Thornton glanced briefly at the contents of a single sheet of paper in front of him. “According to Aljazeera, terrorist groups in the Middle East are targeting foreign nationals in homage to the Soldiers of Islam. The CIA is picking up messages from chat rooms of potential plots to kidnap foreign dignitaries aligned with the United States and its allies. There are reports of hate crimes being perpetrated against Arab citizens throughout this nation. And predominantly Catholic nations, especially those in Europe and South America, are burning you in effigy, Mr. President, for allowing this to happen.”
President Burroughs sighed. “Has the tape at least provided us with anything we can use? Anything at all?”
Attorney General Dean Hamilton proffered what he knew. “The executioner on the tape called himself Abdul-Aliyy, which is a pseudonym. We already know the names of the six remaining Soldiers of Islam, and Abdul-Aliyy is not one of them. In fact, Abdul-Aliyy in Arabic means ‘Server of the Most High.’”
“A religious moniker that would motivate the Arab world into a frenzy, since they’ve captured the so-called apostle to the Great Satan,” stated the president.
“Exactly, sir.”
“Calling himself Abdul-Aliyy indicates that the tape may have been made prior to the media exposing their identities,” added the president. “They obviously couldn’t doctor the tape at that point because they had already committed the execution. But why provide a false name if the world already knows who you are?”
“For martyrdom,” said Shari. “In Arab culture religion is everything. By giving themselves a moniker such as Abdul-Aliyy, they’re anointing themselves as martyrs. In the Arab world, martyrs are heroic fighters of Allah who are promised eternal heaven. But from a practical standpoint, it also incites the Arab public into a zealous passion, cultivated by millennia of religious beliefs.”
The president rubbed the fatigue from his eyes. “What else have we got?”
Hamilton spoke. “The tape is in fluent Arabic. And, of course, there are the demands.”
President Burroughs closed his raw eyes once again; his tension headache was coming on like a bull. Hamilton continued his summation of the video, citing the demands. All occupation by American and Allied forces was to cease immediately, all Arab prisoners held by the occupying forces were to be released, and Israel was to be removed from Arab soil.
“They’re not asking for much, are they?” the vice president offered sarcastically. “And I’m sure Israel will just get up and leave in a heartbeat.”
“They know we can’t meet their demands,” said the president.
“What about the tape itself?” asked Bohlmer. The vice president leaned forward. “Has anything been determined from the background noise, or perhaps the visual background?”
“The lab is still working on it, sir. But right now—”
“But right now we have nothing,” the president interrupted angrily.
“All we can do, Mr. President, is beef up law enforcement in this area to keep them from slipping in and out like they did last night.”
“They won’t follow up their actions with a repeat performance,” said Shari. “What they did last night was in return for showing the world their identities. It’s point-counterpoint. Even though we tagged them, they still came into our front yard and placed the governor right on our doorstep. They’re showing the world that they’re still in control. And now that they’ve achieved their objective, they know that the net will tighten. They’ll be much more careful next time.”
The president slapped an open palm against the tabletop. “There will be no next time, people, which means I want answers! Not guesses!” He released a frustrated sigh before regaining composure. “What I want to hear,” he said evenly, “what I want to know is what we’re doing right now to find these people.”
“Mr. President, if I may,” said Attorney General Hamilton. “As Mr. Johnston already pointed out, we are examining the tape further. However, given that the tape seems to show a background consistent with an abandoned building, we’ve engaged the services of county and state law enforcement to search all vacant buildings within a hundred-mile radius.”
“That may take forever,” the president commented.
“Yes, sir, but we have nothing else to go on.”
The president’s headache came on in a rush. “Ms. Cohen, you know these people, their culture. What do you expect to happen next?”
Shari held nothing back. “I expect, Mr. President, that they will kill a member of the Holy See.”
“Not the pope?”
“No, sir. I believe the Soldiers of Islam are trying to build momentum. They want to push this country into a state of panic. Their dominance is fostering pride within Arab nations who are uniting against a common enemy, which happens to be the most powerful nation on earth. They are, Mr. President, trying to create their own sense of invincibility.”
The president had never felt so impotent. “God forgive me, but I really don’t know what to do at this point.” He turned to Thornton. “Al?”
Thornton shook his head. “For the moment, Mr. President, you need to address the world and tell them what they want to hear.”
“What? That the pope is going to die unless we get a break?”
“No, sir. You need to tell the world in an official statement that we are working with the nations of the world in a unified effort to secure the release of the pontiff.”
“They already know that!”
“Yes, sir, but the world needs to be reassured that every possible effort is being made.”
“I agree,” said the vice president. “Right, wrong or indifferent, Jim, we need to show the world that we’re still a pillar of strength.”
The president turned to Shari. “Ms. Cohen?”
“Right now the Soldiers of Islam definitely have the upper hand. But the image we project to the world must be one of confidence and unity.”
The president chewed his lower lip. “How long do you think I can play this game, Ms. Cohen, until the international community figures out our strategy?”
“As long as it takes to buy us some time.”
“Does that mean you’re confident in your ability to find this cell?”
“It means, Mr. President, I need time to look deeper into the matter.”
The president remained silent. The whole room was silent.
“Ms. Cohen, we’re running out of time, and the world is running out of patience. What can you tell me that would be fact rather than conjecture?”
“I can safely say, Mr. President, that there’ll be more executions before we get a handle on this.”
It was not what the president wanted to hear. “Have the staff draw up a positive news release,” he said. “And let’s hope the world buys it hook, line and sinker. And, Ms. Cohen?”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
“Your expertise in this matter hasn’t impressed me much, thus far. I need facts.”
“Yes, sir, I’m working on it.”
He leaned forward. “Work faster.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
There are options in every situation. Since Shari had not agreed to an all-out alliance and the timeframe to secure the pope’s well-being was becoming increasingly limited, Kimball opted to appropriate information from Agent Cohen.
Pertinent information took time to gather and analyze, and not a moment was to be wasted.
In the vault beneath the Sacred Hearts Church, Kimball Hayden aided Leviticus in sorting through the electronic gadgetry required to maintain surveillance on Shari Cohen. Although Kimball had the skills to set up shop, Leviticus was the expert in computer and electronic surveillance.