The Templar Reprisals (The Best Thrillers Book 3)

by James D. Best

  “Do you have a backup extraction team?” Evarts asked out of the blue.

  “What?” Lewis said. “That’s what you took from what I just said.”

  “What you said sounded like a blogger rant. I’m going back to your comment about people outside.”

  “Everything I told you about the Ikhwan is true.”

  “You’re evading the question,” Evarts said. “Give a direct answer or we’re returning to the saferoom. Now!”

  “Yes … there’s a second team.”

  “When do you expect them to arrive?”

  “A half hour ago.”

  “Can you signal them to hold off?”

  “Why would I do that. You lied. There are no cops. You’re on your own.”

  Evarts leaned in toward Lewis. “If you tell me what I want to know, I’ll let you walk out the front gate and they can pick you up at the street easy as pie.”

  Evarts could see Lewis contemplating the alternative … and whether Evarts would keep his word.

  “It depends. What do you want to know?” Lewis asked.

  “Three questions. Give forthright answers and like any houseguest, walk out the front door.”

  “What if I can’t answer due to my oath?”

  “I’ll make allowances. We have to trust one another.”

  “Three question and I’m no longer under arrest?” Lewis asked.

  “Three questions.”

  Chapter 35

  “I need my phone,” Lewis said.

  Evarts threw him his cell, but instead of making a call, Lewis held it up, shoulder height.

  “What are the three questions?” Lewis asked.

  “Who runs the Ikhwan? Where are they headquartered? Who does their banking?”

  “Good questions. I can answer all three. But only with what we know. You may find that insufficient.”

  “I’m experienced at this. If I think you’re telling me everything, you may leave.”

  Lewis made a call, uttered one code word, and terminated the call.

  “Don’t try to triangulate that number,” Lewis said handing the phone back. “It was a pre-paid disposable that has already been crushed.”

  Evarts looked at the number and typed a text message. When he tucked the phone back into his pocket, he said, “Can’t blame me for trying.”

  Lewis just smiled.

  “Where do you want me to start?”

  “Anywhere,” Evarts said.

  “I’ll start with banking. The Ikhwan is extremely clever. About thirty years ago we discovered that a well-known billionaire was acting as a front for the Ikhwan. That seemed odd. Why would someone help an organization with such nefarious goals? By watching, we discovered a pattern. The super-rich take enormous risks. No amount of money is enough. Invariably, something goes sour, and their empire becomes imperiled. This is where the Ikhwan enters their lives. They offer enough money to make the problem go away, but in exchange, the entrepreneur must become an agent of the Ikhwan. Money laundering, asset management, political influence, whatever they have to offer. In exchange, their empire remains intact, they get infusions of cash if needed, and they’re allowed to continue living the lifestyle of the rich and famous. No one’s the wiser.”

  “The Ikhwan would need a cash stockpile to finance these arrangements,” Evarts said. “Couldn’t their accounts be discovered using financial forensics.”

  “Possibly in years past, but now their network is broad and deep, and money is buried in legitimate enterprises all over the world. When they need cash, they never demand more than ten million from each agent. Pocket change to billionaires. The money is transferred to Ikhwan controlled accounts disguised as commodity trading companies, charities, trusts, shipping companies, and several gaming operations. It’s done so businesslike that banks don’t have an inkling that the transfers are illicit. It’s a marvelous system.”

  “You sound as if you admire them,” Baldwin said.

  “We admire organization. The Templars were the first international bankers. During and after the crusades, we loaned money, secured other’s wealth in our castles, facilitated drafts that could be cashed anywhere in Europe or the Middle East, physically transferred sensitive documents, provided financial advice to nobility, and everything else under the sun. We can recognize a world-class operation, and this is one. We have sizable reserves of our own and have replicated parts of their system for our own funds.”

  “Are there enough billionaires for both of you?” Baldwin asked.

