The Templar Reprisals (The Best Thrillers Book 3)

by James D. Best

  “Why were you seeing Mr. Methow?”

  “He’s a lawyer with good connections in the publishing business,” Evarts said, going with Wilson’s cover story. “My wife is an author and—”

  “What has she written?”

  “All nonfiction. She’s an academic. She writes mostly about Abraham Lincoln. Quite Contrary—Mary Lincoln Critiques Her Husband was her first bestselling—”

  “I read that. Good book.”

  He turned away. Patrol officers had arrived, and the sergeant directed them to cordon off the area, control the crowd, and search for witnesses.

  When his attention returned to Evarts, he asked, “Why did she see Mr. Methow?”

  “My wife wanted to re-secure the rights to her backlist … that’s a term for books published years ago. Basically, she—”

  “That’s good enough,” the sergeant said. “Now explain what you witnessed.”

  “Here or in Mr. Methow’s office?” Evarts asked, wondering why this officer would be more concerned about the assassination than the street killing at his feet.

  “Mr. Methow’s office. My lieutenant wants to know what the hell happened up there. Evidently, all of Mr. Methow’s good connections weren’t in the publishing business.”

  Evarts and Wilson told the same story in sequence. When they finished, the sergeant walked away to speak to his lieutenant. The coroner arrived and began the preliminary examination of the body.

  Evarts worried that Baldwin would tell a different story. That could delay their release and he needed to talk to O’Brian. He asked a patrolman if he could make a phone call and was told no. Then he noticed Wilson hand in her jacket pocket was moving. She was texting blind. He hoped she was good at it.

  “I hope your father-in-law can handle this?” Evarts said.

  “He’s not as healthy as he once was, but I know how to break it to him.”

  The sergeant returned and faced them. “You’re both under arrest. Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

  Chapter 55

  With his hands cuffed behind his back, Evarts could not find a comfortable position in the back of the squad car. Wilson, on the other hand, sat unmoving, as if this were an everyday occurrence.

  “Don’t ball your hands in fists,” she said. “Stretch your fingers out flat.”

  Evarts willfully ignored her instructions. “How will your father-in-law take this?”

  “If I haven’t lost my touch, we should know shortly.”

  “Cute,” Evarts said irritably.

  She was right. In about five minutes, they were gingerly extracted from the cop car and uncuffed.

  “You’re free to go,” the sergeant said as he handed them back their IDs, guns, phones, wallets, and keys. “Evidently, Mr. Methow is not the only one with connections.”

  “Why were we arrested?” Evarts asked.

  “Your story didn’t jive with your wife’s.” He handed Evarts a card. “Be at the station tomorrow to give your statement.” He grinned. “Chief, you might want to rehearse tonight so everyone’s on the same page.”

  He walked away.

  As they marched away from the police cordon, Evarts called his wife as Wilson called O’Brian. She had been released and had taken a taxi to the hotel. He told her they would meet her there in fifteen minutes. Evarts stepped into the street to hail a cab.

  By the time a cab pulled over, Wilson had finished her conversation.

  “Did you tell your father-in-law about our trip to Jakarta?” Evarts spoke cryptically because of the taxi driver.

  “I did. He’s anxious for us to tell him about it. Wants us back as soon as we can manage it. Oh yeah, he said he handled the flight to Bermuda. We’re not to worry about it.”

  “Good. Did you tell him about our appointment tomorrow morning?”

  “He said he’d get it cancelled. No problem.”

  They pulled up in front of the hotel and jumped out to hurry inside. As they rode the elevator to their floor, Wilson said they should pack immediately and catch a cab to La Guardia.

  Evarts found his wife pacing in their room.

  “What happened to you? The damn cops wouldn’t tell me a thing.”

  “I’m a damn cop,” Evarts reminded her.

  “You’re damned if you don’t tell me what happened? Right now, dear, or I’ll have to break your only bottle of Macallan’s over your head.”

  “Good idea,” he said as he poured himself a drink.

