“How do you intend to pull that off?” Evarts decided to ask. “They outnumber you by a wide margin and they have more money. You haven’t been soundly defeated yet because you’ve been fighting a hit and run guerrilla war. Face it, they haven’t come after you in earnest because you’re barely a prick in their side.”
“You’re wrong … and misinformed. We have far more money. Granted, they have more men and can easily recruit more, but they’re ill trained and generally equipped with cheap, poorly maintained weapons. No discipline in their ranks. We’ve been biding our time until we could accumulate good intelligence. We’re almost there … then we’ll strike.”
“Methow told me they have enormous financial resources. Not only are they financed by the Saudi royal family, but they’ve stockpiled cash from oil sales during the heyday of ISIS.”
“Nevertheless, their wealth pales in comparison to ours. When we fled King Philip IV, we took our portable wealth with us.” He smiled. “We now own a huge chunk of this planet.”
“Bullshit,” Evarts said.
“Not bullshit. You’d believe me if you understood compound interest.”
“I’m familiar with the concept,” Evarts said.
“Then imagine a quarter billion dollars compounded for seven hundred years.”
Smith wore a satisfied expression and waited for Evart to show proper awe. Instead, Evarts looked at him flatly. He didn’t speak because he wanted to know more.
“Don’t bother to search for our money, it’s dispersed in so many different places and disguised so thoroughly that you’ll never find a common thread. Templars have been international bankers from the beginning.”
“More bullshit,” Evarts said. “If the Templar fortune is that huge, we can find it. Maybe we’ll look at the world’s billionaires. Especially those who have wobbled on the edge of bankruptcy.”
Smith studied him, but Evarts maintained a neutral expression. Finally, he said, “Methow talked too much.”
“He did,” Evarts said flatly.
“How much money each side has is neither here nor there. We can beat the Ikhwan because we’re organized and technology driven. It’s not only their societal norms that are stuck in the Middle Ages; their fighting techniques are also antiquated. Don’t worry, when we’re ready, we’ll crush them. They won’t know what hit them.”
Baldwin laughed. “And I thought Arabs were full of braggadocio.”
Smith turned crimson. “That’s not braggadocio. We’ve been planning our assault since our reemergence.”
“Curious,” Evarts said. “Methow mentioned that the Templar rebirth coincided with the establishment of Israel. So, who managed the Templar money through all those centuries?”
“Our Scottish brethren,” Smith blurted. “They kept the flame burning until they saw a sign that we were needed again.”
“The Hundred Years War, the Napoleonic Wars, The Great War, World War II, you were needed in none of those?” Baldwin asked.
“We’re a monastic order. General warfare is not our purpose. We’re only concerned with protecting the Holy Land. That is our ordained duty. Throughout those intervening centuries, we work for peace.”
“Peace?” Baldwin said. “Since you went underground, there’s been nothing but war. If you were working for peace, you weren’t successful.”
“Oh, we had our successes. Our proudest achievement was the Enlightenment.”
“The Enlightenment?” Baldwin exclaimed. “You’re taking credit for the Enlightenment?”
“Of course. We led it. The Templars. As a scholar, you must be aware that Scots were the intellectual leaders. We broke the hegemony of the Catholic Church, lifted Europe out of feudalism, instigated a revival in art, science, philosophy, and politics. In fact, the culmination of the Enlightenment was the creation of this nation and the United States Constitution.”
“Are you saying the leaders of the Scottish Enlightenment were Templars” Baldwin asked, obviously intrigued.
“David Hume, Adam Smith, Robert Burns, Thomas Reid, the lot of them, all Scottish Templar Knights.” Smith took a sip of his Scotch whiskey. “Listen, because this is important. The Enlightenment ushered in the modern world. The Ikhwan prefers a feudal society. We are not at odds due to ancient wars to control the Holy Land. Our respective vision for mankind is diametrically opposed. It always has been.”
“Good versus evil?” Evarts asked.