  Lewis laughed. “You’re too parochial. Granted, you’re both well-off, but far from super-rich. In fact, there’s only one billionaire in Santa Barbara. But if you expand your horizon to the entire globe, there are nearly three thousand billionaires and many, many more near billionaires who can serve just as well for these purposes. In fact, near billionaires are even greater risk takers, thus their empires are more often imperiled. By the way, do you know what you get when you give someone one hundred million dollars?”

  “I’m sure you’ll tell us,” Evarts said.

  Lewis chuckled. “A frustrated billionaire.”

  “Very funny. But tell me how many of these three-thousand-plus are carrying water for the Ikhwan and the Templars?”

  “Our guess is under a hundred. But it’s enough. Arrangements vary, but a compromised billionaire can easily hide tens of millions and launder much more. In a few situations, the Ikhwan owns the entire enterprise lock, stock, and barrel. The entrepreneur has become a mere caretaker.”

  “Okay,” Evarts said, “let move on. We can come back to finances later.”

  “The Ikhwan headquarters? It shifts around. We believe every three months. Usually to another Islamic country, but not always. At the moment, we think they’re headquartered in Jakarta. That’s in Indonesia.”

  “We know where Jakarta is,” Baldwin said irritably.

  “Most Americans don’t,” Lewis said with a condescending smiled. “Last, the caliph, or leader, of the Ikhwan is named Abū al-Qāsim Muḥammad ibn ʿAbd Allāh ibn ʿAbd al-Muṭṭalib ibn Hāshim.”

  Baldwin sighed. “That’s the Prophet’s full name.”

  “Indeed,” Lewis said. “You know something about Islam.”

  “Enough to call bullshit when I hear it,” she said.

  “The leadership of the Ikhwan is a triumvirate, and for official duties, the caliph takes the name of the Prophet. The other two are merely referred to as ẓahīr, which means assistant or helper. They are really advisors because the caliph doesn’t lead, he rules. There is a backup triumvirate located in a distant city. The heir apparent leads this second group. They pray, read the Qur'an, audit operations and finances, advise the caliph, and stand ready to take over if the caliph is taken out or dies of natural causes. Right now, we don’t have a fix on the location of the backup triumvirate.”

  “That’s it,” Baldwin said. “The Ikhwan’s money is concealed in legitimate enterprises, the leader adopts the Prophet’s name, and the triumvirate moves every three months. That’s not much help.”

  “I’m not sure what you expected. If we knew more, we’d destroy the Ikhwan in a heartbeat. Lives have been lost to learn this much.”

  When Baldwin seemed to let the matter go, Lewis looked quizzically at Evarts.

  Evarts nodded. “You can go, but next time make an appointment … and leave your buddies at home.”

  Lewis stood up.

  “Next time, they’ll send someone else.”

  Chapter 36

  Evarts kept his attention on the security screen until after a car picked up Lewis and disappeared down the road. He felt relief. Evarts didn’t like the man, and hated how he had disrupted their lives. Evarts made a phone call to his dispatcher to have the car followed.

  When he reentered the great room, Baldwin asked, “Why’d you let him go?”

  “We couldn’t hold him without fabricating a crime,” Evarts answered. “There’s no evidence that would tie him to the assailants ascend
ing our back hill, nor did the assailants commit a serious crime beyond suicide. Besides, we may learn more from following him … although I doubt it.”

  She nodded. “What are you going to do about Megan?”

  “Nothing. Now that I know she’s the snitch, the advantage is on my side.”

  Baldwin smiled broadly, “We do pretty good theater.”

  “Yes, we do. But I’m concerned we may not have been as successful as we think. Lewis is a cagy bastard.”

  “You’re the cop, but my impression was that he gave us what he had.”

  “Let’s hope so … and we have the men we picked up cruising our street. Maybe we’ll learn something from them.”

  Evarts felt at a loss and just looked at Baldwin for a long moment.

