The Seventh Pillar (21 page)

Stephanie said, "The intel we got blows a lot of their networks, but doesn't mention the bomb. It does mention their Imam."

This woman is interesting, Monroe thought. A lot going on there. No ring. She's single. He looked at her. She met his look and something passed between them. Some primal recognition. Monroe brought his mind back to the subject.

"What Imam?"

"His name is Hassan-i-Sabbah. He took the name of the founder of the assassins. He believes he has a personal connection with the Mahdi."

"So did Bausari."

"Sabbah is different. He has visions, had them for years. His followers think he's got a direct line to God. So does he. We think he has hallucinations. Maybe a brain tumor, if we're lucky."

Monroe looked down at his shoe. As if he'd just stepped in something. "A fanatic with a nuclear weapon who thinks God is talking to him."

"That's right." The room was silent for a beat.

"So," Selena said, "let's assume. Let's look at targets, narrow it down. What do you attack to create the most confusion? Sabbah wants to initiate the end of days, Muslim style. How do you do that?"

"You start a war," Nick said.

"That's the easy part. The bomb goes off, the shooting starts. But we just had a war and Rice managed to squash it before it went nuclear. War isn't enough, unless it's world wide."

"That is a scary thought," Ronnie fingered his deerskin pouch.

Lamont arched his back and tried to get the cast comfortable. "If what we just saw in the Middle East isn't enough, what could be worse? Enough to guarantee World War Three with nukes raining out of the sky?"

"Okay." Carter looked at the others. "Assumption number one is that Sabbah wants to start a war."

There were nods all around.

"Assumption number two is that he has to make certain it escalates. How do you do that?"

Selena took a breath. Winced from the pain of her ribs. "Eliminate the people who could stop it. Like the President."

"The assassins were killing people," Lucas said. "It didn't start a war."

"They didn't try for the President. Or any of the world leaders. They were trying to point us toward Iran and wreck the peace process in Afghanistan. They succeeded in that, almost."

Carter tapped fingers on his knee. "Then assumption number three is the bomb, or some kind of coordinated attack, has to take out all the big guys at once. The President and the others. That wouldn't be easy."

"Yes it would." Everyone looked at Stephanie. Her face was white.

"There's an emergency meeting of the Security Council tomorrow at the UN.  China and Russia are upset about the new sanctions on Iran. Every international leader of importance will be there, including the President. If Sabbah set that bomb off in New York, he'd get them all."

"Security will be impenetrable," Monroe said. "This isn't a movie. You can't wheel a bomb in on a serving cart under a white linen tablecloth and a couple of bowls of Caesar salad. No one will be able to get close to the UN "

Steph sighed. "How close do you have to be with an atom bomb?"

CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

"Everything is ready?"

Hassan-i-Sabbah looked out through the window. A light snow flurry softened the impressive view.

"Yes, Teacher. We obtained the right size batteries at a Honda motorbike store. Those machines...such costly toys, when their own people starve in the streets. It is unjust."

"That is why we are here, Jamal. To restore justice. As the Prophet taught, Praise be upon Him."

Jamal bowed. "He guides our way."

"The fida'i are ready?"

"Yes, Teacher. Perhaps they will not be needed."

"Perhaps. Is there word from Pakistan?"

"No, Teacher. We have sent someone."

Sabbah considered. It was odd that he'd had no communication from his disciples. Perhaps there had been a failure in the equipment.

He dismissed the thought. So far everything was going well. The deaths of the  British Foreign Secretary and the American politician had misled the capitols of the West and pointed them toward Tehran. The various security agencies competed with one another. The war raged with new fury in Afghanistan. Yes, things were going well.

"The Security Council members have arrived?"

"Yes. As we expected, security measures are very strict. It will not affect us."

"No changes in the schedule?"

"No."

"Foolish. They believe themselves invulnerable." He turned from the window.

CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

Morning. The Virginia countryside was covered by a foot of fresh snow. Stephanie set the phone down. She looked unhappy.

"The President will not change his schedule. We have no hard evidence to back up our assessment. Lucas, what's Langley's reaction?"

"Hood thinks you're right. Lodge thinks you're meddling."

