There was a thoughtful silence among the agents. It was a plausible theory.
‘So what now?’ Mort asked. ‘Given that these cultists aren’t talking.’
‘First,’ I said decisively, ‘we need to check up on Dotman.’
I withdrew the walkie-talkie from my pocket and held down the button.
‘Dotman. You there?’
‘I’m here.’
‘The warehouse is secure. Update me.’
‘Still have them in my sights. We’re traveling north up the I-90, passing through Avondale district as we speak.’
‘Keep us posted.’
‘Will do.’
I put away the walkie-talkie then turned to Mort.
‘Now, I suggest we talk to the captive agents.’ I picked up the keys on the desk which clearly corresponded to the bolts on the cell doors. ‘I suggest you talk to Haddad, while Rodriguez talks to Liam and I talk to Vannevar. Let’s see if these agents know anything.’
The three of us headed to the corridor with the cells. Then, once we’d worked out which key opened which lock, Mort and Rodriguez entered their designated cells, and I entered the one containing Vannevar.
As I did so, Vannevar broke into a broad smile. But he didn’t ask me how I was, nor how I’d gotten here. Instead, he asked with urgency:
‘Has Drexler left yet?’
‘Yes. About twenty five minutes ago.’
‘He told me his escape plan in brief,’ Vann replied. ‘But we don’t have much time, so come untie me while I fill you in.’
His tone was deadly serious. Quickly, I moved behind him and began unfastening the cables.
‘This warehouse was set aside by Muldoon to monitor a group of jihadists in Chicago,’ Vann continued, talking fast. ‘Drexler took over the joint, then coerced Francis Bindle, the agent in charge of the operation, to convince Muldoon that these jihadists were heading to Yemen to meet with al-Qaeda bigwigs – a couple of their biggest players – and that the Yemenite government would only allow the Bureau to make arrests if Muldoon himself flew out with a $20 million bribe. But this was all a ruse to get Muldoon and a load of cash onto a plane out the country; a plane Drexler intends to be on.
‘The flight’s due to leave Glenview Naval Air Station about thirty miles north from here, sometime during the early afternoon, today. On this flight, Drex is planning to make a video in which he’ll outline his final terrorist attack, which is due to take place tomorrow morning, and execute Muldoon. He plans to release this video after the attack has taken place as a means of proving his responsibility. The timestamp will show it was recorded the day before, and thus that he’d had foreknowledge.’
‘Does he plan to outline his final attack before or after killing Muldoon?’ I asked.
‘He implied after but I can’t be sure.’
‘Well, on the basis of what the man I have tailing Drexler has just told me, it looks like he’s on his way to Glenview now. If he’s not planning on any stop-offs, he’ll be there within thirty minutes.’ I paused in thought. ‘We saw him leave here with FBI agent Francis Bindle, who was cooperating without Drexler drawing a gun on him, so I’m guessing his compliance has something to do with the bomb vests the other captives, including his brother, are wearing. I’m guessing Drexler has a remote detonator, and is threatening to activate the vests if Francis fails to play ball.’
Vann nodded, then stretched his arms which had just become free. ‘That makes sense: Drexler told me he was planning to detonate my vest remotely.’
‘So Muldoon’s probably also on his way to Glenview right now,’ I said. ‘But given that Drexler will need time to stow himself on the plane, I reckon it’s safe to say he’s organized it so that Muldoon will turn up after him, and thus that Muldoon is still at least thirty minutes from Glenview. So there should still be time to contact Muldoon and warn him.’ Again, I paused in thought. ‘If I can convince Muldoon to knowingly enter the trap and smuggle myself on board the flight, then suddenly I’m in a position to derail Drexler’s plot.’
‘Sounds like a plan,’ said Vannevar.
At that, I finished unfastening Vannevar’s restraints and walked back in front of him. He stretched his limbs, but remained sitting – he was too sore to stand right away.
I bent down and looked at his vest. On the front, there was a panel with a keypad. Clearly, a digit was required to unlock the straps and deactivate the explosive – a digit that was, no doubt, known only by Drexler.
