Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
“ W hat do we have on Gemini?” called Pat, as he marched into the open plan office. His gaze swept over his team, most of whom were watching him warily. He couldn’t blame them. News of his altercation with Al-Jabiri had obviously spread around the office.
Blade cleared his throat. “They’re both out. No activity at their address.”
Gemini was the code name for two radicalized brothers, Mohammed and Mustafa Waheed. Blackthorn Security had them under constant surveillance, with a video feed planted inside their squalid two-bedroom apartment in a rundown neighborhood in D.C.
The camera covered only the living room, so visibility was limited. One bedroom was for sleeping. The other was being used as a makeshift workspace, eating area, and gaming room.
Pat’s jaw tightened. “What about the shopping list?”
Anna chimed in. “The cashier at the hardware store confirmed they bought several items that could be used to build an incendiary device—including fifty bags of nails.”
“Goddamn it.”
“They’re aiming for maximum casualties,” murmured Blade.
“Do we have a target?”
Blade shook his head. “Not yet. No timeline either. They don’t seem rushed, so we don’t think it’s imminent.”
“Let me know the instant they return,” Pat said.
Anna spoke up. “Transcripts are filed if you want to review them.”
“No need. If there’s anything useful, you’ll flag it.”
She gave an efficient nod.
“What about the Falcon?” he asked, trying to keep the venom out of his voice.
Keep it professional . He’d already caused enough drama for one day.
“That bird of prey is safe and sound in his nest.” Blade nodded to Anna, who pulled up a photograph on the mounted TV screen of a double-story terraced house on a quiet suburban street.
“Is the woman with him?”
“Yeah. She appears to be staying there.”
Pat studied the house’s front facade. A two-man team sat in a van across the road, tracking the Falcon’s movements, but they had no eyes or ears inside the property. Al-Jabiri’s state of the art alarm system had prevented any illicit entry.
“What do we have on her?” he asked.
“Not much yet,” Anna admitted, switching to another image—this one of the woman stepping out of the house, a canvas bag slung over her shoulder. She wasn’t wearing the headscarf this time, just holding it in her hand, about to put it on.
“We ran her fingerprints from the fork at the restaurant, but she’s not on any criminal database. I’ll run a wider search, including the DMV, after this.”
Another flick of the screen. This time she was on the street near Columbia Heights Station, carrying groceries and a takeaway coffee. She had her headscarf on.
“She wears it outside, but takes it off at home,” Anna said. “She’s clearly not Islamic, unless she’s converted. I think she’s doing it for him.”
Him .
Amir Al-Jabiri.
“Or it’s a disguise,” Pat muttered, studying her face.
Anna shrugged. “Possibly. But she makes no effort to cover her face.”
Pat’s eyes slanted and asked the question everyone was thinking. “Could she be his lover?” Everything about her screamed educated, professional, sophisticated. What the hell was she doing shacked up with a terrorist?
“Maybe,” Blade said. “She’s obviously not related.”
“Al-Jabiri was an only child,” Anna interjected. “She could be his lover. His wife died over a decade ago.” Then, she frowned and stared down at her notes. “Actually, there’s not much information about how she died.”
“In an explosion,” Pat said. “At a terrorist training camp in Libya.”
The room went still.
“How do you know that?” Viper asked.
Viper was dating his daughter and was the only man who knew he was Izzy’s biological father. The operator had worked it out from a photograph of Izzy, Astrid and Richard on his mantlepiece. Two sets of blue eyes in the parents didn’t equate to a brown-eyed daughter. It was a biological impossibility, not a genetic mutation as Astrid would have had her husband believe.
Smart kid, that Viper. And a damn good operator.
Pat met his gaze. “Because I blew it up.”
Silence.
Blade, as usual, was the first to speak. “Maybe you should fill us in.”
Pat leaned his still powerful six-foot-two frame against the desk, ignoring its creak of protest. He knew he owed his team an explanation. He’d expect the same level of transparency from them.
