The front doors opened and out spilled two men. They turned and fired on DeSantos, who ducked beneath the dash as he slammed on the brakes. The windshield shattered and rained fine granules of safety glass across his hair and lap.
He got out and initiated foot pursuit. They turned left in front of the Mitre Hotel, then passed O’Sullivan’s Bar — and in the reflection of the dark windows, DeSantos caught the image of one of them running with a cell phone pressed against his face.
Warning bells sounded in DeSantos’s head. He had no backup and he had no idea where they were leading him. But there was nothing he could do.
They jumped a low wrought iron fence and seemed to be heading back the way they had come, through a lawn in front of what looked like a church, then back onto the main drag, Greenwich High Road, and through town. These two guys were unfortunately fast and they kept DeSantos — a runner himself — at a safe distance.
They passed the Greenwich Market, a narrow cobblestone alley, where DeSantos saw signs for the Cutty Sark schooner.
He knew there was a rail line somewhere nearby, which could create complications. There were no trains running at this time of the morning but a station, with its myriad tunnels and passageways, could serve as its own means of escape.
They turned right onto Thames Street — and again his internal alarm tripped.
The men had led him into a construction site, which looked to be extensive. They disappeared into the darkness headed along a makeshift sidewalk that was off to the far right of the project.
DeSantos slowed, removed his Glock, and continued after them. He had not traveled all the way to the UK, chasing a well-known bomb maker, only to break off pursuit when he was close to apprehending him and his accomplice — even if the safer play was to pull back. And if one of the men ahead of him was in fact Qadir Yaseen, then the man with him was likely Tahir Aziz or someone of equal significance.
Still, he could not shake the bad feeling that this was not a random chase, that they had an escape route planned. And either DeSantos was being led to a convenient place for them to execute him out of view of a surveillance camera, or they had someone waiting to whisk them off to safety.
He pushed on, his feet crunching the dirt-strewn concrete of the sidewalk, when he felt a stiff breeze ruffle his hair. The smell of water hit his nostrils … and that’s when he realized where he was: the Thames was dead ahead. Was that their objective?
As he pondered that, he saw signs for the Greenwich Pier — and the sky-blue pipework and aquamarine of the manmade jetty that projected three dozen feet into the river.
The two men were now sprinting for the pier — and off to the left, DeSantos heard an outboard engine moving quickly. And with it, he presumed, a small boat of some sort.
If that were the case, this would be his only opportunity. The men hit the gangway and ran down the incline, which dipped twenty degrees toward the water’s surface. Pulling up to the perpendicular dock — and barely visible in the darkness — was a Zodiac or some other kind of RIB, or rigid inflatable boat.
It slowed as it approached the pier and the men timed it well, as they reached the mooring platform a moment before their getaway vehicle pulled up. There was no way DeSantos would reach them in time.
They jogged along the wharf’s edge and hopped into the back of the Zodiac, its engines cut back to an idle.
With no other boats anchored nearby that DeSantos could use for pursuit, there was only one thing he could do: he pulled up and leveled his Glock.
PART 2
“You will invade the Arabian Peninsula, and Allah will enable you to conquer it. You will then invade Persia, and Allah will enable you to conquer it. You will then invade Rome, and Allah will enable you to conquer it.”
“It will be the end of freedom of democracy and submission to God. We don’t believe in democracy. As soon as they have authority, Muslims should implement Sharia. This is what we’re trying to teach people … Eventually the whole world will be governed by Sharia and Muslims will have authority over China, Russia, USA, etc. This is the promise of Allah.”
“They claim to do this in the name of Islam; that is nonsense, Islam is a religion of peace. They are not Muslims, they are monsters.”
38
“Anything?” Vail asked in a low voice.
Uzi clacked away at the keys, stopped, waited, and then started typing again. “No. I’ll get it, I think. Question is when. You find anything?”
“Place is pretty clean for a bunch of bachelors.”
Uzi glanced up. “Find anything that resembles ancient scriptures? Like the missing Aleppo Codex pages or the Jesus Scroll?”
“Wouldn’t that be nice. No, the place is kind of barren, actually. A few Korans, prayer rugs. Some porn magazines.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
“Anything good?”
Vail gave him a look.
“Right.” Uzi turned his attention back to the screen. “I saw you emailing someone. Nothing personal, right?”
“Actually, I was sexting Robby. What do you think I am, a black ops rookie?”
“If the shoe fits.”
“I was posting to Facebook. A photo I took of Hector on the C-17.” She winked at Uzi. “Yes, I’m kidding. But Hector’s very smart, you know that?”
“I’ve worked with him a really long time, on and off for a dozen years or so. Of course I know. You’re suddenly realizing that?”
“I’m not ‘suddenly realizing it.’ But I did just realize why he bought makeup for me and stuck it in my duffel.”
Uzi went back to the keyboard. “Because he wants you to look hot on our op.”
She play slapped him in the back of the head. “You’re saying I need makeup to look hot?”
“Don’t repeat that to Robby,” he said with a chuckle. “The powder and brush are for lifting latent prints.”
She stood up straight. “Yeah. I thought that was good, resourceful thinking on the fly.”
“You don’t think it was a bit sexist? That he put the makeup in your duffel?” A grin broke his face, but he kept focused on the monitor.
“Not at all. If we were stopped and searched, it made perfect sense. Last I checked you guys are as straight as it gets and wouldn’t be caught dead wearing makeup.”
“If we were stopped and searched, makeup in a man’s luggage would be the least of our problems. We’d be in the shit because of the Glocks. We’re in England, remember?”
How could I forget?
“He also bought me clear packaging tape, which I used to lift a bunch of prints. I dusted and photographed them, then emailed them to Tim Meadows. That’s why I was on the phone. And yes, I deleted the email and the photos afterward with that ShredderApp.”
“You’re learning, very good.” Uzi hit a key, waited, then pumped a fist. “Got it. I’m in.”
The shots echoed on the flat waters of the Thames.
But more importantly, despite the dim light, they were on target and must have struck the inflatable portion of the Zodiac. It veered right toward the shoreline and DeSantos took off in a sprint around the timber and glass buildings on the promenade that fronted the pier and the foot path that paralleled the Thames.