  Then he told her everything. He discovered that when they asked why she was meeting with Methow she had said it was classified government business. When she heard their story, she got annoyed with herself for not thinking of such an obvious alibi. Evarts reminded her that with friends in high places, it didn’t matter. Then he told her that they had to pack and get to the airport. She packed them both while he ordered a car from a limousine service.

  In short order, they were in a black Lincoln Town Car heading for La Guardia. Evarts requested that the driver raise the privacy screen.

  He collapsed against the seatback, closed his eyes, and said, “Damn.”

  “At least we all survived,” Baldwin said.

  Evarts didn’t open his eyes. “Yes, we did. Thank you again, Diane. Good police work.”

  “Coming off an adrenaline high?” Wilson asked.

  “That and frustration.” He opened his eyes to look at Wilson. “You know, we lost our only contact with the Templars.”

  “Do you think they’ll send someone else,” Baldwin asked. “Methow said they would when we foiled his rescue in Santa Barbara.”

  “My bet is that they’ll decide we’re too damn much trouble. Unless we hunt one down, I suspect we’ll never see another Templar.”

  “How bad is that?” Baldwin asked.

  “Bad. As far as we know, the Ikhwan still want us dead, and O’Brian can’t or won’t dedicate government resources to help us. I was planning on playing the Templars against the Ikhwan. Now I’ve got to figure out something else.”

  “Why was Methow assassinated?” Baldwin asked.

  “The million-dollar question. It had to be the Ikhwan, but the assailant looked and acted like a professional hit man. Perhaps the Ikhwan are too busy arranging Friday’s big party to do their own dirty work. But why now? They must have previously known about his Templar status.”

  Wilson leaned forward to catch their attention. “Because he renewed his inquiries about Ali as-Saad.”

  “Crap, you’re right. That must be it. They’re protecting the backup caliph. The hit had all the traits of a hurried job. If it had been carefully planned, they’d have known that Methow would have left the office by that time of day.” Evarts thought through the course of events. “But why did he wait until we left the room? That makes no sense.”

  Wilson said, “Maybe the hitman only had a contract for Methow and purposely waited for us to leave.”

  “That pattern of shots through the wall was grouped to nail us as well. I’ll bet he knew about the reward for our heads and after he completed his immediate contract, threw a Hail Mary.”

  The three sat quietly for a moment.

  “What does that mean for us?” Baldwin finally asked.

  “Death … unless we get them first. The Templars set us up as grand poohbahs in their little club. Now, they’ve caught us in a private, off-hours meeting with a leading Templar. That just reinforced their conviction that we’re the enemy.” He leaned over and gave his wife a kiss on the cheek. “Sorry, dear.”

  “Nothing to be sorry about … but I prefer the ‘we get them first’ option.”

  Chapter 56

  We met O’Brian in a private room at the Kingbird restaurant inside the Watergate. I appreciated his choice because afterwards, we could be in our room in about three minutes. It was late, we were tired. When the server came, we ordered drinks and a main course immediately.

  “I hear you had a harrowing experience,” O’Brian said.

  “You
could say that. Your daughter-in-law saved my life.”

  “Good luck, was all,” Wilson said around a swallow of cold beer.

  “More than luck,” Evarts said. “She’s a damn good cop, you know.”

  “Yes, I know,” O’Brian said unemotionally. “Before we get to the issues at hand, thank you for the heads-up on the president. He’ll fly in a back-up plane, everyone else will fly on what they’ll presume is Air Force One. We’ll keep up the pretense of a normal flight to catch the terrorist. Everyone will be carefully searched. Pens, lighters, key bobs, belts, etc. will be confiscated and sent to a lab for inspection and disassembly. Shoes will be highly scrutinized. After take-off, passengers will be told that the president is not on board and this is a Black Flag drill. Before the flight arrives in Bermuda, we hope to have the person arrested.”

  “Black Flag?” Baldwin asked.

