The Lion

Khalil thought about that, and he wished that the bomb would be detonated in midtown Manhattan, among the skyscrapers and the hundreds of thousands of people on the streets and in the buildings. But those who had pla

The man next to him, Bojan, lit a cigarette and Khalil said, "Put that out."

Bojan protested, "The ingredients are inert-not volatile. They are safe until detonated-"

"I do not like the stink of your tobacco." He was tempted to tell them all that he had just killed a man whose cigarettes offended him, but he snapped, "Put it out!"

Bojan threw the cigarette on the floor and ground it out with his heel.

Khalil asked Tarik, "How is this detonated?"

Tarik replied, "It is electrical. There are fifty blasting caps in the drums-more than enough-which I have co

In fact, Khalil did not fully understand. His experience with explosives was limited, and the roadside bombs he had seen in Afghanistan were called command detonated-a person with a handheld detonator chose the time to explode the bomb. Or a suicide bomber initiated the explosion with a simple device.

Khalil did not completely trust this method of a timer-he would have preferred a martyr in the back of the trailer, who he thought would be more trustworthy than an electronic timing device. But this idea for the bomb was not his idea-he was in America to kill with the knife and the gun, the way a man kills, the way a mujahideen kills. His jihad, however, needed to be paid for, and so he had agreed to assist with the bomb. But he had made certain that his mission and the mission of his Al Qaeda backers came together on this last night of his visit.

Khalil looked at his watch and said, "I have much work to do tonight. You will hear from me at approximately ten P.M., and until then, you will move this truck every half hour and you will do nothing to attract attention or arouse suspicion."

No one replied, and Khalil continued, "If a policeman is inquisitive, and he asks you to open the trailer, you will do as you did at the tu

This time, each man nodded.

Khalil addressed each of them by name and said, "Edis, Bojan, Tarik, are you all armed?"

Each man produced an automatic pistol with a silencer, and they made certain that Khalil saw the guns.

Khalil nodded and said, "Good. You are not being paid to buy chemicals, or to drive a truck. You are being paid to kill anyone who is a threat to this mission." He added, "I will be with you later to assist you in the killing of the guards. Then you are free to leave." In fact, they were not going to leave-they were going to die. But Khalil did not think they suspected this. And even if they did, they were stupid and arrogant enough to believe that three former soldiers with guns were safe from harm. But Khalil had killed better men than these in Afghanistan, men who were better armed and better trained than these three, whom he considered mercenaries for hire, not mujahideen who fought for Islam.

Khalil would have liked to give his final encouragement to them in Arabic, the language of the Prophet, which was beautiful and sonorous, but he said in English, "In the name of Allah-peace be unto him-the most merciful, the most compassionate, I ask his blessing on you and your jihad." He ended with, "May God be with us this night."

The three men hesitated, then responded in English, "Go in peace."

Tarik opened the door, and Khalil climbed out of the cab. Bojan said in Bosnian, "Go to hell."

The men laughed, but then Edis said, "That man frightens me."

No one had anything to add to that.

PART VII

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Bellevue. I'm go

I'd brought Kate some clothes that she'd asked for, plus makeup and whatever so she'd look good when they wheeled her into an ambulette the next day, and good when she walked through the lobby of our building.

Kate, however, was exhibiting the classic symptoms of short-timer anxiety-like, something is going to go wrong, I'm not really getting out of here, and so forth.

I reminded her, "You have a gun. We'll get you out."

She asked me, "Anything new?"

Well, yes, our apartment building has been under round-the-clock surveillance by terrorists for maybe three weeks. But that might send her into a tailspin, so I replied, "Nope."

She asked me, "Have you spoken to Tom or Vince?"

"Nope."

She moved on to family matters. "My parents were going to call you today."

"They did. Didn't I mention that? Your father wants to know why I didn't shoot the terrorist who attacked you."

She seemed a little embarrassed and said, "I explained that to him."

"I'll explain it again." Or, with luck, I'll cut off the terrorist's head before our flight and bring it to him in my overnight bag. "Here he is, Mr. Mayfield. He won't be cutting any more throats. This calls for a drink."

Kate said, "Your mother told me she was going to call you."

"She did."

"What did she say?"

"Eat more fish."

"She asked me why I'm not pregnant yet."

"Eat more fish."

Kate and I watched some TV-a History Cha

Visiting hours ended at 9 P.M., and Kate and I kissed good-bye, and she said, "I'll see you tomorrow. Get here an hour early and get me checked out." She added, "This is the last time we have to say good-bye here."

"Get some recipes before you go."

Officer Mindy Jacobs was on duty outside Kate's door, and I said to her, "Kate's being discharged tomorrow."

"That's good news."

"Right. So if you're superstitious-"

"I hear you." She assured me, "If I don't recognize a nurse, a doctor, or an orderly, I get someone I know to ID them before they get past me."

"Good."

I wished her a nice quiet evening and left the ward.

My FBI driver was still Preston Tyler, who was putting in a long day. He informed me that there would be no driver on duty until morning, but he assured me, "Your surveillance and protective detail is still in place."

"Terrific."

There were no messages on my home phone, no e-mail, and my cell phone was silent. Maybe everyone was dead from anthrax. Nerve gas?

I thought about calling Boris again, but then I thought about just sneaking out of here and making another una

I decided to wait a half hour, and if nothing happened here, then I'd go see Boris.

At 10:15, as I was watching another History Cha

It was a text from Paresi that said: Urgent and confidential. Meet at WTC site, PA trailer. ASAP.

I stared at the text. Was this the break I'd been waiting for?