Jihad (45 page)

“I shoulda gone to LaGuardia,” said the short man. “I saved a hundred bucks. Big deal now, right?”

“A hundred bucks is a hundred bucks,” said the woman.

Dabir rose.

“You leaving?” asked the man.

“Just stretching my legs.”

“I’m going to get some coffee,” said the Asian-American woman, getting up. “You guys want anything?”

“Nah,” said the man.

“You?” She looked at Dabir.

“No.”

“Do I know you?” asked the woman.

“I don’t believe so.”

“You were on the plane out of Cleveland, right?”

Dabir nodded. The woman stuck out her hand. “Li.”

He took her hand and bowed his head ever so slightly, barely remembering to use the name he had used for the plane tickets.

Her warm hand reminded Dabir of the deprivations he’d faced over the past two years. He steeled himself; it was not a time for pleasure.

“So you want something or not?” the woman asked.

“No. Thank you.”

“Sure.”

LIA WALKED SLOWLY to the coffee bar. The next step was up to Dabir. She hoped he would decide to rent a car and drive to Boston, not because that particular contingency was the easiest for her—it wasn’t—but because it involved the least amount of hanging around. She hated hanging around.

But that was her job. She got the coffee and walked back to the gate area. Having made contact with Dabir, she found a seat in the next row. Making idle chitchat with mass murderers was not her forte.

CHAPTER 151

“YOU CAN SKIP the taxi routine, Tommy—he took the hotel vouchers and the minibus,” said Rockman,

Karr yawned and glanced at his watch. It was five minutes to nine; he’d been sitting outside the airport terminal since five-twenty. He turned the ignition and eased the taxi out of its spot at the side of the terminal.

“Lia’s with him. Four other passengers as well,” said Rockman.

“She invite him up to her room for a drink?”

“Very funny. All right, he’s coming out of the terminal. Now what? He’s not going for the bus.”

“Relax partner. I got it covered.” Karr angled the taxi around the parked minibus. Dabir had split from the main group and was walking along the sidewalk. He put up his hand, flagging down the cab.

“Hey, now,” said Karr cheerfully as he hopped from the taxi. The trunk popped open. “Take that for you, sir?”

“It stays with me,” said Dabir.

“Hey.
No problemo.”

Karr tapped the trunk shut after Dabir got into the cab. He winked at Lia, who was in the line for the bus.

“Where we headin’, boss?” Karr asked as he got in the cab.

“I need a good hotel.”

“Not a problem. Holiday Inn?”

“That’ll do.”

Karr saw Dabir looking at the voucher in his hand. The hotel he’d been given a voucher for was the Minerva, located several miles from the Holiday Inn.

“Holiday Inn comin’ up. So what’s goin’ on in there? Heard they lost their power.”

“I don’t know.”

“Really puttin’ you out. Kind of a rip-off, huh?” said Karr, glancing back. “Did they at least offer to put you up or buy dinner?”

“They canceled our flights and told us to come back tomorrow.”

“Where ya goin’?” asked Karr. He jerked his head around. Dabir’s face, tired, seemed pale.

“To the hotel?”

“No, I mean flyin’. Maybe I could drive you.”

“No, thank you.”

“You’re the boss. Holiday Inn’s our next stop.”

Karr pulled around Route 300, driving toward the hotel and humming the
Star Wars
theme song as he did.

“Uh-oh,” said Karr as he pulled into the driveway. “Home-coming week.”

“What does that mean?” asked Dabir, digging into his wallet to pay him.

“It’s a college thing. Graduates come back. The hotel may be booked. Want me to wait?”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“No problem for me. The night is dead. You want change?”

“Keep it.” said Dabir, getting out.

“Good tipper,” Karr told Rockman as he pulled ahead.

“He’s at the desk. Not too happy.”

Karr put the taxi in gear and drove to the end of the driveway. As Dabir came through the front door, he pulled out, then pretended to spot him, and veered back into the lot through the other entrance, narrowly missing a pickup truck.

“Problem?” he asked Dabir, rolling down the window.

“Take me to the Minerva.”

“You got an address on that?”

“You never heard of it?”

