The Templar Reprisals (The Best Thrillers Book 3)

by James D. Best

  In the meantime, they had a day to find the four terrorist teams the old-fashioned way. They would flush out the bad guys with detective work.

  They walked into O’Brian’s outer office at seven ten.

  O’Brian barreled out of his inner office and declared, “You’re late. You were supposed to be here at six thirty.”

  “Pentagon security took longer than expected,” Evarts said weakly. “You’ve got this place screwed down tight.”

  O’Brian made a gesture to invite them into his office. “You were taught to anticipate things like that.”

  After they had poured coffee and taken seats at a conference table, Evarts asked, “Did you find the book storage site.”

  O’Brian engaged in rare piece of theater and purposefully sipped his coffee before answering. “We did.” After another dramatic pause, he added. “They were at one of the Direct marketing warehouses. They’re staged for delivery this afternoon. Thank you for the tip to look at the Ikhwan financial partners.”

  Evarts waited for O’Brian to continue.

  “Our priorities have changed,” O’Brian said. “We have the bombs under surveillance, and we’ll seize them well before dawn tomorrow. The pressure’s off. Now we focus on rolling up these terrorists.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t find decoys?” Baldwin asked.

  “Excellent question. We may recruit you after this is over.”

  “And the answer?” Baldwin said.

  “The crates came to the warehouse from Baltimore. The manifest lists them as books from Saudi Arabia. Under the guise of a customs inspection, we opened the crates and, shall we say, borrowed a copy. It was taken to Fort Meade and disarmed. There’s no book. The bomb goes off when the vault is opened, so no book, fake or otherwise. The plastic vault is filled with a cake of pentaerythritol tetranitrate impregnated with ball bearings. The plastic case itself is engineered to shatter and hurl shards in every direction. The triggering mechanism is a hybrid we’ve never seen before and highly sophisticated. The plastic case is a glass epoxy with outstanding electrical properties. It acts as an insulator against external electrical charges. A copper sheath protects against radio waves. This is a well-engineered bomb designed to go off only when the vault door is opened, or the vault is jimmied or crushed. No accidental or preventative explosions. Our explosive ordnance disposal technicians now estimate thirty minutes to disarm.”

  Evarts thought. “After the timer releases the door lock, what triggers the explosion?”

  “Lifting the door. The timer could have directly triggered the explosion, but the bastards wanted a target directly in front of the blast. In case a few are tardy in opening the vault, the timer ignites the bomb thirty minutes after the door release.”

  “You have a problem,” Evarts said.

  “And a solution. If we snatch them in the wee hours, we don’t have enough time to disarm them all. That’s why they’ll be immediately flown by helicopter and dumped far out into the Atlantic.”

  “Except for a few specimens for future study.”

  O’Brian smiled. “We think a half dozen ought to fill the bill.”

  “You’re confident?” Evarts asked.

  “I’m confident,” O’Brian answered. “We can handle the explosives. Now we need to concentrate on capturing these terrorist cells.”

  Baldwin settled her coffee mug onto the table. “What if there’s a backup supply at another warehouse?”

  Both men froze.

  Chapter 58

  O’Brian called the FBI and suggested that they check for a backup supply of bombs, starting with the other warehouses owned by the mail order business. They readily agreed. Evarts thought it was unlikely they had a second stash because an additional eight hundred of these plastic encased bombs would be difficult to assemble even in the large Al Jubail factory.

  “Okay,” O’Brian said. “I have a meeting in a half hour. Do you have any suggestions to get these terrorists to stick their heads out of their hiding place?”

  “Where’s Sergeant Wilson?” Baldwin asked.

  “Busy. You’re on your own.”

  “Everything’s on autopilot,” Evarts said. “What makes you think they’re still hanging around?”

  “Methow, who happens to be your source, told you they were here. Was he lying?”

  “He lied constantly … my gut tells me not about this,” Evarts said. “But why are they still here if everything’s been set in motion?”

