He hurried toward the tall woman. She was at least fifty feet away. If she was Kyli’s friend, then he needed to get to her.
He noticed Kaplan sitting against the Mercedes holding a small child, probably unaware of Philippe’s dead body behind him. There was a woman rocking back and forth on her knees, the child in front of her looked dead. Dozens survived the blast only to bleed out from fatal penetration of glass shards.
Jake stepped over rubble as he moved toward the tall woman calling Kyli’s name when he noticed a woman laying face down, dozens of shards of glass protruding from her back and the backs of her legs. She had the same color hair and size as Kyli. Her face was covered in blood, her bloody arm stretched along the concrete toward him, fingers twitching.
“Kyli.” Jake reached down and moved her slightly. The woman was already dead — not Kyli. He let her fall to the concrete.
Adrenaline coursed through his veins, he had to find Kyli. He sidestepped a twisted piece of metal and spotted the tall thin woman again. He took two steps toward her and froze. He heard his name. He looked in the direction of the voice. Blood, glass, and debris covered the concrete between him and the voice.
He heard the voice again and recognized Kyli. She was laying face down, drifting in and out of consciousness. Glass sliced her skin on her arms and legs. A large piece was wedged just below the base of her skull. Her clothes covered in blood. Jake needed to get help.
Within seconds the courtyard filled with police cars and emergency vehicles. It became an amphitheater of noise and a kaleidoscope of flashing lights. Victims wept for those lost and called for those still missing. Sirens reverberated in Jake’s ears. He sat next to Kyli, holding her head still until the medics arrived. He looked at his hands. They were covered with blood — Kyli’s blood. It was happening again. His mind flashed back to Savannah, when he was holding Beth, his hands covered in her blood. He could think of only one thing.
Khan.
He would hunt Khan down.
Hunt him down and kill him.
CHAPTER 47
Khan fled Paris sooner than he’d originally intended. He hadn’t anticipated the gendarmerie closing in on the mosque as soon as they had, almost thwarting the planned bombings. He’d noticed two Americans in the GIGN Mercedes, one fair-skinned with lighter hair. The other his polar opposite; dark skin, dark hair, and dark eyes. The two could be trouble. He wondered if they were somehow connected to the failure in Australia or the explosion in Yemen. If so, they were tracking him so he needed to proceed with extreme caution.
He decided to stick with his original plan, a week in San Sebastian playing the rich Spanish playboy. His French was good, his Spanish better. He’d change his appearance the first full day in Spain, haircut, shave his beard, and a new wardrobe. When he made his connection in Madrid, he knew he’d be scrutinized. His olive skin and dark features would lend him the air of authenticity he needed as a citizen of Spain traveling west for a visit to America for a business conference.
Khan wasted an hour in downtown Paris abandoning the van in a seedier section of the city, leaving the keys in the ignition. He walked to the nearest Metro station, changing trains multiple times until he ended up at the Porte d’Ivry station. He walked the half-kilometer to a nearby garage where a stolen black Audi had been stored.
At each Metro station television monitors broadcast the devastation at the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower. Khan had drastically overestimated the damage the bombs would cause at the Tower. Although closed for inspection, the damage to the Eiffel Tower was minimal and the number of casualties low. Conversely, damage to the Louvre was extensive, the pyramid entrance completely destroyed.
Khan drove the Audi on a predetermined route westward toward the Bay of Biscay via Le Mans, Poitiers, arriving in Bordeaux in early afternoon where he ate lunch at a small sidewalk café and toured a winery east of town. With France on high alert from the bombings, he played the part of the upset Spaniard lamenting the destruction of two of France’s icons.
From Bordeaux, Khan drove to Bayonne, France where he left the stolen Audi and retrieved a brand new red flame Volvo C70 convertible with a Spanish registration. His playboy image almost intact, Khan drove the coastline to San Sebastian with the top down enjoying the cooler October weather.
Khan checked into the Hotel Niza as planned, his suite overlooking Isla de Santa Clara. Dozens of boats were moored into the shallow green waters just beyond the beach in Concha Bay. Beyond Isla de Santa Clara stretched the endless blue waters of the southern end of the Bay of Biscay, or Cantabrian Sea as the locals called it. It was almost dark and from his balcony he gazed at the sky. To the west he could see remnants of the wispy, orange clouds that autumn brought.
News reports indicated the death toll at the base of Eiffel Tower was thirty-two with another forty-six injured. He’d expected a higher number. His disappointment was offset by his success at the Louvre. One hundred twenty two dead, one hundred forty eight injured. Another powerful blow dealt against the free world.
Khan was still troubled nonetheless; only one bomb had detonated at the Louvre. The news reports indicated that a second suicide bomber was shot and killed, preventing his vest from exploding. Khan regretted not listening to his better judgment and using a remote detonator.
Yet, he was still pleased with the result. He knew his next attack would stab at the heart of America. A week from today he would travel from Spain to the United States, where he’d launch an attack so brazen, so heinous and despicable, that the country would forget the attacks of 9/11, they would pale in comparison to Khan’s devastation.
The infidel would realize there was no safe place to hide.
CHAPTER 48
Jake rapped lightly on the hospital room door as he pushed it open. Wiley was sitting in a chair next to Kyli’s bed, Kates in the bed next to Kyli’s, both lying prone, Kyli's head immobilized.
“Well?” Jake said. “How are they doing?”
Jake, Kaplan, Kyli, and Kates had been triaged at a Paris hospital. Jake and Kaplan were treated for minor wounds to remove glass fragments and then released. Kyli and Kates’ injuries were more serious. Kates was treated and remained overnight for observation. Kyli had to undergo surgery to remove the large glass shard lodged in the back of her neck. As soon as Kyli recovered from surgery, Wiley was permitted to provide medical transport for the two women to a hospital in Brussels. After arriving in Brussels, Wiley had a team of physicians standing by to receive and treat the two women.
Wiley stared at Jake. “You looked like someone peppered you with rock salt.”
“I’ve never been shot with rock salt, but if it stings all over, then you’re right.” Jake said.
“Consider yourself lucky.” Kates leaned over from her bed. “They removed a chunk from my ass and it hurts like hell.” She extended her hand to Jake. “We haven’t been formally introduced but I’m Kates.”
“I know. I loaded you into the ambulance.”
“That was you?” Kates asked. “That whole thing is a blur. It doesn’t seem real except for the pain.”
“How’s Kyli?” Jake asked. “Has she come around?”
“She’ll be fine, Jake.” Wiley patted the chair next to him. Jake sat down. “The doctors said she should wake up soon. She’s drifted in and out for the last hour. How’s Mr. Kaplan?”