“It’s near the river somewhere. I can find it, but, uh, if you have the address it’ll kind of save a little time, you know? Most people come here.”

Dabir gave him the voucher.

“Be there in two shakes,” said Karr, handing the slip back.

CHAPTER 152

DABIR GOT OUT of the taxi and walked into the hotel, trying not to let fatigue lower his guard. The clerk at the Holiday Inn had been a snotty kid, full of American arrogance toward strangers, taking glee in predicting that he would not find a hotel with a free room until next Monday. That behavior would never be tolerated in Europe, thought Dabir, let alone in an Arab country, where guests were to be treated with honor and respect.

He would remember the kid when he coordinated his first attack here. It would inspire him.

“Oh, there you are,” said one of the passengers from the plane, passing him in the lobby. It was the Asian-American woman named Li. “We wondered what had happened to you.”

“I decided to see if a friend was home,” lied Dabir. “But he wasn’t.”

“Oh, too bad. Well, listen. There’s a restaurant up the street. Some of us are checking it out.”

“No, thank you.”

“There’s no room service,” she added. “But they do have a little coffee shop around the back through that door. You can take the steps. See you on the plane in the morning.”

Dabir presented his voucher to the clerk, who immediately punched it into his computer and retrieved a key for him.

“You can leave your bag, sir,” added the man. “We’ll bring it right up to you.”

“No, that’s all right.” said Dabir, who was nonetheless pleased to see that at least some employees here had manners. “Thank you, though.”

“Elevator right there. I’m sorry that you were inconvenienced at the airport. It’s really unusual.”

The room was good sized. The desk clerk’s polite manner had mollified Dabir somewhat and he found himself actually regretting that he hadn’t gone to dinner.

The woman was attractive. It might have been enjoyable to spend a few hours with her.

Dangerous, though. It would mean lowering his guard, something he must not, could not do. Besides, she was an American, a nonbeliever who, at heart, was his enemy.

Dabir decided he was feeling hungry rather than lonely, and after washing up went to find the hotel cafe she had mentioned. The stairs were at the end of the hall; he pushed open the door, took a step, then felt himself falling backwards. The back of his head seemed to pop, and everything went black.

CHAPTER 153

“HEAVIER THAN HE looks,” grunted Tommy Karr as he hauled Dabir over his shoulder. “How we lookin’, Rockman?”

“Coast is clear. I thought you were going to wait until he’d eaten?”

“I sees my chances and I takes ’em, boss,” said Karr, still talking like the cab driver he’d pretended to be. He slid open the door and hustled into the hallway.

The door to room 213 opened and Hernes Jackson’s face appeared.

“Here we go, Ambassador,” said Karr, striding into the room. “One patient, prepped and ready to go under the knife.”

SWEAT ROLLED DOWN Dr. Ramil’s fingers as well as his brow. His first thought was that Dabir was dead. He felt for a pulse at the neck.

It wouldn’t be a great loss if he were dead, Ramil thought. But the thump beneath his fingers was strong and steady.

“Did you give him the drugs?” Ramil asked Karr.

“Popped him on the head, poked him with the tack,” said Karr. The “tack” was a hypodermic needle designed to be concealed in a fist. It looked like a rubber ball with a metal snout and needle.

“Is there a problem, doctor?” asked Jackson.

Ramil looked across the bed at him. “No, I—I just want to make sure we’re ready.”

“Looks gone to me,” said Karr.

Ramil turned around to the second bed and opened the two attaché cases. He pulled on the gloves, aware that he was breathing deeply.

This is your chance. Cut the veins in the neck. It will take only a minute.

Ramil looked at the knife, then went to Dabir. The new device was designed to be inserted at the back of the skull. Its design made it harder to detect, and it had a range nearly twice that of the one he had implanted in Asad.

Do it, Ramil. Rid the world of the vermin.

The knife felt heavy in his hand. Ramil looked across the room at Jackson, who stared back at him.

Was this really what God wanted? Murder? It was not murder to kill an enemy of the faith. And Dabir clearly was an enemy.

But Allah would not command him to make such a judgment. The voice was not God’s, it was his—a product of stress.

Yes. Every time he’d heard it he had been under heavy stress.

Take revenge for the people he has murdered.