  “Verification … insurance,” O’Brian mused, and then added, “You have an idea. Spit it out.”

  “There’s probably going to be a third bomb. Today. Every cloud has a silver lining, however. We don’t have to lure them into the open. At least not one of the teams. They’ll emerge from their lair on their own.”

  O’Brian appeared satisfied. “We think so as well. Any theories on the target?”

  Evarts asked, “The Supreme Court? They’ve already hit Congress twice with another scheduled for tomorrow, and they have a plan to attack Air Force One. The symmetry seems obvious.”

  “Too obvious?” O’Brian asked.

  Evarts knew O’Brian was using them as a sounding board. All these issues and questions had already been thrashed endlessly by some of the brightest people in the capital. After all their gaming, this was the question of the day. Where would they hit next?

  “What about the D.C. appellate court?” Evarts asked. “At least a few Supreme Court justices must be in line to receive vault books. Hit the judiciary a second time at a different level.”

  “Humm,” O’Brian muttered. “Corresponds with our conclusion. I was hoping for something new.”

  “Library of Congress,” Baldwin offered. “The first two attacks were on Congress, why not a third. We’re not supposed to know about the assassination of the president or the book bombs, so that would appear consistent. The Library’s a treasure trove of Americana. It would devastate the nation while quieting anxieties in the executive and judiciary.”

  “Now that’s a new thought,” O’Brian said. “And one I like. It fits.”

  O’Brian started to get up from the conference table.

  “Before you make a call,” Evarts said, “let’s take a few moments to talk this through.”

  “You don’t like the idea?” O’Brian said.

  “I like it a lot. I never would have thought of it, which is why it’s good to have an author on the team. But let’s think this through logistically. We need to give the FBI and Capitol Police some guidance. It would take a huge explosion to do major damage to that building. More than could be carried in by hand without arousing suspicion. It would need to be a delivery to the loading dock. Before we—”

  “What if they’re only looking for a symbolic attack?” Baldwin asked. “Purposely small. Kill and maim a few patrons in the Main Reading Room. Remember, the purpose is to deflect attention away from the big show on Friday.”

  Evarts and O’Brian looked at each other.

  Finally, Evarts said, “Better make that call.”

  As O’Brian called the FBI and Capitol Hill Police, Evarts thought about the other three teams. He assumed the FBI would canvass Woodbridge, Ellicott City, and other Muslim heavy suburbs. Would they hide in a Muslim community or stay away from the obvious search targets? Or stay even further afield? Maybe another state. Then he remembered how the backup caliph blended into an academic setting. He used his phone to do a search and quickly discovered an active seminar at the Department of Arabic and Islamic Studies at Georgetown University. He showed his phone to Baldwin and whispered for her to call Georgetown to see if there were visiting Islamic dignitaries at the seminar. She nodded, catching on immediately.

  Now O’Brian and Baldwin were both on calls and Evarts couldn’t think of any other avenues he could investigate from an office in the Pentagon. He refocused on the Templars. Methow was dead. Would someone else contact him? He doubted it. At least not for several days or weeks. Then he remembered that O’Brian
had a team looking at former associates that had worked at the Methow law firm: associates who were Masons who may’ve been recruited by Methow before scattering to other firms.

  When he finished his call, O’Brian asked who Baldwin was talking to on her phone. Evarts told him and he seemed intrigued by the idea of terrorists hiding in plain sight. The conversation appeared chatty, so Evarts and O’Brian refilled their coffee cups and returned to the conference table.

  “Are you still looking into ex-associates of Methow?” Evarts asked.

  “Yes and no. We have a team on it, but they’re junior. Why?”

  “The FBI and your military police can look for the Ikhwan teams. I thought my best contribution might be to make a new contact with the Templars.”

  “Greg, there’s a reason we have rookies on that angle. What good are the Templars at this stage?”

  “Among other things, they had one of their senior members assassinated. Do you think they’ll let that rest? They could muck up your plans.”

  “We have today. They won’t move that fast.”

