The Templar Reprisals (The Best Thrillers Book 3)

by James D. Best

  “You don’t frighten me. I know Arab men. They huff and they puff, and they pretend to be men but they’re weak. That why you beat women. It makes you feel big and powerful, but in your heart, you know you’re daeif … weaklings. You’re going to jail, and your followers will bluster at first, but in the end, they will cry like children.”

  She saw he was about to spit again, so she quickly rose and stepped backward. She smiled down on him.

  “You will regret this,” he said in a menacing low voice. “My people will hurt you, humiliate you and when you are no longer useful, kill you. They will do this.” He looked around at the three men. “They can’t save you. They will die too. And my people don’t need to buy airfare.” He appeared exceedingly pleased with himself. “Some are here. Right in this building.”

  “Humph,” Baldwin snorted. “How many of your followers could there possibly be at this conference?”

  “Enough!” he retorted angrily.

  “You lie,” Baldwin said. “And even if a few of your followers are here, they’re unarmed.” She swung her purse to the front of her body so he could see it. “I’m armed, they’re not, so do your followers a kindness. Tell them to stay clear of the angry woman who captured and dishonored you.”

  “Kamil, tell my disciples to kill this eahira!” Yousef yelled.

  “Arrest Kamil,” Evarts ordered as he pointed to a man with a shocked expression on his face.

  “Avery, cuff Kamil and set him beside Yousef,” Adams immediately ordered. “Then call for backup.”

  Meadows asked, “What about the other four?”

  Loud and endless protestations of innocence came immediately. They practically disclaimed even knowing Yousef and Kamil. Meadows looked at Baldwin for guidance. He evidently saw what he needed because he commanded Meadows to take the four to another table and get identification before releasing them. Then he asked Evarts to stay with Kamil while he and Baldwin took Yousef to a table in a corner.

  Evarts presumed he had been tasked to do more than babysit Kamil. They probably had only about ten minutes before the whole place crawled with FBI agents. Ten minutes to get vital information from these two before FBI protocols and lawyers erected a blockade that would make finding the terrorists problematic.

  “Kamil, you and your friend are in serious trouble.”

  He remained silent.

  Evarts needed him to talk. Now.

  Chapter 62

  “Yousef is the more esteemed scholar, but outside this conference, you’re the boss.” Evarts threw a small notebook that slid across the table toward Kamil. “Write down the names of the members of your cell.”

  “Where’d you get crazy idea?”

  “I have sources. Write.”

  “I wish to call embassy.”

  “Not until after seven PM tomorrow,” Evarts said evenly.

  Kamil did not pass the flinch test. He knew the significance of the time. After the bombs went off, his embassy would be circumspect in defending him; at least until our government collapsed into chaos. But the government would not collapse. The bombs would not go off. They had that covered. Avoiding a massacre was not enough, Evarts wanted the cell using this conference as camouflage. He had watched the other Arabs while Adams and Baldwin had their little quarrel with Yousef. Kamil not only appeared apprehensive, but at one point he tried to calm Yousef with a hand on his shoulder. The hard squeeze had given him away. Subordinates do not physically inflict pain on their boss in Arab cultures, but if displeased, bosses will not hesitate to abuse subordinates.

  Evarts decided to stretch the truth in a dangerous direction. Hopefully, Kamil could be held incommunicado until the deadline passed.

  “Ali as-Saad is in our custody. Or I should say, in the custody of our friends in Indonesia. They don’t read Miranda Rights to arrestees there. Yousef is partly right. Ali did not freely give up your participation at this conference, but he did give it up … under pressure … and far earlier than expected. The man is a coward in the face of a hot poker between his naked legs.”

  Aghast, Kamil still managed to say, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Of course, you do. You and Yousef are Ikhwan.” Another failed flinch test. “You’re leading terrorist cells that have already set off two bombs in our capital. But that was just prelude, wasn’t it? There will be another bomb this afternoon and the main act comes tomorrow evening at seven. We won’t let either happen. In the advent of an imminent terrorist attack, the Patriot Act gives us some unusual powers. You won’t get a phone call and you won’t see another soul until we decide you have nothing further to offer.”