‘However, we’re going to need to get you all out these bombs before I confront Drexler, otherwise he’ll use your lives as leverage,’ I said. ‘You’d be able to disable one of these with the right tools, right?’
‘I reckon so.’
I looked the embattled Vannevar over. His left hand was in a particularly horrific state: two fingers were grotesquely swollen, and their nails badly mangled.
‘I spotted some equipment that’d probably do the trick in the main office – equipment the agents must’ve brought along for their original operation. But the real question is: in your current state, will you be able to disable three of these bombs within an hour?’
Vann gave me a smile; then, scrunching his face in concentration, he heaved himself to his feet and shook his limbs.
‘You can count on me,’ he said.
I nodded.
‘One more thing,’ I said. ‘Did Drexler say if Samuel would be on this flight?’
Vann shook his head slowly.
‘He didn’t say,’ he replied. Then he added, with nothing in his voice: ‘Drexler told me Samuel was a paid-up member of The Order.’
I nodded solemnly.
‘But I still need to recover him, Vann. He’s my son. And Drexler’s been killing his followers like flies; so I’ve no doubt he still intends to execute him.’
Vann regarded me thoughtfully. ‘Well, it seems to me there are two possibilities, then. Either Samuel will be on the flight. Or, Drexler has organized some way to have him killed remotely. But even if it’s the latter, your best bet is still to get on the plane, because the chances are Drexler will be the only one who knows where he is…’
I nodded. Vann was right.
‘What you need to worry about, Saul,’ Vann added, ‘is getting Muldoon’s number. Because I sure as hell don’t have it and we need it, fast.’
This comment snapped me to action and a second later, I ducked out of the cell, and into Ali Haddad’s.
He was a senior agent, and thus as likely as anyone here to have the number.
Haddad was still lying on his cot, with Mort standing over him. By the looks of it, Haddad was running a fever – no doubt his leg, which was plainly infected, was to blame – but though he was dazed, he was clearly lucid enough to interact.
‘Ali,’ I said, interrupting the men’s conversation. ‘I need Director Muldoon’s cell number. It’s a matter of top-priority. We need it to thwart the last part of Drexler’s plan.’
He looked at me, and recognition flashed across his face.
‘Muldoon’s number,’ I pressed him gently.
He nodded. Then, following a moment’s thought, he slowly recited a number.
I thanked Ali; then, without explaining myself further, I left the room, and headed back to the main office, with Mort following quickly behind me.
Within the main office, I found all the other agents – including Vannevar, Rodriguez, and Liam Bindle – already assembled. Immediately, I ordered that the two cultists be removed from the room – a command Child and Sayle quickly carried out. Knowing that calling from the warehouse would increase the likelihood of Muldoon taking the call, since he’d probably recognize the number, I approached the landline and lifted the receiver.
Then I dialed and the phone began to ring. As it did so, I found myself hoping not only that he’d answer, but that he’d do so with an innocuous hello. Because there was a chance he was already in the company of someone from The Order. And if he was, and he answered with confusion, or b
y making reference to where I was calling from, it could be fatal.
Chapter 47
11:30 CST.
‘Hello?’
‘Director Muldoon. This is Saul Marshall. I need you to listen very carefully, because this is a matter of life and death. The excursion to Yemen you’re about to make is a trap. The warehouse you set aside on South Laflin Street to monitor local terrorists was usurped by Ivan Drexler, the leader of The Order of Babylon, and a small band of his accomplices. Drexler coerced Francis Bindle into telling you this lie about Yemen by blackmailing him with the lives of his colleagues, including his brother. In actual fact, this flight is how Drexler is intending to escape the country. His plan is to be hidden away inside the cabin by the time you board the plane and then, once you’ve taken off, to hijack the aircraft. After this, he intends to make a video in which he will, first, outline his final terrorist attack, due to take place tomorrow morning, and, second, have you executed. He’s plotting to release this video the next day, after the attack has taken place, as a means of claiming responsibility.
