Tactical Deception: Silent Warrior, Book 2 (18 page)

“What time is it, Abdullah?”

“Eight fifteen, Mullah Meshood.”

“Pray.” Salaam closed his eyes and beseeched Allah to save his plan from ruin and bless him with no more mistakes. He opened his eyes to see sunlight glinting off the silver Mercedes as it whipped quickly into the parking space. A distinguished man in a gray suit with gray hair exited the car, briefcase in hand. He was tall, slender and wide open. Salaam sighted the scope and smiled with satisfaction as he pulled the trigger. The bullet from his Remington P LTR reached its target in less than a second. The back of the man’s head exploded.

The person at the stoplight, a passing bicyclist and the Good Samaritan who stopped to see why a bicyclist was laying in the middle of the road were all next. He left the rooftop with Abdullah at his side. They still had five minutes to spare before the security guard would arrive.

On Twitter:

BREAKING NEWS: NYC. Four tourists shot at Ground Zero.

BREAKING NEWS: Three men shot in their vehicle at a stoplight near Langley.

BREAKING NEWS: Palm Beach, Fla. Sniper kills five models during beach shoot.

BREAKING NEWS: Tacoma. Motorists in funeral lineup shot on way to cemetery.

BREAKING NEWS: Chicago Cubs fans shot during pregame tailgating party.

BREAKING NEWS: Strippers shot outside Bombshell Club in Dallas.

BREAKING NEWS: Tour bus outside of Disneyland targeted by sniper. 6 dead.

BREAKING NEWS: Fayetteville, NC. 11 migrant workers found murdered at their camp.

Chapter Twenty-One

Fort Bragg, North Carolina

0900 hours

“Speak of the devil.” Roger answered his cell phone, surprised to see the name Paul on the display. Since his presidency, conversations with Paul were sparing and calls from him were rare. DT’s uncovering of Menendez’s terrorist crimes had been the topic of late while what happened in Lebanon hung around like a two-ton gorilla they both ignored. Orders to suppress the US missile strike’s role in the explosions in Lebanon came from the White House. “I was just about to call—”

“Uncle John’s dead, Roge. Shot in his bank’s parking lot less than an hour ago.”

“What?” Roger gripped the phone and sat hard. His office chair screeched in protest. “Bank robbery?”

Paul’s father, Roger’s mother and John were siblings. But Uncle John and his wife, Aunt Emily, had been like a second set of parents to their nieces and nephews. The couple, never having children of their own, often opened their home—a horse ranch outside of Gainesville, Georgia—to the nieces and nephews for summer vacations. Emily had died last year of cancer and they’d all been to the funeral.

“No. Sniper. Three other people outside the bank in Gainesville were killed with him. Same as yesterday afternoon, a simultaneous wave of shootings swept the country between eight and eight thirty this morning. Law enforcement was out in mass in the targeted cities, but the snipers hit adjacent cities and towns. Reports are just reaching the media. I’ve got over seventy-five innocent Americans dead in less than twenty-four hours.”

“Christ.” Roger sat stunned, emotions, shock and the pain of loss grabbed him deep. The enormity of the sniper situation was horrendous. Now it had struck into the heart of his family. Nearing seventy, Uncle John had had the stamina of a younger man. He was a bank president, a wicked golfer and a sharp sailboat racer. “Was he targeted because—”

“I’m President? I pray not, but the question is killing me. What if it had been Kerrie or Kathryn? God, what if either one of them had been shot?”

Paul’s voice shook as he spoke of his daughter and wife and Roger’s hand trembled as he adjusted the phone closer to his ear. He intimately knew Paul’s fear. Mari and her unborn baby were all tangled up inside him.

Paul continued before Roger could speak. “I knew in my mind when I took office that my family or I could be targeted by violence, but actually living through it now…I didn’t know shit. This is…hell. It’s too early to tell if the family is at risk, but I’m alerting everyone and the secret service is en route to every member.”

“Not here I hope. They’ll only be twiddling their thumbs on post.”

