Brad Thor - Foreign Influence

They wanted Marwan Jarrah all to themselves and they had no intention of sharing him. They also had no intention of reading him his Miranda rights or helping him secure an attorney. There was no telling how many cells he had within the United States. They needed to grab him, interrogate him, and neutralize his network as rapidly as possible. And if it meant violating a few terrorists’ “rights” along the way, then that was the way it was going to be.

With Carlton doing the groundwork for them, they used their time aboard the plane to eat, check on Nikki Rodriguez via the in-flight Satcom system, and grab as much sleep as possible.

When they landed in Chicago, it was just after three in the morning. Two vehicles stuffed with gear were waiting for them; a windowless Chevy Astro van and a dented KIA Sportage with tinted glass. Harvath was anxious to set up surveillance and put together their plan for taking down Jarrah.

They divided up the equipment and broke into two teams. Once they had established a rendezvous point, each team made a reconnaissance drive through Jarrah’s residential neighborhood and the neighborhood where his furniture outlet and the American office of record for the IRF was located. Two things immediately became clear.

The first was that surveilling Jarrah’s house from a vehicle was going to be next to impossible. Street parking was by permit only and even if they had a permit, there wasn’t a single space to be found. There were also Neighborhood Watch. We call police signs mounted everywhere, including in people’s windows. Harvath had always hated doing residential surveillance and this was one of the biggest reasons. Neighbors tended to not only know and watch out for each other, but they also knew what everyone drove. Effectively, nonresidents stood out.

The second problem they faced was that there appeared to be multiple entrances and exits to Jarrah’s furniture store. It was a large three-story commercial building with glass along the front and doors that opened onto the sidewalk. There was a fire escape and loading dock area in back that accessed the alley, a side door that allowed people to enter from the parking lot, and an exit on the far side of the structure that fed into a narrow gangway with the building next door. It was a lot to cover.

There was a third problem that Harvath didn’t even want to think about. The fact that Jarrah’s home and business were in Chicago didn’t mean that he was. For all Harvath knew, he could be in New York City getting ready to oversee his first attack. Chicago had been their best and only lead.

Harvath would have given a year’s salary to have placed drones overhead at the house and the business, or to have satellites retasked to help give him extra sets of eyes, but that wasn’t going to happen, not without setting off a bunch of alarm bells back in D.C. and getting them all in trouble. None of them were supposed to be here. Posse Comitatus notwithstanding, if anyone discovered that the DOD had created and was running its own covert, direct action network, there’d be absolute hell to pay. Harvath and his team were going to have to figure out how to get the job done while remaining under everyone’s radar.

As they couldn’t sit outside Jarrah’s house, Megan Rhodes suggested they walk right up, ring the doorbell, and see who answered. As soon as the stores opened, she could buy an arrangement of flowers and pretend to be delivering them.

Harvath didn’t like it, and Gretchen Casey immediately shot it down. “Just like London and Amsterdam,” she said, “this guy’s paranoia level is going to be off the charts. An incorrect delivery is going to be highly suspect.”

“Who cares?” replied Rhodes. “The door opens, my Glock goes in his face, everybody wins.”

“Not if he’s got six other guys behind the door armed better than you are,” said Harvath.

“Six guys isn’t even a fair fight. Now, if he had twelve, then maybe…”

“It’s a nice idea, Megs, but keep thinking,” said Casey, who asked Harvath, “What if there was another way we could get close to the house without arousing suspicion?”

“I’d be willing to entertain it. What are you thinking?”

“Do you think we could coopt one of the neighbors?”

Harvath shook his head. “I doubt it. I saw two parked cars with Iraqi flag stickers. Either they both belong to Jarrah, or he and his neighbors share more than just the same zip code.”

“I’m with Scot,” said Cooper. “I think we need to focus on the furniture store.”

Casey nodded. “Okay, I agree. But I still want to see if we can’t figure out some way to gain access to his house.”

“In the meantime,” replied Harvath, “I want to get our surveillance network in place before it’s light. If Jarrah is there, he’s not only going to be expecting surveillance, he’s going to be actively looking for it.”

I don’t know,” said Abdul Rashid as he pushed himself back from the table he was working at. “You tell me. Would you want to already be shooting armor-piercing rounds, or swap out magazines once you finally come to the conclusion that you’ve got a problem? That’s assuming you can remember which one of your mags is the one with the correct rounds to begin with.”

Jarrah looked at the reloading equipment and the piles of ammunition. “Did you get any sleep at all last night?”

“No. And it’s a good thing. You know what I found?” continued Rashid as he rolled his chair over to the adjoining table, picked up a cell phone, and tossed it to the man. “This phone has something wrong with it.”

“We tested all the phones. What’s the problem?”

“You tested to see if they’d vibrate and activate the detonators. I checked their electrical integrity. For some stupid reason, every once in a while this one pulses and gives off an electrical charge.”

“How strong?”

“Strong enough that I’d be worried about it prematurely setting off one of the explosives.”

Marwan walked over and kissed the younger man on the forehead.

“What was that for?” he asked.

Jarrah swept his arm around the room. “For all of this. The improved ammunition. The double-checking of the explosives. All of it. You’ve done a very good job, Shahab. We are almost there.”

“So how do you want me to load the magazines for the shooters?”

The man thought about it for a moment. “I’m apprehensive that we haven’t had an opportunity to test the new ammunition you have fabricated.”

Rashid grabbed one of the rifles and a magazine he had loaded. “Let’s go try it in the parking lot right now.”

The Iraqi laughed at the young man’s joke. “You are as excited as I am, but we must be practical with our orchestration; cautious.”

“So no plinking in the lot?”

“Shahab, I believe that you know what you are doing. I also believe that Allah blessed your journey yesterday and that it adds a layer of security to what we are doing.”

“Good, so we’ll use the new ammo.”

Jarrah waved his hand dismissively. “We’ve already practiced with the other ammo.”

“The stuff you got from that gangbanging gunrunner? When?” asked Rashid.

“Weeks ago,” the older man replied.

Rashid looked at him. “You’ve known all along that this was going to be a Mumbai-style attack.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you, Shahab. The mission must always come first. You know that.”

The young man turned away and rolled his chair back to his reloading equipment.

The Iraqi smiled. “You’re tired. You should rest. Tomorrow will be a glorious day, Insha’Allah.”