The Templar Reprisals (The Best Thrillers Book 3)

by James D. Best

  “Very clear, but I remain confused. What do you think we’ve done?”

  “You tell me. So far, you haven’t been forthright. You’re playing us. I want to know to what end?” Evarts sipped his drink. “Tell us … or swallow down your drink and get out.”

  “I thought I had been clear previously. We want you to be a sergeant in the Templar Knights. It’s in your interest because the Ikhwan have put a sizable bounty on your heads.”

  Evarts rolled the whiskey glass between his palms. “Did you drop the name Ikhwan to mollify my anger?”

  Lewis laughed. “No … well, yes. I meant to give you that information this evening, but I’ll admit your anger prompted me to bring it up earlier than I intended.”

  Baldwin held up her phone screen so Lewis could see that she had Googled the word. He nodded, and Baldwin said, “Ikhwan merely means brotherhood in Arabic. That’s worthless.”

  “An innocuous word, perhaps, but not meaningless. This group has been around for nearly a century. I’ll tell you some of what we know, but the rest you must research for yourself. If you look hard, you’ll find loads of information about the Ikhwan. Many believe they were predecessors to al-Qaeda. Overlords would be a better description. They run al-Qaeda, ISIS, Muslim Brotherhood, and others. They have affiliates as well, including the Taliban, Boko Haram, and many you have never heard about … yet. They’re dangerous … and they’re the ones who put a bounty on your head.”

  “Perhaps that’s the who,” Baldwin snapped, “but I want to know the why. I want a straightforward explanation. Right now, if you don’t mind.”

  Lewis laughed again. “Dear, you must accept a little obfuscation until you’ve pledged fealty to the Templars. We haven’t remained anonymous for seven centuries blabbing about what we know. It’ll all be disclosed, but there are certain wickets you must pass through for each unveiling.”

  Baldwin adjusted how her glasses rested on her nose, all the while glaring at Lewis with undisguised rage. “We understand how secret societies work. We’re not following your rules. Tell us why the Ikhwan wants us dead.”

  “Or …?” Lewis smiled.

  “Or we’ll assume that you leaked our names to Ikhwan to dangle us as bait,” Baldwin said angrily. “Insinuated that we’re Grand Masters or Seneschal. You callously put our lives at risk to draw your enemy into the open. You don’t want Greg as a simple Sergeant, you’re using us as tethered goats.”

  “No, you’re wrong. We don’t operate that way.” Lewis insisted.

  Baldwin settled against the cushioned back and sipped her wine before saying, “You’re lying.”

  When no one spoke, Baldwin added, “I suggest you quit lying. You don’t know what we’re capable of.”

  “Oh, but we do. We’ve researched you thoroughly. We know that a few years ago, you defeated an antebellum secret society bent on domination of the North America continent. You’re wickedly clever, capable of thinking on your feet, innovative in the moment, and you both can be lethally violent when the situation calls for it.”

  “Good, you understand,” Baldwin said. “Now answer my question.”

  Lewis appeared to think about it. Finally, he shrugged and said, “I’m going against instructions, but I’ll answer as honestly as I can.” He took a deep breath. “You’re correct. We set you up to draw out Ikhwan operatives. We never guessed they would react so fast … or use domestic gangsters. That’s very unlike them. We wanted Ikhwan, not garden-variety thugs. And we assumed that we’d have you under our protection before they moved.” His expression turned earnest. “I apologize.”

  “Not good enough,” Evarts said.

  “What do you mean?” Lewis asked in apparent surprise.

  “We already surmised all that. Tell us something we don’t know.”

  “I’ve already gone well beyond my brief. Plus, I gave you the name of the organization. The Ikhwan.”

  “Damn, I’m tired of your horseshit,” Evarts said.

  “That wasn’t horseshit. The organization calls itself Ikhwan.”

  “Of course, they do,” Baldwin said sharply. “Otherwise your machinations wouldn’t work. Your intent is to beguile us into rummaging around the internet investigating the Ikhwan until it kindles the curiosity of the terrorists. They would undoubtedly be alerted by our use of their clandestine moniker.” Now it was her turn to snap her glass onto a side-table. “You’re here to take this charade to the next level. Weaving a web of intrigue that will end in violence … with us as the victims.”