  Evarts watched Kamil’s reaction. The lie about the Patriot Act caused a single furrow in his forehead that disappeared immediately. Criminals used our system against the authorities, and terrorists were just hardened criminals motivated by hatred instead of greed. To throw perps off balance, cops sometimes hinted that the arrestee was outside the formal system. It didn’t work most of the time with domestic criminals, but Islamic terrorists had been fed so much guff about Americans that they were more easily fooled.

  Evarts continued, “If you tell us about today’s bomb, you will be formally arrested by the FBI and you will be allowed to call a lawyer, your embassy, and your family. If you tell us nothing and a bomb explodes today, you’ll immediately, and by immediately, I mean within an hour, find yourself on a military transport to Egypt where you will be summarily handed over to a special unit within the Egyptian National Security Agency. Understand this, your NSA has been told that if they do not get us actionable intel, we will suspend all American tourism to Egypt. As I’m sure you’re aware, after the Suez Canal, tourism is the largest source of foreign revenue to your country. We have assurances that they will get the information from you … then you will gratefully welcome death. Do you have any questions?”

  Evarts had seldom seen anyone so frightened.

  “What if I can’t tell all?” Kamil asked.

  Evarts shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. It’s a simple formula. If a bomb goes off today, you’re instantly on a flight to a living hell. If you give us information in time to stop today’s bomb, you’ll be processed within the protections of the United States justice system. You better hope you can stop the bomb.”

  “I can’t stop the bomb. I know nothing. Please?”

  “I don’t care. You have five minutes to tell me something or I will be forced to follow other leads. So … come on. Time’s a wastin’.”

  “No, no, I don’t believe you. First, I know nothing, but if I did … if I did … you’d threaten me with the same bullshit to tell you about Friday … which I know nothing about either.”

  For a long moment, Evarts pretended to appear contemplative. “Listen, we divide and conquer.” He hooked a thumb behind him. “My partner is tasked with tomorrow. That’s what he’s talking to Yousef about. I’m tasked with today. If you cooperate, we will interview you about tomorrow but at FBI headquarters ... with a lawyer present if you wish. It will be tough but civilized. Interrogation in Cairo? Not so civilized. That’s the deal. Period. No negotiations.”

  Evarts paused dramatically. “What’ll it be?”

  Kamil stared at Evarts. He knew he was weighing the relatively insignificant bombing today versus the information he would undoubtedly give up under torture in a Cairo prison. If he were high enough in the Ikhwan, he would sacrifice a minor operation and a terrorist cell to protect more damaging information. At least that would be his rationalization for taking the easy route. Evarts saw him glance at Yousef. If hundreds of bombs exploded all over the capital and in planes and trains, the government would collapse, and he probably believed the Ikhwan would find a way to secure his freedom in the chaos. Evarts could see him calculating.

  “I have some information, but Yousef has the rest. I need to talk to him in private.”

  “Bullshit. You know you’ll never speak with Yousef in private. You better hope what you do know will al
low us to stop this bombing.”

  “It won’t. I must speak to Yousef.”

  Evarts noticed that this time he didn’t say in private. “Write down what you know first. Then I’ll talk to Agent Adams.”

  “But if—”

  “That’s final. Make up your mind. I have only three minutes.”

  “I can’t write. Yousef will see. Set your phone to record and lay it on the table. I’ll tell you names verbally.”

  Evarts did as he asked. Kamil spoke in a low voice and listed five names. He spoke slowly and distinctly. It took less than a minute, but by the time he finished, he was sweating profusely. He took the tip of a shaky finger and slid the phone away from him.

  “What is the target?”

