These were Jake’s best friends; he realized that now. They did care for him and even more, what happened to him. They stood by his side now in testament of their true friendship and in return, he’d stand by them.
After the Marine soldiers were dismissed, mourners stood and filed past the open graves to pay their respects. A few women tossed purple orchids, his mother’s favorite flower. Many bowed their heads and then made the sign of the cross on their chest. Others just paused and said goodbye.
Bentley walked over to Jake and asked Kyli if he could have a moment alone with him. He signaled Kaplan, Hunt and Wiley to join them. “Jake, we have new information on Khan and his whereabouts. The rest of us are meeting later to discuss with Fontaine what he’s discovered. You should to be read in on this.”
Wiley grabbed Jake by the arm. “Kyli and I are returning to Belgium, I have business that I must attend to. I want you in that meeting with Bentley.”
Jake looked at Wiley and knew Wiley understood how he felt. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Khan has to go down…and I want to be the one to bring down that worthless piece of—”
“Excuse me.” Senator Richard Boden, chewing his gum, placed his hand on Jake’s shoulder. “Scott, E.W., if you’ll pardon the interruption.”
Jake looked at the senator. “This is a private conversation.”
“I beg your pardon.” Boden removed his hand. “Because I know you’re under stress, I’ll overlook your insolence. I wanted to pay my respects.”
“Thank you, Senator. Now, if you don’t mind. I’m a little busy at the moment.” Jake caught sight of Bentley standing behind Boden giving him the “cut it out” signal by stroking his fingers across his neck.
“Listen here, Mr. Pendleton.” Boden’s face flushed, jaw noticeably clenched. “I’ve got half a mind to have your ass hauled in right now for your lack of discipline in the field. I knew and admired your father for a great many years and out of respect for his memory, I’m going to overlook those transgressions. But let me tell you something right here and now.” Boden looked at Kaplan. “And the same goes for you too. If either one of you so much as crosses an eye, I’ll march your trigger-happy asses to the steps of Capitol Hill and let you face a Senate inquiry about your actions. Do I make myself clear?”
Jake clenched his fists and glared into Senator Richard Boden’s eyes.
Boden took two steps back.
Jake took two steps forward, stopped, and then turned away, ignoring the Senator.
CHAPTER 50
Hashim Khan’s transformation into a Spaniard was almost complete. After parking his car across town, he spent the first night at the Hotel Niza in a beachfront room on the Bahia de la Concha, and then checked out, all part of his plan. He strolled through the streets of San Sebastian, with each stop his metamorphosis advanced.
Two streets over he found a men’s hair stylist where he had his face shaved and hair fashioned in the latest style. Next, he located a stylish clothes boutique recommended by a local. A salesman selected designer clothes, shoes, and accessories for his new wardrobe. His makeover into a wealthy Spaniard was just about complete as he continued down the narrow streets of San Sebastian looking for his final items. The cool sea breeze felt refreshing on his shaven face. Finally, he found the shop he was searching for and purchased posh luggage completing his ensemble.
Returning to his Volvo C70, Khan unpacked his old bags and repacked his new clothes in his new luggage. Everything about him screamed arrogance. The guise was necessary to stave off unwanted suspicion. Of course he’d be noticed, that’s what he wanted. Not for what he was, a killer and terrorist, but as an over-indulged man spending his money on booze and women and living a life of debauchery.
Hide in plain sight.
The last items he required proved the most difficult to obtain. When he checked in at the Hotel Maria Cristina under the name Arlo Delgado he had two voluptuous women hanging on his arms. He’d found the hookers on the streets, promised them cash and fine things in exchange for their services and silence. They eagerly agreed to Khan’s terms.
Khan plopped down the six hundred Euros per night required for a Royal Suite, paying for a full week in advance, and left strict instructions not to be disturbed. That was three days ago.
The Hotel Maria Cristina, named after the first guest through the doors on July 9, 1912—the Spanish Regent Maria Cristina — rose magnificently above the historic city of San Sebastian.
The first two women didn’t work out as well as he’d hoped. They were greedy, too demanding, and too interested in Khan’s personal affairs, so one evening they became shark food on the bottom of the Cantabrian Sea.
The same night he’d disposed of the first two women, he met two younger women in a bar on the Boulevard. They were on vacation from the United States and were infatuated with the idea of hooking up with a rich Spaniard and threw themselves at him. Khan bought them expensive clothes, jewelry, and liquor. In return, they kept him sexually satisfied. Mutual benefit. He kept his appearance as a playboy intact. In fact, it was no longer an appearance but a reality. He had become a playboy. The women would go home bragging of their adventures in Spain with a rich lover named Arlo taking with them new wardrobes and accessories, or at least, that’s what they thought.
The time had come to make arrangements for his travel to the States. His passports and documents all in order, the drive to Madrid would be uneventful. He knew he would pass through all the security checkpoints without a problem; he had nothing to hide but his true identity. No one would figure it out until it was too late. Not until after he’d struck his unprecedented blow. An attack considered unorthodox even by Al Qaeda standards. A despicable act of violence against thousands of innocent and harmless victims.
After supper with the women, he slipped a sedative in their cocktails. A knockout pill to keep them unconscious until morning. He had business to attend to and plans to arrange and confirm. The last thing he wanted was two horny women distracting him and prying into his personal affairs, so it was less trouble to drug them for the night. In the morning when the women woke up, groggier than normal, they would all be naked in the bed, reeking of an overindulgence of alcohol. They’d have sex again. All three of them. Just as they had the last two mornings.
When the women passed out, he grabbed his laptop computer, powered it up, and logged on to a secure server which relocated his IP address around the globe several times allowing him untraceable access to any website. He glanced at the naked women on his bed, they were both very attractive and desire stirred within him. A blonde and a brunette, former college roommates who met their freshman year when they were enrolled in a Spanish class together. Every year since graduation they’d taken a two-week vacation to a different destination in Spain, this year they were indulging his need for sexual pleasure.
But, he had a mission to accomplish. Unfinished business in America. By America’s own admission, the infidel could not defend against the "lone wolf" terrorist. And that was how he intended to attack.
He would enjoy the women for another day, partaking in their carnal pleasures, slaking his lustful desires with the women’s vigorous sexual appetites. Afterwards, he’d take the women on the same boat ride as the first two whores, a one-way trip to the bottom of the Cantabrian Sea.
CHAPTER 51
From his window, Ian Collins watched the third airline jet launch into the late afternoon skies over Atlanta in less than a minute. Thank God for soundproofing. Only the faintest of rumbles permeated the thick walls of the hotel.