  “Then give me an assignment for today. One that doesn’t involve sitting around a conference table. I can—”

  “Bingo!” yelled Baldwin as she ended her call. “Dozens of Islamic scholars and graduate students are here from all over the world for this seminar. No vetting. Just four thousand dollars a pop to attend. Here’s the best part. Several foreign presenters were recommended by Ali as-Saad.”

  “Greg, you have your assignment,” O’Brian said. “Get over to the Hoover building and accompany an FBI team to Georgetown. I’ll call to set it up. You’re my eyes and ears. Keep me posted by text messages. Go.”

  “Trish is coming with me,” Evarts said.

  “She’s not trained law enforcement. I’ll find work for her here.”

  Evarts grew exasperated. “Jim, we’re going to a university, the natural habitat of a professor. She can help.”

  “I’m going to have to cash a lot of chits to get you on the team. Now, more than ever, I need a good relationship with the FBI.”

  “I have good table manners,” Baldwin said.

  “It’s not a matter of politeness, it’s a matter of jurisdiction. Both of you can’t birddog an FBI team.”

  “I’m not birddogging, that’s Greg’s job. I’ll liaison with the academics. My job is to smooth the way for the FBI in hostile environs. Academics dislike police. Islamists hate police. I can help the FBI get answers to their questions.”

  O’Brian rubbed his chin. “That’s a good sales pitch. Perhaps you can help.”

  Evarts turned to his wife. “Can you be kept away?”

  “No.”

  Evarts smiled at O’Brian. “I guess that settles it.”

  “I guess it does,” answered O’Brian.

  Chapter 59

  The taxi dropped them off at the J. Edgar Hoover Building on Pennsylvania Avenue. The location put the FBI between Congress and the White House. Evarts always thought the FBI had picked the spot so they could keep an eye on both. O’Brian had pre-cleared them under their aliases and informed FBI security that they were authorized to be armed. Weapons were required to be surrendered every time Evarts and Baldwin entered a federal building, and it was no different at FBI headquarters. Evarts asked how they could retrieve their weapons if they exited through the underground garage. The security officer said the garage was restricted to agents, but after hearing that they were to accompany agents to Georgetown University, he made a call to his superiors. When he hung up, he said he’d have the weapons transferred to the garage security station.

  An agent escorted them to a conference room on the second floor. They were left alone, so Evarts tried the doorknob. They weren’t locked in. He sat back down and examined the walls but could detect no cameras. Since Evarts wouldn’t allow civilians free rein inside his own police building, he assumed that they were in an area designated for visitors.

  After a ten-minute wait, agents entered and introduced themselves as Chet Adams and Avery Meadows. Both men were in their twenties. They appeared fit, scrubbed, and capable. Evarts had removed his light-weight windbreaker and was surprised the agents were dressed identically to him with comfortable slacks and polo shirts. Shoes were the only discernable difference. Evarts wore leather sneakers, and the agents wore lace-up business-casual shoes.

  As Adams sat down, he said, “General O’Brian vouched for you, but perhaps you could explain your involvement with this case.”

  Evarts sat forward and folded his hands in front of him. “I can’t fully explain our connections to this case but let’s say we’re consultants to the task force. This particular excursion to Georgetown was at our suggestion.”

  “What task force?” Adams asked.

  “If you need to ask that, perhaps you’re not the right agents for this assignment.”

  “We know about an active joint task force. I’m asking if you know about it.”

  “We do,” Baldwin answered. “We’re consulting with Army Intelligence and the military police.”

  “And your area of expertise?” Adams asked.

  “I’m law enforcement,” Evarts said, “and my wife’s an academic.”

  “A Google search showed nothing on either of you. Nor do our files have anything. Why would that be?”

  “Because that’s the way General O’Brian wants it,” Evarts said.

  Adam sat quietly after that pronouncement, so Evarts said, “Are we going to spar all morning or are we going to get out of this conference room to find terrorists?”