  “I don’t know. I supervise intelligence only. In case of problems, I can redirect to a backup plan, but then execution would be totally in Yousef’s hands. The cell leader has freedom on approved targets, timing, and duties.” Evarts started to say something, but Kamil went on. “I cannot tell you what I do not know. Each of us only knows their tasks. Surely, you understand that. You work the same.”

  Evarts did understand and he believed Kamil. He nodded, then smiled. “Congratulations, you’re now an official FBI informant. I’ll do the paperwork this afternoon.”

  “No, no. What does that mean? You said nothing about this.”

  Evarts slipped the phone in his pocket.

  “It means nothing … unless the Ikhwan has infiltrated the FBI. In that case, you’d be a dead man.”

  Evarts saw unbridled fear in Kamil eyes.

  Chapter 63

  The FBI arrived with six agents. Campus police also showed up to discover what all the ruckus was about. The lead FBI agent was a take-charge guy named Matt Crenshaw who didn’t like civilians at the scene. Evarts explained that he and his wife represented Army Intelligence on a joint task force that included the FBI, but with only civilian ID, that didn’t mollify him. Evarts pulled out his phone, held it in the air to ask if he could call Lieutenant General James O’Brian. After a hurried conference among several of the agents, they gave him permission. He stepped out of earshot.

  O’Brian answered immediately. “Speak,” he said without preamble.

  “We have a situation here. I need you to do your general thing with some FBI agents. They want to throw us out … or possibly arrest us. The operation has been a success and we have secured high grade intel.”

  “Hand the phone to the agent in charge.”

  Evarts did and the conversation was typically short. O’Brian seldom wasted words. Evarts received his phone back with a dirty look. Again, he stepped out of earshot.

  When he acknowledged being back on the line, O’Brian asked, “What did you get?”

  “Two Ikhwan leaders. Hostile attitude. We have first names only: Yousef and Kamil. Egyptian nationals who are lecturers at the conference. I secured from Kamil a verbal list of five names who he alleges are members of a terrorist cell. He appeared properly terrified, so it’s my assessment he wasn’t lying. I don’t believe they know anything about any other cells, but I’ll tell the FBI to focus their interview on that line of questioning. May I play the five names for you.”

  “One moment.” The phone went silent for only a second or so. “Okay, ready to record.”

  Evarts played the Kamil recording. After it was done, O’Brian said, “I’ll have background checks to you soon. What’s the target?”

  “Unknown. One of those five cell members is supposed to know. If we strike out there, it’s back to the drawing board.”

  “Understood. Anything else?”

  “Kamil didn’t say it directly, but I baited him, and his reaction indicated that the Ikhwan has infiltrated the FBI.”

  “Not news, but it confirms our suspicion. Anything else?”

  “To secure the intel I used some of our knowledge about this operation. Yousef and Kamil must be held incommunicado until we wrap this up.”

  “Hand the phone back to the agent in charge,” O’Brian said.

  Evarts did and the resulting conversation appeared contentious. When it ended, the agent tossed the phone back at him. He was obviously displeased that someone outside his chain of command was giving him orders. Evarts didn’t care. He walked over to an untended coffee urn in the hotel lobby to find it stocked and hot. He motioned to Baldwin and she signaled that she would like a cup. He brought over the two cups and handed one to her. She was in a group discussing Yousef.

  Crenshaw said, “Please everyone, a quiet moment. As I understand it, we have two Egyptian nationals, one who got royally pissed and drew a gun on agents of the FBI and … and what? That’s it? If so, take them to headquarters and interview them.” He gave Evarts a nasty look before adding, “Keep them separated. That means separate cars to headquarters, separate interview rooms. Separate interview teams. No phone calls.” He looked at Evarts. “Okay with you?” After Evarts nodded, he continued, “Agents Adams and Meadow, you lead the interviews. Your collar, your responsibility. See if you can get anything useful out of them, but so far, this seems like a lot of resources applied to a misunderstanding. Remember people, there’s a level one threat. Anything that distracts us from that effort is helping the bad guys.” He looked around authoritatively, then said, “Okay, let’s wrap it up here and get back to work.”