"What about the Bureau, Steph?" Nick asked.

"Everyone is convinced security is faultless and we're crying wolf. We can't tell them there's a nuke floating around. It would leak and cause wide spread panic. Homeland Security, the Bureau, the NYPD, everyone with domestic authority is looking for Sabbah. They think it's enough."

She turned to Monroe. "Lucas, you don't have a domestic mandate but we can do what we like. Consider yourself deputized for the duration."

"Do I get a tin star?"

Lamont laughed. "Yeah, man, you're Gary Cooper."

"Cooper?"

"The western, High Noon. Remember? There's this old sheriff telling Cooper he's nuts for doing the right thing. He says, 'For what? For a tin star.' "

"Sabbah won't be taking carriage rides in Central Park," Nick said. "He's holed up somewhere with that nuke."

"How do we find him? You got any assumptions?" Monroe asked.

"How about a Ouija Board?"

"Yeah. Funny."

Nick tugged on his ear. "He has to get close enough so the blast takes out the UN. How close is that?"

"Six kilotons?" Monroe rubbed his chin. "Anything within a quarter to a half mile of ground zero is toast. The shock wave and radiation will go a lot farther. Any old buildings will fall. All the glass. Fires, ruptured gas lines, things like that. Another mile of heavy damage as you move away from the center. The explosion would decimate Manhattan. Those backpack bombs were dirty. The radiation would contaminate thousands of square miles."

"So he could be anywhere up to a quarter to a half mile away and get what he wants."

"Right."

"Let's look at a map of the city."

Manhattan appeared on the big screen.

"A city block is an eighth of a mile, right?"

"More or less."

Nick used a laser pointer to indicate his thinking. "Call it a mile kill zone, plus another mile for big trouble. That extends sixteen blocks in every direction from 42nd and the UN Plaza, if we use that as ground zero. Roughly from 26th to 58th Street on the East Side. Across the Park to the West Side."

"He doesn't have to be right on the UN." Selena ran her fingers through her hair. "He could set up a quarter mile away in any direction."

They all looked at the screen. New York was a big city. A really big city. Sabbah wasn't a needle in a haystack. He was a speck of dust in the middle of a sandstorm. He could be anywhere. A car. A van. A building. A hotel. Riding in a garbage truck or a taxi cab or the subway. In a church. Hell, he could be sitting on the bomb in the Park feeding squirrels. It was New York. No one would notice.

Something bothered Nick, at the back of his awareness, nagging at him. They were missing something. He stared at the map.

"The dog that didn't bark."

Monroe had a confused expression. "What are you talking about? More assumptions?"

"Sherlock Holmes. The dog that didn't bark. The clue to the mystery was in what didn't happen, what wasn't there. What's not here?"

"Nothing. They've got that place sewed up tighter than a gnat's ass."

"What's the security cordon?"

Stephanie gestured at the map. "Eight blocks north and south of UN Plaza. Over to Midtown on Lexington. The cordon gets tighter as you get closer. All the streets are sealed off. Traffic is a mess."

"The Midtown tunnel? The bridges?"

"Still open, but traffic is funneled south and west. Checkpoints also."

Then Nick saw the flaw. "What about on the other side of the river?"

"The other side?"

"You ever hear of that Eastern Airlines flight that went into the Everglades some years back?"

"The one where everyone was looking at a burned out light?"

"Right, that one. A lot happened to cause that crash, but the main thing was everyone in the cockpit zeroed in on that bulb. They weren't paying attention to anything else. They didn't hear the alarms and flew the plane right into the ground. There's some psych phrase for it."

"Selective attention," Selena volunteered.

"I think that's what we've got here. Look at the map. The UN is right on the East River. How wide is the river?"

"About eight hundred feet," Stephanie said.

"That's a lot less than a quarter mile. What's the security on the other side?"

It dawned on all of them at the same time. "There isn't any. Just the checkpoints."

"Shit." Monroe shook his head. "Everyone's focused on the UN. The bomb's not in Manhattan. It's on the other side of the river."