  “Wickedly clever, my dear. See, my earlier assessment of you was correct.”

  “We aren’t playing,” Evarts said.

  “Of course, you will. What alternative do you have? The Ikhwan is coming after you. You have no alternative but to work with us. We have the proper resources to take down the Ikhwan while keeping you safe in a protective cocoon.”

  “My wife already told you that we’re not playing by your rules.”

  Lewis laughed. “And what, may I ask, are your rules?”

  Evarts thought. “Did you ever see the movie Hombre with Paul Newman?”

  “Yes, it’s been many years, but I’ve seen it.”

  Evarts leaned forward. “My favorite line is when the Richard Boone character finishes his white-flag negotiations, and Hombre says, ‘Hey. I got a question. How are you planning to get back down that hill?’”

  Lewis looked perplexed and then ashen as he remembered the scene where Newman started shooting at Boone as he desperately scrambled down the hill.

  Chapter 31

  “Are you threatening me?” Lewis asked nervously.

  Neither Evarts nor Baldwin responded.

  Lewis tried to appear relaxed and smiled. “I don’t believe you. You’re an honorable man.”

  “My wife isn’t.”

  Baldwin removed a pistol from between the cushions and laid it in her lap.

  When his eyes lifted from her lap, she said, “Our rules say we defend ourselves … and put extortionists away.”

  “We’re not extortionists. Give us a—”

  “Running a protection racket is extortion,” Evarts exclaimed.

  “We don’t want your money.”

  Baldwin moved her hand to grip the pistol but didn’t move it out of her lap. “No, you want something far less consequential to you … our lives!”

  Until now, Evarts thought much of Lewis’ projected angst was acting. After his wife’s words, his frightened demeanor appeared more genuine.

  “There are people who know I’m here,” Lewis said.

  “Great. Introduce us,” Evarts said. “Call them in. They may be persuaded to tell us who you are.”

  “You think they’re outside the door?”

  Evarts shrugged. “Within a quarter mile. Call them.”

  “No.” Lewis scooted forward and set his glass on the coffee table. “In fact, I’ll be leaving. Thank you for your hospit—”

  Baldwin had raised her gun to point it mid-chest at Lewis.

  “You came here to sucker us,” Evarts said. “You put our lives in jeopardy and show no remorse. Our rules now. At some point this evening, you’ll be put under arrest. The intervening time may be uncomfortable. It up to you. To defend ourselves, we need information.” Evarts paused and cocked his head as he examined Lewis. “Have you really done a deep dive into our background? You seem to know we defeated a militant secret society in years past, but did you discover the drastic steps we took to achieve that victory? Do you know the harm and humiliation inflicted on my wife? What I did to the perpetrators in revenge?”

  “Not everything, no.” His fear was palpable. “I’m sure you did what you had to.”

  “We did what needed to be done to survive,” Baldwin said.

  “Okay, you’ve got me nervous.” He sat back. “Let me explain something. I’ll never tell you about the Templars. I made a solemn oath. Nothing you could do would exceed the punishment I swore to accept for violating that oath. I know the n
ext few hours may be awful, but I’ll never tell you anything about The Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon.” He took a large gulp of whiskey to bolster his courage. “Never. Do your damnedest,”

  “We will,” Evarts assured Lewis. “Except we don’t want to know about the Templars. We know about secret societies and how they work. They’re compartmentalized and you know little beyond a few immediate colleagues. We want to know about the Ikhwan.” Evarts let that sink in. “You tried to trick us into triggering internet spiders to draw your enemy into the open. We’re not cooperating with that plan. We don’t need to cooperate because you’re going to tell us everything you know about these terrorists.”

  Lewis somehow appeared simultaneously relieved and increasingly nervous. Evarts had used the interrogation tactic of framing the initial inquiry in an harmless direction. Evarts had purposely not asked Lewis to betray his oath, only tell him about their enemy.

  He shook his head. “I can’t. I might unintentionally reveal something.”

  “You can,” Evarts said. “We’re not going to step into your trap, so tell us.”

