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

Evarts presumed he had been tasked to do more than babysit Kamil. They probably had only about ten minutes before the whole place crawled with FBI agents. Ten minutes to get vital information from these two before FBI protocols and lawyers erected a blockade that would make finding the terrorists problematic.

“Kamil, you and your friend are in serious trouble.”

He remained silent.

Evarts needed him to talk. Now.

Chapter 62

“Yousef is the more esteemed scholar, but outside this conference, you’re the boss.” Evarts threw a small notebook that slid across the table toward Kamil. “Write down the names of the members of your cell.”

“Where’d you get crazy idea?”

“I have sources. Write.”

“I wish to call embassy.”

“Not until after seven PM tomorrow,” Evarts said evenly.

Kamil did not pass the flinch test. He knew the significance of the time. After the bombs went off, his embassy would be circumspect in defending him; at least until our government collapsed into chaos. But the government would not collapse. The bombs would not go off. They had that covered. Avoiding a massacre was not enough, Evarts wanted the cell using this conference as camouflage. He had watched the other Arabs while Adams and Baldwin had their little quarrel with Yousef. Kamil not only appeared apprehensive, but at one point he tried to calm Yousef with a hand on his shoulder. The hard squeeze had given him away. Subordinates do not physically inflict pain on their boss in Arab cultures, but if displeased, bosses will not hesitate to abuse subordinates.

Evarts decided to stretch the truth in a dangerous direction. Hopefully, Kamil could be held incommunicado until the deadline passed.

“Ali as-Saad is in our custody. Or I should say, in the custody of our friends in Indonesia. They don’t read Miranda Rights to arrestees there. Yousef is partly right. Ali did not freely give up your participation at this conference, but he did give it up … under pressure … and far earlier than expected. The man is a coward in the face of a hot poker between his naked legs.”

Aghast, Kamil still managed to say, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course, you do. You and Yousef are Ikhwan.” Another failed flinch test. “You’re leading terrorist cells that have already set off two bombs in our capital. But that was just prelude, wasn’t it? There will be another bomb this afternoon and the main act comes tomorrow evening at seven. We won’t let either happen. In the advent of an imminent terrorist attack, the Patriot Act gives us some unusual powers. You won’t get a phone call and you won’t see another soul until we decide you have nothing further to offer.”

Evarts watched Kamil’s reaction. The lie about the Patriot Act caused a single furrow in his forehead that disappeared immediately. Criminals used our system against the authorities, and terrorists were just hardened criminals motivated by hatred instead of greed. To throw perps off balance, cops sometimes hinted that the arrestee was outside the formal system. It didn’t work most of the time with domestic criminals, but Islamic terrorists had been fed so much guff about Americans that they were more easily fooled.

Evarts continued, “If you tell us about today’s bomb, you will be formally arrested by the FBI and you will be allowed to call a lawyer, your embassy, and your family. If you tell us nothing and a bomb explodes today, you’ll immediately, and by immediately, I mean within an hour, find yourself on a military transport to Egypt where you will be summarily handed over to a special unit within the Egyptian National Security Agency. Understand this, your NSA has been told that if they do not get us actionable intel, we will suspend all American tourism to Egypt. As I’m sure you’re aware, after the Suez Canal, tourism is the largest source of foreign revenue to your country. We have assurances that they will get the information from you … then you will gratefully welcome death. Do you have any questions?”

Evarts had seldom seen anyone so frightened.

“What if I can’t tell all?” Kamil asked.

Evarts shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. It’s a simple formula. If a bomb goes off today, you’re instantly on a flight to a living hell. If you give us information in time to stop today’s bomb, you’ll be processed within the protections of the United States justice system. You better hope you can stop the bomb.”

“I can’t stop the bomb. I know nothing. Please?”

“I don’t care. You have five minutes to tell me something or I will be forced to follow other leads. So … come on. Time’s a wastin’.”

“No, no, I don’t believe you. First, I know nothing, but if I did … if I did … you’d threaten me with the same bullshit to tell you about Friday … which I know nothing about either.”

For a long moment, Evarts pretended to appear contemplative. “Listen, we divide and conquer.” He hooked a thumb behind him. “My partner is tasked with tomorrow. That’s what he’s talking to Yousef about. I’m tasked with today. If you cooperate, we will interview you about tomorrow but at FBI headquarters ... with a lawyer present if you wish. It will be tough but civilized. Interrogation in Cairo? Not so civilized. That’s the deal. Period. No negotiations.”

Evarts paused dramatically. “What’ll it be?”

Kamil stared at Evarts. He knew he was weighing the relatively insignificant bombing today versus the information he would undoubtedly give up under torture in a Cairo prison. If he were high enough in the Ikhwan, he would sacrifice a minor operation and a terrorist cell to protect more damaging information. At least that would be his rationalization for taking the easy route. Evarts saw him glance at Yousef. If hundreds of bombs exploded all over the capital and in planes and trains, the government would collapse, and he probably believed the Ikhwan would find a way to secure his freedom in the chaos. Evarts could see him