by Lee Jackson
Klaus listened, mesmerized. His eyes shone with the fervor of his mission.
“Habibi,” he said, “it’s so good to finally work with someone as dedicated to our jihad as I am. In Saudi Arabia, many men speak of jihad and they put their money in, but they leave the fighting to untrained fighters with no experience. You are here with me, and you have the wisdom, expertise, and experience to do something besides talk or throw money your family got out of the oil wells.”
Ramzi smiled, a faraway look in his eyes. “Thank you, my brother. This is sacred work we do.” He pulled himself from his thoughts. “How long until your bomb is ready?”
“About two weeks. I’ve located the machine shops that can manufacture the structural parts, but the tolerance levels are tiny, so I don’t want to rush them, and I want plenty of time to test the bomb. I’m waiting for some electronic parts too, but they should be here by then.”
Ramzi nodded in contentment. “That’s good. My shipment of powdered metals should arrive around the same time, and then my bomb will be complete.”
“What do we do until then?”
“Lie low and wait.”
37
Sofia fidgeted.
Bob noticed. “Set a spell. Take your shoes off,’” he quipped, quoting the character Jed Clampett from the closing theme song of The Beverly Hillbillies. “We’re going to be here awhile. Might as well relax.”
Sofia studied him. Behind his jocular greeting resided an undertone of anger. Dressed in warm woolen winter clothing, he sat in a rocking chair on the wooden porch of a ranch-style house built on a rise looking across a vast expanse of snow-covered rolling prairie to distant peaks. Behind the house to the north, the ground swept up into a towering mountain. Set as it was with the sun rising to Bob’s left and setting to his right, when the weather was clear, the house basked in sunlight the whole day. Halfway to the mountains outlined against the far southern horizon, the town of Livingston nestled in rolling hills, and a frozen lake glimmered off to the west. A long, cleared driveway with a few ice patches led from a secondary hardtop road up the gentle slope to the house.
“Nobody’s getting in here that we don’t know about,” Bob went on. “We’ll see ’em coming for miles, and if we miss ’em, we have sensors and monitors behind every bush, and local authorities are on the lookout.” He took a sip of coffee from a mug in his hand while patting a Winchester rifle lying across his lap. “If Klaus sneaks in somehow, we’ll deal with him.” He brandished the firearm. “We’ve got plenty of ammo and lots more weapons.”
Sofia pushed off from the rail she had been leaning against while she drank her coffee. She turned to look out over the vista.
“Ah, Bob,” she said. “You know me too well. I can’t help worrying about Atcho.”
“Concentrate on feeling sorry for that Klaus guy,” Bob said. “He’s not going to get away again. Mark my words. Atcho is setting up an endgame.”
“I have full faith in Atcho, but anything can happen.”
Bob eyed her closely. “You’re conjuring up something. I can see it in your eyes.” He turned and leaned the rifle against the cabin wall, then picked up his coffee and stood, ambling over to Sofia. “Atcho figured you’d try to do something. He asked me to stop you.”
Sofia chuckled. “And what did you tell him?”
Bob laughed. “That I might as well try to hog-tie a mountain lion. I said I wouldn’t attempt to stop you because it would be useless.”
Behind him, the front door opened, and Isabel emerged with the two children. They ran across the porch, squealing with excitement, and bounded down the stairs to play in the snow.
Isabel wrapped her arms around Bob and leaned her head against his shoulder. “What’s up?”
Bob put an arm around her back, then gestured toward Sofia. “She’s thinking she has to do something, and a plan is already forming in that head.” He turned to Sofia. “Am I right?”
Sofia set her coffee cup down on the flat rail of the porch and rubbed her eyes. “Your family is here,” she said. “You’re safe. My husband—”
“Can take care of himself,” Bob finished for her, striking a kind note. “And Jameson is here. He needs his mom.”
“I know.” Sofia’s fatigue showed in her drawn face and sunken eyes. “He needs his dad too.” She exhaled. “Atcho believes the government isn’t taking the threat seriously. The FBI acknowledges the personal danger to us, but the larger threat seems beyond their comprehension. If someone doesn’t do something, Klaus will blow that bomb.”
“Why did Atcho go back to New York?” Isabel asked. “Why not DC?”
“Two reasons: Klaus wants Atcho, and he traced us to West Point; and Burly got word through backchannels at the Mossad that the New York financial district is Klaus’ target. By now, he must know the plan to hit us failed. He doesn’t know where we are now, but he’ll still go after his larger target.”
“So again, sit back and relax. You can help me handle things here.”
Sofia shook her head. “I can’t, Bob. I’m a veteran analyst and operations officer. Klaus is after big targets. I can feel it. That’s what he does. He tried to hit the embassy in Berlin and the oil wells in Kuwait. He’s not after penny-ante stuff.”
“I’ll let you two hash this out,” Isabel said. “Just know, Sofia, that Jameson is safe with us.”
“You proved that,” Sofia said warmly. “We’re proud of you.”
Isabel smiled appreciatively. Then she disentangled herself from Bob and headed toward the stairs while Sofia took a deep breath to regain control over moistening eyes and lips that had begun to quiver.