‘Now, what I suggest is that you knowingly enter this trap, but at the same time, I smuggle myself onto this flight. That way, Drexler, thinking everything’s going to plan, will start recording his video, and tell us the details we need to thwart his final attack. Then, once he’s done so, and before he can do you harm, I can intervene. But for this plan to work, I need at least an hour to get there from Englewood, so if it’s looking like the take-off will take place within the next sixty minutes, you need to stall. And whatever you do, be cautious – treat everyone you encounter over the next hour as a potential Order member.
‘Also, bear in mind that Liam Bindle and Ali Haddad are both in bomb vests, and Drexler has the detonator, so Francis is going to be dancing to Drexler’s tune. However, I’ve got Vannevar Yeung disabling these bombs as I speak, so hopefully, by the time I confront Drexler, his detonator will be useless.’ I paused a beat. ‘I’m aware my name’s been dragged through the mud these past few days… but you simply have to trust me.’
There was a short pause.
‘Sorry about that. Unfortunate, regrettable news.’
The line went dead.
*
Muldoon returned his phone to his pocket. He was sitting in the back of a Ford Crown Victoria, which was cruising along the northbound lane of the I-294, en route to Glenview. Behind the wheel was the young, professional-seeming man he’d met not ten minutes ago at O’Hare Airport, who he’d understood to be FBI agent Dom McElroy.
But now, he wasn’t so sure.
Because now, after the message he’d just received from a man he trusted completely, Muldoon knew that something was terribly wrong; that he couldn’t trust anyone.
He also now knew that he needed to find some way to add half an hour to the journey, since he was only twenty minutes from Glenview.
Muldoon looked out of the window and saw that the next exit was in five minutes. All at once, a plan jumped into his head.
Three minutes later, Muldoon started breathing heavily. Then, after forty seconds, he started coughing, too, with steadily increasing intensity. Before long, this had escalated to an all-out, barking, wheezing, teary-eyed paroxysm.
‘Asthma attack,’ he garbled to the driver while fumbling for his inhaler. He took two ineffectual drags. ‘Take this exit.’
The driver – who’d been watching Muldoon carefully for the past sixty seconds in the rear-view mirror – veered to the right and exited the Interstate.
‘Pull over,’ wheezed Muldoon between coughs. ‘Somewhere out of sight.’
The driver hustled the car around a corner and pulled up in a deserted car-park. Muldoon slipped out of the car and continued his coughing from a nearby bench.
The driver also got out of the car. He leaned up against the bonnet and regarded Muldoon with concern.
The final job The Zahir had given Lamed had been a simple one: collect Muldoon from O’Hare and drive him to Glenview. But all of a sudden, it’d gone pear-shaped: Muldoon had been seized by an asthma attack. And Lamed knew that if the attack proved bad enough, and Muldoon required medical assistance, it could derail The Zahir’s carefully laid plans.
But while he desperately wanted to avoid bringing in medical assistance, Lamed knew that he had no choice but to offer to fetch some. Because that’s what an FBI agent would do.
‘Sir, do you require medical assistance?’ said Lamed.
Muldoon, who was still coughing hard, shook his head.
‘Just give me a few minutes… it’ll blow over.’
Though relieved by this answer, Lamed remained tense as he watched the shuddering Director. His coughing fit appeared to come in waves: every now and again, it would subside a little, only to return a minute or so later as bad as ever. Each time this happened, Lamed’s nerves took a jolt – he was terrified of letting The Zahir down; of this unforeseen event undermining Euphrates. But then, a long ten minutes later, Lamed was finally given a reprieve – Muldoon’s fit began to wind down properly, and, at last, he seemed to stabilize.
‘Give me fifteen minutes,’ said Muldoon, still short of breath. ‘Just so I can compose myself. Then we can hit the road.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Lamed breathed a sigh of a relief. Muldoon was going to be alright. And that’s all that mattered. Because really, it didn’t matter if they turned up thirty minutes later than expected. After all, The Zahir had complete control over the runway for the foreseeable future, so half an hour here or there was nothing to worry about.