“That’s over simplistic,” Smith said. “We believe in a single Supreme Being that has endowed man with free will and certain unalienable rights. Islam believes in a single Supreme Being, but man must submit to the will of God, living every aspect of their lives by faithfully following a strict set of rules.”
“Sharia?” Baldwin asked.
“Of course. To their way of thinking, if they get you to submit to Sharia, they saved your soul. If you resist, then death is the only proper punishment.”
Evarts didn’t want philosophy, he wanted useful intelligence, so he changed the subject. “If you were waiting for a clean hit, what about Pont Neuf?”
“What about it?”
“Your society intervened in a relatively small operation,” Evarts said. “Why did you thwart that particular attack?”
Smith nodded. “Actually, a good question. Once we learned about the plans for an attack in Paris, our French chapter was unwilling to let that strike go unchallenged.” He shrugged. “It was also an intelligence operation.”
“How so?”
Smith said, “I’m sorry, I can’t disclose that.”
Evarts could guess. They wanted to flush out Ikhwan agents and sympathizers in the French government and national police. Evarts decided not to probe further. He shifted to a different tact.
“Your intelligence is shoddy … and possibly compromised. Think about it. Do you really believe it was coincidence that you were selected to distribute copies of The Vault?” Evarts paused to let that sink in. “You’re blown; the Ikhwan is toying with you.”
“You don’t know that,” Smith said forcefully.
“I do … and so do you.” When Smith didn’t respond, Evarts added, “If they know who you are, then good spycraft requires you to question all the information they have fed you.”
Smith still didn’t answer, so Evarts decided to push harder.
“Let’s review. You didn’t know the books were fragmentation bombs. We did. You didn’t know the exact location of Ali as-Saad in Jakarta. We did. You were unaware that Ali as-Saad was only the backup caliph. We did. You don’t have a clue about the other Ikhwan cells here in D.C. We have a solid lead. You didn’t know that a direct marketing tycoon was indebted to the Ikhwan. We did.” Evarts let him think about everything. “Your intelligence operations are in shambles. You failed achieving your Paris counterespionage objectives, so you threw us to the wolves to salvage something from the operation. The Ikhwan probably know I’m not a Templar Knight. That’s why they sent rent-a-thugs after me instead of their own people. The bounty might even be disinformation to throw you off.”
Evarts gave Smith an even stare. “John, I shouldn’t tell you this, but O’Brian knows the identity of your source at the Pentagon. You only get the information he wants you to have. Yet you’re unaware that your Pentagon source has been blown. If O’Brian can ferret out your mole, why not the Ikhwan? You make light of Ikhwan capabilities, but they beat you at every turn. Why? Because you made the worst error a commander can make … you underestimated your enemy.”
Smith appeared crestfallen and Evarts wondered if he had gone too far.
Then Smith soulful eyes cleared. “Everything you say may be true, but I know something you don’t.”
“What’s that?”
“Lieutenant General Jim O’Brian is a Templar Knight.”
Chapter 71
O’Brian surprised Evarts by bringing someone to dinner. He introduced his companion as Jeffrey Hudson but failed to convey who he was or why he had brought him along to their mee
ting. O’Brian and Smith had never met, but both knew each other by reputation. O’Brian took them immediately to a table he had arranged in a private room. Once they were seated and ordered drinks, O’Brian told them that the two Ikhwan had been stitched up and assigned rooms on different floors. The hospital was maintaining no records of them, and they were under heavy guard. The two captured Templars were also isolated and so far, remained uncooperative. Finally, O’Brian looked pointedly at Evarts and informed him that the lead he had provided had been productive. He didn’t elaborate.
After O’Brian finished, they ordered dinner and waited for the wait staff leave.
O’Brian asked Evarts, “What have you learned from Mr. Smith?”
“You want me to tell you in front of him?” Evarts asked.
“Yes. All of it.”
Evarts nodded. “About seven hundred years ago, the Templars escaped King Philip IV with the equivalent of over two hundred million dollars. The fortune has grown and remained intact. It’s dispersed and disguised. The Templars intelligence capabilities are poor. Smith had been selected as one of the distributors of The Vault. The Templars like to plan and think big but seldom act. At least that’s true for our domestic breed. Lastly, we learned that you’re a Templar Knight.”
