“I’ve been through worse than anything you can do to me, preparing for a day like this. I’m at peace with what must be done. I’ll be martyred. I’ll have my virgins. And my family will be well compensated.”
“Now what?” Uzi asked near DeSantos’s ear.
“Last chance,” Fahad said. He lifted the remote and turned it on, showed the red blinking light to Yaseen.
Uzi placed a hand on Vail’s shoulder. “I think Santa’s right. We should turn him over to Claude and have the Agency get him to Guantanamo to stand trial.”
Fahad began counting. “Five … four … three …”
“I’m fine with that,” Vail said. “Except how are we going to explain—”
A thundering blast blew debris into Vail, Uzi, DeSantos, Fahad, and Claude. Vail drew her Glock and swiveled on the balls of her feet, her ears ringing and her heart pounding in her head. What the hell happened?
She wasn’t sure if she said it aloud — and her hearing was so muffled that she would not have heard it if she had verbalized the thought. One thing was certain, however: the chair occupied by Yaseen was now an empty, twisted hunk of metal.
“You out of your mind?” DeSantos said. He had Fahad by the lapels of his jacket, pushing him backwards into the brick wall.
“Get the fuck off me.” He shoved DeSantos away and shrugged his coat into place. He faced Aziz, who was in shock. His mouth was agape, his eyes wide.
“Tell us what we want to know!” Fahad said. He was hyperventilating.
“Mo,” Uzi said. He waited till Fahad looked at him, then set his jaw and said slowly, “Dial it down.”
“I want answers!” He pointed at Aziz as he advanced on him. “Where are the attacks planned?”
“I told you,” Aziz said, recoiling, shrinking into himself. “Chicago.”
“Where else?”
“I–I don’t know.”
Vail wanted to intercede. But if there was a chance of getting Aziz to reveal the information, it was this very moment, when he believed that Fahad would press that button. Objecting, attempting to rein in Fahad, would undermine him, make him impotent. She only hoped he had not completely lost it. Fahad's brutal murder of Yaseen was unexpected, and yet it was not: one of the oldest motives in humanity’s long, bloody history was revenge. While their orders were to eliminate Yaseen, it was best done quietly, efficiently, without malice. And without leaving evidence behind.
Fahad stopped a safe distance from Aziz.
“Last chance. You saw what I did to Yaseen. Now it’s your turn. Five. Four—”
“Los Angeles, the defense contractors. We have someone on the inside.”
“Which one?” Vail asked. “Look at me, Tahir. Which one?”
He turned to face her. “I don’t know. One of the major ones.”
“Man? Woman?”
“I don’t know.”
“What about nukes?”
“We had plans. A dirty bomb. I told them no, it was crossing a line.”
“How were they going to do it? Where’d the nuclear material come from?”
“Iran, we got the material from Iran. We had two plans. We’d bring some in through South America. The drug cartel — Cortez — was going to take it from Mexico into the US, through their tunnels. The other way was through Canada. I don’t know which Sahmoud chose, or if he did both.”
“When?”
“Soon. I don’t know exactly.”
“And?” Vail asked. “You talked them out of it?”
Aziz hesitated.
“Answer her,” Fahad said firmly.
“I thought so. But Yaseen said he was told to expect the delivery. He was in charge of coordinating the movement of the material once it got into the US. Two cities were being discussed.”
“Which two?”
“Yaseen insisted on New York. Sahmoud and Dosari wanted Washington.”
Vail turned to the chair that once held Yaseen. It was now a pile of rubble, blood spatter, and, no doubt, flesh.
“We need to get out of here,” Uzi said. “The explosion. Police and fire will be here soon.”
“They won’t know where to look,” DeSantos said. “The building’s already condemned. The walls are intact. We’ve got another minute or two.” He swung toward Aziz. “Chicago, Los Angeles, New York, DC. Where else?”
“I can only tell you the places we discussed. Abu Sahmoud and Dosari, they’re the ones who make the final decision.”
“We know about New York,” Vail said. “When are the others going down?”
“Next week. That’s all I know.”
“Okay,” Uzi said, advancing on Aziz. “Claude, call your people and have them meet us somewhere to pick him up. We’ve gotta get out of here.”
“Then what?” Vail asked.
DeSantos and Uzi cut Aziz free of the chair. “Then we’ll figure it out.”
Vail lifted the lantern and toolbox; they had to get rid of any trace that could be tracked back to them. She noticed Fahad standing in the dark, staring ahead at the spot where Yaseen had been sitting.
“You okay?”
“I thought it would make me feel better.” He faced her. “Revenge. But you know what? It doesn’t change anything. Akil is still dead.”
She gave his shoulder a squeeze. “I know.”
60
Claude spent the entire drive on the phone, jabbering in French to several people. The first call, he explained, was to the man who had brought Vail and DeSantos to the abandoned building. They met him a mile south, passing two police cars that Vail surmised had been dispatched to the general area in response to what sounded like an explosion — even if no one could pinpoint its location.
The handoff went smoothly in the parking garage of a building that Claude identified as one that did not have security cameras. Uzi and DeSantos removed Aziz, blindfolded and bound, from the trunk and transferred him to the other vehicle and then both left the garage, thirty seconds after arrival, with no words spoken. Aziz apparently understood what was happening, as he did not resist. He was probably relieved to have survived being blown to bits and was accepting his legal fate in the hands of Americans — an infinitely better disposition than his colleague had received.
The second phone call, now that they were free of their prisoner’s ability to hear, was to a man who was to arrange safe passage out of France. After hanging up, Claude explained they would be leaving from Le Bourget Airport, about nine miles from downtown.
The plane was parked at a secluded gate and they were ushered to the tarmac in darkness. It was late and the airport was ready to close for the night, but they were able to file a flight plan and keep the control tower personnel dialed in until they went wheels up.
“Headed where?” Vail asked.
“Ben Gurion airport,” Uzi said. “You’ll like it. Very modern.”
I may like the airport. Not so sure about what will follow.
While en route, DeSantos called Knox to update him and tell him they were headed to Israel to secure the documents and apprehend Sahmoud. They talked in coded language to neutralize eavesdroppers, but DeSantos felt like he got the message through and Knox understood the major points.
Shortly after ending the call, Uzi’s phone rang. “It’s Prati.” He pushed the speaker button. “Tell me you’ve got good news, Richard.”
“You were spot on with that intel. The barge came through Canadian waters, right where you said. They offloaded onto a cabover van. We had a squad there but they couldn’t intercept because of the terrain. We’ve got surveillance teams in unmarked vehicles lined up along the interstate, passing the eye.”
Vail knew that “passing the eye” meant that a tailing law enforcement vehicle dropped off the suspect as another one, down the road, picked him up. It prevented the target from realizing he was being shadowed.