time in this country. You do not understand America the way I do. So you do not see what is obvious. You blindly follow him, and where does he keep leading you? To another house where he kills a husband and wife. Two people minding their own business, breaking no law, and doing nothing to offend Allah.”
Ahmed looked out the window for a moment and said, “These are strange times.”
“Tell me… why couldn’t he have tied them up?”
“I don’t know. He has his reasons.” Ahmed turned his attention to the TV and a moment later added, “It is not my place to question him.”
“You keep saying that, but if you ever want to see Paradise, you had better start thinking for yourself. Allah does not condone this. The people who lived here were not infidels. They had done nothing to provoke his wrath.”
“This is different. We are in the land of our enemy, thousands of miles from any support. We must do whatever it takes to survive.”
“Whatever?” Hakim questioned Ahmed’s choice of words. “Now you sound like him. You know what pleases Allah, and you know what displeases him. Tell me… do you think Allah will condone what was done here last night in his name?”
Before Ahmed could answer Karim entered the house through the front door. He stood in the foyer and looked suspiciously at the two men. “What have you been discussing?”
Ahmed quickly said, “I was telling him that the White House has announced a major press conference.”
“About what?”
“The media is saying their president is going to discuss what happened in Washington last week.”
“What is to discuss?” Kakim holstered his pistol and took off his jean jacket. “We won… they lost.”
Ahmed flashed Hakim a nervous look and then said, “They are speculating it is about the investigation.”
“Who?”
Ahmed was confused. “I do not understand.”
“Who is speculating?”
“The reporters. They are citing sources inside the administration.”
“Good,” Karim said, “we could use some information.” With that he moved down the hallway to the kitchen.
Ahmed gave Hakim a worried look and whispered, “Be respectful. Do not upset him.”
Hakim watched his Moroccan friend follow Karim into the kitchen. He turned his attention to the TV and wondered how much longer it would be before they had their final confrontation. A minute passed before Karim came back into the room. He was holding Hakim’s black backpack. He placed it on the coffee table and opened one of the side pockets.
Karim withdrew three mobile phones and said, “Why did you not tell me about these?”
Hakim looked at the three prepaid phones he had purchased months earlier. “I did.”
“You did not.”
Hakim eyed him cautiously. His friend was looking to provoke a fight. “I thought I told you while we were at the farmhouse… back in Iowa.”
“You did not.”
Hakim swallowed. “The day after we arrived I made sure they were charged. They were in the kitchen. On the counter.” Despite being beaten unconscious he remembered it clearly. Karim had questioned him about the phones.
“I never saw them,” Karim said.
He was lying and Hakim knew it. “I purchased them months ago. They are also radios. We can talk to each other by pressing the buttons on the side.”
“Where did you buy them and how?” Karim said while shaking the phones.
“In New Orleans and with cash.” This had all been covered the previous weekend.
“I do not remember giving you approval.”
“There is no way to trace them.”
“What about a surveillance tape at the store where you bought them?”
“It is possible, but extremely remote. I wore glasses and a baseball cap and used a British accent when I spoke to the clerk.”
Karim paused and considered all of this. He looked at the phones and said, “No more secrets.” He tossed one phone to Hakim and the second one to Ahmed, who was standing in the dining room. “Do not turn them on unless I tell you. Are the numbers for all three phones programmed?”
“Yes.” Hakim watched Karim stuff the last phone in his pocket and then leave the room without another word. Hakim looked down at the phone in his hands and briefly questioned his own sanity. Was everything that had happened in Iowa a dream? He was almost certain it wasn’t. The phones had been discussed. Hakim had specifically told him they had been purchased well in advance as a precaution. He told him they needed the phones in case they were separated. That meant Karim either had a terrible memory or was conveniently forgetting that it had all been discussed. Hakim knew the truth, and he was also beginning to understand the depths of Karim’s immaturity. This was all about him and nothing else. It wasn’t about Allah, or Muslim pride, or a battle against the colonial powers. It was about the need to feed the Lion of al Qaeda’s ego.
CHAPTER 54
RAPP cruised up Massachusetts Avenue toward Rock Creek. His mind worked geographically. It connected dots like stick pins on a map with strings running between points of interest, linking one location or fact to another. He was listening to Special Agent Art Harris, the FBI’s senior guy at the NCTC. Art had just stuck a pin in Rapp’s map and it wasn’t making a lot of sense. He trusted Harris, though, so he let him work his way through the preamble rather than telling him to cut to the heart of it.
Harris and Rapp had a nice arrangement. Through unofficial channels Art passed along what the FBI knew on various cases that bumped up against things Rapp and his people were dealing with. And he made sure very little was put in writing. Over the last few years, his early warnings had allowed Rapp to get out in front of certain things and deal with them before all the badges and lawyers showed up.
Harris had just told Rapp about an investigation in Iowa. Two bodies had been found in the basement of a torched farmhouse. They were burned beyond recognition, but preliminary reports said they’d been shot. The local sheriff was all but sure they were two hunters who had gone missing the day before. He gave Rapp the back-story on what the sheriff thought had happened. While Rapp found it all about as interesting as a whodunit episode of Primetime he knew there had to be more to the story, or Harris wouldn’t have bothered to call.
“The sheriff called the JTTF gang over in Chicago,” Harris said.
JTTF stood for Joint Terrorism Task Force. They were formed after 9/11 to foster cooperation and preparedness between the myriad local and federal law enforcement agencies in communities across the country. “I’m listening.”
“The barn almost caught fire but survived the blaze. Inside, the sheriff found a bunch of supplies… the kind of crap the Armageddon types would have. A bunch of MREs, guns, ammunition, and some handy-dandy military grade C-4 plastic explosives complete with detonators. They also found a couple of backpacks that contained maps, cash, credit cards, IDs, and passports.”
“Photos?” Rapp asked, already knowing the names would be bullshit.
“Yeah.”
“Your boys run them through TIDE?” TIDE stood for Terrorist Information Datamart Environment and was an extensive database run by the NCTC.
“Doing it right now, but it doesn’t look promising. They prioritized it and have already blown through all the usual suspects. What’s left we wouldn’t be interested in. Unless you think one of these guys might be Filipino.”