  “What now?” she finally asked.

  He shrugged. “Back to the Biltmore. This house has been the scene of three attacks. I don’t want to tempt fate.” He picked up their drink glasses and rinsed them in the bar sink. After he set the three glasses on a drain board, he said, “When we get back to our suite, I want us to write notes for Standish. She’s got point on this.”

  Baldwin stood. “Good. She’s got a good head. Greg, do you have someone watching the street? Can we get out of here without being noticed?”

  “I did, but he followed Lewis. He reported all clear before he left.” He walked out from behind the bar. “Let’s get out of here.”

  The keys to the two rentals were on the respective consoles. They drove out of the garage together and stayed close on their way back to the Biltmore. Evarts drove behind so he could keep an eye out for a tail. He saw nothing suspicious but still phoned Baldwin to advise her to drive toward the university and double back so he could be sure. He still spotted no tails, so they drove on to the Biltmore and parked in the designated spaces for their bungalow. They slid quietly into their cottage unseen.

  After he secured the deadbolt, Evarts felt a pang of hunger.

  “Supper?” Baldwin asked.

  “Oh, yeah,” Evarts responded.

  Evarts order by phone and when room service arrived, they hadn’t yet completed their recap memorandums they had started for Standish. He was famished and decided the remainder could wait until morning.

  After a while of eating quietly, Baldwin said, “You’re thinking hard. Care to share?”

  “Trying to find a way out of this predicament. I see three options. Run and try to disappear. It would take a week or so to covertly stash money somewhere and then we could follow it. New IDs are not a problem. Maybe we wouldn’t need to leave forever. Just a long, long vacation. The second option would be to fight. We would need to use the police force as a shield and build an alliance with the Army for offense. Through the Army, we gain access to other government resources. The Army wouldn’t set us up as bait like the Templars, but they would call the shots and demand to know everything. The third option would be to go public. Tell the world everything that has gone on. When the Ikhwan learn we are not Templars, they might drop us off their to-do list. Save a million dollars and a headache. Anyway, that’s what I was thinking. What are your thoughts?”

  After a moment, Baldwin said, “I like door number three. If it works, we get our lives back.”

  “How will we know if it works?” Evarts mused, almost to himself. “And where would we tell our story. This doesn’t seem like a newspaper article—too complicated—and I’m not waiting for a nonfiction book to be written. A blog wouldn’t get enough traction. A segment on a cable news network might be the only option.”

  “I’ve been a guest on every cable news channel and if we craft an enticing elevator pitch, I can get us on TV.”

  “Trish, not to diminish your success, but you’ve been on daytime television promoting books or as an American history expert. Can you get us in prime time?”

  “Do we need to blow this sky high?”

  “For our safety, the higher the better. A bang loud enough to drive the Ikhwan and Templars back to their respective corners.”

  After a moment of thought, she said, “My literary agent can get us on prime time. I’m sure of it. But it needs to be a big story, one we can back up with verifiable facts.”

  “Back up? I hadn’t thought that through. The Paris attack is obvious, but the French have expunged our presence. They don’t want any of this out in public. We have the three attacks here at the house, but nothing will tie them to the Ikhwan or terrorists for that matter. The first two attacks were carried out by common criminals and I’m a cop.” Evarts thought some more. “Oh hell, they’re gonna write us off as conspiracy nuts.”

  Baldwin nodded. “Or publicity hounds pimping my next book.”

  “Can you think of another option?”

  “Not off the top of my head.”

  “Okay, then we do all three. Or rather we take the initial steps for all three options. Tomorrow, you start transferring funds to the Caymans, and I’ll begin the process of getting us new identities. Keep the transfers under nine thousand dollars, so this will take time. Also start building us a cash hoard. I’ll call O’Brian to initiate an alliance and focus Standish on gathering evidence to prove these secret societies exist. Call your agent and whet his appetite for a big story. Maybe suggest that there’s a book in it … or … hell, use whatever you think will work. How’s that sound?”