  “Or what?”

  “Or I’ll let me wife shoot you in the thigh. She’s been frightened to death by these attacks and when she came upon a stranger in our hallway, she acted in haste. After we maximize the pain, to interrogate you, I’ll arrest you for breaking and entering.”

  “I’m not in a hallway,” Lewis said perplexed.

  Evarts jumped up and swept behind Lewis to put him in a chokehold. He pressed Lewis’ head forward, his neck pressed against his forearm. “You’ll be unconscious in seconds. Moving you won’t present a problem. Hold up a hand if you’ll tell us about the Ikhwan.”

  Lewis immediately lifted a hand.

  Evarts relented, but Baldwin did not lower the gun.

  Lewis rubbed his neck and made a gaging noise before carefully saying, “Very well. This has not gone as intended.” He coughed and wheezed some more. “Knowledge about the Ikhwan works for our backup plan anyway. In the case of this eventuality, we discussed returning to the idea of recruiting you into the Templars. Some preferred that strategy all along.”

  “But not you?” Evarts asked as a test.

  “Not me,” Lewis admitted.

  Lewis had broken. Evarts believed in giving hostile witnesses a plausible justification for talking. Rationalization was the grease that lubricated the mouth. Evarts circled the couch to pick up Lewis’ empty glass. He refilled it and placed it on the coffee table in front of him.

  “Now, talk.” Evarts said.

  Chapter 32

  “Start with the Ikhwan?” Evarts said.

  “From the beginning,” Baldwin added.

  “Very well.” Lewis took a deep breath. “In the 1930s, Arabia hadn’t discovered oil yet. Sand, emptiness, and warring tribes were the only things in abundance. Then in 1932, Saudi Arabia came into existence when Abdulaziz Al Saud birthed an empire using the British as midwives. Al Saud didn’t rely on Brits alone. He had a group of ruthless Islamic fanatics known as the Ikhwan who served as his shock troops. They were all too willing to slaughter thousands to purify the new empire. Once the fighting abated, Al Saud needed to consolidate power, and he didn’t want pesky sermonizing from the cheap seats. The Ikhwan had to go. Al Saud finagled permission from the Wahhabi clerics to declare jihad against the Ikhwan.” Lewis smiled ruefully. “Not unlike King Philip IV of France persuading the Pope to condemn the Templars. In both cases, it was brutal. The king came to believe that the Ikhwan had been wiped out, but like the Templars six centuries earlier, the Ikhwan survived underground. Ever since, they’ve surreptitiously waged war against the west and Muslim leaders they deemed insufficiently pious.”

  Lewis scooted his butt around on the seat before continuing.

  “The Ikhwan would have remained a nuisance if they hadn’t acquired two key assets: money and a romantic cause. Every war needs a cash infusion and a rallying cry.”

  Lewis appeared pleased with his lecture.

  “Oil provided the money. Sponsorship by certain members of the Saudi royal family has been an open secret for decades. The royals provide a strong financial backbone, but the Ikhwan don’t squander money; in fact, they work feverishly to build their cash reserves. From time to time, the spoils of war add to the coffers. For all intents and purposes, ISIS is an Ikhwan subsidiary and during their caliphate, they aggressively harvested oil from fields in Syria and Iraq. Made billions, spent millions. Islamic nations typically use black in their national flags and battle banners, so ISIS called oil ‘the black gold feeding the black flag.’”

  He waited for an appreciative reaction. When none was forthcoming, he continued.

  “The movement’s philosophical underpinnings came in the 1950s and 60s from a sad little man named Sayyid Qutb. Think of him as the equivalent of Adam Smith, Karl Marx, Hitler, or even our own James Madison; all people who sparked a movement by espousing a philosophy. Qutb was an Egyptian civil servant, writer, and ardent nationalist. He was a shy mommy’s boy. His impoverished mother indoctrinated him in her beliefs. She was pious, chafed under British rule, and despised Western influences. She considered the British affected superiority a particularly grievous affront. But don’t assume Qutb only hated the British. He viewed the entire West as monolithic, with little distinction between Europe, Britain, and the United States. He loathed it all. Capitalism, socialism, democracy, republicanism, Marxism, fascism—he believed they were all cut from the same cloth … and that cloth was not Islamic. It was the fabric of the Christian and Jewish faiths. Qutb vowed that he would never allow nonbelievers to overwhelm Islam, the one true religion.