Evarts watched O’Brian closely. He showed no apparent reaction.
“Patricia, do you have anything further to add?” O’Brian asked.
“Mr. Smith has an odd belief structure. For example, he believes the Templars are a nation-state without territory. Methow believed the same. Gouverneur Morris wouldn’t trust either of them.”
Hudson looked puzzled at the reference to Morris, but O’Brian smiled knowingly.
“Mr. Smith, do you have anything to add?”
“Why the hell should I?” He leaned into the group. “I take umbrage at several of Mr. Evarts assertions. Our intelligence is world class, and we act when the time is right.”
“You told them I’m a Templar?” O’Brian asked.
“You are.”
“Last year I was a candidate, but when the selection committee became suspicious of my motivations, I was impolitely invited to leave.” O’Brian looked pointedly at Smith. “Surely, you were told.”
“And you ran like a coward.”
“I was one of several who tried to infiltrate your brotherhood.” He shrugged. “I believed I could succeed where others had failed. I was wrong.”
“Why am I here?” Smith asked haughtily.
“I wanted you to meet Mr. Hudson.”
Smith looked quizzically at Hudson. “And who is Mr. Hudson?”
“FBI,” O’Brian said. “He’s your handler from this point forward.”
“Handler? I don’t need a handler,” Smith said.
“We need you to have a handler. From this moment forward, you’re our spy inside the Templar Knights.”
“Go to hell.”
“Let me make this succinct,” O’Brian said. “You’ll do what I failed to accomplish or spend your remaining days at Gitmo. You will walk out of this restaurant under Mr. Hudson’s supervision or under my guardianship. If under me, you will be flown tonight to Guantánamo Bay where interviews will be ongoing indefinitely. You’re ours, either way.” O’Brian let him consider the choices. “Remember, we’re both after the Ikhwan. We won’t force you to do anything to jeopardize the identity of your fellow knights. You have my word as a Mason. We’ll find ways to work together toward our common goal.”
“I don’t need to make a decision. That’s all bullshit. I can walk out of here anytime I want.”
O’Brian drew some papers out of the breast pocket of his suit coat and handed them to Smith.
“The first is a presidential EO designating the Templars as a foreign terrorist organization. The second is your indictment as a Templar Knight. The combination makes it legal for the Army to hold you for a military trial. That will occur at some indefinite point in the future.”
“You can’t hold an American citizen at Gitmo,” Smith said.
“I thought you were a self-proclaimed citizen of the Templars,” O’Brian answered. “No matter, an exception has been made for a conspirator who plotted the murder of our county’s elected leaders and was an operational linchpin to this horrific terrorist attack. You’ll be held for treason.”
“That’s outrageous. I knew nothing about it. Besides, it was an Ikhwan plot, not Templar.”
“We’ll sort that out at trial.”
“You’re blackmailing me.”
“You’re an astute observer of the obvious,” O’Brian said.
“It won’t stick,” Smith appeared worried. “I have friends in high places.”
“You’ll never be allowed to communicate with any of them. Nor your fellow Templars. After you vanish, word will go out that you’re under the protection of the U.S. Marshals in witness protection. Over the next six months, carefully constructed leaks will convince your fellow knights that you’ve betrayed them. If memory serves, the Templar oath includes horrific punishment for betrayal.”
“I’m a lawyer. You can’t con me. That indictment isn’t worth the paper it’s written on.”
Hudson spoke for the first time. “It’s legit. We convened a special grand jury after the Capital Hill Club bombing. We had directional microphones on you outside of Walter Reed. Your own words were used to secure an indictment not thirty minutes before we walked into this restaurant.”
Smith looked from O’Brian to Hudson and then back again.
“You’re serious?” His tone was incredulous.
“Deadly,” O’Brian answered.
When no one spoke, O’Brian said, “Let’s order another round so you can think through your decision.”
