Drake recalled Beau’s report of the conversation between Marsh and Webb. It occurred to him then that the slippery Frenchman, whom they first met whilst being forced to participate in the Last Man Standing tourney and pretty much battled against ever since, had shone for the light of good when it mattered. Shone like a star. He really should give the guy an extra break.
Somewhere along the tibia…
Moore spoke again. “There are several ways to locate a deep cell, or even a sleeper cell. We narrow the suspect pool. We investigate links to other known cells that are already under surveillance. Check fiery places of worship where well-known Jihadists spew their poison. We look at newly ritualized people — those who suddenly develop interests in religion, withdraw from society or speak out about a woman’s dress. The NSA listens to metadata collected from millions of cellphones, and evaluates. But far more effective are the men and women who risk it every day of the week — those we have infiltrated into the population from which fresh Jihadists are regularly recruited.”
“Undercover.” Smyth nodded. “That’s good.”
“It is. Our information thus far is thinner than Barbie Iggy Pop. We’re trying to confirm the amount of people in each cell. Size of cells. Areas. Capabilities and readiness. We’re combing all the recent phone logs. Do you think Ramses will talk?”
Hayden was itching to get started. “We’re gonna give it a friggin’ good try.”
“The threat is imminent,” Kinimaka said. “Let’s assign teams and get the hell out there.”
“Yes, yes, that’s good,” Moore explained. “But where will you go? New York is a very large city. Nothing can be gained by running off without a place to go. We don’t even know if the bomb is real. Many people can make a bomb… look right.”
Alicia shifted in her seat. “I can vouch for that.”
“Vehicles are at the ready,” Moore said. “SWAT vehicles. Choppers. Unmarked, fast cars. Believe it or not we do have plans for this scenario, ways to clear the streets. Officials and their families are already being evacuated. All we require now is a starting point.”
Hayden turned to her team. “So let’s quickly assign groups and get started on Ramses. Like the man said — our window is small and it’s already closing.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Julian Marsh left the motel feeling refreshed, even exhilarated but also a little sad. He’d dressed well; blue jeans with one leg a tad darker than the other, several layers of shirts and a hat tugged down over one side of his head. The look was good, and he thought he’d outdone Zoe. The woman emerged from the little bathroom looking a bit disheveled, hair only partly brushed and lipstick half-applied. It was only after a few minutes of appraisal that Marsh realized she was deliberately trying to emulate him.
Or pay tribute to him?
Probably the latter, but it did set Marsh on edge. The last thing he wanted was a female version of himself cramping his unique style. Almost as an afterthought he plucked the backpack from the bed, stroking the material and feeling the contours of the living beast inside.
Mine.
The morning felt good, crisp, bright and happy. Marsh waited as a five-seater car pulled up and two men jumped out of the front. Both were swarthy and bore full beards. Marsh spoke the final password for the final journey and allowed them to open the back door. Zoe appeared as he climbed in.
“Wait.” One of the men produced a pistol as the woman approached. “There should be only one.”
Marsh tended to agree, but a different side of him wanted to get to know the woman even better. “She is a late addition. She’s okay.”
Still the gun hand hesitated.
“Look, I have been out of contact for three days, maybe four.” Marsh couldn’t clearly recall. “Plans change. I gave you the password, now heed my words. She’s okay. An asset, even.”
“Very well.” Neither man looked convinced.
The car took off fast, spinning a plume of dirt from the rear tires, and turned toward the city. Marsh settled back as the skyscrapers loomed even larger and the traffic thickened. Shiny, reflective surfaces surrounded the car, blinding in some places as they redirected the artificial lights. Crowds thronged the sidewalks and buildings flashed with information. Cop cars cruised the streets. Marsh saw no sign of heightened police attention, but then couldn’t see above the roof of the car. He mentioned it to the driver.
“Everything seems normal,” the man came back. “But speed is still essential. Everything will fall apart if we move too slowly.”
“Ramses?” Marsh asked.
“We await his word.”
Marsh frowned, sensing some condescension in the reply. This plan was entirely his and Ramses’ minions should be dancing to his tune. As soon as they arrived at the place Marsh had chosen and prepped months before they could begin.
“Stay under the radar,” he said by way of asserting control. “And under the speed limit, eh? We don’t want to get stopped.”
“We are in New York,” the driver said, and then both men laughed as he gunned it from a red light. Marsh chose to ignore them.
“But,” the driver then added. “Your backpack? It’s… contents have to be verified.”
“I know that,” Marsh hissed. “Don’t you think I know that?”
What type of ape had Webb saddled him with?
Perhaps sensing the rising tensions, Zoe sidled over toward him. Only the nuke sat between them. Her hand wriggled slowly over the backpack, a fingertip at a time, and down toward his lap, making him start and then stare.
“Is that really appropriate?”
“I don’t know, Julian. Is it?”
Marsh wasn’t entirely sure, but the sensations were pleasant enough so he let it go. It occurred to him briefly that Sheers was a bit of a looker, powerful as a Shadow Pope, and no doubt able to call upon any male specimen she required.
Why me?
The nuke probably helped, he knew. Every girl fancied a man with a nuke. Something to do with power… oh, well, maybe she liked the idea that he was that little bit more formidable than her. His quirkiness? Sure, why the hell not? His train of thought derailed as they pulled up at the curb, the driver briefly pointing out the building that Marsh had chosen on a previous visit. Outside, the day was still warm and entirely unexpected. Marsh imagined fat government asses planted firmly in their plush leather seats about to get the spanking of their lives.
Soon now. So soon I can barely contain myself.
He took Zoe by the hand and pretty much skipped across the sidewalk, letting the backpack dangle from a crooked elbow. Past the doorman and with instructions left, the four-strong group took an elevator to the fourth floor and then checked the spacious, two-bedroom apartment. All was well. Marsh threw open the balcony doors and took another sniff of the city air.
Might as well whilst I still can.
The irony made him laugh at himself. It would never happen. All the Americans had to do was believe, pay up, and then he could dispose of the nuke in the Hudson as planned. Then, a new plan. A new life. And a fascinating future.
A voice spoke at his shoulder. “We have a man on the way who is able to verify the contents of your backpack. He should arrive within the hour.”
Marsh nodded without turning. “As expected. Very good. But there are still a few considerations. I need a boffin to help with the money transfer once the White House has paid. I need help setting the chase in motion, to help divert attentions. And we need to activate all the cells and arm that bomb.”
The man behind him shifted. “All in the planning,” he said. “We are prepared. These things will come together very soon.”