Scott Matthews - The Assassin's list

“I could care less about your religion,” Drake said. “I’ve fought beside Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus and atheists. I don’t care about your religion. You tried to kill me and you’re attacking my country.”

“Yeah, the country that made slaves of my ancestors, that’s still keeping us down. That’s my country for sure,” Kaamil sneered. “You don’t get it, but you will. There’s nothing you can do to change the outcome. You’ve already lost. Your politicians are afraid to challenge us. Voters don’t have the stomach for war, and someday we’ll be the majority here and in Europe. We’re in the government, the military, we’re unchallenged in the universities, and the darling of the media. Who’s going to stop Islam?”

“I’m not trying to stop Islam. I just want to stop a traitor named Kaamil. That’s enough for me.”

“I’m not a traitor, Drake. I’m a Muslim. Islam is my country. I just live here. We don’t fear death, that’s why we’ll win. We have a leader so far ahead of you, by the time you recognize the final blow, you’ll already be dead.”

“If you mean bin Laden,” Drake said, “he’s no longer relevant.”

“Bin Laden is not our leader. My leader was a warrior long before bin Laden joined the cause. He’s operated right under your nose, with a worldwide organization you know nothing about. You will, though, when he makes nations tremble and its leaders hide under their pillows.”

“Is he the guy who flew into your ranch the other night?” Drake guessed.

Kaamil didn’t answer. His eyes searched for a way out of the boathouse.

“There’s no way out, Kaamil. These boathouses have security screens that run down to the bottom of the lake. You’re not swimming out of here. There’s only one door out of here, and I have someone outside. Try running and you die.”

Drake watched as Kaamil looked toward the roof of the boathouse and mouthed what could only be a prayer. He knew Kaamil had made his decision.

“Kaamil, you don’t have to do this.”

Kaamil lowered his eyes, shouted “ Allahu Akbar ” and ran straight at Drake.

Drake shot him in the head, as he’d been trained, and watched the tall, homegrown terrorist fall before him.

He met Mike as he stepped from the boathouse.

“I heard the shot. Was it Kaamil?” Mike asked, slowing his run to a walk.

“A true believer. He talked about his leader, someone operating right under our noses with a worldwide organization.”

“You believe him?”

“Not sure. What did you find in the house?”

“They’re all dead. Husband, wife, and two kids,” Mike said, shaking his head. “Two kids on a sofa watching television, shot in the back of the head.”

“We gotta get back,” Drake said, heading toward his car. “There’s nothing we can do here. The Secret Service will want to investigate this ahead of the others. I’ll have the Secretary bring them in. Feels like old times, cleaning up messes we were too late to prevent.”

“You couldn’t know this was in the works. Besides, if you hadn’t trusted your instinct about Kaamil, your in-laws and the Secretary would probably be dead,” Mike said.

By the time they drove back to Senator Hazelton’s, his long driveway was filled with cars from the Lake Oswego PD, Oregon State Police and some unidentified federal agencies. All but the federal cars still had their overheads flashing, and they could see two red and white pumpers from the Lake Oswego Fire Department dousing the flames in the rubble.

“This might be a good time for the head of a well-known and widely respected private security firm from Seattle, hired to provide some extra protection for the Senator and his guest, to explain the dead bodies,” Drake suggested. “Just in case the Secret Service get some of it wrong and we’re the bad guys with the guns.”

“How much do you want me to tell them? What we know, or just about what happened tonight?”

“Just about tonight. I’ll go ask the Senator what’s been said so far.” They walked toward a patrolman keeping neighbors and the press from entering the estate.

“Officer, this is my father-in-law’s place. Will you call ahead and get us cleared to enter?” he asked as they both handed the patrolman their identification.

Two minutes later, they were waved on and made the long walk up the driveway toward the firemen working to control the flames. Drake spotted the Senator and Secretary Rallings standing in the center of a ring of Secret Service and State Troopers, and walked over.

Senator Hazelton turned, saw Drake and motioned for him to join them.

“One of Mike’s men said you went after their leader. Did you get him?” the Senator asked.

“We got him, but not before he killed Ron Peterson and his family. They used his boat to get over here. When the FBI get here, send them my way. I’ll explain things.”

“You won’t have to do that. Secretary Rallings and I will deal with the FBI and with his people. He’s told the State Police he wants this investigated as a crime scene. My God, the Secret Service and the FBI have some explaining to do. If I hadn’t let you come tonight, as private security, we’d all be dead.”

“Is Mom all right?”

“She’s okay, but you need to let her know you’re back.”

Drake saw Meredith Hazelton standing near what was left of the rear deck of her home, and made his way to her. She was standing quietly with her arms wrapped around herself, staring into the fire.

“Mom, you okay?” he asked when he reached her side.

Without saying a word, she grabbed onto him and began crying silently with her head held tight against his chest.

“Promise me you won’t do anything like this, ever again,” she said between sobs. “I can’t stand the thought of losing you too.”

“Don’t worry, Mom. The rest of my clients don’t have anything to do with terrorists. They may not pay as well as Richard Martin, but they’re all boring and safe, I promise.”

After comforting her a while longer, Drake walked out toward where the police were standing around the bodies of the four terrorists. Mike was talking to his men a little farther on, briefing them before the heavy hitters from the FBI arrived.

“Everyone okay here?” Drake asked.

“Everyone’s fine,” Mike answered, “just talking about what motivates these fools. They could have stopped after the stun grenades.”

“I know. Kaamil tried to make me understand before he decided to martyr himself. I’ll tell you about it when we’re all enjoying those steaks I promised. Remember, just tell them what you did here tonight and then send them my way if they want to know why I asked you to provide private security tonight.”

Drake returned to talk with the Senator and Secretary Rallings. He got there just in time to hear Secretary Rallings lecturing his assistant, Liz Strobel, and the head of Portland’s JTTF, Bruce Burton, who had just arrived. Neither of them returned his greeting.

“This is the second example in one day of what we’re doing wrong in this war,” Secretary Rallings said. “We can’t sit around and wait for them to hit us. We’ve got to be a step ahead, rather than conceding them the initiative. This is not a law enforcement matter. Tonight, however, we’re going to treat it that way, to salvage what’s left of the public’s trust in our ability to protect them. But believe me, I will change the way we’re operating. All of you better have some suggestions for me the next time we talk. Now, go out and convince everyone this was just a criminal matter the FBI is handling because I was here tonight. I do not want to read tomorrow there were two terrorist attacks in one day that the government was not prepared to handle.”