Джеймс Паттерсон - Killer Instinct

Above them were imams who had no idea what the Mudir was planning. They were so busy preaching peace and assimilation. They didn’t see the West as a threat.

They were fools, thought the Mudir.

He dismissed the twelve with a final reminder to keep their burner phones close at hand. The call would come within the next day or two, but no later. They needed to be ready, weapons and ammunition packed.

“There can be no mistakes. There can be no loose ends,” he warned them.

Again, the Mudir had chosen his words very carefully. The difference this time was the audience. It now included himself. There was something he needed to do, a piece of unfinished business. This was his own reminder.

There can be no mistakes. There can be no loose ends.

The Mudir had a very important appointment to keep.

Chapter 92

THE CROWDED restaurant was intentional. She wouldn’t feel threatened. Not at first.

He arrived early and asked for a table in the corner but still with a view of the door. The Mudir wanted to see her when she arrived. He was sure he’d know in an instant, the first moment their eyes met, whether or not she could do what he needed her to do.

Only he was wrong. When she arrived, that first instant he saw her, he still didn’t know.

All Sadira Yavari gave the Mudir was a look of recognition. Nothing more. She held his gaze the entire time she walked toward him and sat down, but again her eyes revealed nothing.

On second thought, it occurred to the Mudir, maybe this was exactly what he wanted. Could she be even more like him than he’d realized? Capable of giving nothing away, no signal or tip of the hand, until it was too late?

Sun Tzu. The element of surprise will always be your greatest weapon. The Mudir kept a copy of The Art of War by his bedside. He’d read it more times than he had the Koran.

“Do you know why you’re here?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Should I?”

The Mudir waited a few seconds, continuing to stare. No, you shouldn’t know. Otherwise, I’ve been careless, and that’s one thing I never am. He folded his arms on the table, leaning forward. “How do you know Dr. Dylan Reinhart?”

Sadira’s eyes collapsed to a squint as she put it together. Her. Reinhart. Outside the courthouse. “You’ve been following me?”

“For good reason, apparently.”

“We both had jury duty,” she said.

“No. You had jury duty. What he had was the need to meet you.”

“Why?”

“You tell me,” he said. “He’s CIA. Or at least he used to be.”

The Mudir studied Sadira in that moment more intensely than he’d ever studied anyone. It would’ve been near impossible for her to fake not knowing that Reinhart had been CIA. There were simply too many muscles around the eyes and mouth to control all at once.

No, this was pure reflex. Her expression. The way her head jolted back. He was convinced she didn’t know.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Positive.”

“Is that why you were following me? Because you knew Reinhart would try to make contact?”

“I was following you because I still don’t completely trust you.”

“There isn’t a person on this planet that I trust completely,” said Sadira. “I suspect you’re no different.”

She was right, and the Mudir let her know it with a smile. “Let’s just say I don’t trust you enough for what you need to do,” he said.

“Which is what?”

“You need to kill Dylan Reinhart,” said the Mudir.

“I’m only a courier,” said Sadira.

“Not anymore you’re not. Not after you take care of Reinhart and then help me with what comes next.”

“What’s that?” she asked. “What comes next?”

“After Reinhart,” he said. He would tell her then. “Then I will know I can trust you enough.”

“If you want him dead so badly, why is he still alive?”

“Because I made the mistake of trusting someone else to do the job. Now Reinhart is expecting me. But he won’t be expecting you.”

Sadira leaned back in her chair as if she were considering her options. But she’d already made up her mind when the Mudir told her about Reinhart’s CIA past. “Okay,” she said. “How soon do you need it done?”

Chapter 93

SADIRA HAD asked for my number outside the courthouse when we agreed on dinner. She was going to text me the restaurant and what time. There was a new Italian place on the Upper West Side she wanted to try but didn’t know if we could get a reservation. “Stay tuned” were her last words to me.

By that afternoon, they were still her last words to me.

I hadn’t heard from her. No text. No call. Nothing. What changed? Did she figure something out? Is she on to me?

I was about to call Julian to get her number when there was a knock at the door. Foxx was back for another visit.

He’d had his driver take me back into Manhattan that morning to one of the shell offices in midtown that fronted as a CIA station. After the New York headquarters at 7 World Trade Center was destroyed on 9/11, the Agency had opted to utilize multiple locations around the city. The conference room I was hanging out in belonged to a supposed international shipping company.

There was no file in Foxx’s hand this time, but his expression left little mystery as to why he’d returned. He had more news, and it wasn’t good.

“She’s leaving the country,” he announced. Sadira Yavari was skipping town.

“When?” I asked.

“Sunday. Turkish Air to Tehran via Istanbul.”

“I’m gonna guess it’s not a round-trip ticket.”

Foxx shook his head. “One way. Non-refundable,” he said. “The kicker? She only just booked it today.”

“What about her recent calls?” I asked.

“Nothing to Iran, and no one we haven’t already checked out,” he said.

Foxx hadn’t told me, but I’d assumed the Agency had been monitoring Sadira’s phone records, both landline and cell, if not listening to the calls themselves. Of course, by law, the CIA is prohibited from collecting foreign intelligence based on the domestic activities of US citizens. Then again, the C has never stood for compliance.

I had one more question. “Did you put a body on her?”

There was a chance Foxx had tailed her without telling me, and there was also a chance that he still didn’t want to. But he didn’t hesitate.

“I was sort of counting on you for that,” he said, “starting with your dinner tonight.” He glanced at his watch. He knew Sadira hadn’t been in touch with me. “But so much for that.”

I grabbed my phone, checking for any new texts or voicemails even though I had my ringer on. Still nothing from her. It was time to face reality.

“Okay, I’m on board,” I said. “Let’s bring her in.”

This time, Foxx hesitated. “We’re not going to do that,” he said finally.

I thought that’s what you originally wanted, I would’ve said if I didn’t already know what he meant. Sometimes it’s all in the tone.

The Agency wasn’t going to bring her in. No. They were going to take her down.

Permanently.

Chapter 94

“WAS IT your call?” I asked.

“It was my recommendation. Ultimately it was the director’s call,” he said.

“Same difference.”

Foxx shrugged. “Maybe.”

More like definitely. The director of the CIA is like the owner of an NFL football team. He might have final say on operations, but if he’s smart, he defers to the coach, the one closest to the action, when it comes to play calling. Especially with a guy like Foxx. Foxx was basically the Bill Belichick of section chiefs. If he recommended having Sadira Yavari meet with an “unfortunate accident,” then that’s what was going to happen.