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

The FBI met them at La Guardia. The agent who took them to the black Suburban they would use was not pleased. His partner sat in an idling Crown Vic, keeping warm.

"This is a waste of time and resources." His name was McFarland. He was dressed in a blue suit and tie, a long overcoat and black rubbers that didn't keep the slush from spilling over into the edges of his shoes. His nose was red. He sneezed.

"Right now we've got over a thousand people out there. No one's getting near the President or anyone else. I should be back on the Plaza, not baby sitting a bunch of wanna be agents."

"Well, McFarland, as soon as you give us the keys we'll be out of your hair and you can get back to whatever you were doing." Nick controlled his temper.

"Can't be soon enough for me. Oh, yeah. When you're done sightseeing, bring it back with the tank full."

McFarland got into the Taurus and drove away, spraying slush behind him.

"Asshole."

"Yeah, Ronnie. He'd fit right in down in Washington."

They got in the car. Carter and Monroe in front, Selena and Ronnie in back.

"Weapons check."

Nick had a new H-K .45. The others had their Glocks. There were MP-5s in Ronnie's duffle. He handed them around. They all wore armor under their jackets.

"All dressed up and nowhere to go," Lucas commented. "Where do we start?"

"The closest point across the river from the UN is the waterfront in Queens. If he's here, Sabbah will want to get as close as he can."

They studied a map.

"That's a lot of waterfront." Ronnie had his small deerskin pouch out again. Selena reminded herself to ask him about it. Maybe it was like worry beads.

Nick pointed at a green space on the map.

"There's a park right across from the UN Plaza on the east side of the river. Let's start there."

They left La Guardia and followed signs to the Brooklyn Queens Expressway. They crossed Queens Boulevard and turned onto the Queens Midtown Expressway toward Manhattan. Snow and slush lined the side of the road, turning dirty gray. Carter kept the wipers going.

Traffic was bumper to bumper. They hit the flashing lights on their suburban and wove through the mess. The lights didn't help a lot. They exited the expressway before the Queens Midtown tunnel and took Vernon Boulevard north.

Nick saw a subway station. Marked with a number seven in a circle. Like in the dream.

He shivered.

"What's the matter, Nick?" Lucas gave him a curious look. "You look like someone just walked over your grave."

Nick said nothing.

They turned on 48th. The park opened directly ahead of them.

They drove to the park and got out. A cold wind blew off the East River. Sudden sunlight flashed on glass across the water.

The UN Headquarters building.

The park was almost deserted in the raw weather. Two giant gantry cranes dominated the landscape. Four long piers jutted into the East River. The polluted water shimmered in rainbow colors around the pilings. Beyond the piers a wide wooden boardwalk curved along the shoreline. Paths branched off the walk at intervals, ending in circular spaces where people could sit and enjoy the view.

The Manhattan skyline stretched across the other side of the river, a human fairytale, a soaring collage of cement and glass and steel. A view Braque or Picasso could have painted. No one seeing that could doubt they gazed on one of the great cities of the world.

The clouds parted overhead. Patches of azure blue began to appear. The day was beautiful and cold. Maybe the last day.

Nick's ear began to itch.

"We're close," he said.

Selena watched him pull on his earlobe.

"The ear thing again?"

"Yeah."

Monroe decided to keep his mouth shut. These people had strange ways of doing things.

CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

Stephanie sat in her office and brooded about the bomb. There were too many places, too many people, too many areas to check. Four people had about as much chance of finding Sabbah as she had of winning the lottery. Probably less. They were talking potshots in the dark at a target that might not even be there.

She looked up as the door opened. She looked at the figure in the doorway and a vast sense of relief filled her, a wave of release. Her face lit with pleasure.

"Elizabeth!"

"Hello, Steph."

Director Elizabeth Harker looked pale. She had elfin features, like some magical creature that seldom saw the sunlight. Elizabeth hadn't seen much sunlight in a while. She'd been in intensive treatment at Bethesda for a bullet wound and a rare illness. She had a fresh scar over the ridge of her left eye. Her raven black hair was shorn close and a bald patch marked where the surgeon had gone into her skull. She was thin, fragile looking. But she was here. Her green eyes glowed with their old intensity.