The Lost Codex (9 page)

Vail glanced at DeSantos. She could tell by his smirk that he was willing to bet money against Ghazal’s last proclamation.

“We’ve been analyzing the explosives and paraphernalia in your bomb-making factory.” Uzi paused, then said, “We also found sniper rifles. That makes us think this isn’t a one-dimensional attack.”

When did he find out about the sniper rifles? When he was on the phone with Hoshi? Why didn’t he tell me?

Ghazal smiled.

Uzi studied his face a moment. “What do you think you’re going to get from launching these attacks?”

“We’re fighting the enemy. Infidels, nonbelievers. Anyone who is not Muslim. Anyone who does not follow the laws of Allah. Anyone who does not follow Sharia law.”

Vail came up alongside Uzi, gently nudged him aside, and took a seat opposite Ghazal. She had an idea. She twisted in the seat and looked at Uzi and DeSantos. “Would you two mind giving me some time?”

They hesitated, but clearly not wanting to break their unified front—and trusting Vail’s sensibilities—left the room.

When the door thumped shut, she turned back to Ghazal. “Sharia law is all that matters.”

Ghazal nodded.

“Okay,” Vail said, “I get that. See, I’ve studied Islam. There are some wonderful things in the Koran.”

Ghazal looked at Vail, a look that said he was unsure of what to make of her, of where she was going. Trying to determine why she was being nice to him.

Truth is, Vail wanted to ram her fist into his nose, then gut his stomach with the Tanto Uzi had given her. This bastard had killed innocent men, women, and children whose only “crime” was being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Well, that and the fact that they did not have the same religious beliefs as him and his ilk.

Vail pushed the animosity from her thoughts. There was no place for it right now. Later, maybe. But not now.

“Was Tahir with you at Metro Center?”

“No. He’s busy with other things.”

“You were only there to observe, right? To make sure the plan you set out went the way it was supposed to go. And if your martyr did not have the courage to set off his vest, you had the failsafe, the switch, to detonate remotely. Right?”

Ghazal nodded.

“Sahmoud told us about the dirty bomb.”

Ghazal’s mouth dropped open.

She made a huge guess—and based on Ghazal’s raw reaction, she hit pay dirt. “I’m concerned about that,” Vail said. “Because we’re not talking about a hundred people dead in a Metro station. We’re talking about thousands of deaths, if not more. And a significant portion of a city left uninhabitable.”

“That is not my concern.”

Vail pursed her lips. “Depends on how you look at it. If you’re nearby when it goes off, you’ll be poisoned too. And your job is to plan the attacks, not be martyred. There are others for that.”

Ghazal did not object.

“Were you involved in planning the release of the dirty bomb?”

Ghazal dropped his gaze to the table.

“Esmail, I’m pragmatic. We can’t stop the attack. You know that. I know that. But I have a son who’s innocent in your jihad—”

“There are no innocents in America.”

Vail shook her head disapprovingly. “I know that’s the line. I know that’s what you’re brainwashed into believing. But my son is a believer. He’s been asking about converting to Islam. That’s why I know about the Koran and the beauty it contains. He and I discuss it almost every night. He’s not an infidel.”

Sell it, Karen, keep steady eye contact.

Ghazal leaned back and nodded approvingly. “Then he can be a martyr. If he dies for our cause, that is a great honor.”

Dammit, you asshole, I need to find a way to reach you. Connect with you.

“You have a daughter,” she said, subtly changing tactics. “I know that as a father you’re just looking for her to have the good things in life.” Truth was, Vail knew that these extremists did not value the lives of their children the same way Americans did. But she was trying to reach Ghazal on a level he was unaccustomed to being talked to. It was bad enough he was being questioned by a woman in power. If she could appeal to him as a mother would appeal to her child, she might, perhaps, be able to access some humane part of him he had buried long ago.

He again looked down at the table. “This has nothing to do with my daughter.”

“I’m asking you to spare the life of my son. I would do the same for your daughter. Just tell me where the dirty bomb is being deployed, what city. I understand you don’t know when it’s going to be set off. But if I know it’s going to be in DC, I’ll send my son to friends of his in New York City.”

Ghazal’s eyes rose from the table and met Vail’s stare. “That would not be a good idea.” He held her gaze.

Vail could not help but swallow deeply.

Holy shit, he just confirmed my suspicions about the dirty bomb and where it’s going to be launched.

She refocused. “Thank you. As a parent. I—” She allowed some tears to flow into her eyes. “I thank you for your decency. Is there anything else you can tell me about the dirty bomb? How powerful is it?”

“I told you enough. That question has nothing to do with the safety of your son.”

Vail licked her bottom lip. “Fair enough. Are you planning any more attacks here in DC?”

“The odds are in your son’s favor. We should leave it at that.”

“So no more suicide bombings are planned for DC.”

Ghazal shrugged.

