The Templar Reprisals (The Best Thrillers Book 3) by James Best (read any book txt) 📕

crowded, but good security. National Archives? A twofer. Tourists and our most revered historical documents. Again, good security. If I were the terrorists, I’d want an easy target for my second hit … one that wouldn’t end badly like London … maybe with an added benefit of throwing our security services off the trail. How would terrorists convince us that they skedaddled after an attack?” Evarts had a brainstorm. “I’d set off a dud. Maybe not a dud, because that might lead directly back to London … no … I’d set off a charge that would damage the target, but misfire, leaving evidence.”

O’Brian said, “What else?”

“Leave a false trail. Keep you busy following up on clues that will lead nowhere.”

“Okay, we’re off chasing shiny objects. To what purpose?”

“The big show.” Evarts had a thought. “Did you receive the classified report on the London bombing?”

“Yes.”

“Were they able to run up the line? Arrest or kill higher ups?”

“They took out two levels, then the trail hit a dead end.”

“So, they know their team was broken; they know we extracted information about all five planned attacks; they know they can’t get away with the same scenario. They’ll adjust.”

“How?”

“Not five attacks, three or four. The finale would need to be devastating.”

“Shit.” O’Brian got up to fill his own coffee cup.

Evarts joined him.

“You’ve figured out the end game, haven’t you?”

“This Friday, both the House and Senate go into summer recess. Lots of work to be done before everyone scrambles to jet home. A bomb outside security at Reagan National Airport would kill innocents, but also catch a few senators, members of congress, and staffers.”

O’Brian became contemplative and started pacing.

When O’Brian returned to his chair, Evarts asked, “Did I add anything new?”

“Not really, but I was iffy before. Unsure. You convinced me that this is their most likely scenario.”

“Can you close Reagan; send everyone to Dulles?”

“Yes, but if it’s a roller bag, the terrorists would simply jump into a cab and take the bomb to Dulles. Probably have it as a backup plan.”

“Three days to stop these guys. Your best chance is when they set the second bomb.”

“Is it?” O’Brian asked. His tone challenging.

“I’m not following.”

“We came to the same conclusions as you, but instead of a dud or misfire, we think they’ll allow one of their members to be captured. He’ll be the shiny object. After a respectable period of resistance, he’ll break. Everything he says will sound plausible, but it will all be lies.”

“And he can’t lead to the main team because he’s doesn’t know a damn thing about them.”

“Correct,” O’Brian said. “He’ll be a stooge. That’s when the meeting broke. We’ll give instructions to our respective staff and then catch a couple hours sleep. We meet back in the Situation Room at noon. At that time, we hope one of our people can present a rational line of investigation.”

“Did you not like ours?” Evarts asked.

“Yours? What are you talking about?”

“We had an idea last night and—”

“Give it to me.”

Evarts was perplexed. “This was the work product of all three of us. They should be present.”

“Don’t give me that shit. This is damn serious. If you got something, tell me. Now, for God’s sake.”

“Wilson and Baldwin are on the other side of that door. One minute to bring them in won’t make a difference.”

Instead of answering, O’Brian pulled up his cuff and stared at his watch. The message was clear. The clock was ticking.

Evarts raced into the outer office and woke his workmates. Wilson leaped out of bed, ran her fingers through her hair, stood at attention momentarily and then marched into the general’s office. Baldwin tried to roll over and ignore him. A couple more shakes and he had her awake and snarling obscenities. He finally got her to her feet and directed into the inner office.

“Okay,” O’Brian said, “I don’t have all day.”

Baldwin and I looked at Wilson.

She nodded and took a deep breath.

O’Brian bellowed, “This better be damn good.”

Wilson exhaled and said, “We believe we have a probable location for the Caliph of Ikhwan.”

O’Brian instantly turned on Evarts with unbridled rage. “You had hard intel and let me go on about theoretical scenarios. What the hell were you thinking?”

“We sent a note into the situation room. When we heard nothing, we assumed you dismissed our analysis.”

“When?”

“Two A.M.” Evarts answered.

“Who did you give the note to?” O’Brian demanded.

Wilson answered. “I gave it to Major Callaghan. He was returning from the latrine and said he would take it in to you.”

O’Brian collapsed into his chair. “Aw, hell.”

“What is it?” Evarts asked.

“Major Callaghan is the damn Templar mole.”

“Crap!” Evarts exclaimed. “The Templars have a five-hour head start on us.”

Chapter 45

With no time to waste, O’Brian called a meeting. It included his adjunct, the commander of Delta Force, the head of the Special Activities Center within the CIA, the Chief of Staff of the Air Force, and other bigwigs. Uninvited, Evarts, Baldwin, and Wilson went to a café for breakfast and then fell asleep with their heads in their arms. A captain woke them after a brief nap and escorted them back to O’Brian’s office.

O’Brian told them that the closest Delta Team was at Camp H. M. Smith in Hawaii, so he had to rely on the CIA for immediate action. Luckily, the agency had an asset in Jakarta who was dispatched immediately to try to get an eye on Ali as-Saad—if he could get close enough. Ali as-Saad was quartered in on-campus faculty housing, so access might be limited. They were waiting for an initial report.

O’Brian also explained that a Delta Force operation had been hastily planned but would probably take several days to put in motion. Plus, a military operation on foreign soil would require presidential approval. O’Brian feared the president might consult with State. If so, that would slow progress further. Since they only had three days, the CIA might need to take responsibility for abducting Ali as-Saad. They were currently assessing how to get additional assets to Jakarta.

“What