Inside Threat (27 page)

“Perfect,” Scott said, taking the mouse. What he saw in the windows didn't give him much comfort. There were a minimum of three hundred hostages, and he counted at least sixteen terrorists.

He glanced at Gooey's monitor and saw the same six windows, but Gooey had his moving at least five times normal speed. Scott marveled at the analyst's ability to cycle through so much video moving so quickly, while still absorbing all the content.

“Remember, we talked to Khadi during the service, so she's probably somewhere toward the back,” he said to Gooey, who again didn't feel a need to acknowledge Scott's words.

“Got her,” Gooey said a moment later. A cursor sped across Scott's monitor and double-clicked the feed from Camera 4.

Khadi was sitting on the aisle looking even more beautiful than usual in her fancy black getup. Senator Andrews was nowhere around her.
Of course, Andrews would be up front where he could be seen. Khadi must have found a seat when the action started.

Scott could see she was scanning the cathedral, analyzing everything that was going on.
Good girl. Take it all in.

The picture split in half again, and a time code appeared on the top of both windows.

“Ops in three,” Evie called.

“This is from when the action started,” Gooey said, “Camera 1 and Camera 4.”

Scott watched as the scenario unfolded in triple time. He saw the gunmen running in, Khadi being hurried to a seat, the shooting of J.D. Little—a man he had only met once but had heard good things about from Khadi. There was another shooting of a man near Khadi.

Then Khadi began fidgeting around. She was whispering with the old woman next to her. There was some activity that was blocked from the camera by the man sitting in front of her, and Khadi began a crying fit.

What are you doing?
Scott wondered. Seeing the action at this high speed took away too much of the reality of the situation, and he was having difficulty processing.

“Slow it down to real time,” Scott said. Gooey complied.

One of the gunmen came back, but the old lady seemed to talk him away. Then Khadi, head in hands, turned her palms directly to the camera.

“Full screen!” Scott yelled, even as Gooey was double-clicking it.

“Ops in one,” Evie said.

“Tell them to hold! I'll be there soon as I can!”

“Done,” Evie acknowledged.

With Camera 4 full screen, Gooey backed it up a few seconds, then zoomed in on Khadi. The picture took a moment to depixelate. As he ran it forward, they watched Khadi turn her hands toward the camera. On her right hand was written the number 2, and on her left the number 4.

“What a stud-chick,” Scott said under his breath. Khadi closed her hands to her head for a few moments, then opened them back up.

“Gooey, I want these feeds all sent to my handheld.”

“Got it.”

“Evie, get out word to all agencies that there are twenty-four perps and that we have a person on the inside. Then call Tara and ask her to come in—she can bring James if she can't get a sitter. We need her oversight. Then find everything you can on the layout of the cathedral—from the outside grounds to the inside guts of the building—and send it to me. Guys, any luck on ID?”

“Not yet,” Hernandez answered.

“Come on, I need that information, like, yesterday!” Backing away from Gooey's workstation, he said, “I'm out with the ops. Update me immediately with anything and everything. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” the analysts called out, all the fun and games out the window.

Scott turned and ran through the door toward the back parking lot where the ops team was impatiently waiting for him.

Thursday, September 15, 10:50 a.m. EDT

Leesburg, Virginia

After Riley finished dressing, he walked downstairs to an empty house. Stuck to the blender that Skeeter knew would be his next stop was a note.
Nothing like being a creature of habit,
he thought.

He pulled it off and read in Skeeter's surprisingly flowing script,
Gilly called. Catch you up when I can.
A twinge of jealousy panged his heart when he read the words.

What's that about? You're the one who doesn't want to be in ops full-time. Remember the whole “It's not my calling” speech you gave to Scott a couple months back?
He pulled a bag of mixed berries out of the freezer, then snatched up the remote control and turned on the kitchen TV.

Over a flowing animated background floated eight boxes, each showing the aftermath of one of the many attacks of the day. One of them expanded to full screen, and he watched for a minute while a Fox Pittsburgh reporter gave the latest on the attack at the auto auction. Fourteen dead and twenty-six wounded; perp among the dead.

The picture minimized, and one of the others zoomed up full screen, showing a diner in Tampa, Florida. More blood, more mayhem. Riley turned back to his blender. After dumping some berries in, he slid a can of protein powder over. As he scooped, he thought,
But even though I don't feel ops is my calling, somehow I always end up back in it. I'm like the reluctant warrior. You know, that'd be a good name for my biography—
Riley Covington: Reluctant Warrior.

He dipped a plastic measuring spoon into a bag of whey and emptied it into the blender.
Hey, nice one, buddy! It only took you five minutes to take this whole tragedy and make it about yourself.

He walked to the refrigerator and retrieved a carton of soy milk.
Lord, forgive my self-focus. There are so many people hurting. Please help them.

His prayer was halted by a news alert graphic flying across the television screen followed by video of the National Cathedral. Something triggered in his mind.
What's going on at the cathedral?
A sinking feeling filled his chest as he watched the story. He set the soy milk next to the blender. His hands were shaking.

“Gunmen have taken over the National Cathedral. In a coordinated attack, multiple armed men dressed in black military clothing stormed the National Cathedral during the memorial ceremony for longtime Senate chaplain Daniel Musman. Early reports are that more than three hundred were in attendance, among them Speaker of the House Cristy Johnston, Senate Majority Leader Dennis Nettesheim, Senate Minority Leader Bill Evert, and numerous other senators and congressmen.”

