Vince Flynn - Extreme Measures

Karim looked at his watch and then turned back to Farid. With a curt nod he said, “It is time.” Looking over his shoulder at Hakim, he said, “Open the door.” Ten seconds later Karim watched the blue sedan roll past a black Lincoln Town Car and out into the sunlight. He marked the time on his watch. They were exactly on schedule. Now the important part was pacing. He wanted everyone to arrive as close to 12:30 as possible. Sending the vehicles all out at once would mean that the ones with the closest targets would have to park and wait, and that would only create an opportunity for something to go wrong.

Two minutes later he ordered the first of the FedEx vans to depart, and then he ordered the rest of the men into their vehicles. Karim climbed into the front seat of the Lincoln, and Hakim got behind the wheel.

“Your man has assured you?” Karim asked skeptically.

“Yes. He said it is not a problem.” Hakim pointed at the dashboard clock and said, “At precisely twelve twenty-three Eastern Standard Time, the entire traffic surveillance system will crash.”

“Did you make sure that it will only be the cameras? If the signals go down as well, we will never get out of the city.”

“He assured me,” Hakim said, tired of having to repeat himself. “Besides, that is why the Suburban will wait for us, just in case.”

“And everything is fine with Ahmed?” Karim asked anxiously.

Hakim sighed. Early in the morning, right before the sun came up, he had dropped the sniper off near their second target so he could observe things and provide intelligence for the assault. “Yes, he is fine. I spoke with him not more than thirty minutes ago.”

“Good.” Karim studied his watch and then pointed toward the open door. “It is time to go.”

Hakim started the car and put it in drive. The other three vehicles followed closely as they wound their way through the run-down industrial park. After crossing the Anacostia River, three of the vehicles turned onto Kentucky Avenue, while one of the FedEx vans stayed on Pennsylvania Avenue. Karim ticked off the landmarks. He’d seen photos of each of them but this was the first time in person. As they reached Stanton Park, Karim felt his heart begin to pound.

Farid’s voice crackled over Karim’s earpiece. “This is Bill. I am clear. Do you copy?”

Karim pulled back his suit coat and turned his radio to the transmit mode. “I copy you, Bill. Good luck.”

The Lincoln turned onto C Street off of Stanton Park. The FedEx van followed, but the Suburban continued on to Massachusetts Avenue, where it turned north. Karim could see the U.S. Capitol looming just a few blocks away, and then it disappeared as the road dropped down and their view was blocked by the immense Senate Office buildings. At 1st Avenue, Karim felt as if his heart would leap out of his chest at any moment. Hakim whistled some song he did not recognize. It bothered him that his friend could be so calm at a time like this. They turned right and were headed north, their target only a block away. Karim glanced to the right and smiled at the sight of the blue sedan that Farid had parked in the lot only minutes earlier.

At 1st and D Street Hakim took a right and pulled over, leaving enough room for the FedEx van to nose in behind them. Karim looked up just as the clock changed from 12:27 to 12:28. He looked at his own watch and confirmed that they were now only seconds away.

“This is Joe. I am clear.”

Karim sighed and said, “I copy you, Joe. Good luck.”

Hakim drummed his fingers on the wheel and said, “Two down… one to go.”

It came just seconds later. “This is Thomas. I am clear.”

“I copy you, Thomas. Good luck.” Karim wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and tried to take a deep breath. He was not used to feeling such nerves and wrote it off to the importance of the situation.

“Are you ready?” Hakim asked.

“Yes,” Karim said.

The Lincoln began rolling once again with the FedEx van right on its bumper. A half a block later the Lincoln stopped in front of a green awning. Printed in white letters were two words: The Monocle. Almost directly behind the Lincoln, the FedEx van took a right turn into the parking lot. Forty feet later, the van stopped almost at the midpoint of the building. Karim could not see the parking lot, but he knew what was going on. He exited the car and opened the back door. As he was reaching in to grab a briefcase, he received confirmation from the van’s driver that he too was clear. Karim gripped the briefcase and, without saying a word to Hakim, closed the door.

He entered the restaurant and took a quick glance at the packed dining room on the right. The maitre d’ greeted him. Karim gave him a forced smile and turned into the bar area, which ran along the left side of the building. He couldn’t have been more pleased that he had to thread his way through a packed crowd. As he worked his way down the bar, it became less crowded. Near the end, he set his briefcase down on the floor and continued toward the bathrooms. He passed a waiter in the narrow hallway and flattened his back to the wall and then continued right out the back door. He held his hands over his eyes as if he was screening them from the sun.

Steadily he picked up the pace, heading straight south. He threaded his way through a couple of parked cars on his left and turned east. Only fifty more feet , he told himself. Karim was sweating now. He reached into his pocket and grabbed the remote detonator. He flipped off the safety. A few seconds after that, he faintly heard his watch beeping. It was 12:30. He wanted to break into a sprint, but he fought the instinct to panic.

“Just a few more steps,” he said out loud this time. When he reached the rear of the next building, which dwarfed the relatively small restaurant he’d just left, he gave Allah a quick thanks and flipped the switch on the detonator.

RAPP tore down Constitution Avenue at speeds approaching 70 MPH, right down the centerline, sending oncoming cars lurching to get out of his way. All Rapp could do to warn them was flash his brights and hit the horn. Ridley nervously clutched the door. At Tennessee a red light was waiting for them. Rapp slowed down to 30 MPH, looked both ways, and gunned it. The big Hemi V8 in the Dodge Charger set Ridley back into his seat. A few blocks later the black Charger shot through the intersection at 15th Street going 74 mph.

“You might want to slow down,” Ridley said nervously. “I don’t think we want the cops with us.”

“I really don’t give a shit.” Rapp slipped his foot over to the brake and yanked the wheel almost a half turn to the right. The tires squealed as the rubber tried to grip the pavement. They came out of the turn racing south on sixteenth Street.

“Mitch, I think you need to calm down,” Ridley said nervously, with one hand on the dash and the other on the door.

“Rob, when we get there, I’ll stay as cool as the situation dictates, but this isn’t some covert sneak-and-peek. We’re going in hard and I’m planning on rattling some cages.”

Ridley winced. “Maybe we should call Irene?”

Rapp looked over and said, “I can pull over right now and let you out.”

Ridley shook his head and grumbled, “I’m in. I just wish we’d slow down. I don’t see why we need to rush over there and announce ourselves.”

“We’re going to do what someone should have done months ago.” Rapp gripped the wheel and let loose a string of obscenities.

“Just don’t hit anybody.”

Rapp shot him a look that told him not to bring it up again.

“Unless they have it coming, of course,” Ridley offered.

“Check your BlackBerry. See if Nash sent those photos.”