with Bakr about to make a decision that would leave him alone. Without any support. Forcing him to face his fears. He held his tongue, awaiting Bakr’s decision.
“I’m leaving tomorrow with the weapon,” Bakr said. “Whatever happens here, we can’t let the infidels steal the means of victory. It may simply be a mistake, but we should act as if it isn’t. You will remain behind here to wait for Walid’s message. Once you have that, meet him and finish the final planning.”
“But where will you go? What’ll I do once I meet Walid?”
“I’ll head to Bosnia. There are plenty of old fighters there willing to help. You do exactly what we were going to do all along. Give him our request for evidence to blame the Persians, and figure out how we’ll get into Palestine. Once you know that, contact me with the plan. God willing, we’ll meet again and continue our journey together.”
“But if you’re right, I’ll be arrested. I’ll be the one who dies without striking a blow against the infidels. Maybe we should both go.”
Sayyidd’s voice cracked. He hoped Bakr took it as concern for the mission, and not a fear of being exposed as a fraud. It must have worked, because Bakr didn’t sugarcoat anything, choosing instead to give him the hard facts.
“You may very well die here, or at the least be put in prison, but your part of the mission is worth that risk. Without you and Walid, I’ll be forced to go on my own, with little chance of starting the catalyst that you envisioned. I need your help to make this work. Even so, we can take steps to protect ourselves.”
“How? What should I do?”
“It’s time for you to become what you were going to become in America: a simple college student, without any political aspirations. If they suspect us, the far enemy will focus on this section of the city. Check out of this Muslim hotel. Find one in the city that doesn’t stand out and allows you to blend into the local tourist scenery. Set up your meeting with Walid away from known hotbeds and radical mosques. That should protect you more than any security procedures I could devise.”
Sayyidd calmed down, feeling more secure. After all, Bakr had the weapon. Bakr would be the shahid. Sayyidd wouldn’t have to push the button. He would be the facilitator, and with Allah’s help, they would succeed.
“All right. I’ll stay and meet Walid. How will you get to Bosnia?”
“Well, I can’t fly, since they might be watching the airports. I’ll take a ferry from here to Germany. From there, I’ll take trains and buses until I join up with our Muslim brothers in Tuzla. It’ll take a little longer but will be more secure.”
“Give me five minutes and I’ll get that set up.”
Before he could boot up the M4 satellite phone, Bakr stopped him. “Wait. We need to ensure we can communicate first. I want you to establish a separate e-mail address, known only to you and me. Every twenty-four hours, I want you to send me a message. Include the town of Fallujah in the message somewhere. If I don’t hear from you every twenty-four hours, or I get a message without the mention of Fallujah, I’ll assume you’ve been captured or killed. I’ll then immediately take the weapon and attempt to use it to the best of my abilities.”
He stopped, waiting for Sayyidd to look up. When he had Sayyidd’s undivided attention, he began again. “Sayyidd, I don’t want to make you mad, but the only way that splitting up will be a mistake is if you fail in this task and inadvertently send me to my death. Once I believe that you’re discovered, I’ll immediately flee to stay out of the hands of the authorities. There’ll be no turning back. Do you understand?”
Sayyidd said, “I understand. Don’t worry. I won’t fail you.”
Bakr relaxed, satisfied that he had made his point. “From here out, we must act as if we were still in the Land of Two Rivers. Watch around you. Look for the infidel with the knife. We’ve come very far in a short amount of time. God willing, we’ll finish our journey in victory, but it will require diligence, and I’m sure we’ll both be tested before this is through.”
Sayyidd felt sick to his stomach at the thought of being left alone.
70
I called Jennifer as soon as I stepped off the Metro at King Street, asking her to meet me in the lobby. I had managed to leave my number at Taskforce Headquarters, but it hadn’t been smooth. I was no longer a member of the elite little club. I didn’t have the badges or passwords to get me into the inner sanctum, so I had to make a fuss. Even then, after getting through the first gate, and begging to simply leave a number for Kurt, I was ignored because Kurt officially didn’t exist. I was politely asked to leave by Abigail, a gray-haired lady from whom I had bought Girl Scout cookies for years. I’d bought enough to put her grandkid through college, yet she acted like she’d never seen me. Eventually, the internal security force had shown up, giving me the not-so-subtle hint to get the fuck out. Before they pitched me headfirst out the door, Abigail finally broke through her stupid cover and said she’d take my number. I knew she’d get it to Kurt, so I guess I had succeeded.
By the time I reached the lobby Jennifer was already downstairs, carrying our new laptop.
Less than an hour later we were at Ethan’s house. I took the lead to the front door, looking at my watch before I rang the doorbell. Close enough for government work. I rang the bell and waited.
Immediately, a dog began barking like his fur was on fire. I smiled. “Sounds like a rabid wolf, but he’s really a teddy bear.”
I heard Ethan tell the dog to shut up before opening the door. I waited, a little anxious at the response I would get.
Ethan gave me a big grin, holding his arms open. Whew. After embracing me, he noticed Jennifer for the first time.
“Who’s this?”
“A friend of mine. Jennifer Cahill, this is Ethan Merriweather. Otherwise known as Haji.”
Ethan shook her hand, then invited us both inside.
I bent down to ruffle the fur of a brown-and-tan mutt that looked like a cross between a bulldog and miniature collie. The dog began to jump all over me, slobbering.
“Hey, Eddie, how ya been?” Looking up, I asked, “Kathy around? I’d like to say hello.”
“No, unfortunately, she’s not. She really wanted to see you as well, but Emily and Rachel had a big Girl Scout thing tonight. It’s been planned for a month.”
I nodded, relieved at the answer. It would be pretty hard for Kathy to decide at the last minute to attend something like that, and I knew that Ethan wouldn’t outright lie to me.
Standing up from Eddie, freeing him up to run over to Jennifer
and begin slobbering all over her, I said, “That’s too bad. I’d really like to see her and the kids. I don’t know how long I’ll be in D.C., but maybe I’ll get the chance later.”
“How about coming by for dinner tomorrow night? I know we’re out here in the boondocks, but she’ll make your favorite — chicken pot pie.”
I couldn’t help but laugh because chicken pot pie was what Kathy always served when I came to dinner, whether I wanted it or not.
“You want some home-cooked food?” I asked Jennifer.
“I think that would be great, if one extra is okay.”
I knew Jennifer’s coming was implied. “Sounds like a date.” I paused, then got to the point. “Can we go to your study? I’ve got some stuff to show you.”
“You know the way. I’ll grab some beers.”
Once Ethan entered, I spread out both e-mail messages, one repeatedly folded and stained, the other a fresh computer printout.
“Haji, this is what we need translated. We got these from two different e-mail accounts. It’s terrorist related, but we don’t really know how.”
He picked up the first sheet, spending a few minutes studying it. Placing it down, he picked up the second sheet. After about fifteen seconds, he placed it back down and returned to the first sheet, walking around the room and studying it.
I finally got fed up. “Well, what’s it say?”
Ethan snapped out of his trance, looking at us like he didn’t know where we’d come from. After a pause, he said, “Okay, one is clearly some sort of terrorist message. It talks about killing infidels and other things. The other is simply an invitation to coffee, with an address.”
I already knew that one was terrorist related but was surprised at the other translation.
“What’s the address? Is it in Norway?”
“It doesn’t have a country listed, but it’s a coffee shop somewhere in Europe. The verbiage is a direct phonetic translation, and isn’t American. The meeting occurred today at thirteen hundred.”
