Khan checked into the Hotel Niza as planned, his suite overlooking Isla de Santa Clara. Dozens of boats were moored into the shallow green waters just beyond the beach in Concha Bay. Beyond Isla de Santa Clara stretched the endless blue waters of the southern end of the Bay of Biscay, or Cantabrian Sea as the locals called it. It was almost dark and from his balcony he gazed at the sky. To the west he could see remnants of the wispy, orange clouds that autumn brought.
News reports indicated the death toll at the base of Eiffel Tower was thirty-two with another forty-six injured. He’d expected a higher number. His disappointment was offset by his success at the Louvre. One hundred twenty two dead, one hundred forty eight injured. Another powerful blow dealt against the free world.
Khan was still troubled nonetheless; only one bomb had detonated at the Louvre. The news reports indicated that a second suicide bomber was shot and killed, preventing his vest from exploding. Khan regretted not listening to his better judgment and using a remote detonator.
Yet, he was still pleased with the result. He knew his next attack would stab at the heart of America. A week from today he would travel from Spain to the United States, where he’d launch an attack so brazen, so heinous and despicable, that the country would forget the attacks of 9/11, they would pale in comparison to Khan’s devastation.
The infidel would realize there was no safe place to hide.
CHAPTER 48
Brugmann University Hospital
Brussels, Belgium
10:00 P.M.
JAKE RAPPED LIGHTLY on the hospital room door as he pushed it open. Wiley was sitting in a chair next to Kyli’s bed, Kates in the bed next to Kyli’s, both lying prone, Kyli's head immobilized.
“Well?” Jake said. “How are they doing?”
Jake, Kaplan, Kyli, and Kates had been triaged at a Paris hospital. Jake and Kaplan were treated for minor wounds to remove glass fragments and then released. Kyli and Kates’ injuries were more serious. Kates was treated and remained overnight for observation. Kyli had to undergo surgery to remove the large glass shard lodged in the back of her neck. As soon as Kyli recovered from surgery, Wiley was permitted to provide medical transport for the two women to a hospital in Brussels. After arriving in Brussels, Wiley had a team of physicians standing by to receive and treat the two women.
Wiley stared at Jake. “You looked like someone peppered you with rock salt.”
“I’ve never been shot with rock salt, but if it stings all over, then you’re right.” Jake said.
“Consider yourself lucky.” Kates leaned over from her bed. “They removed a chunk from my ass and it hurts like hell.” She extended her hand to Jake. “We haven’t been formally introduced but I’m Kates.”
“I know. I loaded you into the ambulance.”
“That was you?” Kates asked. “That whole thing is a blur. It doesn’t seem real except for the pain.”
“How’s Kyli?” Jake asked. “Has she come around?”
“She’ll be fine, Jake.” Wiley patted the chair next to him. Jake sat down. “The doctors said she should wake up soon. She’s drifted in and out for the last hour. How’s Mr. Kaplan?”
“He’s doing fine.” Jake got up and inspected the bandage on Kyli’s neck. “Bentley’s down there with him now. I think they’re going back to Langley tonight. He got peppered with glass like I did, nothing major except the gash on his forehead. It’ll end his modeling career.”
Wiley chuckled. “The ladies might find that scar interesting.”
“Grandpa, what happened?” Kyli shifted on the bed. “I can’t turn my head. Why am I looking at the floor?”
“I’m right here, Kyli.” Wiley said. “They have your head and neck immobilized. A piece of glass penetrated your neck and the doctors don’t want you moving your head and pulling the wound open. You’ll have to lay face down all night.”
“What about Kates? Is she okay?”
“I’m fine.” Kates said. “But Paris turned out to be a pain in the ass, literally. I had a piece of glass lodged in my ass.”
“You got a piece of glass stuck in your ass? That’s too funny.” Kyli laughed. “Strangest thing. Right after the explosion I saw a man with a gun. He aimed it toward the blast and fired. I know it sounds crazy but I thought it was Jake.”