“I have to go,” Sofia rasped to Bob.
“I know. But let me help you think through things. Do you have any idea what the target might be?”
Sofia gathered her composure. “I do, but it seems too outlandish to say out loud.” She took in a deep breath. “Tell you what. I’ll go over what I’ve been thinking, and you tell me your conclusions.”
“All right. Try me.”
Sofia dropped her head in deep thought. “Klaus was first spotted this time around in a video of the explosion at the Israeli Embassy in Buenos Aires.” She paced the porch as she spoke. “Then he witnessed the one that took out the television station in Lima, and then the headquarters of the largest bank in Peru. Each explosion was larger than the previous one, and they’re no longer striking just to make a political statement. That bomb in the Marine barracks in Beirut ten years ago was a huge strike, but it didn’t do lasting injury to US capability. Now, they’re hitting to inflict far-reaching economic damage beyond the carnage.”
“I’m with you so far, but how does that lead us to now?”
Sofia spoke slowly, thinking out loud and choosing her words carefully. “The US has always been the target. Strikes in other places have been to train, try out new methods, and develop tactics. Now we’re seeing evidence of collaboration between local terrorist groups with both Al-Qaeda and Hezbollah—and they’re working together.
“The local groups unwittingly”—she arched an eyebrow—“or maybe wittingly, help spread fundamentalist Islam while they forward their own aims. That’s what they think they’re doing. And Burly says there’s been a build-up of chatter about New York.”
“That chatter has been going on for years.”
“And the terrorists have been getting better for years. When do we start believing that they’ll at least try to do those things they’ve chanted about for decades?”
“When do we start believing that we can’t stop them? That’s when the game is over.” Bob caught the sharp glance that Sofia shot his way. He waved his hands above his head. “Hey, I’m just playing devil’s advocate. I’m the last guy to pooh-pooh the idea that bad guys are coming our way. One came to my house two days ago, threatening my wife. But since we’ve got limited resources, we have to think through every possibility.”
Sofia had stopped pacing. She glanced at her watch and then stood st
ill, her eyes fixed on Bob.
“That’s right,” she said. “Rummage around with those thoughts for a while and see where they lead. I have to go. I have a plane to catch.”
Startled, Bob jumped up from his chair. “You what?”
Sofia had already started down the stairs. “I packed early this morning,” she called over her shoulder. “My luggage is in the car.” With Bob trailing after her, she plodded rapidly through the snow to where the children played.
“Listen, sweetheart,” she said, picking up Jameson and hugging him to her chest. “Mommy has to go away for a while.”
“No-o-o,” the little boy protested, tears welling in his eyes. “I want you to stay here. When is Daddy coming?”
“I’m sorry,” Sofia replied, burying her head against his shoulder. “Your sister Isabel and Uncle Bob will take care of you, and you can play with Kattrina.”
“No-o-o,” Jameson wailed. “Don’t go.”
Isabel edged up to help comfort the child. Sofia handed him over, her face a mask of anguish. The little boy kicked and cried. Sofia’s eyes reddened, and tears ran freely down her face.
“I’ll be back soon,” she whispered, kissing Jameson’s cheek one last time.
Kattrina, who had continued building a snowman, now pulled at her mother’s leg. “Mommy, where is Gigi Sofia going?”
Fighting back her tears, Sofia walked to her car. Bob followed at her shoulder.
“Don’t do this, Sofia,” he pleaded. “Everyone knows your instincts are good. Work through the analysis with me. We can feed whatever you come up with to the guys in New York and let them handle it.”
Sofia swung the car door open and slid behind the wheel. “We don’t have time to convince people and wade through red tape.” Her tone was labored. “No more time to discuss. Think through what we talked about. If you come up with any conclusions, get them to Atcho.”
“What do I tell him about you?”
“Tell him I love him, and I’ll see him when this is all over. Tell him the target is obvious, but unthinkable. If I can confirm what I think, I’ll get that to him.” With that, she rolled up the window and, sliding over the ice patches, sped down the long driveway.
As she drove to the airport, Sofia reviewed her analysis. Klaus is in New York, or at least in its vicinity. He’s going after big targets that affect the economy. His weapons can take down any building. The last hit where he showed up was a skyscraper. There is no building more emblematic of US economic power than the Twin Towers. If he can lure Atcho there, he’ll see it as a plus. That’s where he’s going.
38
The next morning, Sofia dressed to draw attention. Strikingly beautiful with her fine features, green eyes, long dark hair, and elegant figure, she took care to look her best—to stand out in a crowd in such a way that anyone who knew her would surely recognize her.
As she sat in front of the hotel mirror primping her hair, she thought of the last time she had seen Klaus. That had happened only once, just over three years ago in Berlin, but she knew she would never forget his face, those burning eyes, and that voice that simultaneously commanded and mocked.
She recalled seeing Atcho disappear at Klaus’ gunpoint into the hallway outside their hotel room, where a State Department security officer had lain unconscious. Across the hall, the rest of the security detail had been locked in their room and hit with pulverized tear gas, incapacitating them.
She hoped Klaus had equally vivid memories of her.
