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“I’ve been down here a couple times.”
At first Ridley thought he was kidding, and then realized he wasn’t. “You’re serious?”
“Hell yeah. I came down on a Friday about six months ago. Couldn’t believe the sermon the imam delivered. You would have thought you were in Mecca listening to one of those crazy Wahhabis.”
Rapp slowed way down as they reached the front of the mosque. He turned the corner and pulled over, stopping the car directly in front of a fire hydrant. Rapp popped the trunk and got out. Ridley met him around back, where Rapp popped open a hard case. Inside, resting in foam cutouts, were an M-4 rifle, two extra pistols, and a half dozen spare magazines.
“You carrying your Sig?” Rapp asked.
“Yep.”
“How many extra mags?”
“Two.”
“Good.” Rapp already had a 9mm Glock 19 in a paddle holster on his left hip with two spare seventeen-round magazines. He grabbed the silencer for the 9mm, threw it in his right front pocket, and then grabbed the .45-caliber Glock 21, in case he needed a little more punch.
“Jesus Christ, Mitch. I thought we were just going to take a look around.”
Rapp grabbed a right-draw paddle holster out of his shooting bag for the .45. An extra thirteen-round magazine was already in the holster. “Chris Johnson was no pussy.” He pulled back the slide on the .45 a half inch to make sure a round was in the chamber, then slid the paddle between his shirt and dress pants. “I’m not going to end up in a trunk, burnt to a crisp.” Rapp opened another case and grabbed two radios and a couple of wireless earbuds. He handed one set to Ridley and said, “I go in, you stay outside and keep an eye on things.”
“Well…I’ll be damned,” Ridley said in near shock.
Rapp followed Ridley’s gaze down the street and saw four men moving from the side door of the mosque to a waiting sedan. The first man had to be six foot five and the last man had to be almost a foot shorter. The trunk of the car was open.
“Let’s go.” Rapp gently shut the trunk of his car and started walking with Ridley.
“What’s the name of the short guy Johnson was worried about?” Ridley asked.
“Aabad bin Baaz.”
“That’s right. I think that’s him…the last guy.”
“I think you’re right.”
“And one of them was tall,” Ridley said. “I think that’s him…the first guy.”
“Yeah,” Rapp said, “I wonder why they’re not inside praying like everyone else?”
Rapp got out a half a step ahead of Ridley. His eyes were moving efficiently from one man to the next, assessing their potential threat. Two of them were wearing sport coats with an open collar and dress pants. The other two were wearing dress slacks and dress shirts. From what he could tell, none of them seemed to be armed. The big guy was the first to notice them. He’d already reached the car and had placed a bag in the trunk. He made eye contact with Rapp, and then, without a word, he moved to intercept them.
Rapp did not like what he saw in the guy’s eyes. He was no stranger to violence. With the hopes that he could distract the big guy, he glanced over at the last of the four and said, “Aabad, how have you been?” His casual tone caused the big guy to hesitate for a half step. They were now only thirty feet away. “I need to talk to you.” Rapp knew he was entering that gray area where a gun would be all but useless unless it was drawn. The big guy moved to put himself between Rapp and Aabad, so Rapp stopped and put out his hand to keep Ridley back as well.
Aabad looked at the big man and said, “I do not know them.”
“Get in the car,” the large man ordered, and then started walking toward Rapp.
His left hand came up and was waving them away like a couple unwelcome dogs. Suddenly, the guy had a small wooden truncheon in his right hand.
“Easy there, big guy, “Rapp said.
“You must leave,” he ordered. “You do not belong here.”
“Is that right?” Rapp said in an easy voice. “You ever heard of a public sidewalk?”
“This is the property of the mosque.” He pointed at the three-story brick building. “You must leave.”
“I don’t think so.”
