Brad Thor - Foreign Influence

“I still have work to do. We’re going to need to replace the bad cell phone and you haven’t told me how you want the magazines loaded.”

“Relax. I have an extra cell phone up in the office,” he replied. “And as for the armor-piercing rounds, load two of the thirty-round magazines for each man.”

“That’s all?” Rashid asked.

“Yes, that’s all. They will use the rounds we have tested as their primary ammunition. Your armor-piercing rounds will be a backup if they need them.”

“So you’ve got no problem, in the heat of battle, with them having to remember to transition to armor-piercing when the police show up.”

“Not at all. I have every faith and confidence. These men are well trained. They will remember.”

“It’s your operation.”

“It is our operation, Shahab, and you have contributed many, many good things to it. Tomorrow, the infidels will be shaken. It will be the first blow of many that we will deliver on their own soil. After tomorrow, we will discuss the future and what Sheik Aleem and I have planned for you. But now, why don’t you tell me what you are going to do with our guests; the police officers.”

The younger man reached for a piece of paper and a pen. He drew three squares whose tops came together to form a triangle. “These will be the chairs that we duct tape together. Essentially, we’ll be creating three separate blast directions like three claymores.”

“So each of the men will be wearing an explosive vest?”

“Yes, but it won’t be obvious. As with our Shahid, their vests will be hidden by clothing.”

Marwan smiled. “So you will place them in the center of the room and no matter how their colleagues gather around them, they will all be vulnerable?”

“Exactly. And along with duct-taping them to the chairs, they’ll also have hoods and duct tape around their mouths so they can’t speak or gesture.”

“Very good. How will you know the exact moment to detonate?”

“With this,” said Rashid as he reached over and picked up one of the remote camera balls John Vaughan and Paul Davidson had been caught placing in the alley behind the mosque.

The Iraqi brought his hands together in a clap. “This is very good.”

“And it will be an excellent beginning to the chaos. It will draw tremendous resources to the exact opposite side of the city.”

“I’m proud of you, Shahab. You have indeed done a very good job. I just wonder if we should consider using another location.”

“No. Mohammed Nasiri’s apartment is perfect.”

“How are we going to get the police officers in there without drawing attention?”

This time it was Abdul Rashid’s turn to smile. “Do you have faith in Allah, Marwan?”

As they had a very small surveillance team, Harvath decided that they could risk exposing only one of their operatives. Because she was biracial and Jarrah’s furniture store catered to a largely ethnic clientele, Alex Cooper had nominated herself to go in and look around.

Armed with her camera phone and an exceptional when-I-want-your-help-I’ll-ask-for-it attitude, she walked around inside ostensibly taking pictures of furniture while getting the most accurate lay of all three levels that she could.

She found the door to the basement, but it was locked. The door to the business office, on the other hand, was open and she walked right in. She was immediately confronted by two very large Middle Eastern men who told her in broken English that she was in an area off-limits to customers.

Feigning insult, Cooper scolded them for being rude and demanded to know where the ladies’ room was.

One of the men directed her back into the showroom and pointed at a door on the far side. After she had washed her hands and come back out, the two men were talking to another, younger man who also appeared somewhat Middle Eastern.

As soon as he saw her, he headed straight for her. Cooper pulled her camera phone back out and began taking pictures again.

“Can I help you, miss?” the man asked. He was tall and a bit skinny, but appeared quite fit.

“No, thank you,” she replied haughtily. “I’m just browsing.”

“You’ve been taking a lot of pictures.”

Cooper turned to him with her camera in one hand and the other on her hip. “Is there a problem with that?”

He put on a smile, spread his hands and replied, “It’s unusual.”

“It’s unusual? Or it’s unusual when a black woman does it?”

“It has nothing to do with the color of your skin.”

“Oh, really?”

His smile faded, and he glanced at a closed circuit camera as if someone else might be supervising their exchange and said, “I just want to know why you’re taking pictures.”

“You want to know why?” she said, turning the attitude knob all the way up. “Because I’m tired of sending shit back. I’m tired of my boyfriend not liking a damn thing I buy. That’s why I’m taking pictures.”

“We do have a Web site.”

“I know you’ve got a damn Web site.”

“I’d also be happy to get you a catalog.”

Cooper clicked her phone shut and got right in the young man’s face. “You know what? You can keep your damn catalog and your damn Web site. I’m going to find another store that isn’t afraid of having black customers.”

The young man reached out. “May I see your phone before you go?”

Cooper drew it to her chest. “What the hell is wrong with you? No you may not. You people are crazy,” she said as she began walking toward the door.

The young man trotted alongside her and then stepped right into her path. “You’ve been in here almost half an hour taking pictures.”

“I happen to be moving into a very big house.”

The young man was completely blocking her path now. He put his hand straight out. “Give it to me.”

Cooper tapped her foot and then rolled her eyes before putting the phone into her purse. “What are you going to do now?”

Rashid reached for the purse and before he knew what had happened, Cooper had kicked him right in the crotch.

“Never mess with a woman’s purse,” she said as she stepped over him and quickly exited the store.

Cooper crossed the street, walked over two blocks, and turned the corner. Harvath was waiting in the Sportage. “How’d it go?” he asked as she got in.

“You were right. They’re beyond paranoid in there.”

“Did you learn anything?”

“From what I could see, they take their security very seriously. There were a couple of Middle Easterners who got pretty upset when I stumbled into the office. The door to the basement was locked, which could mean anything or nothing, and their CCTV system looked like it came out of a Vegas casino. It was a little overkill, but what do I know? Maybe they have a problem with people shoplifting dressers and armoires.”

“Did you see anyone matching Jarrah’s description?”

“No, but I did get pictures of his employees and a couple of the goons he’s got working there,” said Cooper.

“So we have no idea if he’s in the building or not.”

“No.”

“Do you think it’s worth taking a look after dark?” asked Harvath.

“If we can get around their security system, I think it would be a great idea.”

The team spent the rest of the day and into the evening watching Jarrah’s business. As darkness fell, the doors were locked and the lights dimmed. A handful of employees filed out, but missing from their ranks were the man Alex had kicked and the two goons who had chased her out of the office.