He was setting a trap. A trap for a man he despised. The man who had remained just out of his reach. The man who’d ruined his life and his livelihood. His hatred consumed him. He could not rest until the man met the same demise as his parents.
He kept the woman in the basement of a two level building located at the highest point in the small harbor town. Down there she would never be heard. Eventually he would move her to another location, someplace a little more obscure. He could never be too careful.
By now, the man would know. The anger must be welling up inside him. He would be blinded by it. He would be able to think of only one thing. The same thing that had driven Collins for so long.
Revenge.
Collins had baited the hook. It wouldn’t be long now, a few days at the most and the man would come looking for him. Looking to kill him. Blinded by hatred. And that would be his downfall. And in some sick way, Collins would be sad, for the man had proven to be a most formidable opponent. And even though they’d only squared off once, the man had gotten the upper hand and won the round. The match wasn’t over yet, though.
No. The next round, the final round would be his victory.
The trap was set and waiting, and soon the man would walk into it.
Soon, Jake Pendleton would be dead.
Esteban Menendez checked into Manhattan's plush Excelsior Hotel, the site of the astronomer’s conference to be held over the next two days. The highlight was the Hayden Planetarium inside the American Museum of Natural History, which was directly across the street. His tenth floor hotel room offered him a bird’s eye view of the museum. He had no intention of attending the conference. He planned to strike fast — then disappear.
He checked his watch, 8:00 p.m., one hour until his contact would pick him up at the hotel entrance. He unpacked, putting his things away in the drawers, closet, and the bathroom. He wanted to give the appearance he had settled in for several nights.
It was his first time back in the United States in fifteen years, ever since he switched his allegiance to Islam and worked his way through the ranks of Al Qaeda. It shouldn’t have been so easy to get into the inner circle of the terrorist organization, but it was. He’d successfully planned many attacks throughout the world and, though not his fault, had paid dearly for the unsuccessful ones.
This would be his final mission. All preparations were made and this attack was a lone wolf attack, the hardest for the infidel to defend against. His only problem, he didn’t want to die. He knew from his brush with death at sea. Now, more than ever, he wanted to live.
This attack would happen. Al Qaeda would get its rightful credit and all appearances would be Hashim Khan died in the most atrocious act of suicide bombing the country had ever witnessed. Khan would fake his death and disappear. Disappear without a trace. Not the CIA. Not Al Qaeda. No one would find him.
Ever.
He’d been planning this attack for more than a year. No better place to get lost in a crowd than New York City. One more name change. One more identity alteration. One last temporary disguise. He’d arranged everything in advance, without stepping one foot in the country. His new credentials, all U.S. were sitting in a safety deposit box at a bank in Midtown Manhattan. He had the key to the box. For the right price, anything could be moved without fear of exposure. It’s all about whom you know and how well you pay. Mostly, how well you pay.
Tonight he must work to get his plan ready. He would rig the explosive charges and ready them for activation. Tomorrow was a big day. Tomorrow the world would witness the most egregious terrorist attack in history. Hashim Khan would die in a blaze of glory.
Tomorrow he would become, once again, a citizen of the United States of America.
Jake sat in the leather chair with the unopened envelope Bentley had given him in his lap. It’d been there for over three hours. Part of him wanted to open it, but Bentley’s last words were ominous.
Two days ago, or was it three? He was at his parents’ funeral in Newnan. Kyli was by his side. It hadn’t been that long since he’d seen her but he missed her. He missed her smile, her innocent, flirtatious teasing. The more he thought about her, the more he felt it. Maybe it wasn’t so innocent. When this was over, after he’d killed Khan, he knew he would be returning to Belgium. Then he would see if there was anything there.
Wiley’s emissary in San Sebastian had left him with intel on Khan and his next target. Intel he now knew was gathered by the Korean woman he found in Mustafa Bin Yasir’s tent in Australia and by the gendarmerie in Trappes after they did a thorough search of the mosque. Now Jake knew the target city, New York, and the presumed occupation and alias. Astronomer, Esteban Menendez.
He placed the unopened envelope on the empty seat next to him and grabbed the laptop. Wiley spared no expense, wifi capability with close to high-speed internet on all his jets. He turned on the computer and launched the web browser. He started with a Google search “esteban+menendez.” He clicked ‘Search.’ The search found nothing. Next he typed in “astronomy+new york.” Bingo. A conference of astronomers from all over the globe started tomorrow in New York. A two-day gathering at The Excelsior Hotel in Manhattan of the GAF — Global Astronomy Federation.
Jake had a hunch there was a connection but what was Khan’s target? Khan wanting to blow up a hundred aging astronomers was not what he’d expect from someone as evil and devious as Khan. There had to be more. Something else he wasn’t seeing. Something he was missing. But what?
Jake grabbed the flight phone and placed a call to Langley. On the second ring, a familiar voice.
“George. Jake Pendleton. I need you to look something up for me.”
“Jake, you know I can’t do that without the director’s authorization and the director won’t arrive for another three or four hours.”
“George, listen carefully.” Jake’s tone changed. “I’m playing a long shot here, but I might know how to track down Hashim Khan. To see if I’m right, all I need you to do is check the names on a hotel registry. I’ll be in New York in a couple of hours, I don’t have time to wait for Bentley…and neither do you.”
Fontaine said nothing. Then, “Jake, I could lose my job if—”
“You won’t lose your job, I promise. But you might save a lot of lives. Now hack into The Excelsior Hotel.”
“Give me a minute or two.”
Jake looked at the envelope again. Plain. Brown. 9 x 12. Thin, not much inside to contain such horrendous news.
“Okay, Jake. I’m in.”
“Great, can you read me all the names of guests that start with ‘M'?”
“Sure, you ready?”
“Ready.”
“McCall, McCullough, Medici, Meliksetian…I think that’s right, Mendelsen, Menendez, Mills, Mlyar, Montgomery, and Mudali. Any of those who you’re looking for?”
“No, George. I’ll keep trying though. Thanks.”
“Wait. Jake, maybe who you’re looking for is using a different name or a different hotel.”
“Possibly. I was just playing a hunch. I was wrong. I’ll have to keep searching…but just in case, will you be there for a while?”
“Bentley’s got me here all night.”
Jake hung up. Number six on the list. He hated lying to Fontaine but he didn’t want him alerting Bentley who, in turn, would send his own assets after Khan. “I gotcha now, Khan.”
He typed in the location of The Excelsior Hotel on Google Maps. Right next to Central Park. He did a search for events in Central Park but nothing out of the ordinary that would draw much interest came up. He studied the map. American Museum of Natural History was right across the street from The Excelsior. He did another search, typed in the museum name and astronomy and waited. Almost instantly the number one search grabbed his attention, a link to the New York Times. He clicked it.