  “You’re suggesting we get ready to jump through whichever door looks the most promising?”

  “More precisely, get ready to jump through whichever door isn’t locked tight.”

  “I like it,” Baldwin said. “Better than sitting idle … or analyzing the damn thing to death. What about me looking into the information Lewis gave us?”

  “How would you do that?”

  “Old school. Physical books. No internet.”

  “Yeah, but where would you get the books?” Evarts asked.

  “University library?”

  “Too risky. So’s the public library. Someone will recognize you, even in your new getup. I got an idea. I’ll get fake IDs and we’ll fly to Washington under our new identities. Stay for a week or so. I’ll work O’Brian, while you do research. I heard there’s a building in D.C. with lots of books.”

  She laughed. “You mean the Library of Congress?”

  He smiled. “Yeah, that’s the place.”

  “Great idea.”

  “Take a day to set things up with O’Brian, get fake IDs, move to the apartment, and other sundry details, but we should be able to fly east tomorrow night.”

  “Hot dog!”

  “Hot dog? Don’t tell me you’re excited?”

  “Absolutely! It’s been getting a bit dull around here. This’ll be fun.”

  “Uh oh. Now I’m worried you’re going to relapse. Since we’ve been married, you’ve kept a cap on your adrenalin addiction.”

  “I’m not addicted.” She swung her head left and right. “By the way, where’d I put my gun?”

  Chapter 37

  Evarts drove into work just as the sun began to ease from behind the coastal mountains. Instead of going to his office on the second floor, he descended to the basement. With a master key, he unlocked the door to the Joint Organizing Group Task Force room and confirmed that no one had arrived yet. The orderliness astonished him. How had Standish accomplished so much in an afternoon? All the junk had been removed and the floor swept clean. Walls were covered in Velcro or whiteboards, six desks with credenzas sat in two neat rows, screen savers adorned computers on every desktop, and a back counter supported a document scanner, radio equipment, printers, a microwave, a coffee pot, and other appliances. Mounted high above the counter were three flat screen televisions and to the side, a full-size refrigerator.

  The whiteboards and Velcro panels were empty. Evarts opened the refrigerator. Empty. He checked a few desks and found no personal items, only stationary supplies. No one had yet occupied these quarters, but the room was ready for action.

  He heard a rustle behind him and turned t
o find one of the detectives selected by Standish.

  “Good morning, chief,” Roberts said.

  “Good morning. You’re early.”

  “My kid had a dance recital last night, so I couldn’t stay to get the quarters squared away. Thought I’d come in early to do my bit.”

  “I don’t know what you’d do. Everything looks ready for occupancy.”

  Roberts waved his phone. “Oh, I got plenty. Commander Standish sent me a text at midnight with a laundry list of to-dos.”

  “Then I’ll let you get to it … and thank you for accepting the post.”

  “Are you kidding? Commander Standish made it sound like fun. Chasing real bad guys, state-of-the-art computer software, working with other agencies, maybe even some international travel.” He laughed. “Hell, if this falls apart, she could sell used cars.”

  “It won’t fall apart. Would you let Commander Standish know I want to see her when she gets in. I have a first assignment for the task force.”

  “Do you want me to call her?”

  “No. She was here late. Whenever she gets in will be fine.”

  He heard a woman’s voice from the doorway. “How about now?”

  Evarts smiled to himself. “Good morning, commander. Now would be perfect. I’ll bet we have fresh coffee brewed upstairs.”

  “The brass gets all the goodies. By the way, did you notice there are six desks?”

  “Let me guess, you want to hire an assistant.”

  “Margret.”

  “You wish. She the best we have on the second floor. Hire someone new.”

  “George … your George.”

  “My assistant?” Evarts laughed. “Okay, you can have Margret. I don’t know how I’ll explain this upstairs, but I gotta admire your moxie.”