inspected by a pair of technicians.
Dabir turned his gaze from the window to its reflections, examining the area behind him. Five people were scattered around the seats, each in a different state of boredom. Dabir turned abruptly and began walking back toward the coffee kiosk; no one seemed to notice.
He bought a cup of tea, ordering two tea bags to make the taste tolerable.
“Have to charge ya for both. Sorry, hon,” said the woman. Her thick Hispanic accent was difficult to untangle, and he simply nodded and handed her a five.
The group waiting for the plane had swelled to eleven. All of the newcomers were people he recognized from the plane. Six were women. Two of the men were bald, well into their fifties. Only one had the look of a possible intelligence agent, a young black man in his early twenties.
A policeman walked down the aisle and turned around, circulating through the terminal to make passengers feel more secure. In truth, there were plenty of flaws that could be exploited, a multitude of gaps and loopholes waiting until it suited al-Qaeda’s agenda to do so.
Dabir would help set that agenda from now on. Asad’s death — and Dabir’s role in discovering that he was a traitor and carrying out the execution — wouid greatly enhance his position and prestige.
I must be humble, Dabir reminded himself.
The attendant stepped to the podium and picked up the microphone as another went to the door behind her. Dabir picked up his bag and joined the others.
As he did, the lights in the terminal died.
CHAPTER 150
Lia watched the gate attendant as she furiously clicked her microphone button, not quite comprehending the fact that power in the entire terminal had died.
“I’ve never had this happen,” said the attendant.
“Power failure,” said the other gate person, coming back from the door.
Some of the passengers began grumbling.
“Hold on, folks. This will be straightened out in a minute.”
Lia knew it wouldn’t. And while some emergency power would be resupplied, a Desk Three-engineered glitch would prevent any flights from taking off for several hours — or until Dabir was safely out of the terminal.
Dabir remained silent as the passengers around him complained and cursed the idiots running the airport.
Was this just a freak event? Or was it somehow aimed at him?
If it was aimed at him, if the American intelligence services had somehow found him, what would they expect him to do?
Run.
He went and sat in a seat, watching as people knotted around the other gates. Dim yellow lights were on along the walls, and there was enough of the fading sunlight coming through the windows for people to see where they were going. There wasn’t panic, but there were plenty of complaints.
If the American CIA or FBI did know he was here, they would have arrested him when he came off the plane. Turning off the power was too much trouble.
No, it was just the West’s typical incompetence, relying too much on computers and technology, rather than people. In refusing the one true God, they had rejected the value of people as well.
“I’ve been flying for twenty years and I’ve never seen anything like this,” said a short, balding man plopping down in the seat next to him. “Ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous,” said Dabir.
“I have a meeting in Boston first thing in the morning. This is crazy.”
“They said the planes will be taking off pretty soon,” said a woman sitting across from them. She was in her early thirties, slim, with an Asian face. Like many American women, she seemed to naturally assume that men would be interested in talking to her. Dabir tried to hide his disdain.
“I shoulda gone to LaGuardia,” said the short man. “I saved a hundred bucks. Big deal now, right?”
“A hundred bucks is a hundred bucks,” said the woman.
Dabir rose.
“You leaving?” asked the man.
“Just stretching my legs.”
“I’m going to get some coffee,” said the Asian-American woman, getting up. “You guys want anything?”
“Nah,” said the man.
“You?” She looked at Dabir.
“No.”
“Do I know you?” asked the woman.
“I don’t believe so.”
“You were on the plane out of Cleveland, right?”
Dabir nodded. The woman stuck out her hand. “Li.”
He took her hand and bowed his head ever so slightly, barely remembering to use the name he had used for the plane tickets.
Her warm hand reminded Dabir of the deprivations he’d faced over the past two years. He steeled himself; it was not a time for pleasure.
“So you want something or not?” the woman asked.
“No. Thank you.”
“Sure.”
Lia walked slowly to the coffee bar. The next step was up to Dabir. She hoped he would decide to rent a car and drive to Boston, not because that particular contingency was the easiest for her — it wasn’t — but because it involved the least amount of hanging around. She hated hanging around.
But that was her job. She got the coffee and walked back to the gate area. Having made contact with Dabir, she found a seat in the next row. Making idle chitchat with mass murderers was not her forte.
CHAPTER 151
“You can skip the taxi routine, Tommy — he took the hotel vouchers and the minibus,” said Rockman,
Karr yawned and glanced at his watch. It was five minutes to nine; he’d been sitting outside the airport terminal since five-twenty. He turned the ignition and eased the taxi out of its spot at the side of the terminal.
“Lia’s with him. Four other passengers as well,” said Rockman.
“She invite him up to her room for a drink?”
“Very funny. All right, he’s coming out of the terminal. Now what? He’s not going for the bus.”
“Relax partner. I got it covered.” Karr angled the taxi around the parked minibus. Dabir had split from the main group and was walking along the sidewalk. He put up his hand, flagging down the cab.
“Hey, now,” said Karr cheerfully as he hopped from the taxi. The trunk popped open. “Take that for you, sir?”
“It stays with me,” said Dabir.
“Hey.
Karr tapped the trunk shut after Dabir got into the cab. He winked at Lia, who was in the line for the bus.
“Where we headin’, boss?” Karr asked as he got in the cab.