Suddenly, all Riley's fear and anxiety coalesced into one word—
Khadi
.

He ran from the kitchen, searching for his cell phone. He tore through the mudroom, then upstairs to his bedroom. Finally, he spotted it in the living room, where he had been watching the news reports with Skeeter.

Snatching it up, he speed dialed Scott.
Come on, answer the phone! Answer it!

Scott's voice came on, not so politely inviting whoever was calling to leave a message and in no way promising a call back.

“Scott, what's happening with Khadi? Call me right away!”

He hung up, then dialed right back in the hopes that if Scott was only screening his first call, he might pick up the second time. It went to voice mail.

I gotta get to the RoU! I need information!
He now began a frantic search for his keys, wasting precious minutes before finding them right where he always kept them—on the kitchen counter, hidden behind the carton of soy milk.

The home phone rang.

“Scott!” he said as soon as he pressed talk.

“Oh, I'm sorry, honey,” his mom said. “Are you expecting a call? Should I hang up?”

Deflated, he said, “I am, but . . . no, don't hang up. Is everything okay?” He really needed to get going, but ever since a terrorist had taken his dad's life two years ago, he lived in fear that the same could yet happen to his mom. And with everything going on . . .

“I'm fine. I just wanted to find out how you were feeling with all these horrible things going on.”

Riley breathed a sigh of relief. “It's all a bit unbelievable.”

“It certainly is. You have to wonder at the mind-set of these people. And to think, so many of them are our own neighbors! What's this world coming to?”

“I know, Mom. It's crazy. How are you doing with it? I know these things always bring up memories of . . .” his voice trailed off.

“Of Dad? That's kind of why I was calling, sweetheart. It's just . . . it's hard watching this stuff all by myself without him around. Jerry—Dad was always the one who could put these things into perspective. Then they took him, and . . .”

“I know, Mom,” Riley said, his throat lumping up. “Dad had a way of looking at the big picture and making everything seem like it was going to be all right.”

Silence hung over the line. Part of Riley wanted to get off the line and get moving. But the better part of him kept him glued to this spot with the phone in his hand. He began scratching at the grout between the tiles with his fingernail.

Riley's mom broke the silence. “So you answered ‘Scott.' Is he supposed to be calling you with some information on what's happening?”

“No, I had left him a message when I realized that—” Riley stopped himself. His mother loved Khadi dearly. Did he really want to burden her with this? Would that be fair to her? Besides, he realized, she'd probably also figure out that he was leaving to do something about it, and she'd try to stop him, and it would turn into a big thing—a big thing that he had neither the time nor the emotional energy to deal with right now.

“You just realized what?”

“I just . . . I just realized that Scott is involved in this National Cathedral thing,” Riley said, immediately feeling guilty for lying.

“I figured he would be. How can I be praying for him?”

Maybe God's using my lie for good. Nothing wrong with getting people praying.
“Just safety. Pray for safety and wisdom so that he can save those people.”

“I will.” Now his mom's tone changed, “You know, Riley, you never were a very good liar, especially to your mother. So tell me what you were originally going to say.”

Busted.
“Mom . . .” he began, trying to come up with the right words to say. “Mom, it's Khadi.”

“What about Khadi?” she asked quickly.

When Riley didn't answer right away, she added, “Come on, Riley. That precious girl is like a daughter to me. You tell me what's going on with her.”

“Okay, okay. You know the thing at the National Cathedral? Well, it started out as a memorial service for the Senate chaplain. So quite a few senators and congressmen were there, including—”

“Including Senator Andrews. Which means that Khadi is inside there. Oh no.”

Riley dropped onto one of the stools that lined his kitchen island. His forehead fell into his hand.

“I know, Mom. That's why I didn't want to say anything. The good news is that they don't seem to be reporting it like all the others—you know, go in and shoot up the place. It sounds more like a hostage situation. So there's a much better chance that she's still safe.”

“Oh, dear Lord. Why Khadi? Father, she needs you more than ever right now. Touch her heart. Protect her body.”

Riley tried to keep his emotions in check, something that is very difficult with one's mother on the other end of the line.

“So I suppose you're contacting Scott so that you can help try to rescue her?” Sorrow and resignation filled her voice.

Riley said nothing.

A minute passed before his mother spoke again, this time with steel in her voice. “Riley, I want you to listen to me closely. Your dad and I had only been married six months when he shipped off for Vietnam. I prayed and worried every single day he was gone. They were the most difficult days of my life until . . . well, until you went to Afghanistan. Then I prayed and worried every day that you were gone.

“But even though they were hard days and I did worry, I still had a peace that God would take care of you. Prayer will do that for you. Do you have your Bible near?”

Riley looked over to the kitchen table, where he had been having his quiet time with the Lord over breakfast. There it sat—that worn black book with the packing tape holding the cover together. Written in its margins were the notes from a decade of sermons, Bible studies, and personal study times. It was like an old friend—a faithful companion that had carried him through good times and bad.

“Yeah, Mom, it's right here,” he said, getting up.

“Turn to Philippians 4:6-7.”

Riley stopped and sat down. This was one passage he knew.

“Do you have it?”

“I've got it,” Riley said, closing his eyes and picturing the familiar words on the page.

“It says, ‘Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.'