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hoped. "This is where I live, Alex. I have to stay. If you think it's the
right thing to do, the kids should go with Aunt Tia for a while. Now . . . is
that all you're going to eat? A measly slice of toast? Let me make you a
decent breakfast. I'm sure you have a long day in front of you, a terrible
day."
Chapter 45
The Wolf wasin the Middle East, so at leastsome of the rumors about him
appeared to be true.
The meeting, which the Wolf called "a little fund-raiser," took place in a
city of tents in the desert about seventy miles southwest of Riyadh in Saudi
Arabia. Those present were split between the Arab world and Asia. And then
there was the Wolf, who called himself "a world traveler, a citizen of no
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particular country."
But was this person really the Wolf? Or merely a representative? A stand-in?
No one knew for certain. Wasn't the Wolf supposed to be female? That was one
of the current rumors.
But thisman was tall, with long dark brown hair and a full beard, and the
other participants couldn't help thinking he would be hard to disguise, and
presumably easy to find, but that didn't seem to be the case; it only enhanced
his reputation as a person of mystery, and possibly a true mastermind.
So did his behavior during the half hour or so before the meeting began.
While some sipped whiskey and others mint tea and chatted amicably, the Wolf
stood off to the side, talking to no one and impatiently waving off the few
who approached him. He seemed so above it all.
The weather was balmy, so it was decided to hold the meeting outside in the
open air. The participants left the tent and were seated according to country
of origin.
The business meeting was then called to order and the Wolf took center stage.
He addressed the gathering in English. He knew all of them spoke the language,
or at least understood it well enough.
"I am here to report that everything is going very well so far, very much
according to plan. We should all rejoice, give thanks."
"How do we know this other than your word?" asked one of the principals at
the meeting. The Wolf knew the man was a mujahid, a fighter, a warrior for
Islam.
The Wolf smiled genially. "As you said, you have my word. And perhaps not in
this country, but most of the world has televisions, newspapers, and radios to
verify that we've created problems for the Americans, the English, the
Germans. Actually, CNN is available here inside the tent if you'd like some
validation other than my word."
The Wolf's dark eyes shifted away from the mujahid, who was now red-faced,
embarrassed, but also clearly angry.
"The plan is working, but now it's time for another donation to keep all our
important pieces in motion. I'll go around the table and you can signal if you
are in agreement with me. You have to spend money to make money. A Western
idea, perhaps, but a true one."
The Wolf went from face to face, receiving nods or raised hands as he
proceeded except from the one Arab troublemaker, who sat with his arms folded
defiantly and said, "I need to hear more. Your word is not enough."
"Understood," said the Wolf. "I have gotten your message, and now I have one
for you, warrior."
In a split second the Wolf raised his hand and a pistol shot rang out. The
bearded Saudi fell from his chair, dead on the spot, lifeless eyes staring up
at the heavens.
"Does anyone else need to hear more? Or is my word good enough?" the Wolf
asked. "Do we move on to the next important phase of our war against the
West?"
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No one said a word.
"Good. Then we move on to the next phase," said the Wolf. "This is exciting,
no? Trust me, we are winning. Allah Akbar." God is great.And so am I.
Chapter 46
I was feelingrelatively peaceful at 6:15 in the morning, driving to work
along Independence Avenue, coffee cup in hand, Jill Scott singing on the
radio. Suddenly my cell phone went off and I knew that all was lost.
Kurt Crawford was on the line and he sounded excited, wouldn't give me a
chance to get in a word. "Alex, Geoffrey Shafer was just spotted on a
surveillance tape in New York City. He visited an apartment that we were
watching before this mess even began. We think we've found the cell that might
be ready to strike in Manhattan.
"They're al Qaeda, Alex. What the hell does that mean? We want you in New
York this morning. We're holding a seat for you, so get on your horse out to
Andrews."
I grabbed the "bubble" off the passenger seat and slapped it on the roof of
the car. It felt a little like my old D.C. PD days.
I headed out to Andrews Air Force Base, and less than half an hour later I
was on board a jet-black Bell helicopter bound for the Downtown Manhattan
Heliport on the East River. As we flew over the city, I imagined New York in
full panic. We had to face one real problem: it was physically impossible to
evacuate everyone in the target cities. They were just too large. Plus, we had
been warned. If we attempted an evacuation, the Wolf had promised to strike
immediately. So far, word of the Wolf's threat had not leaked to the media,
but the strikes in Nevada, England, and Germany had the whole world on edge.
As soon as I arrived at the heliport on the East River I was rushed to the
FBI offices in lower Manhattan. Tense high-level meetings had been going on
there since early that morning, when someone looking at surveillance tapes
recognized Shafer. What was he doing in New York now? And visiting with al
Qaeda? Suddenly the rumors about the Wolf's travels in the Middle East made
some sense. But what was going on?
Inside Federal Plaza I got a quick, thorough briefing about a terrorist cell
that was staying in a small brick building near the Holland Tunnel. It wasn't
clear whether Shafer was still inside. He had entered at nine the night before
and no one had seen him leave.
"The others are clearly members of al-Jihad," I was told by Angela Bell, the
information analyst assigned to the counterterrorism squad in New York. She
said that the decrepit, three-story structure where the cell was holed up was
shared by a Korean import-export business and a Spanish-translation business.
The terrorist cell was posing as a relief charity called Afghan Children
Assistance.
Based on the surveillance reports we had in hand, there were several
indicators of terrorist planning and activity around New York. Chemicals and
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mixing apparatuses had turned up in a self-storage space in Long Island City.
The place had been rented by an occupant of the property near the Holland
Tunnel; a pickup truck owned by a cell member had been modified with
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