Nelson Demille - The Lion's Game

Alan didn't seem to see any contradiction in that statement, which was scary.

Anyway, Alan was babbling on about the importance of news as another weapon in our arsenal and so forth, and I thought he was going to say something about using me and Kate as bait, or about Gadhafi laying the wood to Asad's mommy and putting that out to the press, but he didn't touch on any of that. Instead, he told anecdotal stories about how leaked news got people killed, tipped off suspects, ruined operations, and caused all sorts of problems including obesity, impotence, and bad breath.

Alan concluded with, "It's true that the public has a right to know, but it's not true that we have a duty to tell them anything."

He sat.

No one seemed certain they understood what Alan was saying, so to clarify, Jack Koenig said, "No one should speak to the press." He added, however, "This afternoon, there will be a joint press conference of the NYPD and the FBI, followed by another joint press conference that will include the Governor of New York, the Mayor of New York City, the NYPD Commissioner, and others. Someone, at some point, in some manner, will announce what a lot of people already know or suspect, which is that Flight One-Seven-Five was the subject of an international terrorist attack. The President and members of the National Security Council will go on TV tonight and announce the same thing. There will be a media feeding frenzy for a few days, and your respective offices will get many phone calls. Please refer everyone to Alan, who gets paid to talk to the press."

Koenig then reminded everyone that there was a million-dollar reward for information leading to the arrest of Asad Khalil, plus federal money available for buying information.

We tidied up a few loose ends and Jack Koenig concluded, "I realize that interagency cooperation is challenging, but if ever there was an occasion for everyone to pull together, to share information, and to show goodwill, this is the occasion. When we catch this guy, I assure you, there'll be enough credit to go around."

I heard NYPD Chief of Detectives Robert Moody mumble something like, "There's a first."

Captain David Stein stood and said, "We don't want to find out later that we had a tip on this guy that got lost in the bureaucracy, like what happened with the Trade Center bombing. Remember, the ATTF is the clearinghouse for all information. Remember, too, every law enforcement agency in this country, Canada, and Mexico has the particulars on this guy, and every tip will be forwarded here. Plus, now that Khalil's face is on TV, we can count on a couple hundred million citizens to be on the lookout. So, if this guy is still on this continent, we might get lucky."

I thought of Police Chief Corn Pone in Hominy Grits, Georgia. I imagined getting a direct phone call from him saying, "Mornin', John. I hear y'all been lookin' for this Ay-rab, Khalil what's-his-name. Well, John, we got this feller right here in the pokey, and we'll hold him for you 'till you get here. Hurry on down-this boy won't eat pork, and he's starvin' to death."

Stein said to me, "Something funny, Detective?"

"No, sir. My mind was wandering."

"Yeah? Tell us about where it wandered to."

"Well…"

"Let's hear it, Mr. Corey."

So, rather than share my stupid Police Chief Corn Pone reverie, which is maybe funny only to me, I quickly came up with a joke apropos to the meeting. I said, "Okay… The Attorney General wants to find out who's the best law enforcement agency-the FBI, the CIA, or the NYPD. Okay? So she calls a group from each organization to meet her outside D.C., and she lets a rabbit loose in the woods, and says to the FBI guys, 'Okay, go find the rabbit.'" I looked at my audience, who were wearing neutral expressions, except for Mike O'Leary, who was smiling in anticipation.

I continued, "The FBI guys go in and two hours later, they come out without the rabbit, but of course call a big press conference and they say, 'We lab-tested every twig and leaf in the woods, we questioned two hundred witnesses, and we have concluded that the rabbit broke no federal laws, and we let him go.' The Attorney General says, 'Bullshit. You never found the rabbit.' So then the CIA guys go in"-I glanced at Mr. Harris-"and an hour later, they also come out without the rabbit, but they say, 'The FBI was wrong. We found the rabbit, and he confessed to a conspiracy. We debriefed the rabbit, and we turned the rabbit around, and he is now a double agent working for us.' The Attorney General says, 'Bullshit. You never found the rabbit.' So then the NYPD guys go in and fifteen minutes later, this bear comes stumbling out of the woods, and the bear has taken a really bad beating, and the bear throws his arms up in the air and yells out, All right! I'm a rabbit! I'm a rabbit!'"

O'Leary, Haytham, Moody, and Wydrzynski let out a big laugh. Captain Stein tried not to smile. Jack Koenig was not smiling, and therefore neither was Alan Parker. Mr. Harris, too, did not seem amused. Kate… well, Kate was getting used to me, I think.

Captain Stein said, "Thank you, Mr. Corey. I'm sorry I asked." David Stein concluded the meeting with a few words of motivation. "If this bastard strikes again in New York metro, most of us here should think about calling their pension office. Meeting adjourned."

On Monday morning at 6:00 A.M., Asad Khalil answered the ringing telephone and a voice said, "Good morning."

Khalil started to reply, but the voice continued without pause, and Khalil realized it was a recorded message. The voice said, "This is your six A.M. wake-up call. Today's temperature will get into the high seventies, clear skies, chance of a passing shower late in the day. Have a nice day, and thank you for choosing Sheraton."

Khalil hung up the phone and the words Yob vas came into his mind. He got out of bed, and carried the two Glocks into the bathroom. He shaved, brushed his teeth, used the toilet and showered, then touched up the gray, and combed his hair with a part, using the wall-mounted hair dryer.

As in Europe, he reflected, there were many luxuries in America, many recorded voices, soft mattresses, hot water at the turn of a faucet tap, and rooms without insects or rodents. A civilization such as this could not produce good infantrymen, he thought, which was why the Americans had reinvented warfare. Push-button war. Laser-guided bombs and missiles. Cowardly warfare, such as they had visited on his country.

The man he was going to see today, Paul Grey, was an old practitioner of cowardly bombing, and now had become an expert in this game of remote-control killing, and had become a rich merchant of death. Soon, he would be a dead merchant of death.

Khalil went into the bedroom, prostrated himself on the floor facing Mecca, and said his morning prayers. When he had completed the required prayers, he prayed, "May God give me the life of Paul Grey this day, and the life of William Satherwaite tomorrow. May God speed me on my journey and bless this Jihad with victory."

He rose and dressed himself in his bulletproof vest, clean shirt and underwear, and gray suit.

Khalil opened the Jacksonville telephone directory to the section he had been told to look under-AIRCRAFT CHARTER, RENTAL LEASING SERVICES. He copied several telephone numbers on a piece of notepaper and put it in his pocket.

Under his door was an envelope, which contained his bill, and a slip of paper informing him that his newspaper was outside his door. He peered through the peephole, saw no one, and unbolted and opened his door. On the doormat was a newspaper, and he retrieved it, then closed and rebolted his door.

Khalil stood by the light of the desk lamp and stared at the first page. There, staring back at him, were two color photographs of himself-a full-face view and a profile. The caption read: Wanted-Asad Khalil, Libyan, age approximately 30, height six feet, speaks English, Arabic, some French, Italian, and German. Armed and dangerous.