Game Changer (39 page)

64

McLeod’s call the night before had brought great news,
but had spoiled the mood Quinn and Rachel had been in. Once the call had ended
they both managed to find their restraint once again and Quinn had retired to
his own apartment next door. Alone.

The next day was all about work. Rachel bent herself
to the various tasks she was pursuing with her usual insight and stamina, most
of the time in close consultation with Karen Black. Quinn joined them for
dinner and Captain Brian Stagemeyer also dropped by to provide an update.

According to the captain, McLeod and the two others
with him, Lieutenants Bowen and Zerkle, had found the man they were after and
had run an exhaustive facial recognition search. And they had located an exact
match.

His name was Yosef Mizrahi and he was known to have
worked extensively with the Mossad, but was thought to have been killed in
action a month earlier. This made sense. The Israeli intelligence agency was trying
desperately to conceal how many of their men had left with Kovonov, even from
its own government.

But the fact that Mizrahi was almost certainly in league
with Kovonov was a lucky break. Whether or not this was a voluntary association
was unclear. Rachel and Quinn both suspected the man was unaware that
microscopic guests had set up shop in his head. Regardless, the chances that he
would lead them to Kovonov were excellent.

McLeod and his fellow soldiers had been following this
Mizrahi for an entire day, but they had yet to see any sign of the Russian-born
Israeli. Still, Quinn was as optimistic as he had been in a long time.

Later, when he retired for the night, he rolled onto
his back in bed to consider all that had transpired since the fateful day in
Princeton when he had tried to kill Davinroy, and examine events from as many
angles as he could.

But try as he might, all he could think about was the
woman who was in the bed next door.

And how irresistible the impulse to join her there had
become.
 

65

Haji A
hmad al-Bilawy
could barely contain his excitement. His blood felt like rocket fuel
coursing through his veins, energizing him like never before. Allah had blessed
him like few others in history, had chosen to turn him into an instrument of
destruction, who would deal the Great Satan a devastating blow.

He stroked his thick, billowy black beard absently as
he considered the glorious afternoon and night to come. The fruition of
planning and sacrifice that had taken years to accomplish. While he was to be
the designated face of ISIS in America, others had performed brilliantly to
make sure everything was in place.
 

His excitement was so great that everything that had
come before this day now seemed like a fading dream. Being summoned by the
esteemed leader of ISIS, Walid Jassim Abousamra, and told of the glorious task
he had been chosen to perform. Working out the details and the scripts he would
use, planning for every contingency. And coming here, to a house that had been
set up for him an hour outside of Knoxville, Tennessee. It had all been a
whirlwind that was now nothing more than a blur.

But while he could recall almost nothing of the last
few months of his life, he could recall every detail of the plan in nearly photographic
detail. His preparations and rehearsals for this day must have been all-consuming,
so much so that they ran together in his mind in such a way that he couldn’t
remember a single one. But the results spoke for themselves, and he had never
been more prepared, more ready, for anything.

He picked up the phone that had been left for him and
dialed the number of the Secretary of Homeland Security. The call was answered on
the third ring.

“Who is this?” demanded Greg Henry, obviously miffed
at his phone’s inability to identify the caller. Al-Bilawy had been assured
that all the phone numbers he had memorized were up to date, and no
communication from his phone, or from the video hookup in this home, could be
traced or identified.

“You are speaking with Haji A
hmad al-Bilawy,” he said proudly. “Calling on
behalf of
Walid
Jassim Abousamra and the glorious members of what you call ISIS. And in service
to the almighty Allah.”

“Is this some kind of joke?” said Henry, unimpressed.
“How did you get this number?”

“Not a joke,” said al-Bilawy. “Retribution for your
sins. Punishment for your evil.”

“Al-Bilawy has been captured and is in a detention
facility. Who is this?”

“You mean the detention facility in Knoxville?” said
al-Bilawy smugly. “You’d better check again. But first put this call on video
so we can see each other. That way you can run my image through your facial
recognition software.”

A moment later virtual images of both men were staring
at each other. Al-Bilawy grinned fiercely upon seeing Henry’s face. He was clearly
shaken from the mention of Knoxville.

“What’s this all about?” said Henry uneasily.

“First verify my identity,” said al-Bilawy. “I’ll call
you back in five minutes,” he added, ending the connection.

Five minutes later Henry’s image floated once again before
the ISIS soldier, his face now ashen. “I’ve confirmed that you’re al-Bilawy.
How did you get my personal number? And what do you want?”

“What I want is for every non-believer to die a
horrible death!” snapped al-Bilawy. “But for now I’ll settle for the seven or
eight million people living in the Bay Area of California.”

He shot Henry a cruel smile. “Although
living
will soon be the wrong word to
use.”
 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that there is a nuclear device embedded in
the foundation of a building in downtown San Francisco. There are additional
devices in other major cities, but let’s begin with San Francisco.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“And you are all too predictable. Do you think we are
children? Calling you with idle threats we can’t make good on. Of course we’re
prepared to demonstrate our claims.”

