“The last information we had on Hakimi put him with an extremist group whose name translates to ‘Brilliant Dawn.’ Evidently it’s an offshoot of ISIS. Probably a splinter faction because regular ISIS was just too warm and fuzzy for our friend Hakimi. Instead of training military camps and focusing on roadside bombs in Afghanistan, they’ve been transitioning to establishing cells in the US. Some of them have been found stockpiling fairly conventional ingredients for IEDs—bringing Afghanistan to the US. And it’s almost certain they’ve managed to sneak in some folks that we don’t know about.”
“What does that mean for us?” Connor asked.
“It means we’ve got a lot of work to do.”
“If it’s Stateside, shouldn’t we let the bureau know?”
“Are you serious?” Richards said. “The FBI is even more bureaucracied up than the CIA, and with all the internal conflict they have going on right now, their credibility is shot. Not to mention their operational reach. If it’s not a corrupt politician or a masked bank robber in Kansas, they pretty much aren’t going to do anything at all.”
“Which is actually good for us,” said Thompson. “No chance of crossing paths, which can get complicated, and there’s nobody to mollify when we take out the bad guy. I’ll put real money that none of the higher-echelon directors in the agency or in the bureau have even been made aware of the nuke issue yet.”
Connor shook his head. “Our intelligence services really are in a sad state.”
“It’s not always this bad, but this one especially stinks of political correctness and the lack of will to tell the PC police to go screw themselves,” Thompson said.
Richards turned to Connor with a grin. “So. What’s your plan?”
Connor scratched behind his ear and smiled as the possibility of actually doing something useful became real. He scanned the printout from some of the Outfit’s analysts and smiles. “Well, I suppose I’d start with that mosque in Brooklyn that Hakimi called. And if we have satellites or something, is it possible to find the ship Hakimi was on?”
Richards nodded. “We already have two satellites looking for marine traffic on the Pacific. But I wouldn’t count on finding it before it hits land. It’s a very big ocean. As for the mosque, that seems like a reasonable next step. And unlike the other kids in the intelligence community, we actually go out and do something even if it’s just a hunch.”
“Good,” Connor said. “Then it’s cool if I make arrangements to pick up the Acela Express to New York?”
Thompson tapped a few times on his phone. “No, looks like the Outfit’s puddle-jumper is here. It’ll be faster.” He turned off the screens, and the window to the main chamber became transparent again. “Have anything else planned for the mosque?”
Connor nodded. “I’m thinking to do a decent job, I’ll have to infiltrate the mosque’s population.”
Richards raised an eyebrow. “You think you can get away with it?”
Connor had a darker complexion than most Americans, since his parents were Iranian refugees. That had afforded him many assignments in the army that hadn’t been open to his white colleagues. He’d often been used as the main contact to facilitate smooth insertions into hostile territories. Even though most of the indigenous people reacted positively to US troops operating in their areas, they tended to react even more favorably to someone who looked like them.
“I can pass for someone from the Middle East, and I speak Arabic, Farsi, and Dari. Yeah, I think I can swing it.”
“And you think they’re just going to let you walk in and be a part of their terror cell?” Thompson said. “‘Come on in, brother, we hate Americans, join our jihad!’”
“Of course I don’t think that. But I can pay attention to things.” Holding up the printout from the analysts’s downstairs, Connor said, “And I know where to start. Looks like you guys have done some of my research for me, and that Abdullah that I heard on the phone tap, it might actually be Abdullah Khan, a member of that mosque who’s been extremely vocal with his anti-American sentiments.”
“We know of him,” Richards nodded. “He hates America and he doesn’t care who knows it. We suspect he’s the catalyst behind a lot of recruiting for the jihadi cause. It would definitely be helpful if we can identify who else he’s working with. These cells are like a hydra.”
“A hydra?” Connor asked. “You mean like Captain America? Marvel Cinematic Universe–type Hydra?”
Richards snorted and shook his head. “No, I mean the mythological creature. You cut off one head and two more grow back in its place.” He put a hand on Connor’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Be careful in there, and no showboating. Before we move on Khan, we need to know where his connections go. We need to know which heads are going to pop up after we take his off.”
“If you’re so interested in this guy, I’m surprised you haven’t infiltrated already. I mean, with all this technology, you can’t get inside one little mosque in the middle of New York City?”
Richards shrugged. “All of their computer systems are offline; nothing is connected to a network. They don’t have a security system or cameras, but instead rely strictly on human eyes and ears. And they’ve got an entire team of round-the-clock security that never leave the premises. At least, not when they’re on duty.”
Connor pointed at Richards. “See, now that’s information that would go a long way toward getting FISA. That’s not normal activity. That’s suspicious. That’s the kind of information the agency can use to build actual cases against these people.”
“I already told you, we’re not here to go to court. We’re not trying to send people to Guantánamo Bay for the rest of their lives and wear hoods over their faces every time they’re outside. Our job is to put a stop to these people—permanently.”
“All right,” Connor said. “But aren’t you forgetting something?”
Richards pursed his lips, waiting