“Your mind does crazy things to you when you’re under stress.” Wiley said. “There’s a good reason for what you thought you saw.”
“I know, I know. But it seemed so real.”
“It was real.” Wiley said.
“I don’t understand.”
Jake interrupted. “I shot the second terrorist before he could detonate his vest.”
“Jake. Is that you?”
“In the flesh.”
“Come down here so I can see you.” Kyli said.
“You want me to get on the floor? Are you kidding me?” Jake asked.
“No, I’m not.” Kyli said. “Please.”
Jake sat down on the floor near the head of Kyli’s bed and slid sideways until he could see Kyli’s face. “Hi there.”
“Jake, you look like Al Pacino from Scarface.” Kyli said. “What happened?”
“The same thing that happened to your neck and your friend’s ass. Jake said. “You two were lucky today. Maybe next time you can remember to take your phone with you.”
There was a knock on the door. “Can we come in?” Bentley pushed the door open. Kaplan followed him into the room.
Bentley looked around the room. “I thought Jake was coming up here. I need to talk to him.”
“Right here, sir” Jake said.
“What are you doing on the floor?” Bentley asked.
“Talking to Kyli.”
“I need to talk to you, Jake.” Bentley paused. “Privately.”
Jake got off the floor. “I’ll be right back.” He said to Kyli. He walked toward Bentley. Bentley held the door open while Jake walked into the corridor.
“What is it, sir?”
Bentley motioned for them to walk. “You did a great job in Paris today and I’m proud of you and I know you’ll continue to impress Mr. Wiley.” Jake started to speak but Bentley continued. “I have some news for you, Jake and there’s no easy way to say it.”
Jake gave him a curious look.
“Jake. There’s been an accident. It’s your parents.”
CHAPTER 49
Four Days Later
Oak Hill Cemetery
Newnan, Georgia
FOR THE SECOND time in six months, he was here again. This time he was adding two more graves, those of his parents. Six months ago, it was his fiancée, Beth. Much like then, it was a cool, dreary morning. The wet, recently mowed grass left a pungent smell in the air.
Beth was gone and now his parents. He began to understand the words Wiley said to him the day they met in El Paso. “You’re not special, Jake. We’re all touched by sadness in life.”
And, for the first time, he felt alone. He was an only child. His parents were only children. There were no aunts, no uncles, no cousins. And all the grandparents had been dead for years. With his parents gone, he was the last Pendleton.
When he’d talked to the fire marshal, no cause had been determined. The marshal suspected a gas leak in the kitchen but the damage had been so devastating that the cause of the fire might never be determined. According to the marshal, the heat produced from the inferno caused the exterior gas tank to explode, further compounding the fire departments efforts to contain the fire.
Jake scanned those in attendance noting his father had made some powerful friends during his days in the military and as a political appointee. Attending was CIA Director Scott Bentley, Former President Jimmy Carter, three United States Representatives, the Governor of Georgia, and two United States Senators. One of whom was the man who wanted Bentley to deliver his head on a platter, the Honorable Richard Boden, accompanied by his contingent of Secret Service protectors, and as usual, noticeably chewing gum.
Bode
n was a tall, thin man with thick gray hair. He used a cane and walked with a limp from a gunshot injury he’d sustained in the Vietnam War, a war that had earned him two Purple Hearts and the Congressional Medal of Honor. He’d taken three bullets in his right leg, two of them shattering his knee and destroying the joint. Even with the miracles of modern technology and an artificial knee, Boden still required the use of the cane.
Kyli sat next to Jake while the priest delivered the eulogy. Wiley sat on the other side of Kyli. Seated on Jake’s other side was a gaunt looking Isabella Hunt and Gregg Kaplan. Behind them were several rows filled with his parents’ friends and neighbors, all there to pay their last respects to a couple whom they’d known for many years.
In front of him were two caskets suspended in mid-air above the excavated burial pits where they would be lowered and covered with Georgia clay and dirt. An American flag was draped over his father’s casket, the man given a military funeral for his service to his country and as a public servant.
