‘Just wait a moment!’
The interior of the van was getting hotter by the minute, the sunshine outside flaring through the windscreen as the two technicians sat in front of their screens in the rear of the van and tapped commands furiously into their computers.
Jiang Sin stood behind the technicians with his arms folded as they worked, the van rocking as it drove along a road to the north of America’s Capitol. Jiang was a tall man, a former soldier now employed by the People’s Republic of China’s Ministry of State Security. A patriot, he found himself on enemy soil on a mission that he would never have believed he would undertake, America’s population toiling at their desks and offices and under the burning sunshine, unaware of the catastrophe mere hours away.
‘There, we have her!’
Jiang Sin reached out to steady himself on the back of the technicians’ chairs as he leaned forward and peered at an unsteady image on one of the screens.
It looked as though somebody were filming themselves driving with a hand — held camera, the image jerking this way and that, but Jiang Sin could see that she was sitting in the passenger seat of a vehicle and talking to somebody, presumably the driver.
‘Is that definitely her?’
‘Yes,’ said the technician. ‘We have software monitoring her vocal patterns. It’s her.’
Jiang Sin gripped the back of the seats as he listened to the woman’s voice.
‘… we’re not going to track these people down quickly enough if we go through the normal chain of command. We need to go in real hard and figure out where he is, fast, then make our move.’
A male voice replied from somewhere alongside her.
‘We’re not supposed to even be on the case, remember? If we make a big show of ourselves down here we’ll be the ones in custody.’
‘I don’t care,’ came the woman’s reply. ‘I want Nassir.’
Jiang Chen finally allowed a smile to creep onto his features as he patted the shoulders of the two men before him.
‘Maintain a close watch on her and keep us within a quarter mile of wherever they go, understood?’
‘Yes sir!’
Jiang Chen pulled a cell phone from his pocket and speed dialed a number. As soon as the line connected, he spoke quickly.
‘We have them. Stay close to us and be ready to move as soon as I say so.’
XXXVII
Ethan sat in the passenger seat of an unmarked Metropolitan Police Department cruiser as he waited for the word to go.
The building across the street was small, nestled among many others on a tree lined boulevard where a parade of former three — story homes had been converted into small shops and businesses. Most belonged to financiers, law firms and other professional outfits, polished brass plaques on the walls.
‘You got a visual yet?’ Ethan asked.
His voice was carried via microphone transmitter to one of several officers arrayed around the area, all waiting for the right time to launch the raid.
‘Negative,’ came the reply, ‘no movement inside.’
Ethan shifted in his seat and tried to get comfortable. The sunshine streaming through the windshield was uncomfortably hot, but they could not sit with the air conditioning running for fear of overheating the engine, and Ethan might possibly be recognized if he stepped out of the vehicle too soon.
He figured that whoever owned the offices would be showing up soon enough, and as soon as they did he would move in with the police and take all of the company’s records for the staff at the DIA to sift through in an attempt to track down Abrahem Nassir’s benefactors. He had a court’s subpoena in his pocket, clearing them to confiscate anything that might lead to a much needed breakthrough in the case.
Ethan rubbed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath of air.
‘You okay, man?’ the officer next to him asked.
‘Long night,’ Ethan replied. ‘When this is over I’m gonna sleep for a week.’
‘Wish I could,’ the officer replied. ‘Two kids, both under three.’
‘I’d rather take on these terrorists,’ Ethan murmured in reply, still convinced that young children would be the end of him.
‘Most days so would I,’ the officer replied. ‘Coming to work is a nice break, and…’
‘We’ve got movement.’
Adrenaline shot through Ethan’s veins and he sat up in his seat as he scanned the street behind him using the vehicle’s mirrors for any sign of the company’s owners. Almost immediately he saw a sleek, silver Mercedes pull into the sidewalk outside the building and a young man climbed out. He was dressed in a smart suit, his hair black and cut short, his shirt crisp and white, every inch the DC entrepreneur.
‘Wait for him to get the door open,’ Ethan whispered into his microphone.
The radio remained silent as the man strode up the steps to the front of the building and reached out with a key to unlock the door. Ethan reached out for his door handle, and as the suited man opened the door Ethan climbed out of the vehicle.
‘Go, now!’
From all corners of the street police officers appeared with weapons drawn as they sprinted toward the building. Ethan ran hard, feeling slightly restricted beneath the bullet proof vest that he wore, and dashed up the steps even as the suited man whirled with eyes wide at the shouts coming from the officers.
‘Stand still, hands on your head!’ Ethan yelled.
The suited man panicked and tried to slam the door shut. Ethan leaned his shoulder in as he ran and smashed into the door just before the latch caught. The door flew open and the suited man was hurled backwards onto the tiled floor of the corridor inside as Ethan skittered to a halt over him with his pistol aimed between the man’s eyes.
‘Hands on your head!’
The man cowered with his hands over his head as the police barged into the building, Ethan moving to one side to let them pour in and apprehend the suited man. Ethan lowered his pistol as he watched officers flood through the interior of the building and clear the other rooms, thundering up the staircases and barging through doors.
‘All clear!’
The police stood back from the suited man, who was now on his knees with his hands cuffed behind his back as Ethan holstered his pistol and grabbed hold of his collar. Ethan hauled the man to his feet and slammed him against the wall.
‘Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s rude to slam a door in somebody’s face?’
A sliver of defiance broke through the suited man’s fear. ‘It’s rude to kick somebody’s door in too.’
‘Why’d you try to shut me out?’
‘I was afraid, I didn’t know who you were.’
‘Didn’t the uniforms give you a clue?’ Ethan asked as he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the watching police.
‘I didn’t see them first. I saw you and you’re not wearing a uniform.’
‘Name?’
‘Rasheed,’ the man replied. ‘Rasheed Adel.’
‘This your business, Rasheed?’
‘Yes. I mean, no. I run it for my uncle but he’s never here.’
‘Who’s your uncle, Rasheed?’
‘Tariq,’ Rasheed replied. ‘What’s this all about?’
Ethan looked over his shoulder to see the main office behind him, sunlight streaming through bay windows that looked out over the tree lined boulevard. He turned and dragged Rasheed into the room and sat him down at his desk, the police following with weapons still drawn.
Ethan pulled the subpoena from his pocket and slammed it down in front of Rasheed.
‘This is signed by a court judge from the District, which means you have to do everything it says or you wind up in jail. It gives us the right to confiscate every single thing in this office, which is exactly what we’re going to do. But you’re going to help us do our job much faster than that, right Rasheed?’