Ah-ha. Touchy subject. “Al-Hakim is the name I hear. He’s a rising leader, isn’t he?”
The man’s face turned red. “He is not a true Muslim,” Sadir sputtered. “If he is so smart, why was I trusted with the operation? He wanted to lead this martyrdom operation, but I was chosen.”
There it is. Resentment. Jealousy. Anger. So predictable. “I’ve heard Al-Hakim’s been planning all the major attacks. He’s stepped in to fill bin Laden’s absence.”
“Not true,” Sadir growled. “You are a liar. He might have access to funds, but that does not make him a leader in Jihad. I do not take orders from him.”
That was all he needed to hear. Al-Hakim was the money man, but had allowed Sadir to lead the mission. The emails were summaries, checking on his investment. “Taylor, cuff him. Let’s take him home.”
Taylor withdrew a thick plastic zip-tie from a pouch on his belt, then zip-tied Sadir’s hands behind his back. With John’s help, they yanked the man to his feet.
“I must be read my rights,” Sadir protested. “I know your laws. That is what you must do.”
“I told you,” Eric said patiently. “We’re not the police.” He tilted his head toward the door and John and Mark led Sadir outside into the fall twilight.
Valerie turned to Nancy. “You’ve mellowed,” she said.
He was the only one who saw Deion’s eyes narrow.
Nancy offered her a wry smile. “Doing my best.”
They stepped outside of the apartment and were following John and Mark to their van when Eric saw the spray from Sadir’s head.
Time slowed to a crawl. For a moment, his brain tried to make sense of the scarlet mist, Sadir’s body falling limply to the ground, then time sped back up as his brain connected the dots.
“Shooter!” he screamed, dropping to his knee.
An echoing report from a rifle bounced between the apartment buildings, making it impossible to track. The rest of his team dropped to their knees, scanning the cars and apartments in the distance.
He hadn’t seen a flash of light, but he hadn’t been looking. He tried to guestimate the bullet’s trajectory from the spray of blood from Sadir’s head, and figured the bullet had come from a low angle to the east.
Apartment doors opened and people poked their heads out, then quickly slammed the doors shut when they saw the body on the ground.
Eric pointed in the distance. “John. It came from that way. Karen, if you’re listening, activate his Implant.”
John came to his feet in a fluid motion and started pounding down the road, followed by Taylor and Mark.
“Activating,” Karen whispered in his ear.
John staggered, then caught his footing and practically flew down the street, quickly outpacing the Delta Operators.
Eric turned back to Sadir. Deion knelt over him, checking for a pulse, then shook his head in disgust. “He’s gone.”
Nancy and Valerie stared at Sadir’s dead body sprawled on the still-warm asphalt, blood pooling around his head in a crimson halo.
“The police will be here soon,” Eric said. “Valerie, don’t say a word. Don’t answer any questions, not even your name or agency.”
He gave Karen instructions as the wail of distant sirens approached. John returned with Taylor and Mark as the local police screeched up in squad cars.
“Shooter was gone,” John said. “I couldn’t even find his perch.”
Taylor and Mark nodded their agreement.
The police opened their car doors and trained their guns on them, yelling at them to put down their weapons. “Don’t worry,” Eric said. “Just put your gun down and we’ll have a conversation with these good officers.”
John took a swig of cheap coffee while Eric and Deion argued with the room full of law enforcement professionals on the other side of the police station. “Think this will take much longer?”
The rest of the team sat around the table, watching the show through the glass window. Nancy shrugged. “We have authority. Nothing they can do about it.”
Taylor sat close to Valerie, but turned to glance at the conference room across the bullpen, then turned back and smiled. “When a body drops, every swinging dick with a badge wants a piece. Eric can handle it. This isn’t his first rodeo.”
John nodded and leaned back in his chair. He noticed the way the uniformed police kept a discreet watch on them. The Memphis FBI agent, John Waverly, was especially displeased with their operation. He had taken the local DHS team into the conference room with Eric, and the other high-ranking members of local enforcement agencies soon joined them.
“Why would someone kill Sadir?” Taylor asked. “Another cell member?”
John smiled at the tall man. “Perhaps it’s a secret government agency dedicated to protecting the country?”
Mark laughed, but Nancy gave John any icy glare. “Drink your coffee,” she said.
The yelling in the conference room subsided, then the door opened and Eric stepped out, followed quickly by Waverly. Eric walked through the room with catlike grace and the officers turned their heads, eager to avoid eye contact.
Deion followed close behind, shaking his head.
“Here comes trouble,” Taylor murmured.
John agreed. While Eric appeared calm, Waverley’s face had the pinched look of someone who had swallowed a lemon, his black hair layered in sweaty peals.
Eric stopped next to their table. “Okay folks, shows over. Let’s get moving.”
“Not so fast,” Waverly said, placing his hand on Eric shoulder.
Eric turned to him. “We’ve discussed this,” he said blandly. “Your concerns are duly noted. Now, take your hand off me.”
John glanced at Mark, who shrugged, then caught Taylor’s smirk. Apparently they were used to Eric’s way of doing business. Waverly was a big man, taller than Eric, and built like a pro-wrestler, but John knew that Eric could take the FBI agent apart without breaking a sweat.
Nancy turned a hostile glare to Waverley. “You’ve reviewed our documents,” she said. “That’s the limit of your authority.”
Waverley started to speak, then clenched his jaw. Finally he said, “You’re not DHS.”
Valerie watched their exchange with concern, but relaxed when Deion put his hand on her arm.
Eric gave Waverley a shrewd look. “What makes you say that?”
“Because Knoll didn’t know you. In fact, I’m quite sure he’s never heard of you. His attitude changed after he got off the phone with Washington. You’re not DHS,” he repeated. “I’m guessing military.”
John almost smiled. Waverly was smarter than he looked.
“That kind of speculation can get you in trouble,” Nancy said. “It might be a bad career choice.”
Waverly’s face turned red. “I’ve got a friend back at the Memphis office. I called him, told him what happened. He thinks you’re Delta.”
Deion stepped forward. “If that kinda thing were true, maybe you shouldn’t spread it around.”
“I have more friends,” Waverly said. “I can find out who you really are.”
Nancy started to speak, but stopped when Eric shook his head. She looked down at the floor, then back up, her face blank.
“Nice meeting you, John,” Eric said. “Stay in touch.”
Deion was trying to speak quietly with Valerie, but it was almost impossible in the back of the van. They were on their way back to the airport, navigating the darkened streets of Nashville. Taylor drove and Eric rode shotgun in the passenger seat. Nancy sat behind Eric, facing toward the rear, trying to give them some privacy.