The Lost Codex (11 page)

Fahad’s brow rose. “Right.”

Lightbulbs?
“Uh, can you explain that?”

“The wire is coated with a flammable chemical,” Uzi said. “When the bulb is lit, the wire heats and the bomb detonates. Cheap, low-tech, reliable, and undetectable. Is that what they used at Metro Center?”

“No,” Fahad said. “That entire attack was different. It packed a much stronger explosive punch, which means it was likely carried onto the train in a large backpack and/or duffel bag, maybe a suitcase. We’re still sorting through the wreckage looking for it. To cause that kind of damage, ATF told me it had to be C4, maybe even a combination of different types of explosives and methods—suitcase, vest, and backpack.”

“Palestinian bombers typically use shrapnel in their bombs,” Uzi said. “Any sign of that?”

“Yes.”

Uzi faced the president. “Most of the deaths from suicide attacks come from the shrapnel thrown off during the blast. A favorite method these bomb makers use is to fill the explosives with ball bearings up to seven millimeters in diameter. When these steel balls are used as projectiles, they travel at roughly the same speed as bullets fired from a gun. So it’s like being hit by automatic rounds of a submachine gun—several hundred rounds in a split second.”

“To sum all this up,” Fahad said, “the materials we found in the bomb-making factory that Agents Vail and Hernandez stumbled on had all of these ingredients, confirming our belief that this cell is very likely of Hamas and/or al Humat origin—or they’ve been trained by these groups.”

Uzi waited for the president to ask a question. When he did not, Uzi said, “Since we intercepted communication between the planner in Gaza and the engineer here in DC and the guy in Gaza was the voice of Kadir Abu Sahmoud, and Sahmoud is the co-founder of al Humat, I think it’s safe for us to operate under the assumption that al Humat is behind this operation.”

“But we don’t have positive confirmation that voice was Sahmoud,” Lynch said. “Making an assum—”

“We do have positive confirmation.”

Knox sat forward. “We do?”

“We do, sir. I gave the recording to Mossad and they did a biometric automatic voice analysis and ran phonetic and acoustic analyses with samples they had of Sahmoud on file. It was a match.”

“How come this is the first I’m hearing of this?” Tasset said.

“We also had a conversation with Sahmoud,” Vail said. “He and Agent Uziel—posing as ASAC Shepard—spoke yesterday.”

“Posing as me?” Shepard asked.

“I couldn’t take a chance he’d know my name,” Uzi said. “I meant to give you a heads-up in case he called again, but the Metro bombing hit. Things have been moving very quickly.”

“Why would he know your name?” Fahad asked.

Uzi squirmed in his seat. “Not important. But I felt it wasn’t worth the risk.”

Fahad hesitated but apparently decided not to press the point. Instead, he asked, “Did Sahmoud take responsibility for the bombings?”

“We spoke before Metro Center. It was a pretty frank discussion. He launched into the typical Islamic extremist rant.” Uzi turned to Vail. “Based on what he said, did you have any doubt that Sahmoud was involved?”

“None.”

A red light on the phone in front of the president lit up and blinked. He lifted the receiver and listened a second. “Fine. Send him in.” As he hung up, he said, “Richard Prati, Special Agent in Charge of the DEA’s Special Operations Division, is going to brief us. This is on your request, Agent Vail?”

“And mine,” Uzi said.

Following a knock, the door swung open and a stocky, dark-suited man entered. Vail envisioned a bulldozer—and his demeanor seemed to fit her mental image.

“Agent Prati,” Connerly said. “A little advance notice would’ve been appreciated.”

Prati froze in place and looked at the president. “I—I thought—”

“We pulled strings to get him here,” Uzi said, “and only got it arranged about an hour ago. We need to hear what he has to say.”

Nunn waved Prati to a seat near the other end of the briefing room. “You have five minutes, Agent.”

Prati set down his leather briefcase and removed a USB drive. “May I?” he asked, holding it up. “PowerPoint.”

“Go on,” Lynch said.

While he plugged the device into a port along the top of the briefing table, Vail said, “Agent Prati ran the Special Operations Division in Virginia for nine years, overseeing thirty agencies.”