What the hell did that mean? Asked and answered? Or, “
You
said that, not me.”

“Because we’ve captured your cache of explosives?”

He snorted, a contemptuous outburst. “That will not stop us. I think you are smart enough to figure out why.”

Yeah, I guess I am. They’ve got other stashes. Or ways of getting more without us knowing
.

“Where are your smuggling tunnels located?”

He kinked his head to the side, a look that said, “Did you really think I’d answer that?”

A knock at the door nearly made her jump.

Vail got up from her seat and walked into the corridor. Uzi was there alongside one of the large men she had seen when they first arrived. Uzi led her into a room across the hall.

As the door clicked closed, DeSantos turned away from the wall of monitors, which showed high resolution color images of Ghazal’s face and body from multiple angles. She had only seen two cameras, but apparently there were more embedded in the walls and table. Another screen, where Rodman sat, showed the man’s blood pressure and heart rate. Impressive.

“Nice work in there,” DeSantos said.

“Have you notified the JTTF in Manhattan?”

“I called my contact at the National Counterterrorism Center,” Uzi said. “But there’s not much to go on.”

DeSantos glanced back at the monitors. “We’re not really sure what we’ve got. They weren’t direct admissions.”

Vail felt blood rushing to her face. “What are you talking about? He has no motivation to feed us bullshit. He’s not giving us locations. He’s not telling us when. He was responding to indirect questions, on a level jihadists aren’t used to—his defenses are lower. He’s talking to a woman in a position of power—which he probably isn’t used to, either. I took him out of his element, which, again, is going to lower his defenses. I think on the scale of reliable intel, what he told us is pretty damn good.”

Uzi scratched at his temple. “I can’t disagree.”

“In terms of his body language,” DeSantos said, “I think you’re right.”

Rodman touched the monitor in front of him. “Same here with BP and heart rate.”

“But,” Uzi said, “is that enough? How actionable is the intel?”

Vail rubbed her forehead. “I need some air.” She walked outside, finding her way through the maze, and out the front door. The cold air prickled her cheeks and she took a deep breath, filling her lungs.

They’re planning to set off a dirty bomb in New York City. Jesus Christ.

Vail pulled out her Samsung and stared at it.
Don’t do this, Karen. Let JTTF do its thing. But without actual proof or verification, will the task force act on it? What if Ghazal was bullshitting me?

No. It felt legit. Go with your instincts.

She dialed and waited for it to connect.

Carmine Russo answered on the second ring. “You know, when I told you not to be a stranger, I didn’t mean you should call me so soon.”

“This isn’t a social call.” Her tone was serious—but then again, this was a serious matter. Russo had been Vail’s mentor going back to her early days in law enforcement. Now a captain with the NYPD, she thought he needed to be plugged in.

“Uh oh. What’s up? And if you tell me we’ve got another serial killer in New Yor—”

“We’ve got a situation. This isn’t really in your wheelhouse, but I want to make sure the information makes it to the department ASAP, without delay.”

“What information?”

“Did you hear about the gas main explosion in DC last night?”

“No. Why would I hear about that? Any casualties?”

“None you would’ve heard about.”

“Huh?”

“The explosion you didn’t hear about was a terrorist cell of al Humat that had set up a bomb-making factory in downtown DC. We stumbled on one of the bomb makers, I shot him and inadvertently set off his vest. An undercover FBI agent was killed before I got there. We ascertained the location of their safe house, arrested one and at least two got away. Today they set off a suicide bomb in Metro Center.”

“I got a text about that,” Russo said. “Maybe half an hour ago. No known cause yet.”

“Bullshit. It was a terrorist attack. We grabbed up one of the planners, who’s got a history of other bombings overseas.”

“Fuck.”

“Haven’t gotten to the good part yet.”

“There’s a good part?”

“We have reason to believe they’re going to set off a dirty bomb in Manhattan.”

There was silence, then Russo said, “Still waiting for the good part.”

“The good part is that we’ve got some advance notice. And also that I’m giving you a heads-up instead of waiting for the FBI to run it through their National Joint Terrorism Task Force at the National Counterterrorism Center, who’ll send it on to their New York JTTF, who’ll then run it up the ladder to 1PP,” she said, referring to the brass at One Police Plaza—NYPD headquarters.

“Where’s the attack going to be?”

“No idea.”

“When?”

“No idea.”

“And this is the good news?”

“No, Russo, it’s awful news. Whisper in your buddy’s ear at the Counterterrorism Unit. Tell him to turn up those sensors you’ve got, that domain awareness system.” A comprehensive security apparatus, the domain awareness system consisted of security cameras deployed around the city in coordination with radiological sensors, nuclear detectors, license plate readers—all processing information in real time and reporting to a central location in Lower Manhattan.

“I’ll talk with the commissioner, make sure he’s up to speed.”