  “Qutb wrote many books and most educated Muslims have read them. The less educated have heard his ideas espoused in mosques, coffee bars, and Muslim homes. These ideas provided the foundation for radical Islam. His writings came mostly from prison because Nasser incarcerated him for over a decade before hanging him in 1966. While in prison, he wrote In the Shade of the Qur'an, a remarkable prison manifesto, comparable with Mein Kampf.”

  Lewis gazed at the ceiling before returning his eyes to Evarts. “You know the rest. With money and fervent idealism in their arsenal, the fundamentalists became terrorists. Qutb provided justification for the carnage.”

  Baldwin leaned forward. “Explain Qutb’s philosophy.”

  Lewis expression grew patronizing, and he spoke like a professor with a slow student.

  “Qutb imagined resurrecting a theocratic caliphate, with strict enforcement of shariah law. The Koran defines dietary rules, proper prayer, marriage, divorce, rules concerning non-Muslims, charity, punishment for crimes, prohibitions, proper clothing, business rules, and on and on. It defines a way of life that unifies the religious and the secular. Qutb dreamed about the glories of the past when Arabs ruled the world. He wanted those triumphs again. He wanted a world where people once again bowed before Arabs and their religion.”

  “Islam defenders say that’s over simplified.” Baldwin said dismissively.

  “Aw, but it is that simple. Radical Islamists intend to conquer the world for the purpose of imposing shariah. And by the way, it’s not a criticism of Islam if you’re parroting their words.”

  Evarts shook his head. “Americans will never accept shariah.”

  “You mean Christian and Jewish Americans. Many Muslim Americans already embrace it.”

  “I mean Americans,” Evarts said. “All Americans. We believe in the separation of church and state. Muslims have a constitutional right to worship as they please, but faith and government remain separate in our country.”

  “According to Qutb, that concept goes against the nature of humanity. Radical Islamicists believe the West is fatally wrong. Only the Koran defines the correct relationship between sacred and secular, but mankind lost sight of this. How, you might ask. Qutb knew the answer.” Lewis paused dramatically. “Traditional Judaism instructed people how to live a life at one with God. How
to behave in every sphere of life, very much like shariah. In Qutb's view, Judaism abandoned their divine laws and withered into ‘a system of lifeless ritual.’ Christians followed suit. Followers of Jesus emphasized his messages of spirituality and love, not divine laws. In Qutb’s opinion the truly dangerous element seeping into Arabia from the West wasn’t capitalism or foreign policy or racism. In his mind, separation of church and state presented the actual danger. Shariah meant ‘the abolition of man-made laws.’ It was freedom, justice, humanity, and divinity consolidated into a single cohesive system.”

  Lewis scrunched around in his seat. “Are you satisfied, now. May I leave?”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Baldwin said with a laugh. “You haven’t told us a thing I couldn’t have discovered in a half hour on the internet.”

  Lewis looked at Evarts with pleading eyes. “Why won’t you join us? Your lives depend on it.”

  Evarts said, “Because we don’t trust you.”

  “You don’t believe we’re capable of taking on the Ikhwan, do you?”

  “Not if you represent the varsity,” Evarts said.

  “I’m a messenger.”

  “You’re more,” Evarts answered. “This heartless plan was yours.”

  He nodded slowly. “Okay, I’m more than a messenger, but I’m not a warrior Knight. We have capable fighters.”

  “I’m sure … but you’re stalling.” Evarts looked out the open glass doors. “Did you call your compatriots?”

  “What? How?”

  Evarts shook his head in frustration. “Dammit. With a medical-alert-like button under your shirt. I saw you rub your chest a moment ago.”

  Evarts leaped at Lewis and tore open his shirt. Sure enough, he had an alert button around his neck. Evarts ripped it off as he pulled out his encrypted police radio to talk to his officer in the security room.

  “Incoming hostiles. Arrival imminent.”