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"Yes."
"Well, we went into the Oval Office and things got really hot. The president told Rapp he would no longer tolerate any more of his outbursts and the abuse of his staff and do you know what Rapp said?"
"I can't wait to hear."
"He went on to tell the president that the only reason we found out about the impending attack was because he flew over to Afghanistan and lined up five al-Qaeda terrorists and started executing them one at a time until they talked."
Peggy Stealey's blue eyes were bugged in disbelief, "You can't be serious."
Holmes looked on with a furrowed brow.
"He told the president that he put a gun to their heads and blew their brains out, and that he didn't feel an ounce of guilt or shame about it. I kid you not. Now if that isn't reckless I don't know what is."
"He admitted this in front of you?" Stealey asked in shock.
"Yes, and the president and Kennedy."
"It's not only reckless, it's illegal. He's a federal employee. He should be in jail."
"Well that would be one way to get rid of him."
"Slow down, you two." Holmes placed an elbow on the table and looked from Jones to Stealey and back again. "Are you both out of your minds? Do you two have any idea who you're messing with? You're talking about locking up an American hero."
"He's anassassin in a suit," snarled Jones.
Holmes pointed at the president's chief of staff. "There are people in this town very powerful people who will have your heads on a platter if you even think about attempting something so foolish."
"Pat, did you hear anything I said?" Jones was clearly irritated. "We're not the ones running around breaking the law and risking the future of this administration."
Holmes looked at Jones in utter disbelief. He threw his napkin down on his half-eaten steak and said, "Investigating Mitch Rapp is one of the dumbest ideas I've ever heard." He glanced at Stealey and then back at Jones. "You two need to take a step back and look at the big picture. Stop worrying about theparty base and thePatriot Act and start thinking about just who in the hell you're fucking with."
Jones started to speak, but Holmes cut her off with a harsh glare. "Don't say another word. There are things you two don't know things you don't want to know. People you don't want to cross. Drop this nonsense right now, or our deal is off. In fact, drop this nonsense right now, or I'll make sure you're both out of a job by tomorrow morning, and I am dead serious."
* * *
Sixty-One
VIRGINIA
Mustafa al-Yamani looked forward to dying with each passing mile of road. There wasn't an inch of his body that didn't hurt, and more and more his thoughts turned to giving up-to letting the others see it through to the end. He couldn't quit, though. There was still too much to be done, and he could not trust this weak Pakistani scientist to light the fire. He would pee down his leg like a scared child at the first sign of trouble.
Al-Yamani could ignore the pain for a little while longer. A few days of agony were nothing when compared to the struggle of his people. He was on a crusade, a continuation of the thousand-year-old battle between the Arab people and the infidels. Never at any time in history, though, had so much been at stake. It was time to ignite a true global jihad and show the other believers that America could be brought to her knees.
Al-Yamani could not do it alone though. He barely had the strength left to walk, and his vision was getting worse by the hour. He hated to think what would have happened if he hadn't met up with Hasan and Khaled. His fellow warriors were a great comfort to him. They had been through so much together. Their devotion was unflinching. They would do everything in their power to make sure this mission reached its glorious conclusion.
Even Zubair, despite all of his worrying, had proven useful. Al-Yamani was not a man of science. He had no medical knowledge of how radiation affected the human body-only practical knowledge. He had watched as dozens of his devoted Muslim warriors fell victim to the unseen killer. They had dug for months in that barren wasteland at the north end of the Caspian in search of crumbs discarded by a careless Soviet giant. The cost had been great, but in the end it would all be worth it.
Having seen firsthand what the unseen killer could do, al-Yamani listened to Zubair's warnings. The Pakistani's estimate that it would take two hours to shield the weapon h
ad proven wrong. It had actually taken six hours, but al-Yamani saw the wisdom of their actions from more than just a health aspect. Washington, D.C., was ringed with sensors that detected radioactivity. Every bridge that went into the city and every major road was equipped with the sensors. If al-Yamani wanted to get the weapon to the point where it would do the most damage he would need to get past them, and to do that the weapon would have to be shielded. He had originally thought that traveling by water would prevent detection by the sensors, but Zubair had now made it clear, that this bomb would never escape detection without proper shielding.
Under the direction of Zubair, Hasan had tracked down a sizable amount of depleted uranium in the form of discarded elevator weights. The scrap yard where he found them was unfortunately on the other side of town. While Hasan went to pick up the depleted uranium, Khaled escorted Zubair to a medical supply store where the Pakistani scientist purchased four lead aprons, of the variety used by X-ray technicians, some heavy-duty chemist's gloves, and a batch of dosimeters or film badges for measuring the doses of radiation they were receiving. As a further precaution an enclosed trailer was rented using Hasan's pirated credit card.
At a nearby Wal-Mart they purchased water, soap, new clothes, and a massive white fishing cooler. Back at the construction site the fishing cooler was lined with the elevator weights, and then Zubair used blocks of foam picked up at a packing store to create a nest for the nuclear material. From a safe distance the scientist watched as Hasan and Khaled transferred the nuclear material from the crate to the cooler, and then covered it with foam and more depleted uranium. Zubair repeatedly told them to work quickly but carefully. When they were done, the cooler was placed in the trailer and everything else was discarded, including their clothes. Zubair made the now naked Hasan and Khaled wash down behind the construction trailer with the water and soap they'd purchased. After they'd put on their stiff new clothes, they all left Atlanta.
That had been nearly twelve hours ago. Now as the sun came up they were nearing their next destination. It was Friday morning, and they had a little less than a day and half to get into position. They stopped for breakfast in Bracey, Virginia, and waited until 7:00 a.m. to make the call. Al-Yamani found a payphone and dialed the number from memory. A man whose voice he had not heard in years answered.
Al-Yamani asked, "Is Frank there?"
