Pursuit of Honor

Ahmed slowly slid the gun back into the holster. Karim had ordered him to kill the man, but he couldn’t do it. There was no honor in killing unarmed people. He wrapped his big arms around the man’s neck and head and pinched off the main artery in the neck. He kept the pressure on until he felt the man go limp. Then he dragged him out of the way and tied him up. It took less than a minute. Back at the building’s edge he rolled out his mat and set up his M-40 sniper rifle. He took a quick peek through the scope and acquired the Suburban. It was parked on the street in front of the Lincoln Memorial. Ahmed pulled out the phone and began calling the various TV stations and asking for the news director at each one. There were five in all.

After the last one, he pressed the button on the side of the radio and said, “It is done.” Ahmed turned his attention to the Suburban and watched it drive up on the grass and then begin its climb up the steps. Rifle fire began cracking through the still night. Ahmed brought his field binoculars up to his eyes and watched the Suburban lurch forward. Beyond the vehicle he saw people crumple to the ground as they were shot by Karim. He shook his head at the senseless carnage and began to pray.

CHAPTER 74

LINCOLN MEMORIAL

BY the time Rapp and Nash got to the Lincoln Memorial the Park Police and the D.C. Metro Police had the place cordoned off. TV crews were both northeast and southeast of the barricades and the police were trying unsuccessfully to move them back. Both departments had big fire-truck-sized command vehicles parked out front. Rapp displayed his Homeland Security credentials at the checkpoint and told the officer to allow the next vehicle to follow as well. He had Nash in the front seat next to him. Reavers was in the backseat directly behind Nash. Rapp had quietly given the retired SEAL orders to shadow Nash wherever he went.

Dr. Lewis was in the Suburban behind them with some of Coleman’s other men and Hakim al Harbi. Lewis had convinced Rapp that they should bring Hakim along. Based on the voicemail messages they had reviewed and his cooperation so far, Lewis felt Hakim might be able to offer some insight into Karim’s mind. Rapp had some other possible uses in mind, but so far wasn’t willing to share them with the group. Coleman and Wicker were on their way with Max Johnson and his surveillance van. They were going to try to get a fix on the third cell phone that Hakim had given to Ahmed. For now they were assuming that Karim was inside the monument with at least one very important hostage. Rapp parked as close to the command posts as he could get, and then jumped out and raced to cut off Nash.

“Slow down, Mike,” Rapp said as he grabbed him by the left arm. He had barely said a word on the twelve-minute drive in from his house. For obvious reasons Rapp was concerned that he might do something stupid.

Nash turned and took a big swing at Rapp, his right fist sailing in a wild roundhouse punch.

Rapp ducked just in time and felt the punch brush the top of his head. He brought his fists up to block his face and took a quick step back.

“Fuck you!” Nash screamed. His eyes were filled with tears and his face was flushed with anger. “This is all your fault! If you hadn’t fucking outed me none of this would have happened. You put me and my family at risk and I will never forgive you. So fuck off and get the hell away from me.” Nash turned and stalked off toward the command vehicles.

Rapp had been waiting for it. He’d been feeling it himself. He just hadn’t expected it to come this soon. He looked at Reavers and jerked his head in the direction Nash had just gone. “Follow him. Stay close.”

Dr. Lewis came up. Hakim was a few steps behind him with a guy on each arm. His wrists were bound with flex cuffs but no other restraints. Lewis looked at Rapp and said, “That was unfortunate, but I think understandable considering the circumstances.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Rapp said. He was already trying to figure out a way to make things right. He knew what he’d do if he had a daughter. He started moving toward the command vehicles. He tapped his earpiece and said, “Scott, give me a sitrep.”

“We’re close. Just passing Watergate. Should be there in sixty seconds.”

“Anything so far?”

“He has both signals, but we won’t be able to pinpoint until we get a little closer and stop.”

“Roger that.” Rapp did a 360 and looked at the terrain. “My money’s on the north side if he’s not in there with him.”

“Got it.”

Rapp looked at Hakim and asked, “What’s his endgame?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Are you holding back on me?”

“No. I would have never thought he’d paint himself into a corner like this.”

Rapp looked at all the police, the camera crews, and the spectators.

Lewis seemed to be reading his mind and said, “He’s created a stage for himself. You provoked him,” Lewis said to Hakim, “by telling him you would tell the world that he was a coward. He’s so narcissistic that his reputation means everything to him. He can’t bear the thought of people saying those things about him, so he’s going to make sure no one ever doubts his bravery.”

“But he kidnapped a fifteen-year-old girl,” Hakim said.

Lewis pointed at Nash, who was talking to the police. “That’s who he’s after. You said it yourself . . . that he flew into a rage during the press conference after the medal ceremony. He thinks that he will kill an American hero on this grand stage and that he will be revered and celebrated by millions of Muslims the world over.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” Rapp turned and walked over to where Nash was talking to all the police brass. Fortunately, Art Harris was approaching the same point from the opposite side of the circle. Nash was already arguing with the two officers in charge.

“I’m not going to say it again. That’s my daughter in there. He wants me. When he calls, I’m going in, and she’s coming out. It’s as simple as that.”

Harris was wearing his FBI tactical vest. He introduced himself to the two on-scene commanders and told them that the FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team was inbound from Quantico. “And no one,” he said to the group, “is doing anything until they get here. Federal property,” he said as he pointed to the statue of Lincoln, “and they kidnapped her in Virginia and brought her into the District. It’s the FBI’s jurisdiction.”

“I don’t give a shit whose jurisdiction it is. That’s my daughter in there. When he calls back I’m going in. And I don’t want HRT fucking this thing up.”

“Mike, I understand your situation here, but you’re not in charge.”

“Fuck you, Art.” Nash pointed at the building and screamed, “That’s my daughter in there! Sha

Rapp heard Coleman’s voice come over his earpiece and stepped away from the group. “Say again.”

“Max thinks he has a fix on the sniper. Says he’s due north of your position. Constitution and Twenty-third.”

Rapp stepped out from behind the command vehicle and looked north. The building’s roof was in plain view above the trees. Rapp’s eyes swept left. There was nothing. He moved them right along the tree line. The buildings on this part of Constitution Avenue occupied entire city blocks. The next block had a peaked roof, but the next block after that housed the Federal Reserve. It was a big, flat-roofed monster. “Slick,” Rapp said, using Wicker’s nickname.

“Yeah, Mitch.”

“Get over to the Federal Reserve and settle in at the southwest corner of the roof. Let me know when you have this guy in your sights.”

“Mitch, what do you want me to do?” Coleman asked.