  “Where’d he get a gun?” Evarts asked.

  “Is that important?” Crenshaw asked.

  “It’s important whether he smuggled it passed Egyptian and American airport security or acquired it from an accomplice here in the United States.”

  “Adams, you get right on that, okay,” Crenshaw said.

  Smug, he started for the door.

  “A moment alone, agent Crenshaw?” Evarts asked.

  He appeared reluctant but stepped to the side.

  “Listen,” Evarts spoke in a low voice, “I haven’t had a chance to brief you on my interview with Kamil. He gave up the names of one of the cells. General O’Brian is currently trying to ascertain whether these are real or made up names. If real, we’ll need all of your men here to round up this crew.”

  Crenshaw placed a hold on his order to pull the team back to headquarters.

  Wheeling on Evarts, Crenshaw demanded, “Give me the names.”

  Evarts handed him his phone. “It’s the only recording under voice memos.”

  Crenshaw brought up the app and pressed play. Evarts jerked the phone out of his hand and pressed the sound level down until it was silent. He could have hit stop on the playback, but he instinctively quieted the machine the fastest way he knew how without looking at it. Once the sound was off, he pressed stop on the voice memo.

  “What the hell?” Crenshaw said too loudly. “I should arrest you for obstructing an investigation.”

  “Follow me,” Evarts said under his breath.

  Evarts walked out of the room, through the lobby, and out the door. He proceeded toward an isolated section of the sidewalk. Crenshaw followed in a tizzy.

  Crenshaw blurted, “If you think—”

  Evarts whirled on him. There must have been menace in his eyes because Crenshaw stopped mid-sentence.

  Evarts fumed. “If you expect any further information from either of those two, you better start doing your job better. Yousef has no inkling that Kamil gave up the cell. If Yousef heard those names in Kamil’s voice, he would be as good as dead. Now I don’t want to lecture a senior FBI agent but if we’re going to stop this attack, we need to be at the top of our game. That means you need to get off your damn high horse and act like a professional.”

  For a moment, Evarts thought he would need to block a punch, but Crenshaw’s face gradually relaxed and his anger seemed to fade.

  “Okay, you made your point,” Crenshaw said. “May I listen to your phone.”

  Evarts handed him the cell phone. After listening, he said, “I need to get these names to Headquarters.”

  “Of course,” Evarts said.

  Af
ter he had completed the transfer of information, he hesitated before handing the phone back.

  “That may be evidence.”

  “Let’s hope so. Otherwise, I wasted my best interrogation techniques to no avail.” He held up the phone. “I’ll turn this over to one of your technicians as soon as we return to the Hoover building. But I’ll need it back as soon as possible.”

  Crenshaw seemed satisfied with the answer, so Evarts asked, “Did your boys give you any indication of how long it would take to run those names down?”

  “No, but I’m to stay put until they complete a background check.” He shuffled his feet a bit. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “Who the hell are you?” Crenshaw asked.

  “I’m a retired Army intelligence officer brought back as a consultant by General O’Brian to help with this mess. But your real question is can I fuck up your career? The answer is I don’t know, but if this lead pans out, it will certainly make your career.”

  “Okay, good enough. I’ve dismounted my high horse. What next?”

  Evarts phone rang and he looked at the caller ID. “It’s the general,” Evarts said. “I think he’ll have an answer to that question.”

  Evarts said hello and listened. When O’Brian finished, he said “Yes, sir, got it.” and terminated the call.

  He took a deep breath before telling Crenshaw, “Those names are valid attendees to the conference. None of the names popped as a known terrorist, but they could be aliases. We should proceed with caution. To protect the real terrorists, Kamil might have given us student names he remembered. That said, all five are enrolled in a session starting in fifteen minutes that supposed to be taught by a Yosef Gamal, who just happens to be our Yosef detained in the dining room. How do you want to handle it?”

  “Are you familiar with the Convention Center layout?”

  “No, but the desk should be.”