And if it weren’t stress, surely it came from the Devil, not Allah. For wasn’t what it commanded him to do not only a sin, but one that would harm many others? It would stop the operation, depriving Desk Three of the chance to save others.

Karr’s heavy hand clamped on Ramil’s shoulder. “Don’t cut the wrong place, right?”

Ramil turned and looked at Karr. The op grinned, then took his hand off his shoulder.

Ramil made the cut. His hands took over, moving swiftly, expertly. The device was a little more difficult to handle, but he got it in, checking twice to make sure it was oriented properly. The shape and location of the incision allowed them to use surgical glue rather than stitches; with a bandage in place, Dabir would never know he’d been slit open.

A tear slid down Ramil’s cheek as he finished. He felt his shoulders sag.

Done.

He would never hear the voice again. But God’s true voice—in the flow of the river, in the wind, in the science that saved lives and made men whole—that voice Ramil was only beginning to hear.

JACKSON WATCHED RAMIL finish. The doctor’s hands were shaking, but he had held up.

“Maybe we should get a drink,” Jackson suggested as the doctor cleaned up. “Then bring something back for Mr. Karr.”

“Sounds good,” Karr said. “Two Italian heroes, the works. I saw a sub place up the block.”

“I don’t drink,” said Ramil. He smiled weakly. “It’s against my religion.”

“Sorry,” said Jackson. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“No offense,” said Ramil.

“Doc doesn’t drink,” said Karr. “I’ve tempted him myself.”

“Sometimes we all give in to temptation,” said Ramil. “We all occasionally slip.”

“It’s difficult to do the right thing,” said Jackson.

“Very,” agreed the doctor, closing his medical case.

CHAPTER 154

“DONE. DOWNHILL FROM here,” said Telach. “Bug is working perfectly.”

“Yes,” said Rubens. He walked over to the console and picked up the phone.

“Calling the president?”

“No. Ms. Collins, actually.”

IT DIDN’T SURPRISE Rubens at all that Collins was suspicious when he proposed that the CIA take over the “handling” of the bugging operation.

“Since when does Desk Three turn over any operation it starts?” she asked.

“It’s not a trick, Debra. Desk Three is designed for short operations, not keeping someone under surveillance for weeks or even months at a time. We simply don’t have the personnel to devote to an extended mission. As this one has shown.”

“You’ve done pretty well until now.”

“I appreciate the compliment.”

Collins was silent, but it was obvious what she was thinking:
What is he up to?

“I believe you yourself said that we’re not enemies,” Rubens told her. “Your people were supporting the operation overseas anyway.”

“It’s Bing, isn’t it? You figure she’ll hound you until you make a mistake, and you don’t want to take a chance.”

Rubens sighed. He did hate Bing. He suspected Collins did as well. But that wasn’t it. On the contrary, he was sure that Bing would use this against him somehow. It was all grist for the mill.

If there were a way to store the information and occasionally download it or pick it up, like some of the NSA’s other programs, his feeling might have been different. But politics aside, having the CIA take over was the best strategy.

“Desk Three is not designed for long-term missions,” he said. “It’s simply not what we do. You are positioned much better. But if you want—”

“No. No, you’re right.” said Collins. “When do you propose we switch?”

“As soon as you want,” said Rubens. “There are FBI agents standing by in Boston. They can back your people up as easily as they can back up mine. Assuming the president agrees.”

“And Bing.”

“Yes. And Bing.”

“Bill?” she added as he was about to hang up.

“We shouldn’t be enemies.”

“I hope we’re not.”

“I didn’t mean what I said the other day.”

“About?”

“One hand washing the other.”

“Well, it does, doesn’t it?” said Rubens. “We just can’t make decisions on that basis, can we?”

CHAPTER 155

THE LIGHT POUNDED through his skull, pushing its way past his heading, pushing and diving into his skull, pounding him.

“Oh, thank God. I was beginning to worry that you’d never wake up.”

Dabir started to rise but the pain pushed him back down.

“Where am I?”

“St. Theresa’s,” said a woman’s voice on the far side of the room.

“I found you on the steps when I went down for breakfast. You seem to have passed out,” said another voice. It seemed familiar. “Are you okay?”