And so, back in high spirits, Lamed watched on as the Director paced slowly back and forth, regaining his composure.
Chapter 48
11:35 CST.
Mort and I were in his rental car, Mort was driving, and we’d just joined the northbound lane of the I-94. We’d departed immediately after my conversation with Muldoon because time was of the essence and now that we were on our way, the first thing I needed to do was issue the orders to the men at the warehouse which I hadn’t had time to give before leaving.
I pressed the button on the walkie-talkie.
‘Agents at the warehouse – the top priority is disabling the vests. Everyone must be on hand to assist Vannevar in this effort and you must keep me updated with the progress. Is this understood?’
‘Understood,’ came the voice of Rodriguez. ‘Vannevar’s already made a start on Liam’s. We’ll keep you updated.’
I lowered the walkie-talkie. Mort gave me a side-on glance. Since departing the warehouse, he’d been concentrating on nothing but getting us onto the Interstate. But now that we were on it, I could see questions forming behind his eyes.
After hearing what I’d said to Muldoon, he knew as much as I did. But he also knew me well enough to know I’d already started thinking about how I was going to execute my plan and undoubtedly he wanted to hear what I was thinking.
But before he could ask anything, the walkie-talkie crackled to life once more. This time, it was Dotman.
‘I’ve got a situation developing. We’re on a residential road, round the corner from Glenview NAS. Francis has pulled over behind a second nondescript sedan.’ Dotman paused. ‘It’s your son. He’s just gotten out of this second vehicle… And now he’s getting into Drexler’s car… They’re back on the move again.’
This was a crucial development. It seemed Samuel would be on the flight, after all.
‘Right,’ I said to Dotman. ‘As it so happens, we have information that Glenview is precisely where Drexler’s heading. We need you to tell us by which gate he enters. Then we need you to keep that gate under observation. We’ve reason to believe Director Muldoon is being chauffeured there now and we need to know when he arrives.’
‘Got it,’ said Dotman.
As I lowered the walkie-talkie, Mort shot me a second side-glance. Then he said:
‘So we’re heading to Glenview NAS, where you intend to smuggle yourself onto Drexler’s flight out of the c
ountry?’
‘Right.’
‘And I’m guessing you’ve thought about the security situation there?’
‘Well, I think the overwhelming chances are that Drexler has organized it so that he has autonomy over a runway. But obviously he won’t have been able to put his own men on the security gate, so he would’ve had to settle with giving the Glenview boys instructions. So I just have to hope he’s told them to admit anyone with appropriate governmental identification, in which case I’ll be fine. But if not, I’ll just have to force my way in.’
Mort gave an unconvinced nod. I went on:
‘But I’m fairly confident my Bureau ID will be enough, because Drexler has also put in place a code word and I imagine Drexler would have thought a standard ID check plus a code word would be plenty secure enough—’
‘Wait, how do you know this?’ Mort broke in.
‘Before Muldoon hung-up, he said to me: “Sorry about that. Unfortunate, regrettable news.” At first, I thought this was an odd thing to say. But then I realized it was an acrostic: the first letter of each word spells Saturn.
‘I reckon that after hearing my plan, Muldoon knew he needed to tell me this word to get me through security. However, he was with someone he didn’t know if he could trust; so to communicate this information without it being noticed, he put it in an acrostic.’
Mort gave a low whistle. He was impressed by Muldoon’s quick-thinking.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘So let’s say you get through security. But then you have to approach the aircraft without being seen…’
‘Right,’ I said. ‘But I can’t imagine that’ll be too difficult. Not only is it unlikely Drexler will have the place swarming with men, but by the time I get there, Drexler and Samuel will both be hidden on the aircraft so probably won’t be in a position to see what’s going on outside. And while I concede that the pilots are more likely to spot me, in all likelihood, they’ll have no reason to think I shouldn’t be there. In all likelihood, they’ve been told nothing about this mission beyond where they’re flying to.
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