He had certainly succeeded in identifying and tracking her down fourteen months later, when he tried to have her detained in Little Istanbul, the Turkish enclave in Berlin. Months after that, he shot her in the leg across Lake Austin with a sniper rifle, though she doubted that he had actually made out her features. He knows me, but he won’t be expecting me to expose myself.
As she rode a taxi into Lower Manhattan, she thought of Atcho. She had left a note in her room in Montana for Bob or Isabel to find, and she was sure that one of them had read it to Atcho by now.
“Stay focused and don’t think about me,” it read. “I’ll call when I have something to tell. Klaus must be stopped. I love you.”
Atcho would be angry, but despite the fact that all of his covert operations training had been gained on the job, and much of that by working alone, he was professional. He would weigh the risk she posed to herself against the danger to the nation if they did not succeed. He would proceed, stone-faced to be sure, but he would pursue the objective that must be met, and his thoughts would be on saving his family. They would work out their differences afterward.
She smiled. Something to look forward to. Then her expression became somber again. If there is an afterward.
The taxi arrived at her destination. She paid the driver, exited, and then looked up at the tall twin towers of the World Trade Center. Even on this overcast winter day, they gleamed in the cold light, their wide concrete expanse softened by trees, displays of art, and lower buildings. They stood proud, stately, evoking power and prosperity. The very elements that the terrorists hate—when they belong to someone else.
The cold February wind swirled around Sofia as she began her trek along the periphery of both buildings. She wore a white, heavy overcoat, styled for fashion as well as warmth, and she held her hair in place with a maroon scarf. On her feet, she wore knee-high leather boots with two-inch heels. If they’re still scoping out the place, they’ll see me. An image of Klaus’ face formed in her mind. I’ll smoke you out, you bastard.
After the third loop around the buildings, the cold whipped through her coat, especially on the Hudson River side. She ducked inside the North Tower and rode an escalator to one of the underground levels, where she found a coffee shop and warmed up.
When she felt sufficiently resuscitated, she took another loop around the Center and then rode the elevators in both buildings, stopping off for a drink in The Greatest Bar on Earth, one of the establishments that made up the Windows on the World complex at the top of the North Tower.
As she gazed across the cityscape and then over at the mighty structure of the South Tower, she wondered about the plausibility of bringing them down. Maybe I’m crazy. It’s unthinkable. She shook off the thought and gazed again at the South Tower, magnificent in a now-waning sun, standing firm against the freezing winter wind that moaned against the glass. Then again, building these towers was unthinkable in the first place. But someone conceived the idea.
She returned to her hotel for the night feeling glum and alone. Calling Atcho would serve no purpose, so she went to bed early and slept fitfully.
The next day, she repeated her pattern, wearing the same overgarments. She moved quietly among busy New Yorkers on their various errands and visitors gawking at the sights. In some places, clumps of Asians grinned as their countrymen snapped away on cameras. She smiled. Seems like everywhere you turn these days, people have cameras.
On the third day, she did the same thing, alighting from her taxi and beginning her trek around the Twin Towers.
39
“She did what?” Atcho felt his normal self-control slipping away to dread.
Bob explained again what had transpired with Sofia. “She wouldn’t tell me where she was going but made it plain that a good guess is New York City. That’s where you are because you think Klaus is in the vicinity. That’s as much as I know. She could be anywhere within the five boroughs.”
“Why wouldn’t she tell you where she was going?”
“You know why. You’d try to stop whatever she’s doing. She aims to help and is dead set that you stay on mission until Klaus is neutralized. That’s my word, not hers.”
“But appropriate anyway.” Atcho fought off despondency. “It might come to that.”
“Hey, I’m not suggesting anything. I’m just saying that, regardless how it’s done, Klaus has to be—”
“I get it,” Atcho interrupted. “What else did Sofia say? Walk me through her analysis. Can you think of an
ything she said that would give a hint of what she’s up to?”
The line was quiet as Bob put his thoughts together. “She was sure that you would stay focused and on the job.”
“Great. What else?”
“She said that the target was obvious, but unthinkable.”
Atcho felt his irritation grow. “Is she kidding? In New York City? It’s all unthinkable. We’ve got the New York Stock Exchange, the Federal Reserve Bank, all of Wall Street. Klaus’ bomb could take out a whole mile in diameter. If it’s planted in the middle of Manhattan, he’ll kill a lot of people and cut the US financial system off at the knees.”
“That stacks up with what Sofia said about going for targets that cause long-term damage.” Bob repeated her observation that the targets and the bombs had become larger and directed at destroying economic hubs.
“That’s been my conclusion too.” Atcho blew out a breath. “Finding and stopping him will take drastic action.”
Atcho remained silent a moment, listening to the soft whirring of the telephone receiver. Then Bob asked, “What will you do?”
“I don’t know, but if we don’t stop him, let’s hope the bomb is a dud.”
40
“There’s a woman circling the towers,” Ramzi told Klaus. “She was spotted yesterday, and she’s back today.”
“You have people watching the towers?” Klaus asked. He had just come in from a workout at a local gym and was streaming sweat.
“Of course,” Ramzi replied. “We keep several brothers posted around the center to notice changes in security.”
“So, what’s special about this woman?”