"Then one of his operatives accidentally killed an off-duty police officer the same night, in the middle of massacring several Brown River contractors at a grocery store in Silver Spring. Not a good public relations night for Sanderson. He's back in the fold because they need him. Beyond that, nobody will touch him."
"I think they'll always need someone like Sanderson," she said.
"You're absolutely right, but I don't think the general will ever get to point where he can put a for sale sign up in Argentina. He's stuck there. So, I'll be back around 7 p.m. with some Thai food."
"I can't wait," she said.
"Stay out of trouble."
"That's what I do best."
"We'll see," DeSantos said and left.
As soon as the door closed, Stewart searched her desk for the controls to obscure the window. The last thing she needed was for someone suspicious like O'Reilly to glance up and see her talking on a call that didn't show up in the NCTC system. She looked around the room until she spotted a second light switch near the door. She flipped the switch down, and the glass fogged, leaving a translucent screen to cover the front of her office. Satisfied with her privacy, she dialed Sanderson's number, which was instantaneously masked within the system. Her call was connected within seconds.
"Nice job. I have full access to the system. I saw a request go to the Department of Justice to authorize surveillance at Muhammad's mosque."
"Sharpe and I had a little talk about putting people on the inside. He didn't seem optimistic about the chances of securing a warrant."
"At least he's not opposed to the idea. We can still get a head start on finding Muhammad with the two operatives working outside of the task force."
Sanderson had wisely chosen to send two of his best Al Qaeda group operatives ahead of the Sayar's group, traveling under their flawlessly crafted false identities, well below FBI radar. Aleem Fayed, of Saudi descent, was the head of the Middle East-Al Qaeda (MEAQ) group. A former army intelligence officer, he had been marginalized for years until 9/11 brought the war on terror into focus. Fortunately for Sanderson, Fayed had resigned his commission in May 2001, opting to help a forward-thinking Sanderson recruit operatives for the Middle East group.
Tariq Paracha, a native-born Pakistani, was the second operative to join Sanderson, recruited by Fayed while still in college. Paracha's family had moved to the U.S. when he was ten, leaving Pakistan behind to put their engineering degrees to work, while removing their son from the ever-tightening clutches of the Pakistani madrasa system. Tariq had been approached by Fayed in 2002, during the spring of his senior year at the University of Colorado Boulder. By July he was back in Pakistan, attending madrasa school for six months to bring back everything he learned.
"I'll put Fayed into the mosque for now and keep the mobile surveillance team close by. Paracha is with the surveillance group and can join Fayed at a moment's notice if necessary. Unmask your phone and contact Sayar to explain the official situation to him. He'll put up a fight, you'll agree, but in the end, everyone will respect and observe the FBI's lead on this one."
"I know the drill."
"I'm sure you do. We'll keep you posted through emails to your phone. They'll look like basic updates to anyone that grabs the phone out of your hand, but one of the words will be linked to the real message. Anything that requires immediate attention will be preceded by an innocuous check-in call from me or someone at my ops center. Other than that, have fun on your little vacation."
"This is what I do for a living, General."
"Until I can convince you to join us full time down in Argentina," Sanderson said.
"Offering a full-time paycheck would be a good start. I'll be in touch," Stewart said and hung up.
She had a good feeling about Sanderson. Everything about his group was run professionally, leaving nothing to chance, and she liked his philosophy. He was a rogue, a fallen angel thrown out of paradise for refusing to sacrifice his ideals in a world that rewarded compromise. He wasn't afraid to bend the rules to make the hard decisions that everyone else avoided, or tell the truths that needed to be heard to make progress. He told her from the very start that he "makes a living in that gray area where the best decisions rarely sit well with anyone."
She liked the idea of working on the "outside" and secretly hoped that Sanderson would make her an offer she couldn't refuse. She worked on a consulting basis for the Aegis group, so she could most likely fit her work for Sanderson into that schedule, but eventually she would run into a conflict. She'd risk her job with Aegis every time she stepped into Sanderson's world. D.C. was a small world, especially among private contractors working the counterintelligence circles. Worst-case scenario, she would be "outed" to the Aegis group, and they would blackball her in D.C., forcing her to join Sanderson's merry band of outlaws living in the pristine wilderness of western Argentina. She could think of worse outcomes.
She turned her attention back to the task at hand and dialed the six-digit prefix that would "unmask" her call to Abraham Sayar from the watchful eyes of Task Force Scorpion.
Chapter 9
Abdul Mohammed Abusir drove the stolen Honda Odyssey minivan down Howard Boulevard searching for the turn onto Old Drakeville Road, which would lead them to the service road that reached the Mount Arlington pump station. They had driven past the entrance to the service road earlier, but couldn't make any sort of assessment about the level of security guarding their target. The Mount Arlington pump station was one of four targets originally assigned to his cell. It wasn't his primary target, but a drive by the Morristown pump station left him feeling uneasy.
The pump station had been located in a busy section of the township, well within sight of regular traffic. They could see a police cruiser parked inside the gate leading to the complex, which was a new development. This was not the standard procedure in America, and they had never seen a law enforcement presence during any of their previous reconnaissance visits to the four targets assigned to their cell. His two remaining cell members agreed that they should choose a more secluded target. All of them immediately suggested Mount Arlington, located in the thick woods off Lake Hopatcong.
When Ghazi Hamar failed to show up for evening prayer at the Islamic Center, Abusir had placed a call to Hamid Muhammad's mosque and listened to the prerecorded message on the answering machine. The message contained none of the emergency code words he had memorized, but he still felt that something was wrong. Hamar had left the el-Halal variety store, one of their usual hangouts, in the middle of the afternoon to visit a nephew that lived in Elizabeth. He'd done this before on several occasions, successfully rejoining them for evening prayer. He had never missed Maghrib before. This was the one time they gathered without fail to pray together as brothers for the strength and wisdom to strike a devastating blow to their sworn enemy, the United States.
That evening's Maghrib was to be their most significant. Earlier that morning, Abusir had received a call on his cell phone that he had anticipated for months. He immediately recognized the number, which he had memorized in the hills of Kandahar several months earlier. The caller simply told him that the package would arrive at his apartment before noon. He knew what this meant for his team.
They would each take one of the canisters and hide it in a location unknown to the rest of the cell. This would ensure the continued survival of their plan if any of them were captured. As far as he was concerned, the arrival of the virus canisters signified the imminent destruction of America. He would take no chances with the weapons provided by Allah himself.