  “Highest alert for a pending Islamic terrorist attack,” O’Brian answered. “Somebody found the code word fitting because Mohammed used a black standard. Official Washington knows we occasionally run these drills. So, with the president safe, our main concern turns to finding the book-bombs and the terrorist cells.”

  Baldwin asked. “How long to defuse all those bombs?”

  “Twenty minutes each. Assume eight hundred bombs. Two hundred sixty-six man-hours. To complete in the twenty hours allotted, we would need at least fourteen working demolition experts around the clock. Five hour shifts due to stress would require fifty-six teams.”

  “Do you have that many?” Baldwin asked stunned.

  “In the Army, but not close to D. C., plus I can’t order them all into town. It would surely alert the terrorists.”

  “You can’t allow live bombs to be distributed,” Evarts said.

  “I want those terrorist cells. It’s an opportunity to make some inroads into the Ikhwan and dissuade them from trying anything like this again. Even if we find where they’re warehoused, we’ll allow the books to be delivered to the lobbyists. In pre-dawn raids on Friday we’ll pick up the books. That will give us tomorrow and through the night to catch the terrorist cells.”

  “What if copies leak before Friday morning?” Baldwin asked.

  “We put the fear of God into the lobbyists. We weren’t specific, but we told them it would be a criminal breach of national security if they allowed any books out of their possession before Friday afternoon. Of course, by the time they arrive for work on Friday, they’ll be gone.” O’Brian almost smiled. “Plus, we have every office under tight surveillance. Nothing bigger that a cigarette pack will leave the premises.”

  Baldwin said. “On the Congressman Johnson bombing, we have some—”

  “Separate issue,” O’Brian interrupted. “He received a package from his campaign manager that had no commonality with the books. We haven’t figured that out yet, but separate teams are working on it.”

  “We think we figured it out,” Baldwin offered. “The Ikhwan wanted an early bomb explosion in case one of the lobbyists made an early distribution to preferred clients. Law enforcement would assume any bomb that went off early was a continuation of the Johnson and Capitol Hill Club bombings. The misconception wouldn’t hold long, but long enough for the curtain to rise on the Big Show.”

  O’Brian thought that through. “Plausible. It would have the added benefit of hurrying our valiant members of Congress out of town to spread these bombs all over hell’s half acre. Clever. Now, let’s get to the issue at hand. How do we entrap these terrorist teams? Any ideas?”

  “You’ve already had your experts review this six ways from Sunday, why ask us?” Baldwin asked.

  “Because I like the way this team thinks. Plus, I often get outside the pentagon bubble to hear other opinions.” Our meals arrived. When the plates had been distributed, O’Brian added, “So, any suggestions?”

  “Question first?” When he got a go ahead nod from O’Brian, Evarts asked, “When we first talked about this, you seemed more interested in Templars than Ikhwan. Have you had a change of heart?”

  O’Brian showed irritation. “Eight hundred bombs in my city has a way of doing that. Besides, other agencies were previously assigned to the Ikhwan. Now, do you have any thoughts or not?”

  Evarts realized events had given O’Brian good reason to change his focus. It was he who had stubbornly clung to an obsolete notion. His disappointment in not getting O’Brian’s help earlier had clouded his thinking. Evarts shook off his ruminations when he heard Wilson ask a question.

  “Are we looking at storage facilities to find the bombs earlier?” Wilson asked. “Are we checking shipping manifests?”

  “Of course,” O’Brian said. “The FBI is running down shipments on the East Coast of appropriate size and tracing space rentals within a three-hundred-mile radius. Anything within a four-hour drive of D.C.”

  Wilson asked, “Has the FBI made any progress on the financial forensics?”

  “Why?” O’Brian said.

  Baldwin answered. “Methow said the Ikhwan use billionaires to conceal their financial assets and money transfers. They have enough leverage on these people to trust them with their cash, which means they might trust them with an important piece of this operation. If we know the U.S. citizens in their network, we could check their property holdings around D.C.”

