Candy offered each a piece of Korean confection but the men refused. She casually unwrapped the piece, tossed the cellophane wrapping out the window, and popped the candy in her mouth, enjoying the flavor combination of ginseng extract, honey, sugar, and peppermint.
“How much longer?” whispered one of the Arab men from the back as he and the others shared a look.
Earlier in the week Candy had reported to Kareem that Park’s two most trusted security men never spent the night at the residence. However, each evening one of Park’s many underlings stayed at the house as a precaution should anyone breach the grounds’ costly security system. The guard was housed in a small room just inside the front door and to the left. His quick elimination tonight would remove the only real impediment to success.
“His security detail is probably ready to call it a night and will leave soon. Give everyone a chance to settle down. Let Park relax after his company leaves. We don’t need anybody still on high alert,” said Kareem, sipping his second cup of coffee.
This morning at the mosque, following sunrise prayers, the men had reviewed their respective assignments, studying the detailed floor plan of the house Candy provided. Inside the warehouse where Gabe Chong had been murdered, Kareem measured off a mini-replica of the home, with tape and string serving as the makeshift residence.
The team practiced moving commando-style from room to room, clearing each as if in combat. Though not perfect, they developed a level of discipline and sophistication they believed would be adequate for tonight’s mission.
Mohammed valued Kareem’s expertise and was grateful he brought this opportunity to the attention of the cell. The entry was to be through the front gate, breaching it as Kareem had done before on home invasions prior to his stint in prison. Tonight all were armed and prepared to resolve any resistance with controlled violence. The only three who needed to survive the assault were Park, his daughter, and the granddaughter, all of value to the cell. The death of any of the three diminished the chance the terrorists would prosper.
The three Arab men in the backseat were anxious. This was the first mission for the Hezbollah terrorists since they had been smuggled across the Mexican border into the United States.
If they were successful tonight, the proceeds from this operation would be sufficient to bring more of the fighters from their special unit on the long trip from Beirut to Caracas and up through Mexico. The trio were seasoned warriors. But all their missions in the Middle East had been direct action against opposition leaders or attacks against American military personnel in Iraq, Afghanistan, South Sudan, or Turkey. All of them had served with Hezbollah squads in Syria, propping up the Assad regime in Damascus.
They were experts at rigging improvised explosive devices and assassination shots resulting in death to infidels and apostates.
Tonight’s mission was more complicated. The three men believed in themselves and each other but not in Kareem. They knew from Rostam that the black prison convert was a newcomer to the jihad. They were prepared to die as martyrs for the cause, but they weren’t certain about the man at the wheel. They were good soldiers and accepted this assignment because Mohammed had ordered their participation. And like good soldiers they kept their doubts to themselves and hoped the worst wouldn’t happen.
It was a false hope.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Jake wasn’t too sure what to expect when Tommy stuck his arm out his car window and waved them to the curb just three blocks from Park’s residence. The only thing he knew for sure was that the young Korean criminal was furious at him for being forced to stand in the hallway with the two security men while Jake and Park conversed in private.
Both cars pulled to a halt midway between two lampposts. As Jake hastily inserted loose rounds into his magazine and reloaded his Glock in the front seat of the Range Rover, Tommy jumped out of his car and headed toward the undercover vehicle.
Jake could see the agitation in Tommy’s face and quickly activated the hidden recording device. By the time the enraged Korean criminal opened the Rover’s passenger-side door and sat down, Jake had both hands on the steering wheel but was ready to react if necessary.
“Why didn’t you want to talk back there?” asked Jake, trying to defuse what he now believed to be a potentially volatile situation.
“Why did you carry a gun into Park’s residence?” demanded Tommy, his anger flaring.
“Whoa, partner. Let’s turn it down a notch or two,” said Jake, a take-command expression on his face.
Tommy repeated the question a bit more sedately but the hostility simmered.
Jake was turned in his seat facing Tommy, watching his eyes, prepared to strike should the street thug decide to attack; never underestimate the enemy. Jake responded with subdued sarcasm. “I always carry a gun. We live in a dangerous world.”
“I’ve had enough of your crap. Are you a cop?”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” said Jake, shaking his head.
Tommy inched closer, seeking to get in Jake’s face, not the wisest move in this situation, his dark eyes raging. “No, I’m serious. Are you a cop?”
“No, Tommy. How many deals have we done?”
“That’s not important.”
Jake took the offensive. “What do you mean it’s not important? We’ve done close to a half-dozen deals. I’ve brought your containers across the border. I’ve been to your warehouse where you store all kinds of swag. Has it ever been raided? Has anyone been arrested? Have you even been stopped by anybody in law enforcement? Cops? Deputies? Chippies? Feds? Would a cop allow you to get away with all that?”
“Tell me again you’re not a cop. If I ask, you have to tell me; otherwise it’s entrapment. I know the law.”
In at least half of his undercover assignments, the target asked the same question. Thanks to Hollywood the bad guys believed a law enforcement official if asked had to answer honestly. Jake wasn’t about to take the time to educate this criminal entrepreneur. From experience Jake knew Tommy would be able to discuss the finer points of the law with his attorney after the indictment.
“Tommy, read my lips. I’ll speak very slowly. I… am… not… a… cop.”
Tommy still wasn’t convinced, his eyes boring through the undercover agent.
Jake threw up his hands as if in mock surrender. “Okay, you got me. I’m a supersecret undercover agent assigned to thwart international criminal conspiracies. I’m MI6, CIA, FBI, as well as LAPD and somewhere at home I think I have a sheriff’s badge. I’m really the Lone Ranger and I’m here looking for Tonto, my faithful Indian companion.…”
Jake could tell his over-the-top rant had worked to calm his accomplice. He continued in a quieter tone, intending to sound conspiratorial. “Do you want to know why I needed to meet with Park? Would that make you feel better? But since you’re so big on the law, as I understand it, if I tell you, you’re part of the conspiracy. In on the score, in on the beef; that’s the way the game is played. So tell me, do you want in?”
Tommy thought hard. He stared out the passenger window, the night growing darker by the minute as Jake’s aggressive offense played with the Korean street thug’s mind.
“Yeah, I want in,” said Tommy with some reluctance.
There was a pregnant pause before Jake answered, “Reid hired me to kill Park’s daughter, Jenny.”
“What?”