“Send me to Gitmo,” Smith said immediately.
O’Brian took out his phone and made a call. When the person answered, he merely said, “Bravo,” and ended the call.
When Smith looked perplexed, Hudson explained, “I’m alpha. You’ve chosen B, so now you’re in Army custody.”
“You’ll be shown your new quarters in about three hours,” O’Brian added. “They’re more spacious and comfortable than most cells.”
Four burly MPs entered the private room. They were wearing summer khaki uniforms with sidearms.
O’Brian said, “Take him to Andrews.”
“What about the meal I ordered?” Smith said, incongruously.
“You’ll be served an MRE on the plane.”
“MRE?”
“Meal ready to eat. Goodbye, Mr. Smith.”
The MPs lifted Smith by the elbows and cuffed him behind the back.
As they led him toward the door, Smith said, “I’ll never talk. Even if the Templars believe I’m a traitor, I’ll know different.”
O’Brian didn’t even look up. “Sergeant, remove the prisoner.”
Chapter 72
There was some minor scuffling as Smith resisted and then the room became quiet. O’Brian held out his hand and Hudson put a five-dollar bill in his palm. Evidently, they had bet on Smith’s choice and O’Brian had won.
“Will he break?” Baldwin asked.
“Eventually,” O’Brian answered, “but not in the direction of spilling his guts. He’ll accept the confidential informant option.”
“You’re sure,” Baldwin asked skeptically.
“Four reasons,” O’Brian said. “He’ll be treated disrespectfully, and his cellmates will berate him. His stature is incredibly important to him. He’ll be isolated and shielded from news of the outside world. Being in the know is incredibly important to him. His cell will be Spartan, food tasteless, without alcohol, and he will be allowed extremely limited distractions. Creature comforts are incredibly important to him. Last, but most important, he thinks he’s smarter than we are and will get away with feeding us unusable information. It won’t work but being the smartest person in the room is incredibly important to him.”
O’Brian smiled at Hudson. “I give him two weeks,
maybe a little more.”
Hudson said, “If he lasts only a week or less, I get my five back, plus another five.”
“A bet I will gladly pay off,” O’Brian said.
“Can I get in on that bet,” Baldwin interjected. “That toff won’t last the night.”
“You’re forgetting his fifth characteristic,” O’Brian said. “Pride. He’ll hold out a while. Plus, he thinks we’re bluffing. That’s he’s too important for us to treat him like a common criminal. It’ll take a little time to dissuade him of that notion.”
The meal arrived and conversation ended until the plates had been distributed.
When they were alone again, Evarts asked, “What next?”
“Take out the other cells. That escort service gave us solid leads to the others. It appears that the chemists have left the country, but the other two cells remain in town for tomorrow’s big show.”
Baldwin said. “Smith told us that the bomb teams were going after us after they finish this assignment.”
O’Brian shook his head. “Doubtful. They’ve reserved rental cars with a drop off in Miami, and next Wednesday they’ve chartered a thirty-five-foot boat with sufficient range to reach Cuba. We believe they’re leaving the country.”
Baldwin turned to Evarts. “An empty threat?”
“Probably,” Evarts said. “Smith was still trying to convince us that in order to save our lives, we needed to work with them.” He shrugged. “A bluff.”
“Then we’re in the clear?” Baldwin asked.
“Closer,” Evarts said. “Remember, the bombs were meant to be distributed by a Templar Knight. A devastating hit which would have caused a rift in the worldwide Templar organization. The infighting may have nullified the Templars for years. Now, the situation is reversed. Soon, the Ikhwan will have a load of bigger problems. They’ll be the ones roiled by internal dissension, and I’d expect a heavy reassessment of their actions over the past few months. This botched attack cost piles of money and a million dollars for a little revenge will seem extravagant.”
“Sounds convincing to me.” Baldwin smiled. “Let’s go home. There’s enough resources in this town to take care of the remaining bad guys.”
The Templar Reprisals (The Best Thrillers Book 3) Page 29