Vail glanced around the countryside—at least, what she could see over the tops of the tall hedges. “Probably best to leave my name out of it.”

Russo snorted. “No shit, Karen.”

“Gotta go. We’re questioning the asshole we caught at the Metro.”

“Hey, thanks for the heads-up.”

“Good luck—and tell Protch I said hi.”

“Tell him yourself.” With that, he hung up.

Vail lowered the handset from her ear, wondering if she had done the right thing.
Yes
.
As a person, it was the right thing. As a law enforcement officer, I broke protocol.

But lives were at stake. Whatever heat she took—if any—she would sort out later.

She walked back into the building just as Uzi was on his way out.

“Get anything else?”

Uzi pulled his keys out of a pocket. “Let’s go. Hector’s staying behind.”

“You didn’t answer me.”

He paused with his hand on the doorknob. “No. We didn’t get shit.”

13

V
ail sat across from Robby at dinner. Their home was quiet without Jonathan around—although he was a frequent participant for a home cooked meal when they could coordinate their work and school schedules. Jonathan had pledged the Beta fraternity, which took up a number of his evenings when he was not studying.

Vail’s aunt, who lived in a separate part of the house, ate early dinners and went to bed hours before they did. Her presence in the home was hardly detectable.

Robby sliced at his steak, then stabbed a chunk with his fork. “I think you did the right thing. It wasn’t according to the book, but this is bigger than the book. It’s about saving lives. And since no one knows when this dirty bomb will go off, and exactly where, bureaucracy has no viable place in the equation.”

“There’s another part to this.” Vail took a sip of her Hall Cabernet. “We got some intel that one or more of the Islamic extremist groups might be collaborating in some way with Cortez.”

“Cortez.” Robby studied her face as he chewed, trying to process the reference. “The drug cartel? The one that—”

“Yes.” Vail knew that mere mention brought a personal note to her comment because of Robby’s past brush with Carlos Cortez, his men, and their affiliates. “We don’t know the details. Some unconfirmed intel from a well placed CI. He’s not always been reliable, which is a problem. But so far some of what he’s told us has been right on the money.” She set down her glass. “Uzi and Hector think it could involve tunnels. And if Hezbollah is involved and they’re proxies of—”

“Iran.” He chewed on that a moment. “I sat in on a briefing awhile back about Hezbollah, Hamas, al Humat, Islamic State. All the bad actors. Money laundering schemes, stuff like that. Sounds like it might be even worse than I thought.” He played with the broccolini on his plate. “Islamic extremists and drug cartels. Murder and mayhem. Never gonna be peace on this planet.”

“We need confirmation of the connection.” Vail set her glass down.

Robby must have realized the conversation had paused because he suddenly looked up from his plate. “What?”

“We need to know if that intel is reliable. I imagine DEA can find out.”

“DEA has agents sitting on Uzi’s task force. Why doesn’t he ask them?”

“He has. They’re working on it. But I don’t know how good they are. I know how good
you
are. And if I ask you to look into this, you’ll do it and you’ll do it well. And fast.”

“Did I miss something? Did you just ask me to look into it?”

“I am now.”

Robby chewed his steak slowly, appearing to mull the compliment—and the request.

“Problem?”

“No,” he said without looking up.

“While you’re at it, see if your DEA sources have heard anything about nuclear material being smuggled in from Iran through South America using the drug tunnels that cross into the US.”

“Hezbollah is well connected with the leadership in Venezuela.”

“That’s a start. I need more. I need actionable intelligence.”

“I’ll check with my ASAC, see if we’ve got anything.”

“Do that and they’ll give it to someone else to look into. Or he’ll just tell you it’s covered by the guys on the JTTF.”

Robby swallowed his food, set his fork down, and leaned back in his chair. “Look, I’ve only been on the job a couple of years. I’m doing well, working my way up. But DEA is pretty strict about its regs, maybe more so than the FBI. And they’re really respectful of chain of command. Pushing the envelope may not be such a good idea.”

Vail played with her wine glass. “Obviously I don’t want you to get in trouble. Forget it.”

“You won’t be angry?”

Vail thought about Robby’s own words, uttered moments ago: this is bigger, more important, than following procedure. It was about saving lives. Still, she did not want to pressure him.

Vail reached over and took his hand. “I don’t want you to do anything that’ll jeopardize your job. I know how important it is to you, how hard you’ve worked to get where you are. Uzi’s people will come through. If not, I’ll get the info some other way.”

Robby continued eating, but he appeared to be mulling over what Vail had told him because he was uncharacteristically quiet.

Perhaps he was thinking about his ordeal at the hands of Cortez. Maybe he was using his knowledge of the drug trade to consider the long-term implications of the cartels working with terrorists: criminals and religious extremists in cahoots.

It was hard to know the full impact of such alliances, but one thing was certain: whatever it was, it was not good.