“Brits, Australians, Mexicans, Canadians—we had ’em all.” Prati picked up a remote and aimed it at the screen. The word “narcoterrorism” appeared in bold red letters.

“I was asked to address two main issues.” Prati directed his remarks to the president. “First off, it’s important to give a frame of reference as to what we’re dealing with. Narcoterrorism is a problem that keeps escalating—yet the public has no clue. I used to think that was okay because the more the public knows the more the media would be in my face. But now I realize that was wrong. We need people to know because it’s ballooning out of control. And it impacts every family in every corner of this country.”

Nunn twisted the left corner of his mouth, something between a frown and a chuckle. “A bit over the top, no?”

“No,” Prati said flatly, holding the president’s gaze.

I like this guy. He’s got balls.

“The DEA chief of operations calls these narcoterrorists hybrids—one part terrorist organization and one part global drug trafficking cartel. He specifically called out groups like the Colombian FARC, the Taliban, Hamas and Hezbollah. Obviously, al Humat is now a member of that team too.” Prati glanced around the table. “These terror groups are turning to—and in some cases
into
—criminal enterprises to fund their operations.”

Prati pressed the remote and a new red and yellow slide appeared: two circles overlapped one another to form an orange center: a Venn diagram showing the intersection of terrorists and criminals. “I don’t have to tell you why this is a very, very bad thing. Annual drug trafficking income, worldwide, is over $400 billion. Think about that for a minute. That’s billion, not million.

“Used to be, terror groups were interested in one thing: furthering their political cause. They committed violent acts and murdered innocent people who didn’t believe as they did. No more.” He flipped to another slide showing a complex series of squares and arrows.

“But global terrorist organizations are large, sprawling enterprises nowadays and they need funding to operate. We’ve done a good job shutting down or limiting many of their traditional funding streams, so the terrorists are turning to criminal activity for money. Drug trafficking generates more cash than any other commodity, so it’s an ideal source of revenue for them.

“The drug trafficking money is brought in through Beirut and put into overseas bank accounts, then wired to the US—hundreds of millions of dollars a month—and that’s just the money we know about. God only knows what else is going on. But here’s the thing: no matter how much it is, that money’s dirty.”

“Obviously,” Vail said, “they launder it somehow.”

“Used cars.” Prati pressed a button and a red laser dot appeared over one of the boxes in his flow chart. “These groups have set up a vast network of hundreds of US car dealerships that buy millions of used cars and then ship them to west Africa, where they’re sold legitimately on the open market. But along the way, a cut of the profit goes to the major terror groups. It’s a multibillion-dollar business.”

“Makes sense,” DeSantos said. “Several thousand dollars per car, if not more. An easy way to move, and launder, a lot of money very quickly. And no one suspects a thing.”

“I was briefed on synthetic drugs last month,” Tasset said. “Manufactured in China.”

Prati leaned back in his seat. “Yes. They’re sold here in grocery stores and minimarts. The proceeds, hundreds of millions of dollars, are then sent to Yemen, where they’re distributed to the terror groups. But it doesn’t have to be drugs. Money is sent through the legit banking system to China to pay for cigarettes, clothing, shoes, sneakers, toys, computers—all sorts of stuff. The Chinese manufacture these things and ship ’em to South or Central America to get laundered: they’re sold through legal businesses to generate clean cash. The money then gets sent to the drug traffickers overseas. Like I said, nothing generates cash as well as illicit drugs.”

“You called the terrorist organizations sprawling enterprises,” Vail said. “Why do they need so much money? I mean, how much does it cost to build some homemade bombs?”

“It’s not just the attack, which, you’re right. Doesn’t cost a hell of a lot. Take 9/11, their most ambitious operation. It cost a little over half a million. But these terror groups are no longer loose associations of people running around the deserts of the Middle East wreaking havoc and setting off car bombs. They’re organizations that fly their operatives from country to country. They run training camps, pay salaries, purchase weapons and ammo, buy buildings, build infrastructure, make fake passports, rent safe houses, pay bribes to key people in government. After 9/11, the CIA estimated that al Qaeda spent $30 million a year just to run their organization. That was a long time ago, so the cost has gone up.” He looked at Tasset and got a nod of acknowledgment.

“Terrorism is an expensive business,” Knox said, “generating the kind of profits US corporations would envy.”

