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

O’Brian said, “We’ll handle Jakarta from here, so focus on what the Templars might do in D.C. and how fast they can do it.”

Evarts thought a moment, then said, “Get us to New York.”

“You want to confront Methow?” O’Brian asked.

“Otherwise it’s just guesswork. We have a source inside the Templars, let’s use it.”

Without further comment, O’Brian made a call to someone and ordered an Army executive jet readied for a flight to New York and asked for two hotel rooms for one night.

When he got off the phone, he just said, “Go.”

Just before they raced out of his office, O’Brian added, “I want you back here by Friday morning latest. Remember our immediate objective; stop the Friday evening attack. Capturing the Ikhwan leadership is secondary. So put your thinking caps on and give me ideas. Got it?”

After affirmative grunts and a single “yes, sir,” they left in a hurry.

In route, Wilson got a phone call that their plane would be available in one hour at the general aviation terminal at Reagan National. Wilson dropped Evarts and Baldwin at the Watergate and told them to find their own way to the airport. Evarts and Baldwin decided not to check out and both packed in a single bag.

A car service took them to Reagan National. When they arrived, they had a few minutes to spare before Wilson would show up, so they asked to be dropped at the main terminal. General Aviation was on the same side of the runway and within walking distance. Evarts wanted to get a feel for the space outside TSA security. He saw an abundance of cameras and security personnel. He surmised that even a powerful explosive wouldn’t collapse the building, or at least not bring down more than a section of the departure lobby. A shrapnel bomb would be far more likely to kill and maim officials catching a flight home. The three terminals were spaced apart so a single bomb wouldn’t produce the level of carnage the terrorists would want as their coup de grâce.

Evarts looked at one of the ubiquitous CCTV cameras. He assumed they were monitored in real time, so an abandoned roller bag shouldn’t go unnoticed. He saw no place to hide a bag except to check it and then the bag would be transported down the conveyor belt.

Evarts concluded that the Ikhwan would need committed fundamentalists who would remain with their bags until detonation. Probably three suicide bombers, one for each terminal. They could even move in the moment to the most crowded section of the lobby.

Evarts paused to looked around. He shook his head. It would never work. The bombers would show visible signs of stress. Dogs could sniff the explosives. With security forces forewarned, loiterers would be obvious.

The Ikhwan was not going to bomb Reagan National Airport. If this was the target, they had different idea on how to cause a massacre.

Baldwin broke his reverie by tugging on his arm.

“You were deep in thought,” Baldwin said. “Care to share.”

“Sure, I need your thoughts, but not here. Wait until we’re in the air.”

They scrambled to the proper terminal to find Wilson anxiously awaiting them. She looked fresh and civilian in denims, sneakers, and a white top. How did she do that with less than four hours of fitful sleep.

They were the sole passengers on the flight, so the three of them stowed their gear and sat in facing seats. Evarts was surprised at the relatively spartan interior. This plane must be designated for the lower echelons. It was also self-service. Wilson jumped up and got them coffee, which had been ready-brewed. Evarts took a sip to discover it was no better than the sludge served in the Pentagon.

Evarts explained his observations. At the end, he asked, “What do you think?”

“Agreed,” Wilson said. “Reagan National is one of the most surveilled airports in the world because it’s a natural target for terrorists. I don’t think they’ll try gas or biological either.”

“Do congressmen and senators use the Metro?” Baldwin asked.

“Different target?” Wilson nodded in thought. “Security services don’t want them bunched together, so they encourage the use of private cars. It’s not a difficult nudge since public transportation is generally difficult for them, especially the well-known. Most use a car service, usually with colleagues or staff so they can finish off some work.”

Baldwin asked, “Do congressional offices have chicken bouillon delivered to their offices?”

“Brilliant,” Wilson exclaimed, understanding the real intent of the question. “What gets sent to members of congress just before recess? What would they take home … preferably unopened?”

“That’s easy,” Baldwin said. “A book.”

“A book’s not large enough,” Wilson said. “They’ll want a big explosion.”

“Maybe they don’t need a single big explosion,” Evarts interjected. “What if each book was the equivalent of a fragmentation grenade? Triggered by opening. Hundreds of smaller explosions all over the capitol building, airport, cars, planes, and even in the metro?”

“Pentaerythritol tetranitrate or PETN,” Wilson said. “Mixed with a plasticizer you have a powerful explosive that can be molded into any shape.”

“Can you detect it?” Baldwin asked.

“Not by smell,” Wilson said. “You need to do a surface swab like TSA does randomly at airports. Elected officials are seldom selected for increased scrutiny.”

“I’m not so sure about this,” Evarts said cautiously. “You would need a detonator, a timer, and something to shred into shrapnel. Pretty hard to get into a book. Especially difficult for the explosive to remain inactive and undetected if opened for a casual perusal.”

“Big hardcover book,” Wilson mused. “Easy to shape PETN as the cover … and a four-ounce cover would be over a hundred grams, which can destroy a car. A correct mixture of plasticizer would simulate the texture and weight of a real book cover. A molded PETN cover would be printable as well. It could look just like the genuine article. Timer’s a piece of cake. An off-the-shelf cell phone clock circuit would do. Not difficult to stitch that and a wireless detonator into the