The terrorist paused. “I’m sending a file to your
phone now,” he said. “It’s locked, but it will open for you on its own at four
p.m. It provides the name of the building and instructions for how to verify
the existence of the device. This includes drilling into the foundation. It
specifies precisely where to do this. You can then snake a detector down to get
clear video of the device and measure its telltale radiation signature. The
file will also detail the various booby traps that surround the device. Any
attempt to remove the bomb, disarm it, remove any surveillance sensors, or
remove any wireless signal sensors will cause it to detonate.”

“Why not let us access the file now?”

“We want to give you time to verify what you’re up
against. But not too much time.”

“The Bay Area has one of the highest Muslim
populations in America. You expect me to believe you’d kill hundreds of
thousands of your own?”

Al-Bilawy laughed. “I envy them,” he said
passionately. “They are the lucky ones who will get to die gloriously in
service to Allah.”

Henry swallowed hard. “Assuming this isn’t a bluff,” he
said. “What do you want?”

“Oh, there will be plenty of time for further
discussion. For now, just wait until four and then verify there is a nuclear
device where I say it is. I’ll call you again at seven. This will give you
three hours to confirm it’s real. Did you get the file yet?”

Henry glanced down for several seconds and then
nodded. “I did.”

“Good. When I call back, you had better accept it as a
video call. And your despicable President Davinroy had better be on the call,
as well. Do I make myself clear?”

“You know you’re signing your death warrant.”

“Don’t try to cheer me up,” said al-Bilawy.
“Unfortunately, I am not in the Bay Area myself, so I will be denied the honor
and the glory of becoming a martyr for Allah in this attack. But after this is
over, I plan to gun down as many people as I can in a crowded movie theater. So
rest assured, I will still soon be able to join Allah and thank him personally
for allowing me to be his trigger.”

66

Rachel was taking a break for a late lunch and Quinn
decided to join her in her apartment. She was having an especially productive
day in the lab and the lunch was even more lively, and more fun, than usual. She
told Quinn that she and Karen had been working with Carmilla Acosta, who had been
more helpful than they had expected. Carmilla was still deeply scarred by what
had been done to her, but Rachel was convinced that in a few weeks’ time she
could cut back on some of Carmilla’s meds without fear she would take her own
life.

Once again Quinn found himself pulled irresistibly to
the Harvard Professor, but once again the mood was spoiled, this time by an
incoming call from Brian Stagemeyer.
 

A moment later his virtual presence was with them in
Rachel’s apartment.

“I’m really beginning to hate you guys,” mumbled Quinn
under his breath.

“What was that?” said Stagemeyer.

“Nothing,” said Quinn with a sigh. “So what’s up,
Brian?”

“Lieutenant Bowen just contacted me.”

Quinn’s eyes narrowed. “Bowen?” he said worriedly. “Is
the major okay?”

“He’s fine. Just preoccupied. But I have some great
news.”

“They found Kovonov, didn’t they?” said Rachel excitedly.

“They did. He’s holed up at a farm about an hour out
of Lancaster, Pennsylvania. The major is busy staking him out and setting up an
attack plan, so he sent Bowen to relay some orders to me. Namely, he wants the
rest of the Prep H team on-site as soon as possible. He doesn’t think we’ll be
necessary, but Kovonov is a high-value target and not someone who should be
underestimated.”

“Amen to that,” said Quinn. “Glad to hear it. I’d love
to come along also, but Rachel would kill me before I got on the chopper.”

The captain laughed. “We won’t need you. Bowen says
Kovonov looks like a squirrel settling in for a long winter. He’ll be a sitting
duck. But the major will wait until we arrive to strike. By then he’ll have studied
the survey of the property, the electronic blueprints to the farmhouse, and
observed our target for an extended period.”

“Make sure Kovonov doesn’t have any of his mercenary
friends protecting him.”

“He does. Bowen says they’ve spotted three. Given that
we got the drop on them, they shouldn’t be a problem to take out. Don’t worry,
Kevin, we’re going to get this bastard.”

“Have the major call us the second you do,” said
Quinn.

“I will. Bowen also told me McLeod scrambled a temporary
security team to the island from a base in New York. My team and I will be in a
helicopter waiting to take off. As soon as this New York team lands
—
which should be in about an
hour
—
we’ll
check them in and join the major. But the point is, even though this op
requires all of us, we aren’t about to leave you unguarded for even a minute.
So rest easy.”

“Thanks,” said Quinn. “But I wasn’t worried.
Especially since you’ve got eyes on Kovonov.”

He paused, and his voice became more somber. “One last
thing. Remind the major that this is not a capture mission. We promised the
Israelis that we’d kill Kovonov on sight. He’s too dangerous to take any
chances with.”

