Teeth of the Tiger

years — make that decades, Gerry reminded himself. Nobody hit 1.000 in this league, and a lot of CIA bureaucrats were overpaid even with meager government salaries. But as long as their filing was properly done, nobody really cared or even noticed. What was significant was that the Saudis had a way of deporting their own potential troublemakers by allowing them to go elsewhere and do their crimes, and if they suffered for it, the Saudi government would be cooperative as hell, thus covering all of its bases quite easily.

'What do you think?' he asked Tom Davis.

'Hell, Gerry, I'm not a gypsy. No crystal ball, no Delphic Oracle.' Davis let out a frustrated breath. 'Homeland Security has been notified, and so that means FBI and the rest of their analytical team, but this is 'soft' intelligence, y'know? Nothing to hang a hat on. Three names, but no photos, and any bonehead can get ID in a new name.' Even popular novels told people how to do it. You didn't even need all that much patience, because no state in the union cross-referenced birth and death certificates, which would have been an easy thing, even for government bureaucrats to accomplish.

'So, what happens?'

Davis shrugged. 'The usual. Airport security people will get another notice to stay awake, and so, they'll hassle more innocent people to make sure nobody tries to hijack an airliner. Cops all over will look for suspicious cars, but that'll mostly mean that people driving erratically get pulled over. There's been too much wolf-crying. Even the police have trouble taking it seriously, Gerry, and who can blame them?'

'So, all of our defenses are neutralized — by us?'

'For all practical purposes, yes. Until CIA has a lot more field assets to identify them before they get here, we're in a reactive mode, not a proactive one. What the hell,' he grimaced, 'my bond trading has been going great the last two weeks.' Tom Davis had found the money business to be rather to his liking — or, at least, easily mastered. Maybe going into CIA right out of the University of Nebraska had been a mistake? he asked himself every so often.

'Any follow-up on the CIA report?'

'Well, somebody over there has suggested another talk with our asset, but it hasn't cleared the Seventh Floor yet.'

'Jesus!' Hendley swore.

'Hey, Jerry, why are you surprised? You never worked there like I did, but down on The Hill, you must have seen this sort of thing before.'

'Why the fuck didn't Kealty keep Foley as DCI?'

'He has a lawyer friend he likes better, remember? And Foley was a professional spook, and therefore unreliable. Look, let's face it — Ed Foley helped some, but a real fix will take a decade. That's one of the reasons we're here, right?' Davis added with a smile. 'How are our two hit-men trainees doing down at Charlottesville?'

'The Marine is still having a conscience attack.'

'Chesty Puller must be rolling over in his crypt,' Davis opined.

'Well, we can't hire mad dogs. Better to ask questions now than out in the field on an assignment.'

'I suppose. What about the hardware?'

'Next week.'

'It's taken long enough. Testing phase?'

'In Iowa. Pigs. They have a similar cardiovascular system, so our friend tells us.'

How appropriate, Davis thought.

* * *

Small stone turned out to be not much of a navigation problem, and after dipping southwest on I-40, now they were going northeast. Mustafa was now back at the wheel, and the two in back were dozing after filling up on roast beef sandwiches and Coca-Cola.

It was mostly boring now. Nothing can remain captivating for more than twenty hours, and even dreams of their mission a day and a half in the future could scarcely keep their eyes open, and so Rafi and Zuhayr were sleeping like exhausted children. He motored northeast with the sun behind his left shoulder and started to see signs indicating the distance to Memphis, Tennessee. He thought for a moment — it was hard to think very clearly after being in a car so long — and realized that he had only two more states to go. Their progress was steady, if slow. It would have been better to take a plane, but getting their machine guns through the airports would probably have been difficult, he thought with a smile. And as overall mission commander he had more than one team to worry about. That was why he'd selected the most difficult and distant target of the four, to set the example to the others. But sometimes leadership was just a pain in the ass, Mustafa told himself, as he adjusted himself in the seat.

The next half hour passed quickly. Then came a bridge of considerable size and height, and a sign that announced the Mississippi River, followed by a sign that welcomed them to TENNESSEE, THE VOLUNTEER STATE. His mind wandering from so much driving, Mustafa started to wonder what that might mean, but the thought died aborning. Whatever it meant, he had to cross Tennessee on the way to Virginia. Rest would not come for at least fifteen more hours. He'd drive about a hundred kilometers east of Memphis, then turn the car over to Abdullah.

He'd just crossed a great river. His entire country had no permanent rivers, just wadis that flooded briefly with a rare passing shower and soon went dry again. America was such a rich country. That was probably the source of their arrogance, but his mission, and that of his three colleagues, was to take that arrogance down a few pegs. And that, Insh'Allah, they would do, in less than two more days.

Two days to Paradise, was the thought that lingered in his mind.

CHAPTER 12 ARRIVING

Tennessee passed quickly for those in the back, only because Mustafa and Abdullah shared the wheel for the three hundred fifty kilometers from Memphis to Nashville, during which Rafi and Zuhayr mainly slept. One and three quarters kilometers per minute, he calculated. It translated to another… what? Twenty more hours or so. He thought about speeding up, to make the trip go faster — but, no, that was foolish. Taking unnecessary chances was always foolish. Hadn't they learned that from the Israelis? The enemy was always waiting, like a sleeping tiger. Waking one up unnecessarily was very foolish indeed. You only woke up the tiger when your rifle was already aimed, and only then so that the tiger could know that he'd been outsmarted, and unable to take action. Just to be awake long enough to appreciate his own foolishness, enough to know fear. America would know fear. For all their weapons and their cleverness, all these arrogant people would tremble.

He found himself smiling into the darkness now. The sun had set again, and his car's headlights bored white cones into the darkness, illuminating the white lines on the highway that dashed in and out of his vision as he drove eastward at a steady sixty-five miles per hour.

* * *

The twins were now rising at 0600 and going out to do their daily dozen exercises without Pete Alexander's supervision, which, they'd decided, they really didn't need. The run was getting easier for both of them, and the rest of the exercises had also mutated into a routine. By 7:15, they were done and heading in for breakfast and the first skull-session with their training officer.

'Those shoes need some work, bro,' Dominic observed.

'Yeah,' Brian agreed, taking a sad look at his aging Nike sneaks. 'They've served me well for a few years, but it looks like they need to go off to shoe heaven.'

'Foot Locker in the mall.' He referred to the Fashion Square shopping mall down the hill in Charlottesville.

'Hmm, maybe a Philly cheesesteak for lunch tomorrow?'

'Works for me, bro,' Dominic agreed. 'Nothing like grease, fat, and cholesterol for lunch, especially with cheese fries on the side. Assuming your shoes will last another day.'

'Hey, Enzo, I like the smell. These sneaks and me been around the block a few times.'

'Like those dirty T-shirts. God damn it, Aldo, can't you ever dress properly?'