Wild fire

Nelson Demille

Wild Fire

The fourth book in the John Corey series

To Bob and Joan Dillingham -

who have such lovely daughters

Author’s Note

When fact and fiction are combined in novels, it’s not always clear to the reader which is which. Early readers of the manuscript for Wild Fire have asked me what is real and what is a figment of my imagination, so I thought I’d address that here.

First, the Anti-Terrorist Task Force (ATTF) represented in this and other John Corey stories is based primarily on the actual Joint Terrorist Task Force (JTTF), with some literary license taken.

In this book, specifically, there is a lot of information on ELF, which is an acronym for something you’ll discover in the story. All the information about ELF is accurate, to the best of my knowledge.

As for the secret government plan called Wild Fire, this is based on some information I’ve come across, mostly online, and can be taken as rumor, fact, pure fiction, or some blend thereof. I personally believe that some variation of Wild Fire (by another code name) actually exists, and if it doesn’t, it should.

Other subjects in the book that people have asked me about, such as NEST, Kneecap, and other acronyms, are factual. If what you’re reading sounds real, it probably is. Truth is indeed stranger than fiction, and often scarier.

The most frequently asked question I’ve gotten so far is, “Are BearBangers real?” Yes, they are.

The time period of this story is October 2002, a year and a month after 9/11/01, and the New York Times headlines and stories I use are real. Similarly, any mention of government security procedures, or lack of same, was true as of the time the story is set.

A few of my readers who work in law enforcement think that Detective John Corey has some problems with the limits of his power and his jurisdictional authority. I admit to taking some dramatic liberties for the sake of entertainment. A John Corey who plays by the rules and goes by the book is not what any of us wants in a hero.

Early readers of this book have told me that Wild Fire kept them awake long after they put the book down. Indeed, this is a scary book for scary times; but it’s also a cautionary tale for a post-9/11 world.

PART I

The FBI investigates terrorism-related matters without regard to race, religion, national origin, or gender.

– Terrorism in the United States

FBI Publications, 1997

CHAPTER ONE

I’m John Corey, former NYPD homicide detective, wounded in the line of duty, retired on three-quarter disability (which is just a number for pay purposes; about 98 percent of me still functions), and now working as a special contract agent for the Federal Anti-Terrorist Task Force.

The guy in the cubicle facing me, Harry Muller, asked, “You ever hear of the Custer Hill Club?”

“No. Why?”

“That’s where I’m going this weekend.”

“Have a good time,” I said.

“They’re a bunch of rich, right-wing loonies who have this hunting lodge upstate.”

“Don’t bring me any venison, Harry. No dead birds, either.”

I got up from my desk and walked to the coffee bar. On the wall above the coffee urns were Justice Department Wanted Posters, featuring mostly Muslim gentlemen, including the number one scumbag, Osama bin Laden.

Also included in the nearly two dozen posters was a Libyan named Asad Khalil, a.k.a. The Lion. I didn’t need to memorize this man’s photo; I knew his face as well as my own, though I’d never formally met him.

My brief association with Mr. Khalil occurred about two years ago when I was stalking him, and as it turned out, he was stalking me. He escaped, and I got away with a grazing wound; and, as the Arabs would probably say, “It is destined that we meet again to settle our fates.” I look forward to that.

I drained the dregs of the coffee into a Styrofoam cup and sca

A subheading read: U.S. Has a Plan to Occupy Iraq, Officials Report.

It appeared that war was a foregone conclusion, and so was the victory. Therefore, it was a good idea to have an occupation plan. I wondered if anyone in Iraq knew about this.

I took my coffee back to my desk, turned on my computer, and read through some internal memos. We are now a mostly paperless organization, and I actually miss initialing memos. I had an urge to initial my computer screen with a grease pencil, but I settled for the electronic equivalent. If I ran this organization, all memos would be on an Etch A Sketch.

I glanced at my watch. It was 4:30 P.M., and my colleagues on the 26th floor of 26 Federal Plaza were dwindling fast. My colleagues, I should explain, are, like me, members of the Anti-Terrorist Task Force, a four-letter agency (ATTF) in a world of three-letter agencies.

This is the post-9/11 world, so weekends are, in theory, just another two workdays for everyone. In reality, the honored tradition of Federal Friday-meaning cutting out early-has not changed much, so the NYPD, who are part of the Task Force, and who are used to lousy hours anyway, man the fort on weekends and holidays.

Harry Muller asked me, “What are you doing this weekend?”

This was the start of the Columbus Day three-day weekend, but as luck would have it, I was scheduled to work on Monday. I replied, “I was going to march in the Columbus Day Parade, but I’m working Monday.”

“Yeah? You were going to march?”

“No, but that’s what I told Captain Paresi.” I added, “I told him my mother was Italian, and I was going to push her wheelchair in the parade.”

Harry laughed and asked, “Did he buy that?”

“No. But he offered to push her wheelchair.”

“I thought your parents were in Florida.”

“They are.”

“And your mother’s Irish.”

“She is. Now I have to find an Italian mother for Paresi to push up Columbus Avenue.”

Harry laughed again and went back to his computer.

Harry Muller, like most of the NYPD in the Mideast Section of the Task Force, does stakeouts and surveillance of Persons of Interest, which, in politically correct speak, means the Muslim community, but I do mostly interviewing and recruiting of informants.

A large percentage of my informants are total liars and bullshit artists who want either money or citizenship, or who want to screw someone in their close-knit community. Now and then, I get the real deal, but then I have to share the guy with the FBI.

The Task Force is comprised mostly of FBI agents and NYPD detectives, plus retired NYPD, like me. In addition, we have people assigned from other Federal agencies, such as Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), plus state and suburban police, Port Authority Police, and so forth, too numerous to name or for me to remember.

Also included in our collegial group are people who, like ghosts, don’t actually exist, but if they did, they’d be called CIA.

I checked my e-mail, and there were three messages. The first was from my boss, Tom Walsh, special agent in charge, who had taken over the ATTF when my old boss, Jack Koenig, died in the World Trade Center. The e-mail read: CONFIDENTIAL-REMINDER-IN THE RUN-UP TO POSSIBLE HOSTILITIES WITH IRAQ, WE NEED TO GIVE SPECIAL ATTENTION TO IRAQI NATIONALS LIVING IN CONUS.