Beyond the caskets, as if segregated by some unseen force, sat the men of power and politics: Bentley, Carter, the Governor, and the five members of Congress. Behind them and arching around in a semi-circle back toward the caskets were the guns. Most were Secret Service. Some CIA. The rest were Georgia State Patrol. All conspicuously armed as if a turf war could break out any second in the historic old cemetery.
At the head of the gravesite stood seven Marines in full dress uniforms serving as Honor Guards.
The priest started the prayer. Jake lowered his head and closed his eyes. As the priest spoke, Jake felt Kyli’s warm hand move on top of his. Her touch was soothing, her compassion welcome. Kyli wore a conservative black dress, unlike her usual flamboyant style. According to Wiley, the doctors in Belgium had been overly precautious with Kyli and soon determined her wound not to be as serious as first suspected. She had a healthy glow on her face. The only indication of her injury was the bandage on the back of her neck.
With her other hand, Kyli grabbed his upper arm and leaned close to him. It had been a long time since he’d been close to a woman. He felt a need to be comforted, desperate to have someone care about his loss. His pain. It felt good, and he needed to feel something.
The prayer ended and so did the moment. Kyli sat up straight and removed her hands. He opened his eyes feeling guilty. The moment evaporated, but he wanted it back.
The priest motioned to Jake as previously discussed. He stepped forward and placed a rose on his mother’s casket. Two soldiers removed the flag from his father’s casket, folded it with military precision, and with gloved hands presented it to Jake. He glanced at Kyli, she was wiping tears from her face. Wiley had his arm around his granddaughter’s shoulder. Isabella Hunt had moved next to Kyli and held out another tissue. Gregg Kaplan kept his head bowed.
These were Jake’s best friends; he realized that now. They did care for him and even more, what happened to him. They stood by his side now in testament of their true friendship and in return, he’d stand by them.
After the Marine soldiers were dismissed, mourners stood and filed past the open graves to pay their respects. A few women tossed purple orchids, his mother’s favorite flower. Many bowed their heads and then made the sign of the cross on their chest. Others just paused and said goodbye.
Bentley walked over to Jake and asked Kyli if he could have a moment alone with him. He signaled Kaplan, Hunt and Wiley to join them. “Jake, we have new information on Khan and his whereabouts. The rest of us are meeting later to discuss with Fontaine what he’s discovered. You should to be read in on this.”
Wiley grabbed Jake by the arm. “Kyli and I are returning to Belgium, I have business that I must attend to. I want you in that meeting with Bentley.”
Jake looked at Wiley and knew Wiley understood how he felt. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Khan has to go down…and I want to be the one to bring down that worthless piece of—”
“Excuse me.” Senator Richard Boden, chewing his gum, placed his hand on Jake’s shoulder. “Scott, E.W., if you’ll pardon the interruption.”
Jake looked at the senator. “This is a private conversation.”
“I beg your pardon.” Boden removed his hand. “Because I know you’re under stress, I’ll overlook your insolence. I wanted to pay my respects.”
“Thank you, Senator. Now, if you don’t mind. I’m a little busy at the moment.” Jake caught sight of Bentley standing behind Boden giving him the “cut it out” signal by stroking his fingers across his neck.
“Listen here, Mr. Pendleton.” Boden’s face flushed, jaw noticeably clenched. “I’ve got half a mind to have your ass hauled in right now for your lack of discipline in the field. I knew and admired your father for a great many years and out of respect for his memory, I’m going to overlook those transgressions. But let me tell you something right here and now.” Boden looked at Kaplan. “And the same goes for you too. If either one of you so much as crosses an eye, I’ll march your trigger-happy asses to the steps of Capitol Hill and let you face a Senate inquiry about your actions. Do I make myself clear?”
Jake clenched his fists and glared into Senator Richard Boden’s eyes.
Boden took two steps back.
Jake took two steps forward, stopped, and then turned away, ignoring the Senator.
