Extreme Measures

Hakim gu

“Thomas, you may engage targets at will.” Karim smiled with pride and made a last-minute decision. “Follow them.”

Hakim turned around and looked at him with complete surprise. “But that is not part of the plan.”

“I know, but I want to see them enter the building.”

“This is not wise.”

“We are fine. As you can see, they have been caught completely off guard. It is yet another sign of their arrogance.”

“I’ll drive up and we’ll come right back out. You are not going to change your mind and go in with them.”

“No,” Karim said, patting him on the shoulder. “Go! I want to savor this great moment. I want to watch them enter the building.”

Hakim took his foot off the brake and hit the gas. They drove to the corner of the building and took a hard left. Along this side of the building, two wings angled back to form a shallow V. The Suburban had jumped a curb, ran over a flagpole, and come to a halt approximately fifty feet from the front door. The men were in a straight line, weapons up, and heading toward the front door. A man and a woman came out and moved to the side to make room. The lead man in the conga line ignored them, but the second man swung his M-4 over and fired two quick shots, striking each person in the head.

“Look at them,” Karim said, full of pride. He watched as the men disappeared into the building, and then he heard a steady stream of shots. His eyes traveled up the façade of the building to the sixth floor. That was where his men were headed. To the heart of America’s war against Islam. This wouldn’t get the media attention that the blasts would receive, but it would hurt the Americans far more. Karim could barely take the thrill of knowing that America’s best and brightest were gathered at this very moment on the top floor of this building – their National Counterterrorism Center. They were gathered to manage this crisis, trying to find the very people who were now on their doorstep. The psychological blow would be devastating. If only he could be there to see the looks on the faces of the smug Americans as his men mowed them down.

“I’m leaving,” Hakim a

“Wait,” Karim said as he looked wild-eyed out the window. He heard the first explosion and felt the pull, the desire to join his men. The car began to move. “Just a little longer.”

Hakim jammed his foot onto the break and turned around. “You either get out or we leave.”

“Fine,” Karim answered in a sad voice. “Go.”

CHAPTER 72

RAPP was about to head back upstairs when Lonsdale came walking through the door with two Secret Service agents. The normally put-together and well-styled Lonsdale looked absolutely disheveled. As Rapp approached, he realized that she’d been crying. It dawned on him that she quite likely knew more about who was under that pile of rubble that used to be a favorite haunt of senators than anyone else in the building. A few of those people were also undoubtedly her friends.

Earlier in his career, Rapp would have never felt an ounce of compassion for this woman, but with age he had begun to realize that most of the players in this drama did not intend to do harm. They simply downplayed or ignored the threat. Some were naïve and merely thought the terrorists would go away if we understood them better. Others, like Lonsdale, thought the letter of the law was the most important thing. That we as a nation must never lower ourselves to their level. In Rapp’s world, where he saw up close the mayhem that these groups caused, the first sentiment was simply naïve and the second, while honorable, was not very practical.

Rapp looked at her cheerless, bloodshot eyes and wondered if the murder of her fellow senators would cause her to see things differently now. “Senator Lonsdale,” Rapp said in a polite voice, “thank you for coming.”

Lonsdale looked nervously around the room, and said, “Where are they?”

“Excuse me?” Rapp said not understanding what she was talking about.

“The men you captured,” she said, looking him in the eye for the first time. “I spoke with the president. He told me you have four men in custody.”

Rapp wondered if any of these politicians knew how to keep their mouths shut. “Senator, maybe after we handle the video conference with al-Haq, I can…”

“I want to see them now!” Lonsdale said forcefully.

The force of her demand took Rapp aback. “I can assure you, they are being taken care of, ma’am.”

Lonsdale clenched her fists and stepped to within a foot of Rapp. Looking up with her bloodshot eyes, she said, “I do not care about their welfare, Mr. Rapp. I want to see them right now.”

Rapp was suddenly very curious to see how this would play out. “Fine… follow me.”

After a couple steps he turned and told the Secret Service agents that they could stay put. It was bad enough he was bringing Lonsdale up. The last thing they needed was more men with badges. Lonsdale followed him up the spiral staircase in silence. When they reached the door to the conference room, Rapp knocked and said to Lonsdale, “Give me a second.”

Rapp opened the door a crack and saw Aabad sitting at the far end of the heavy wooden table, cradling his right hand across his chest. Nash was sitting on the edge of the table, looming over Aabad. When Nash saw Rapp, he got up and walked over to the door. Rapp stepped in and shut the door.

“I’d told him he’d better give me something good before you get back up here or that other arm would get torn out of its socket. Now he’s going on and on about these SWAT uniforms. He’s admitted that there’s nine other guys still out there.”

“Nine,” Rapp said, surprised by the number.

“Yeah, he says they are going to use these SWAT uniforms to get into and attack a federal facility.”

There was a loud knock on the door. “That’s Lonsdale. She wants to see him. Let’s make this quick, and then we’ll get this new info out.” Rapp opened the door.

Lonsdale entered the room and looked down the length of the table at the small man who appeared to be grimacing in pain. “Who is he?” she asked in a cold voice.

“Aabad bin Baaz. Saudi national,” Rapp said as he closed the door. He decided to leave out the part about the dual citizenship.

“I demand to see my attorney,” Aabad said in a pleading voice.

“Is he responsible for the explosions?” Lonsdale asked.

“He’s part of the cell.”

Lonsdale approached the prisoner and asked, “Do you know who I am?”

“No,” Aabad said with wide hopeful eyes.

“I’m Senator Barbara Lonsdale.”

“I am an American citizen,” he said earnestly.

Lonsdale ignored him. “Do you know where I was supposed to have lunch today?”

“No,” he said with a confused face.

“The Monocle. I sent my chief of staff there instead.”

Aabad looked nervously back and forth between Lonsdale and Rapp and Nash. “I know my rights. I demand to see my attorney.”

Lonsdale suddenly reached out and slapped him across the face. “He was my best friend.”

Aabad looked up in shock and in a more pleading voice said, “I am an American citizen. I have a right to see my attorney.”

“If you are an American citizen, then you are a traitor,” Lonsdale hissed, “and I will do everything in my power to see that you are executed.”

Rapp, who was still standing by the door, thought he heard a noise. He looked to Nash and they exchanged a quick glance. The noise came again. It was distant. Muffled.

“Are those gunshots?” Nash asked.

Rapp was about to open the door, when there was a much louder noise. The room shook just slightly. The one thing about combat was, you only had to go through it once and you were left with the sound, feel, and smell of battle for the rest of your life. Rapp had been in more than his fair share of dustups. He looked over at Nash, his face showing a deep concern. “I think that was a hand grenade.”