F. Paul Wilson - Ground Zero

“You believe that?” Harris said.

Weezy shook her head. “Not from a guy who shorted all those stocks, but it’s possible. He says bin Aswad insisted on a midweek strike for, again, maximum terror and maximum body count.”

Maximum terror . . . maximum body count . . . he got his wish.

Jack said, “This is the guy who’s been disappearing from the online photos, right?”

“One and the same.”

The same big question remained: Why? Jack still could think of only one reason.

“It’s got to mean he intends to go legit, where his face is going to be out in public. Maybe he’s going to run for office somewhere in the Middle East, or become a UN ambassador or whatever.” Jack scratched his beard. “But then again, all he’d have to do was shave off his beard and no one would recognize him.”

Harris shook his head. “In that world a beard is important. Growing it fist length or longer shows a devotion to Islam. He must plan on keeping the beard.”

Jack looked at Weezy. “Anything else about this bin Aswad or what you’re looking for?”

“Nothing specific, but it convinces me more than ever that he’s a member of the larger conspiracy, the group that manipulated al Qaeda into striking the Trade Towers.”

“But again: Why?”

“That’s what we need to find out.”

“Maybe the fourth man can tell us,” Harris said.

Fourth man?

Weezy shrugged. “If he’s even alive, and if we can find him.”

Harris grinned. “I think I’ve done just that.”

Weezy straightened in her seat. “He’s alive? Where?”

“L.A. Looks like I’ve got another trip ahead of me.”

Jack said, “Anyone care to clue me in on what you’re talking about?”

“Long story,” Weezy said. “I’ll tell you later.”

“No offense to Jack,” Harris said, “but don’t you think we should keep this close?”

Weezy pushed herself from the seat and faced him. “He’s saved my life twice in the past twelve hours. I think we can trust him.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, holding up his hands. “Just saying.”

Jack could wait to hear. He already had too much unassimilated data drifting through his brain.

He pulled out his Tracfone. “I’m going to call Eddie.”

Weezy frowned. “Why?”

“You need someplace to stay and—”

“She can stay here,” Harris said, pointing to the couch against the far wall. “That folds out into a bed.”

Jack looked at Weezy. “Your call.”

She hesitated, then shrugged. “I might as well. I can work things out with Eddie during the day.”

Jack wondered if she and Harris had ever “snuggled.”

“Okay. Got a phone?”

She shook her head. “It’s back at the house.”

He handed her his.

“Take it. I’ve got others at home. I’ll call you later. I’ve got something I want to show you.”

“What?”

“It’s a surprise.”

If anyone could make sense out of the Compendium of Srem , it was Weezy.

4

Ernst Drexler paced his apartment’s front room. He could not believe what he’d just heard.

“How does this happen? How does this happen? ”

A few minutes ago the ringing of his phone had ripped him from sleep. The doorman apologized for waking him, but the visitor in the foyer insisted that this was an emergency. Szeto had entered a few minutes later. As soon as Ernst had seen his expression he’d known the news would be bad, but not this bad.

The man stood stiff and straight a few feet inside the door while Ernst ranged the room.

“She is some kind of ninja.”

Ernst stopped and stared at him. “You’re joking, right? Tell me you are joking.”

“That is only explanation. These were three skilled men. They firebombed her house as directed. A perfect job. The house and everything in it is now ash. But all three are dead. Shot dead just like Max and Josef. Max’s gun was missing. She must have taken it and used it against them. Max would not give up gun easily. She is ninja.”

Had the Order bitten off more than it could chew? Five men killed while trying—unsuccessfully—to corral this one woman. What was she?

“She may be a cold-blooded killer, but she is not a ninja.”

“She kills, then she vanish. If she kills our men, that means she was not in house when it burns. That means she is still out there.”

“Then find her.”

“We do not know where she is.”

“But you know who she is.”

“Just barely.”

“But now you know where she lived. Learn more about her. Find out who she knows. See if she has family. Do I have to do everything myself?”

He had no time for this. The Fhinntmanchca trumped everything else. And what happened later today was crucial to its creation. He’d backed Thompson into a course of action that would leave Darryl with no place to turn, with no option other than the way out Ernst would offer.

5

Darryl was lying on his bed half asleep when he heard a knock. He rose and cocked a fist as he faced the door. If this was that asshole Hagaman . . .

“Yeah?”

The door opened and Hank stepped through. Darryl felt his jaw drop. Hank never came to his room. If he wanted to see Darryl, he always sent someone to fetch him.

“Hey, it’s me. What’s with the look?”

Darryl got a grip. “Wasn’t expecting you. Thought you might be someone else.”

“Yeah? Well, you might be wishing it was someone else real soon.”

Darryl’s gut writhed. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve got a problem.”

“Like what?”

Hank walked past him to the window and looked out at the slowly fading day.

“Not ‘what’—who. And that’d be you.”

Aw, shit.

Suppressing a groan, Darryl sat heavily on the bed and jammed his hands between his knees.

“So you heard.”

“Yeah. Fuck it all, Darryl. You’re one of my main men. Why’d you have to go and—”

“I know how it happened,” he said. “I’ve been racking my brain and I finally remembered.”

He kept staring out the window. “Do I want to hear this?”

“Yeah. In fact, you gotta. It was a needle.”

Hank turned from the window. “You’re a junkie?”

“Naw. You know better’n that. It was back in Dearborn when I split from the old lady. I got this puny body, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Even punier now.”

“Yeah, well, I started going to this gym and—”

“Don’t tell me—juice?”

Darryl nodded, thinking how stupid he’d been.

“Yeah. For a price this guy would shoot you up with some kinda steroid—guaranteed to jack you in no time. I looked at some of his customers and, man, were they ripped. I figured that was for me. That’s the only time I had any needles since I was a kid. Had to be him. The sonovabitch must’ve been using the same needle over and over. That’s where I got it.”

“You idiot.”

“Hey, I was single again. Nothing like a cut bod to bring on the babes, right? So I signed on.”

“You’d’ve been better off with a dog. And where’s this ‘cut bod’ you were supposed to get?”

Darryl shrugged. “I never liked working out, so I hardly ever got to the gym. And I stopped the shots after two or three. But that was enough, I guess.” He pounded his fists on his thighs to keep from crying. “So fucking stupid!”

“Can’t argue with that.”

Darryl controlled himself and looked up at Hank. “So what’s the trouble you talked about? I mean, I know my trouble, but—”

“The guys want you out of here.”

A sudden rush of cold drove him to his feet. “What? They got no right! They can’t—!”