"It won't be that easy. I can't just go running back to the mosques in Saudi Arabia. It would make no sense. And I can't simply appear in Pakistan or anywhere for that matter. If the plan failed, they'll be looking for me."
"That's not my problem. I can only guarantee to get you to your chosen destination."
"How do I know you won't shoot me in the back of the head after I tell you what you want to know?"
"I swear by Allah."
"And your friend?"
"I swear by Allah as well," Tariq said.
"This is no coincidence, Hamid. I'm not the most faithful Muslim, but I am a Muslim. The Prophet has given you another chance. Before we arrived, you had nothing. Your last remaining operational cell is useless given the circumstances. All is lost, and I guarantee there is no way you could escape the country without our help. Maybe you'll disappear and never be heard from again, or maybe you'll continue the fight. That's not for me to decide. It is His will, and we are all given different paths."
"It is truly His will," Hamid conceded.
"We'll need to move you to a more secure location. The FBI is working on a warrant to enter the mosque. Right now it's under surveillance from the outside. We've identified two vans and an apartment with a view of the front and back doors," he said.
"How will you get me out of here?"
"Easy enough, I hope. Just follow our directions without question. Understood?" Aleem said.
Hamid nodded. He directed Tariq to join him in the upstairs office to coordinate the escape, which would require the surveillance team to earn their paycheck. When they arrived at the top of the stairs, Tariq turned to Aleem and whispered, "What was that speech all about?"
Aleem grabbed his arm and moved him toward the back of the office, away from the stairwell.
"Hope. Without hope, he'll put up another barrier. We don't have time for that."
"Well, my hope is that you don't really plan to let him go free," Tariq said.
"Of course not, he's dead as soon as we confirm the information needed to move the investigation forward."
Ten minutes later, Special Agent Janice Riehms stared through her binoculars at a van approaching Masjid Muhammad's side entrance on Sussex Avenue. The white Dodge Sprinter van drove at a normal speed as it neared the last remaining stop sign separating it from the mosque. From her observation post in the front window of a third-story apartment at the intersection of Jay and Sussex, she had a clear view of the mosque's front and side entrances. Since Hamid Muhammad had become the center of the FBI's attention, four additional agents had been assigned to the two-bedroom apartment, shrinking the space considerably, but ensuring that they could accurately screen every person coming in and out of the mosque.
Attendance had dropped considerably throughout the day, making their jobs slightly easier. The facial recognition software tied to their surveillance cameras gave them an initial "probability of match" analysis within a second of a face appearing at the door. If any of the faces were obscured from sight, back-up cameras installed on the roofs of two additional locations along Jay Street would ensure they could capture a digital image. Failing that, undercover FBI agents mobilized along Jay and Sussex during prayer times could approach the suspect and confirm their identity. They had coordinated three on street "interactions" today, which likely explained the shrinking number of attendees at the mosque. Word travelled quickly throughout the Muslim community.
"I have a van approaching from the west on Sussex. White with no rear windows. Looks like a cargo van," she said to the two agents watching the flat-screen monitors.
Two additional agents appeared in the doorway to observe. Tensions had been heating up all day, but sunset prayer put them all on high alert. The three young men that always stayed behind in the mosque had been joined by two additional men. One of them had entered for sunset prayer and failed to emerge an hour later. The other appeared two blocks away on Jay Street and waited outside of the front door for a few minutes before entering. Nearly three hours later, none of them had exited the mosque, which gave Special Agent Riehms the impression that they were plotting to help the Imam escape.
"Notify mobile SWAT units," she ordered.
"Got it. Units notified. I have the van leaving the stop sign. We'll be watching closely," replied one of the agents in front of the monitors.
The entire internal bedroom wall had been occupied with long folding tables and computer equipment. Four flat-screen monitors showed the separate surveillance feeds, and one larger monitor held their command and control interface. The agent who had just responded typed the SWAT notification, which was instantly transferred to both of the Suburbans. The SUVs were parked one block away, effectively sandwiching Jay Street. Each vehicle carried five SWAT agents, including the driver, and could move into a blocking position to prevent the escape of a vehicle leaving the mosque.
"Confirmed. Van is approaching the mosque," Riehms said.
She watched the van pass the side entrance and suddenly stop. Three figures darted from the mosque's door, disappearing behind the van.
"Fuck! They're loading him into the van!" she said, continuing to watch.
"I have the van stopped at the intersection of Jay and Sussex, turning left onto Jay. I didn't see it stop," said the agent watching the screen.
Another agent mumbled agreement. Through her binoculars, she saw the van speed through the intersection and turn right onto Jay Street. She ran from the window to the computer monitor.
"What the fuck are you talking about? I just watched it pick up three men and turn right onto Jay. Get SWAT moving south to intercept!"
"The van turned left. Take a look. Nobody left the mosque," the agent said.
"I saw it with my own fucking eyes. We're going to lose the Imam. Send SWAT south. The van has to turn on Central Ave. Either way, one of our teams can intercept!"
There was a two-second delay as puzzled agents traded glances. She didn't like the fact that they were questioning her judgment, but she could understand their confusion. The computer monitor playback clearly showed the van turning left. Something was wrong here.
"Open a channel to SWAT," Riehms said as the agent typed her initial intercept request into the computer.
"I just fired off the order. They'll have plenty of time to intercept if the van went right. Should I notify non-tactical units to proceed north, just to cover our asses?"
"Fine. Send them north," she said, grabbing the headset offered to her by the agent. "SWAT Mobile this is Overlook. Proceed south to intercept a white Dodge Sprinter van. No back windows. Minimum of four onboard, possibly including our target. How copy, over?"
A static-filled voice responded, "This is SWAT Mobile. My unit has just passed Dickerson Street. Less than five seconds away from a blocking position on Central Avenue. Sister unit is approaching Central along Hudson. Stand by for visual confirmation."
A few tense seconds passed as they waited for the truth. Agent Riehms thought about contacting the non-tactical units, but decided against it. She had seen the van turn right; there was no point contacting them, unless the van didn't show up on Central Avenue. There was no way for the van to break through Jay onto one of the adjoining streets and double back. They had confirmed this during a tactical assessment of the neighborhood. If the van didn't appear on Central, the only possible explanation was that it had stopped.