“Make it happen and good luck.”
“You, too, Mr. President.”
Young threw his head back and stared at the ceiling. He could sense his dream of winning the presidency slipping away—and even as the most powerful man in the free world, he felt powerless to stop it.
CHAPTER 28
New York City
HAWK AND ALEX TOOK A TAXI straight to the FBI offices in New York once their plane landed. A team of five federal agents greeted them in the lobby and supplied them with the proper credentials. A lanky bespectacled fellow named Richard Paxton introduced himself as the lead FBI director on the case.
“You come highly recommended,” Paxton said as he shook Hawk’s and Alex’s hands. “As in, you can’t really get a much higher recommendation than that of the president.”
Paxton proceeded to introduce the rest of the team, including Justin Frazier from NSA.
“Now that we’re all acquainted, let’s go upstairs and get to work,” Paxton said, ushering everyone into the elevator. “From what I understand, we don’t have much time.”
“The first question I have is do we have any leads?” Hawk asked.
The group was silent, all turning to Paxton. He pushed his glasses up on his nose and looked at his feet.
“We’re still working on that,” Paxton admitted. “We’ve heard some chatter from some sleeper cells that we recently reactivated, but nothing actionable yet. It’s most unfortunate for us that the people we had embedded in several cells across the country with ties to Al Hasib are not privy to any potential plot.”
Paxton pressed the button for the fifteenth floor, and the doors closed.
The ride up was awkwardly silent. Hawk wasn’t sure if they were expecting him to come up with a potential target on the spot, but he was stunned that nobody at the agency had narrowed down the possibilities.
“How long has this team been working together?” Hawk asked in an attempt to defuse the tension.
“Less than a week,” Paxton said. “You’ll find it’s a dedicated crew. If anybody can sniff out where Al Hasib intends to strike, I’m sure they can.”
“Hmm,” Hawk said, choosing to say nothing else. He noted that the NSA had a presence on the team. And while such a decision might be an effort to demonstrate interagency unity, Hawk saw it as nothing but a looming problem, if it hadn’t already become one. The turf wars often existed because of each director’s desire to receive full credit for the victory, sacrificing long-term results for short-term wins. Ultimately, the quest to climb any government agency’s ladder exceeded any attempts at vanquishing an enemy. Many times a partial victory was deemed satisfactory and racked up enough good will to earn a promotion. The whole system made Hawk sick.
The elevator crawled to a halt, and the doors slid open. Hawk stepped off and waited for Paxton to lead them the war room. Pushing his way through the team, he emerged and gestured for everyone to follow. Several agents approached Paxton with documents for his signature, which he provided with hardly a glance.
Paxton took a seat at the head of the long table and invited the rest of the team to sit. Several monitors hung from the walls, and a large touch screen monitor was directly behind Paxton. He gestured for one of his assistants to hand out a report he had prepared about Karif Fazil.
Hawk opened to the first page and read the bio about Fazil. Simplistic in nature and lacking any details necessary to capture the Al Hasib leader, Hawk slammed the document shut.
“Is there something wrong, Mr. Hawk?” Paxton asked.
Hawk was about to speak when he watched Thomas Colton slip into the room and take a seat at the table.
“Don’t stop on my account,” Colton said as he made eye contact with Hawk.
Hawk took a deep breath and exhaled. “I know all about Karif Fazil, and the key to finding him won’t be buried in a report like this.”
“Please, by all means, enlighten us,” Paxton said.
Hawk stood and paced around the room as he spoke. “Karif Fazil is not someone to be dissected through FBI psychological evaluations. He’s a simple man on a simple mission—revenge. A U.S. mission several years ago killed his brother. That should tell you what you need to know about Fazil. He wants to inflict the most pain possible on our country. This isn’t some idealistic jihadist. He wants blood, and nothing else will satisfy him. That’s why we must catch him before he unleashes his fury on this city. Because I can assure you that whatever he’s planning, it has the potential to kill thousands of people.”
Alex nodded at Hawk.
“Alex knows Fazil, too,” he said. “Is there something you see?”
“Based on all the potential targets, there’s one that jumps out at me this week,” she said.
“We’ve been over this list many times,” Paxton said. “Nothing seems like a slam dunk based on the numbers.”
“This isn’t about the sheer size of a crowd, though that could come into play,” Alex said. “When I look at this list, I have to go all the way to the bottom to find his likely target—the Veteran’s Day Parade.”
Paxton laughed, shaking his head. “Ms. Duncan, what makes you think he’d target such a poorly-attended event like that one? Why not the Jets game on Sunday or the concert Saturday at Madison Square Garden?”
“With all due respect, sir,” Alex began, “I don’t think you’re listening to what I’m saying. Karif Fazil wants to make a statement. A Taylor Swift concert wouldn’t make a statement. A Jets game wouldn’t make a statement. And—”
“How could you even say that with a straight face?” Paxton interrupted. “Taylor Swift is an American icon, and blowing up an arena where she is singing would create such visibility for the event that Al Hasib would be on the lips of every person around the globe twenty-four hours later.”
“She has marginal talent with a keen eye for marketing,” Alex said, wagging her finger. “Let’s not act as