“You’re not there twenty-four seven.”

“Lately I am. Besides I’ve got men here for whatever I need. Who knows about Uncle John so far?”

“My dad’s the only one I’ve told. He’s calling your mom and the rest of the family, including your brothers. I have no doubt our folks will head to Gainesville today to make the viewing and funeral arrangements. We’re holding off on any press announcements until the family hears and protection is in place for Kathryn and me to go down there. John will be buried next to Aunt Emily.” Paul’s voice caught. “This situation is killing me. Every agency we’ve got is on this sniper situation and they’re digging deep. But we’ve got nothing. Victims are random. No pattern to the shootings except for simultaneous sweeps across the country. No notes. No sick bastards claiming triumph. At this point it appears Uncle John was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“What can I do?”

“Just sit tight for now until I hear from Dad. We’ll have a private viewing with just the family tomorrow.” Paul paused. “Sorry for being all over the place, but did you say you were about to call me? Has something else happened to the family?”

“No, but I might need your help. You remember Corporal Rico Santana? Menendez kidnapped him along with Bill Collins’s kids?”

“I remember.”

“He was in Piedmont Park yesterday afternoon and chased down a sniper suspect. The SOO who gave me and the men such a hard time in Peru over Menendez showed up yesterday with the FBI to question Rico. They’re investigating his story. Rico is as solid as they come. I’d put my life in his hands, but I have a feeling the SOO is going after him since he can’t get to me—” Roger’s words cut off when his cell indicated he had an incoming call. It was Mari.

“I know they’re questioning someone in Atlanta, but had no details other than there’re no solid leads as of yet.” Paul muttered a curse. “This situation is killing me.”

“If there’s any info to be had from the shooting in the park, Rico will find it, provided they don’t railroad his ass to a jail cell first. General Dekker headed there this morning to step in. Maybe someone on your end can give the SOO a call and make sure he stays in line. If you hear anything more—”

“I’ll keep you in the loop. You do the same.”

“Count on it. And, Paul, stay safe.”

“Yeah. You too.”

Roger disconnected with Paul and called Mari.

“Roger?” She sounded distraught.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s unbelievable. My brother Fahran and my sister Maisa are here.”

“You have a sister and a brother? You’ve never mentioned them.” An uneasiness tingled over Roger’s skin.

“Yes. I, uh, haven’t spoken of them because… It’s hard to explain. When Neil brought me to America from Afghanistan, I chose to forget…everything…” Her voice broke on a painful note that said volumes to Roger. All was not well with Mari and her family. She cleared her throat and continued before he could ask her what she wasn’t saying. “I can’t believe they are here to see me.”

“They’re on post?” Roger stood, fully alert and headed out the door of his office, truck keys in hand.

“No. I must go to them at the Holsten Inn in Fayetteville. They left a message for me.”

Red flags waved in Roger’s face. “This is a trick. Dugar’s trying to draw you out.”

“No. I know it’s Fahran and Maisa. Only they could have written what I read. Will you take me to see them? Please.”

“I’ll be right there and we’ll talk. I don’t like this at all.” Roger moved like the wind to get to Mari. Part of his concern didn’t involve her family or her wanting to leave post, but that she’d gotten the message in the first place. He thought he had alerted all channels that mail, calls and any other communication to Mari had to be screened by him. He didn’t want Dugar to even remotely touch Mari’s life again.

By the time he made it back to his apartment and saw the note, his uneasiness had mushroomed to warning signals and Dugar didn’t have anything to do with it. Mari was the source. The note was authentic, but his gut told him she was holding back more than she was saying. Pain was too mild a word for the strain he saw in her eyes. He wanted to understand what had happened in Afghanistan but it seemed too horrible for her to share with him. She’d been through so much. He couldn’t believe she was only twenty-four years old. It seemed surreal to him. Then again, Neil had only been a year or so younger than Roger was. Had Neil known about her family? “So, you haven’t spoken to your brother and sister since you left Afghanistan?”