  “In due course. But first, we want to know what an academic has to contribute to our investigative team.”

  “Excuse me,” Baldwin said, “I thought we were going to a university.”

  “We are,” Adams answered.

  “That’s my bailiwick. Beyond my task force experience, I can help soothe ruffled feathers.”

  “We don’t ruffle feathers,” Adams said.

  “Then you’re doing your job wrong,” Baldwin said firmly.

  “The FBI doesn’t operate like small-town cops,” Adams said haughtily. “We get answers in a professional manner. Ma’am, do you have police training. If we happen onto a terrorist cell, this could become dangerous.”

  “Have you engaged with terrorists in a deadly fight?” Evarts asked.

  “We’re not here to measure dicks,” Adam said dismissably.

  Evarts laughed. “I was asking about your experience compared to my wife’s.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I trust her courage and instincts over yours any day of the week. Her quick thinking saved my life in a terrorist attack just a month ago. I suggest you let this go.”

  Adams appeared annoyed and refused to relent.

  “Okay, here are the rules of engagement. This is an FBI operation. You’re accompanying us at the request of Army Intelligence. We ask the questions. You observe. If you want to make a suggestion, wait until after we break from the party we’re talking to. We can always circle back. Understood?”

  “Have you been through Islamic sensitivity training?” Baldwin asked.

  “Of course,” Adams said. “We know how to handle this nature of inquiry.”

  “I presume you’re aware of the gravity and timing of this attack,” she said.

  He puffed up. “We’ve been fully briefed.”

  “Then put aside your Mr. Nice guy demeanor,” Baldwin said. “We’re going in to rattle cages.”

  Adams instantly got angry. Evarts had to suppress a smile.

  “I don’t think you understand,” Adams said roughly. “This is an FBI operation, and we will follow FBI protocols. You observe. Period.”

  “If Islamic terrorists are using this conference as camouflage, they won’t be forthcoming,” Baldwin said. “In fact, they’ll act offended and probably become belligerent. Are you willing to press them?”

  “We’re trained for this, ma’am.” This came from the second agent who had not spoken unt
il this moment.

  Baldwin lunged forward, and snarled, “That’s misogynistic, young man. I will not be patronized. If you—”

  “I apologize,” Meadows said immediately.

  “For what?” Baldwin demanded.

  “For appearing to be paroniz—”

  “Appearing? What the hell?” Baldwin stood, flinging her chair away from the table. “Come on, David, we’re out of here! I won’t go anywhere with raw recruits who disrespect my ability to contribute. Whoever let these boys out for recess should have their head examined.”

  Evarts didn’t move. “Susan, we can’t abandon this assignment. The general ordered us to work with the FBI.”

  “They’re not working with us, damn it. If we accept their rules of engagement, we might as well be mannequins. They refuse to accept that I have any expertise in this matter. Just assume that because I’m a woman, I know squat.” Then she saw Evarts expression. “Oh no, I know that look. You can go to hell with these two dullards. I’m stepping out to call the general. Judging by this misogynistic pair, the FBI has given this lead its lowest priority. I’m going to insist that he order the FBI to assign a more seasoned team.”

  When Evarts didn’t move, she tugged his jacket which hung on the back of his chair. “Come on. Let’s go!”

  “Wait a minute,” Adams said. “Perhaps we were too hasty. Let’s discuss this.”

  “Discuss what? Your mistreatment of women or the muzzle we’re supposed to wear if you graciously allow us to venture into the field with you?”

  “We apologize for not acknowledging your expertise,” Adams said. “It was stupid. Obviously, the commanding officer of Army Intelligence wouldn’t have requested that you join us if you didn’t have something important to contribute. We were discourteous. As for lines of inquiry, you may ask pertinent questions if you defer to us as the lead in this investigation. Again, we apologize.”

  Baldwin stared down at them for a long moment and then slowly retook her seat.

  “Thank you,” Adams said. “Now, perhaps you can explain your perspective on how we should handle the interviews once we arrive at Georgetown.”