I wonder if the Service Employees Union has cracked al Qaeda.

“So let me get to those two questions you had,” Prati said with a glance at Uzi. “Does Hezbollah have sleeper cells in the US?” He folded his hands on the table in front of him. “This has been talked about for years. Back in 2008 when their military leader, Imad Mughniyah, was assassinated in Syria, Hezbollah threatened the west. The FBI—”

“Went nuts trying to track down and keep tabs on sleepers here in the US in case they decided to retaliate,” Knox said.

“Thing is, we didn’t find a whole lot and they never attacked us.”

“They never attacked us,” Uzi said, “because they raise too much money from supporters in the US.”

Prati shrugged. “Maybe. Bottom line is that we never found actual cells here. But here’s where it gets muddy. Remember we talked about the car dealerships? Hundreds of other related businesses and groups have been set up across the US to assist in, and establish, this trade-based money laundering scheme to sell used cars and ship them over to west Africa. But it’s all being funded by this criminal money coming in from Lebanon. Anything goes bad—we bomb Iran to take out their reactors, whatever—then they’ve got these ‘operatives’ living in the US. American citizens who can take action on their behalf. Are they sleeper cells?”

“It’s a matter of semantics,” Fahad said. “Whatever you call it, it is what it is.”

“That’s my point. Has it happened? Not yet. Do we have evidence of an organized sleeper network? Not to my knowledge. But is there one? I’ll let you answer that.”

Actually, I think al Humat’s already done that for us.

“Second question.” Prati advanced to the next slide, which showed the international radiation warning symbol. “Are they smuggling nuclear material from Iran through South America into the US through the drug tunnels? Again, we’ve got no proof. Does that mean it’s not happening? Of course not. We just haven’t caught anyone doing it. Another thing you gotta consider is that, theoretically, the drug cartels should not want any part of these terror groups.”

“Why’s that?” DeSantos asked.

“Simple. They got a good thing going. They bring in their product, they monetize it, and there’s not a whole lot we can do to stop it. We can narrow the hose and reduce what gets in, but the water still flows. And they make a shitload of money. Why risk it by working with a terrorist group, the most hated entity on earth?”

“Hang on a second,” Vail said, raising a hand. “So you’re saying they
don’t
work together?”

Prati chuckled. “Listen carefully, Agent Vail. I said ‘theoretically,’ didn’t I? Here’s how it works. They’re not
officially
working together. But it doesn’t happen at the leadership level where they formalize a partnership. A jihadist comes up to the guys running a particular tunnel and works a deal with them. They let him bring his stuff through and no one’s the wiser. Money changes hands, and bang. The material’s moved through the tunnel. Most of the drug activity takes place during the day so they can hide their semis in broad daylight among all the other legitimate trucks on the road. They don’t run their operation at night because they’d stick out like a red giraffe.”

“Instead of being idle at night,” Uzi said, “the tunnel makes them money and the jihadis’ product gets across the border. Everyone’s happy.”

Except us.

“So are they moving nuclear material through the tunnel?” Prati asked. “Why the hell not? These guys that run the tunnels, they don’t open the shipping pallets and look inside, I can tell you that. But it doesn’t have to come through South America. Everyone’s so fixated on Mexico, the southern border. What the hell’s wrong with Canada? We’re virtually telling these characters to come in from the north—we’ve got a huge border that’s even more porous than the southern border. And yes, before you ask, we have found some huge, very sophisticated drug tunnels coming across from Canada.”

The briefing room door opened and a man in casual dress clothing entered. “Excuse me. I have something for you, Director Lynch.”

Lynch waved his fingers, motioning him in.

“I’m actually done,” Prati said with a glance at his watch. “Unless you have any more questions, I have to brief DHS in ten minutes.”

“Thanks for your time,” Nunn said. “Any follow-up can be handled through Agent Uziel.”

Prati passed Uzi a business card, gathered up his briefcase, and then left the room.

Meanwhile, Lynch accepted, and signed for, a manila folder. As he read the document inside, his brow crested. “We found a fingerprint on a bomb fragment from the first blast. It came back as Qadir Yaseen.”

“Yaseen?” Uzi nearly rose out of his seat. “You sure?”