CHAPTER 50
HASHIM KHAN’S TRANSFORMATION into a Spaniard was almost complete. After parking his car across town, he spent the first night at the Hotel Niza in a beachfront room on the Bahia de la Concha, and then checked out, all part of his plan. He strolled through the streets of San Sebastian, with each stop his metamorphosis advanced.
Two streets over he found a men’s hair stylist where he had his face shaved and hair fashioned in the latest style. Next, he located a stylish clothes boutique recommended by a local. A salesman selected designer clothes, shoes, and accessories for his new wardrobe. His makeover into a wealthy Spaniard was just about complete as he continued down the narrow streets of San Sebastian looking for his final items. The cool sea breeze felt refreshing on his shaven face. Finally, he found the shop he was searching for and purchased posh luggage completing his ensemble.
Returning to his Volvo C70, Khan unpacked his old bags and repacked his new clothes in his new luggage. Everything about him screamed arrogance. The guise was necessary to stave off unwanted suspicion. Of course he’d be noticed, that’s what he wanted. Not for what he was, a killer and terrorist, but as an over-indulged man spending his money on booze and women and living a life of debauchery.
Hide in plain sight.
The last items he required proved the most difficult to obtain. When he checked in at the Hotel Maria Cristina under the name Arlo Delgado he had two voluptuous women hanging on his arms. He’d found the hookers on the streets, promised them cash and fine things in exchange for their services and silence. They eagerly agreed to Khan’s terms.
Khan plopped down the six hundred Euros per night required for a Royal Suite, paying for a full week in advance, and left strict instructions not to be disturbed. That was three days ago.
The Hotel Maria Cristina, named after the first guest through the doors on July 9, 1912—the Spanish Regent Maria Cristina—rose magnificently above the historic city of San Sebastian.
The first two women didn’t work out as well as he’d hoped. They were greedy, too demanding, and too interested in Khan’s personal affairs, so one evening they became shark food on the bottom of the Cantabrian Sea.
The same night he’d disposed of the first two women, he met two younger women in a bar on the Boulevard. They were on vacation from the United States and were infatuated with the idea of hooking up with a rich Spaniard and threw themselves at him. Khan bought them expensive clothes, jewelry, and liquor. In return, they kept him sexually satisfied. Mutual benefit. He kept his appearance as a playboy intact. In fact, it was no longer an appearance but a reality. He had become a playboy. The women would go home bragging of their adventures i
n Spain with a rich lover named Arlo taking with them new wardrobes and accessories, or at least, that’s what they thought.
The time had come to make arrangements for his travel to the States. His passports and documents all in order, the drive to Madrid would be uneventful. He knew he would pass through all the security checkpoints without a problem; he had nothing to hide but his true identity. No one would figure it out until it was too late. Not until after he’d struck his unprecedented blow. An attack considered unorthodox even by Al Qaeda standards. A despicable act of violence against thousands of innocent and harmless victims.
After supper with the women, he slipped a sedative in their cocktails. A knockout pill to keep them unconscious until morning. He had business to attend to and plans to arrange and confirm. The last thing he wanted was two horny women distracting him and prying into his personal affairs, so it was less trouble to drug them for the night. In the morning when the women woke up, groggier than normal, they would all be naked in the bed, reeking of an overindulgence of alcohol. They’d have sex again. All three of them. Just as they had the last two mornings.
When the women passed out, he grabbed his laptop computer, powered it up, and logged on to a secure server which relocated his IP address around the globe several times allowing him untraceable access to any website. He glanced at the naked women on his bed, they were both very attractive and desire stirred within him. A blonde and a brunette, former college roommates who met their freshman year when they were enrolled in a Spanish class together. Every year since graduation they’d taken a two-week vacation to a different destination in Spain, this year they were indulging his need for sexual pleasure.
But, he had a mission to accomplish. Unfinished business in America. By America’s own admission, the infidel could not defend against the "lone wolf" terrorist. And that was how he intended to attack.
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