“No. There was a family…rift…and I did not try and find them after Neil…helped me.”

“They wrote they are so glad to see that you’re alive and so sorry over what happened. What happened? What made them think you were dead?”

Mari turned away from Roger and picked up the picture of her and Neil that Roger had brought to her. She couldn’t look into Roger’s piercing blue gaze and answer his question. He saw too much. She didn’t want to lie to him, but how could she tell him that her father had banished her to a cell and left her to starve to death when her family fled the village?

Roger would want to know why. Then she would have to tell him what the men in her village had done to her. She knew she didn’t have to fear Roger’s condemnation, but she had no doubt Roger would be outraged on her behalf.

Neil had been and Roger was even more…aggressively passionate about things than Neil.

Neil had not only blamed her father for his cruelty but had blamed her whole family. To him there was no excuse for what they let happen to her. He believed her mother, her brother and her sister should have done something to intervene. Helped her escape or something. Neil just hadn’t understood. There was no place to escape to and for anyone of her family to go against her father’s decisions would have brought a severe punishment, if not the same punishment, upon themselves—a family’s honor in her culture was everything. Right now, Mari couldn’t imagine Roger feeling any less angry than Neil had. That would jeopardize her chances of seeing Maisa and Fahran today.

She gazed out at the wind chimes on the balcony, wishing the wind could carry her to a different place where the harsh realities of violence and pain had never entered her life. That she was a child again, dreaming of a life full of love and happiness, laughing with her twin sister as they tricked her brother, helping her mother. She desperately wanted to see Maisa and Fahran. She wanted to know about her mother and part of her still cared to know if her father was well too.

Based on all the things tumbling around in her heart, she only told Roger some of her story. “I was still at our home when our village was attacked. I was sick. My family was not at home. Neil found me and carried me from my home just before it was demolished by a missile. There had been a rift between my family and me and I did not try and contact them after I recovered. I thought they would not have approved of my marriage, but maybe I was wrong since they have come here to see me.” She turned around and set the photo of her and Neil back on the shelf then faced Roger. “Being able to see my family…it’s something I never thought possible and I can hardly wait…”

Roger inhaled and ran his fingers through his dark hair.

She could tell he didn’t want her to do this, and she waited, feeling as if her heart and her future hung in the balance. And maybe they did in more than one way. Last night had been the most restless night of her life. She kept reliving what prompted her flight into the bedroom. The memory and feel of Roger’s body against hers. The heat of his arousal. The scent of his cologne. The warmth of his mouth pressed to hers. She slid her gaze over him now, absorbing his full effect—a forbidden pleasure that made her heart thunder at her daring.

He exuded power with an impatient, raw edge that urged her to soothe the crease in his brow, to ease the tension in his broad shoulders, to see a smile curve his lips and light his eyes. She’d only seen glimpses of the man behind the tightly controlled demeanor of his Delta commander role, and as much as she hated herself for feeling this way, she wanted more. She wanted to run her fingers through the waves of dark hair feathering back from his face and curling slightly at his collar. She wanted to know what would have happened if she’d met the tentative brush of his lips against hers last night with the full force of the want she didn’t dare to give in to.

“When?” Roger asked.

Mari blinked and snatched her gaze to his face. “When?”

“When do you want to go? There is so much happening that I’m not sure I can take you later, but we can do it now. I don’t want anyone else taking you and going alone is not an option.”

“Let me get dressed.” Mari hurried into the bedroom and put on her abaya and hijab. After coming to America with Neil, she’d stopped wearing the totally enveloping burka that had covered her heavily from head to toe and had adopted the abaya and hijab. Now as she put on her outer garments her hands shook. She smoothed the black gown over her rounding stomach and the baby growing inside her. Since the note had arrived, she’d been bubbling with hope and so wanting to see Maisa and Fahran. But now that the moment had come, she realized she’d changed a lot since her cell in Afghanistan, more so than even when she’d been attacked and left broken to die.