an FBI agent and a CIA officer. Also on the meet-and-greet team that day were Nick Monti and Meg Collins, both murdered by Khalil, along with a civilian government employee, Nancy Tate, who was a nice lady.
The survivors of the meet-and-greet team were me, Kate, FBI agent George Foster, and Mr. Ted Nash of the CIA, who just missed dying that day and barely missed dying on 9/11, but did not miss his date with death at the hands of Kate Mayfield. Life is funny. But that's another story.
I looked closely at Khalil's photo. He was a swarthy man in his early thirties with a hooked Roman nose, slicked-back hair, and deep, dark eyes. The Libyans, I'd learned, were a diverse mixture of people who liked to play with swords-the native North African Berbers, the Carthaginians, the conquering Romans, the barbarian Vandals, and finally the Arabic armies of Islam.
This, I suppose, was all in Khalil's blood and in his features, and he'd been able to pass himself off as Egyptian, Italian, Greek, and even Israeli. His core identity, however, was killer.
He actually spoke some Italian as well as French and German as a result of living and operating in those countries. He also spoke fairly good English, and in my cell phone conversations with him, I was happy to discover that he understood my informal English, such as when I called him a camel fucker and also suggested that his mother was screwing Muammar Khadafi, the Libyan president. Yes, Investigator Miller, I definitely pissed him off. Apparently, he was still pissed. Me too.
I handed the photograph back to the trooper and said, 'This man has killed people all over Europe and America, including law enforcement people. He is very dangerous and very smart, and he has been known to stay on the scene to finish a job.' I added, 'His facial features are distinctive and yet he has successfully changed his appearance in the past.' I advised both troopers, 'What doesn't change is his eyes. If you see those eyes, that may be the last thing you'll ever see. Be very alert.'
They both looked at me as though I was a little off my trolley, but they nodded politely.
As I was walking to the surgery waiting room, my cell phone rang, and I saw it was the home number of the boss, Tom Walsh, FBI Special Agent in Charge of the New York Anti-Terrorist Task Force.
I answered, and Walsh said, 'John, I'm so sorry. How is Kate doing?'
'Still in surgery.' I kept my eye on the doors that lead to the operating rooms.
'My God… I can't believe this.' He got down to business and said, 'I heard your report to Janet.' He let me know, 'We will devote all the necessary resources and those of our colleagues in local and Federal law enforcement to apprehend this individual.'
I thanked him, of course, though I thought that should go without saying.
Tom Walsh is an okay guy, though we've had our run-ins. He's also a political animal, and he tests the winds from Washington about four times a day. Plus, as I said, he's into withholding info and overthinking every operation. His worst fault, however, is underestimating the cops who work for him. He demonstrated that now by asking me, 'John, are you sure that this person you saw was Asad Khalil?'
'I'm sure.'
'You made a positive ID?'
I thought I just answered that question. I said, 'We spoke, Tom. Hanging from our parachutes.' I added, 'Kate was quite close to him- about six inches, nose to nose-and she IDed him by name. Khalil.' I asked him, 'Is that positive enough?'
Tom Walsh would not tolerate sarcasm from his FBI agents, but he'd learned that the NYPD on his Task Force could be a bit cranky-especially the contract agents, like me, who could tell him to take his job and shove it.
Having said that, I now needed this job to find Asad Khalil. So maybe I should be nice to Tom.
Walsh said to me, 'In your report, you suggested that Asad Khalil has returned to CONUS with the intent of exacting revenge on the people in our Task Force who worked on the original case three years ago.'
'That's right.'
'And that's why he attacked Kate.'
'I think that's a very logical assumption.'
'Right… but… that seems like a very elaborate plan. You know?'
'Psychopaths engage in elaborate rituals, Tom.'
'I know… but…'
Tom Walsh knew he needed to be more patient with me than he usually was. My wife was in critical condition, and I was distraught. He actually didn't care about my emotional state-except as it affected my predictably unpredictable behavior-but he did care about Kate, who was one of his own. He liked her personally and professionally, plus losing an agent was not good for a supervisor's career. Walsh, though, had some cover there because Kate was off-duty when it happened.
In fact, he said to me, 'I didn't know you and Kate skydived.'
'We were going to surprise you with that.'
He changed the subject and said, 'You reported that Kate's duty weapon is missing, and so is her cell phone.'
'Correct.'
He made an intelligent observation: 'The Glock in Khalil's hands is a problem, but most likely he already has his own weapon. The real problem is the cell phone.'
'Agreed. But it could be an opportunity.'
'Correct. The Communication Analysis Unit is running a trace on its signal.'
'Good. But I'm sure Khalil turned it off. He's not stupid. The opportunity comes if he turns it on to use Kate's phone directory.'
'Right. But assuming he's savvy, he knows he can't keep the phone on for more than a minute or two before CAU pinpoints the signal.' Walsh added, 'I'm sure he has his own cell phone for long conversations, and since we don't know his number, it can take us awhile to trace his signal if and when he calls one of our phones.'
Tom Walsh doesn't exactly talk down to people, but there's a thin line between him stating the obvious and him thinking he's giving you new information. I resisted telling him I really understood the technology and said, 'Maybe we'll catch a break.'
'Maybe.' He reminded me, 'Remember that Saudi guy who forgot to turn off his cell phone?'
'I do.' I stated the obvious: 'The Saudi guy was sloppy and stupid. Asad Khalil is not.'
'Most of them are stupid.'
There was some truth to Walsh's statement. Most of them were stupid. But even stupid people get lucky, and if the truth be told, sometimes we were more stupid than they were. That's how 9/11 happened-their stupid luck, our stupid heads up our asses. We've got a lot of that straightened out now, but the other side was getting a little smarter. In this case, Asad Khalil started out smart three years ago, and as I said, I didn't think he'd gotten stupider since the last time he was here.
Continuing with the subject of stupid, I said to Tom Walsh, 'I assume you sent out a mass text message to all agents regarding this incident.'
He replied, 'Of course.'
I reminded him, 'If Kate's cell phone is actually in Khalil's hands, Khalil is now able to read all our text messages.'
There was a short silence on the phone, then Walsh said, 'Damn it.'
I took out my cell phone and saw that I, too, had Tom's text message, though I hadn't heard the chime. I retrieved the message and read: NY ATTF-FBI Agent Kate Mayfield criminally assaulted in Sullivan County, NY. Possible suspect, Asad Khalil, a known terrorist, Libyan national. Her medical condition classified. See your e-mail for full details, updates, and operational instructions, or call Ops Center. Amber alert. BOLO and APB sent. Walsh, SAC, NY ATTF.
So that is what Asad Khalil had most probably read, right from the boss. Walsh was correctly withholding Kate's medical condition, leaving Asad Khalil wondering if he'd had a good day or a bad day. In any case, Khalil now knew that everyone was looking for him-but he knew that anyway.
Walsh said, 'We'll cut off the service to that phone immediately.'
'Good idea. But before you do that, send out a final text saying, 'Two Libyan informants in NY Metro have come forward with info on suspect Khalil in CONUS. Check e-mail for details and operational instructions regarding apprehending suspect.'' I added, 'Or something like that.'
