Vince Flynn - Extreme Measures

“This is different, Mitch,” a red-faced O’Brien said. “There was way too much heat coming down on us.”

“And none of us were there.” Rapp said, pointing at the table. “I don’t know what in the hell Johnson told him that convinced him to leave him on the job, but I’m not going to get all pissed off about one of our guys putting his nuts on the line. I trained Nash. I taught him to be aggressive, just like you two were when you were running around in Europe, Charlie, and when you were working your magic in the Middle East, Rob. So if you want to be pissed at someone… take it out on me.”

Ridley held up his hands and said, “I think it’s safe to say Nash had a good reason for leaving Johnson in place.”

“It’s not his call,” O’Brien said. “If he has something, he comes to us, and we make the decision.”

“Bullshit!” Rapp said while frowning at O’Brien. “You gonna tell me when you were slinking around East Berlin you never made a couple frickin’ on-the-fly decisions and never told your boss?”

“Gentlemen,” Kennedy said without looking at any of them, “do any of you know Mike Nash to be a reckless man?”

One by one they all shook their heads.

“Good,” she said, “then we should all calm down and think about what this might mean.”

The secure phone in the middle of the table started ringing. Ridley reached out and grabbed it. “Hello.” He listened for a second and then gave Rapp the handset. “It’s Nash.”

Rapp grabbed the phone. “What’s up?”

“It’s not good.” Nash’s voice sounded heavy.

“Let’s hear it.”

“I’m almost certain Johnson is in the morgue. I gave a friend his profile and he just called me to report that a body fitting his description was found at four this morning, in the trunk of a burning car.”

“Shit.”

“And there’s one other thing, Mitch. I think he was tortured. The body was missing three toes from the right foot. The coroner said they were not removed by a surgeon.”

Rapp felt his guts turn and he told himself, not now . “You have all of his reports, right?”

“Yeah.”

“He had six good suspects, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Get out to NCTC as fast as you can and you get those six dumped into the system and kicked to the top of the watch list. You get any heat from anyone, you tell them the order comes directly from Irene. If they still piss and moan about the protocols, you tell them to put them on the list first and then call me.

“What about a source? They’re going to want a source.”

“Tell them I got it from my counterpart at Mossad and call me with confirmation as soon as it happens. I gotta run.” Rapp hung up the phone and looked at Kennedy. “Johnson’s in the morgue, missing three toes. We have to open this thing up. You have to tell the president and you have to get the National Security Council together.”

“And tell them what?” O’Brien asked. “That contrary to everything we’ve been saying, we actually did send an undercover operative into a mosque and now he’s dead? We’ll all be thrown in jail.”

Rapp grabbed his suit coat and started for the door. “I don’t give a shit what you tell him. Blame it all on me, tell him the Israelis tipped us off. Think something up. The bottom line is, if Johnson is in the morgue, those fuckers are in this city.”

As Rapp reached the door, Kennedy asked, “Where are you going?”

“I’m sure they’re long gone, but I’m going to over to that mosque to see what I can find out.”

“Not by yourself, you’re not.”

“Irene, trust me. They have more to fear than I do.”

Kennedy watched him leave and looked at Ridley. “Go with him,” she ordered. “And make sure he doesn’t kill anyone… unless he absolutely has to.”

Ridley jumped up and chased after Rapp. Kennedy picked up the phone and punched in the secure number for the White House Situation Room. When the watch officer answered on the other end, she identified herself and said, “We have a situation. I need to speak to the president.”

KARIM was dressed in a dark blue suit, white shirt, and blue and gray striped tie. His well-oiled pistol was holstered on his right hip and a radio was clipped to his left hip. A small flesh-colored cord coiled its way past his shirt collar and around and into his ear. An American flag pin was proudly displayed on his lapel. He stood ramrod straight and inspected his men from left to right as if they were on a parade ground. In a manner of speaking, they were. On his far left, Farid stood in front of a blue Ford Fusion. He was dressed almost exactly the same as Karim, minus the earpiece. The car had forged U.S. government plates. No one had an easy job today, but Farid would be the first to move into position. If he failed, it could have a cascading effect on the operation. Next in line were three identical white Chevy vans. Each vehicle had FedEx emblazoned in purple and orange on the side. In front of the vehicles stood three men, each wearing the uniform of a FedEx driver. The cargo pockets on the right side of their pants had been modified to holster their pistols with the silencers attached.

On the far right, two men stood at parade rest in full SWAT gear. Parked behind them was a big black Suburban, also with forged government plates. The windows were heavily tinted and there were LED emergency lights mounted on the grille as well as the back window. Karim was filled with pride over the well-disciplined, transformed men before him. He stepped forward and approached Fazul, one of the Moroccans who was in a FedEx uniform.

Karim extended his hand palm-up and said, “Your sidearm.”

The man did exactly as he had been taught. Using only one hand, he reached into the cargo pocket, retrieved his gun, and held it out with the silencer pointing down for inspection.

Taking the weapon, Karim turned it over in his hands and admired the well-oiled slide. After a few more seconds, he handed the weapon back and continued down the line. He did the same thing with each man, and then returned to the center of the formation, where Hakim was waiting. He smiled at his old friend and turned to address the men.

“We are poised to strike a mighty blow. You have trained hard for many months, and we are at the end of a great and glorious journey.” He gazed from one man to the next, and slowly a sly grin spread across his face. “But before we rush off to paradise, we will have some fun.”

The men laughed and shared looks of confident agreement.

“Does anyone have any questions?” Karim asked, secretly hoping there were none. They had been over each part of the plan in such detail that there should be no room left for interpretation or doubt. The assignments had been choreographed down to the minute. Maps had been studied over and over. Metro schedules had been checked and rechecked. The routes were all programmed into GPS devices, so that no one would get lost and they would all arrive at their targets within minutes, if not seconds.

Farid took one large step forward and came to attention with his eyes front and center. “Sir,” he said in a crisp voice. “I would like to say, on behalf of the men, that it has been an honor serving under your command.”

Karim looked over at perfect Farid. His fellow Saudi. He was the only one of the group who showed signs of possible greatness. It was a shame that he would have to die with the others. “It has been my privilege,” Karim announced, “to lead you men. Allah looks down on each of you with favor. They will talk about this day for centuries. They will revere our courage, admire our skill, and celebrate our victory. Now is the time. We have been on the defensive for many years. Today is the day that we strike at the heart of our enemy for all of Islam.”