  “You just earned your supper,” O’Brian said as he punched up someone on his phone.

  O’Brian got up and walked to a corner of the private dining room to talk in a low voice. Evarts heard him say he’d hold. It was a long hold and Evarts finished his meal. When the server came back in, he ordered another whiskey. It had been delivered and he had consumed it before O’Brian finished his call and returned to the table.

  After retaking his seat, O’Brian said, “There are nine super-wealthy Americans with attachments to the Ikhwan. Six are on the East Coast. Three of those are hedge fund managers with only residential real estate. The others have numerous holdings within our radius. One owns a direct marketing business with three warehouse operations within a four-hour drive. The FBI will concentrate on them first. Since the publisher believes this is a legitimate promo, we’ll start by assuming the deliveries haven’t been disguised. They’re a twenty-four-hour operation, so we’ll soon know. Additional teams will work the other two accomplices.”

  “If you locate them, see if you can delay sending them out for delivery,” Evarts said.

  “Why?” O’Brian asked.

  “The Ikhwan must have watchers to make sure everything proceeds on schedule. What do you suppose the watchers will do if the books don’t leave the warehouse on time?”

  “Call home,” Wilson volunteered.

  “And home will call their rich accomplice to find out what the hell happened.” Evarts added.

  O’Brian nodded. “We can get a trace set up. We’ll at least learn the country of origin.”

  Baldwin said, “What if they get an answer that requires them to call their bomb teams here in the US. Could those calls be traced?”

  O’Brian smiled, a rare occurrence.

  “If you have a way to pull that off, you’ve all earned your suppers.”

  Chapter 57

  After dinner, Evarts and Baldwin had left immediately for their room. Thursday would be busy. When the alarm had gone off at five AM, neither wanted to roll out of bed. Evarts wearily took a shower and shaved. He dressed in khaki trousers and a black golf shirt. Only after a second cup of coffee did he feel halfway alert.

  Baldwin drifted out of the bathroom for their room service breakfast. They quietly ate oatmeal and fruit, washed down with more coffee.

  “Are you tired?” she asked.

  “I woke exhausted, but I’ve recharged my system with copious amounts of caffeine.”

  “I’m too old for this shit,” Baldwin said, imitating Murtaugh in Lethal Weapon.

  “Ditto.”

  They continued to eat in silence. The prior evening Baldwin had suggested a warehouse sick-out as the
excuse for the late delivery. If they could get the warehouse manager to claim he needed temps to deliver the shipment on time, maybe the Ikhwan would volunteer their own men to fill the void. It was a long shot, but they had nothing better.

  There were problems. The most serious dilemma would be if they couldn’t find the storage site for the books. Even if they did, watchers might spot the FBI checking the storage facility and realize their plan had been busted. Even in plain clothes, FBI agents tended to look like federal cops. Far more troubling, the telephone calls wouldn’t occur until the Ikhwan noticed the books were not being delivered, which meant the timeline would be extremely tight.

  No one felt confident, so they covered a few additional bases. The Delta Team had reached Jakarta so they would set up electronic surveillance on the backup caliph. Hopefully, the caliph would keep his standby informed. If a communication came by text, email, or phone, they should get at least a general location for the caliph. Perhaps more. If they were successful in tracing it, the Delta Team would leave the backup triumvirate in place to avoid forewarning the caliph that something was amiss. If the communication never occurred or the trace failed, then the Delta team would grab the backup triumvirate for interrogation in the early afternoon on Friday. That wouldn’t allow much time for interrogation, so the Delta team had been sanctioned to use enhanced measures to secure information about the operation.

  In case the FBI failed to seize every book in the Friday morning raids, a communication program had been put in place. Robo calls, text messages, and emails would be sent to every senator, congressperson, and staffer to warn them about the real contents of the book vaults. A team at the FBI was compiling a list of flights for every member of Congress. If necessary, agents would intercept members at the gate and confiscate any parcels. As a last resort, the president would make a public address that would alert the entire nation.