“Don’t worry. The major doesn’t need a reminder. And Kovonov
won’t live out the night.”

“I’ve never believed in the death penalty,” said Rachel.
“Even after someone is convicted in a court of law and given this sentence by a
judge. I should be outraged by what’s about to happen. But I have to admit that
when it comes to Dmitri Kovonov, I’m prepared to make an exception.”

She sighed. “Good luck, Captain.”

***

The moment the call ended Quinn could tell that an elephant-sized
weight had been lifted from Rachel’s shoulders. She was still carrying
considerable psychological baggage as she raced to learn why Matrix Learning
led to madness and tried to reverse it in time to stave off catastrophe, but at
least she would soon be able to do this without fear of the Kovonov bogeyman.

Quinn broke out champagne he had been saving for just
such an occasion. They had Kovonov dead to rights and the Prep H team was very
good. The team would still need to recover the virus Carmilla had constructed,
but given it wasn’t contagious, even this wasn’t critical as long as they returned
with Kovonov’s head on a platter.

As he and Rachel celebrated, the dam between them finally
burst, and they found themselves in a passionate embrace without quite knowing
how this had come about. Not only were they more than ripe for it, one of the
main reasons not to fraternize in the first place was about to be removed.

They began kissing on the couch like they were in
junior high school, but they quickly graduated to Rachel’s bed, with most of
their clothing not making the entire trip, ending up as a haphazard trail on
the floor behind them. Their session of lovemaking was as passionate and mind-blowing
as any Quinn had experienced.

He decided that if a starving man denied himself
cheesecake day after day, when he finally did take a bite the taste would be
enhanced to extraordinary levels. This was the first time Quinn had been forced
to deny acting on a mutual attraction for this long, and while he never wanted
to repeat the experiment, the payoff for doing so was one for the record books.

Perhaps it was the epic sex
talking, but Quinn decided that the total destruction of his old life may have
been for the best, his emergence as Kevin Moore from the ashes of Kevin Quinn.
Until Princeton happened, his life had been largely empty—he just hadn’t
realized it.

He had some friends and felt a
kinship with his fellow Secret Service agents, but he had been empty inside. He
had slept with too many women to count, but his relationships were shallow and he
had avoided commitment like the plague.

Rachel was different. She wasn’t
after him just for a one-night stand. She had more substance than any five of
the women he usually dated, and more intelligence than ten. She was someone so
out of his league academically he still couldn’t believe he enjoyed spending
time with her. But he did. Immensely. Who knew that sex was so much better when
the relationship had nothing to do with sex?

And while protecting the president
had been meaningful, working with Rachel and the Israelis to perfect a revolutionary
technology and prevent disaster was more challenging, and certainly more
important, than anything he had ever done. He could make a profound difference
in the world.

He had found a purpose, and a woman
he respected more than anyone he had ever met, of either sex. She was an
egghead professor who had been thrust into his world and was managing herself
with grace and a remarkable competence.

Quinn was about to share these
thoughts with the woman resting contentedly in his arms when there was a knock
at the door. He shook his head in disbelief. Were a few hours of privacy really
too much to ask? He decided that he should look on the bright side. At least
they hadn’t been interrupted while making love.

Rachel turned to face him and gave
him a quick peck on the lips. “I’d better see who it is,” she said miserably.

He nodded.

“Activate intercom feature,” she
ordered her phone. “Audio only.”

“Activated.”

“Who’s there?” she said.

“Sorry to bother you Dr. Howard;
Mr. Moore,” said a deep voice coming through her phone. “But we’ve been
assigned temporary security duty, and we wanted to introduce ourselves.”

Quinn frowned. “We’d better let
them,” he mouthed, “or they’ll never leave us alone.”

“Can you give us just a few
minutes?” said Rachel into her phone.
 
“We
were just, ah . . . finishing up an experiment.”

“Sure. Take all the time you need.”

They kissed a final time and dressed,
so content they almost floated to the door as though on a cloud.

Four men entered calmly and the
first extended a hand. As Quinn went to take it he found himself facing three
drawn guns.

“What’s going on?” he said.

“Resist or call out and you’re
dead!” said the man.

Quinn didn’t doubt his sincerity
for a moment. The group looked deadly serious, and deadly competent. They
quickly cuffed his and Rachel’s hands together with zip-ties.

“Okay,” said the leader. “Now we’re
going to duct tape your mouths shut and escort you out of here. We’ll be
flanking you so no one can see the tape or restraints. If any of your
colleagues do become suspicious, they’ll end up dead. So it’s in your best
interest to see to it that we remove you from the island with no fuss.”

“Who sent you?” said Rachel just
before black duct tape was pulled across her mouth. “And where are you taking
us?”

“We’re taking a trip to
Pennsylvania,” he replied. “And I don’t know the name of the man you’ll be
going to see. All I know is that he told us to call him 302.”