“Sixteen years ago, my SEAL unit was tasked with infiltrating a terrorist camp in Libya. Our mission was to capture Amir Al-Jabiri alive and destroy the facility. We went in hard, took him alive, planted the charges, and got the hell out. As we were leaving the compound, Al-Jabiri’s wife ran in.” He paused for a beat. “She didn’t make it.”
“And he’s never forgiven you,” Blade finished.
No, he got even.
But he didn’t say that.
Instead, he clenched his fists. “Al-Jabiri spent fifteen years in prison because of me. Because of us. I led the unit that took him down. He was convicted of killing twelve people in a Nigerian hotel bombing. A shooting outside a U.S. embassy in Kenya that left eight dead. Two car bombs in Germany with over a dozen civilian casualties. Now, he’s here, in our city. Planning something big.”
“We have to stop him,” Viper said.
Pat gave a stiff nod. “The second we have proof he’s involved in an attack, we bring in Homeland Security. Until then, we watch.”
“We know he’s meeting with Gemini,” Anna added helpfully. “They’ve been seen together.”
“It’s not enough,” Pat said. “We need eyes on him 24/7. Who’s on the residence?”
“Cole and Phoenix,” Blade answered.
“Good. In the meantime, let’s focus on the woman. We need to find out everything we can about her. It’s not a coincidence that she suddenly appeared in his life. And I don’t believe it’s a fling. The Falcon isn’t the type, and it didn't look like they were together at the restaurant.”
Or maybe he just didn’t want to believe they were together.
“I’ll send her photo to Lily at NSA,” Blade offered. His wife worked there as a military software designer. “They might be able to run facial recognition.”
“Do it.”
Pat gazed at his team. They were all hand-picked. All excellent operators who he’d trust with his life. He was lucky to have them. “Let’s move on this. I have a feeling she’s the key. Let me know when you have something.”
“Yes, sir,” came the resounding reply.
“I’ve ID’d the woman,” Anna said, poking her head into his office. It was several hours later, and he was still grappling to regain his composure. The anger simmered, just below the surface, threatening to erupt at any moment.
He glanced up. “Who is she?”
“Lily got back to us. Her name is Jasmine McCarthy. She’s from right here in D.C. A psychologist at St. Anthony’s Memorial Hospital.”
Pat frowned. “A psychologist?”
Not a government agent. Not a radical. Nothing useful to Al-Jabiri. So why the hell was she with him?
“Yes, sir. No known ties to any terrorist organization.”
“It’s a weekday,” he muttered, thinking out loud. “Why isn’t she at work?”
“I’ll call the hospital and find out,” Anna offered. “She’s married. Or was. To Adam McCarthy—a scientist for the Department of Defense Research Institute.”
Pat nodded, they were funded by the Pentagon. “I know it. They conduct military R&D.”
Blade stepped past Anna into the room. “So, the husband has access to classified intel?”
“More like he knew how to build a bomb,” she replied, darkly.
“Knew,” Pat asked.
She gave a quick nod. “He died two months ago. Suicide.”
Pat frowned. “Let me get this straight. A top government scientist kills himself, and his wife disappears. Then, two weeks later, she moves in with one of the most dangerous terrorists in the country?”
Anna took a step back as Viper strode in.
“That’s what it looks like,” she said.
“What the hell is going on?” Pat muttered, under his breath.
“She could be involved,” Blade suggested. “Maybe her husband was working with the Falcon, and now she’s taken his place.”
Viper spoke up. “I pulled the coroner’s report. Adam McCarthy hanged himself at their townhouse. Jasmine is the one who found him.”
Pat exhaled sharply. His mind flashed back to the woman’s bright green eyes staring up at him in the restaurant. What on earth was going on? How could she be working for the Falcon after finding her husband’s dead body only a fortnight earlier?
He didn’t have the answers, but she was the key.
Pat was sure of it.