The Seventh Pillar (22 page)

"Your office is the same." Steph jumped up and hugged her. "We kept it for you. You're all right? Are you back?"

"I'm fine. And yes, I'm back. No marathon runs, but they've halted the disease. No damage from the bullet, except a little weakness in my hand. I can work again. Rice asked me to come back when I was ready. He's pleased with how you and Nick have handled things." She paused. "You don't mind, Steph? Because if you do..."

"Are you kidding? You couldn't have picked a better time."

Stephanie filled her in. She followed Harker into her old office. Elizabeth's silver pen still lay on the desk. The picture of the Twin Towers was still there. Harker sat down slowly in her chair, looked around. Then she got down to business.

"Put Nick on the line, Steph."

Then she said, "Thank you. For everything." Stephanie made the connection. Elizabeth picked up the phone.

"Nick."

"Director. Is that you?"

"In the flesh, what's left of it. I lost twenty pounds. Give me an update." Harker picked up her pen and tapped on the desk.

She listened while Nick told her where they were and what they were doing.

"I think your guess is good, that the bomb is on the east side of the river. Sabbah is probably in a van or holed up in a building. What are you going to do?"

"We can't find him in a van, or a building. Our only shot is if he comes out into the open. That's why we figured open space across from the UN."

"What's your plan?"

"Canvas the park. It's the closest location to the UN on this side of the river. Check all the vehicles. There aren't many. We can cover it quickly."

"Any buildings, apartments?"

"Yeah, several. There's a big complex just east of the park and another right across from it. There's a Hertz rental joint and some kind of commercial building. Beyond that are vacant lots, streets, the rest of Long Island City. Oh, yeah, a huge Pepsi sign. You can see the whole New York Skyline from here. Hell of a view. Including the UN."

"All right. If he's not in the park, check out those buildings. Check the parking garages. He could drive out into the open."

"There's no way we can check every apartment in time. We'd need a thousand  cops."

"I'll see what I can do. In the meantime, keep me posted."

"Roger that, Director." He paused. "Glad you're back. You don't know how glad. Out."

"Steph, get me NYPD in Queens."

While Stephanie was on the phone, Harker settled into her chair, an old friend, the contours familiar and comfortable. She'd missed this. She hadn't realized how much. It was good to be back, good to have her life back. The Project was pretty much all she had.

The clock ticked on Armageddon. Her father, the Judge, would have had something to say about it. Elizabeth had spent many hours in this chair, some of them with the memory of her father's plain wisdom. She knew what he'd say now. She could see him sitting in that big green chair in his den.

You can do anything, Elizabeth. Just remember, never give up. No matter what, never give up.

Elizabeth nodded to herself.

CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

Hassan-i-Sabbah sat with his back to a wide window, ominous in black robes and a black turban. His beard was black and narrow and streaked with gray. His eyes were set back in the hollows of his thin face, dark and lit with righteous anger. Behind him, the unmistakable skyline of Manhattan rose on the other side of the river. Sabbah knew that would give away his location, but it didn't matter. Whoever came would be too late. The world needed to see the impotence of America. What better way than to show the heart of The Great Satan in the background?

Before it was destroyed.

"Begin, Jamal." A red light came on in front of the camera.

"My brothers," he began. "The time is here. Allah's vengeance and His mercy will cleanse the world of the false prophets and apostates of the Faith."

Hassan held up the sword in both hands. "The cleansing is at hand. Here is the sign of the return of the Mahdi, praise upon him. He will lead the way. He will come with fire in one hand and mercy in the other. We must follow and prostrate ourselves before His glory."

Sabbah lifted the sword high. It glittered in the light from the camera. He drew the razor edge down his left arm. Blood stained the blade and dripped onto the floor.

"The blood of martyrs is a trail to Paradise. There is still time to pray, my brothers. Do not be afraid, for God is merciful. He knows the false from the true. He knows who is faithful and who is not. Go to the mosques. Purify yourselves with prayer. Wait for that which will come. As you believe, so shall you be received into Paradise or cast forever into the flames."

The light on the camera went out. Hassan rose and placed the sword through a sash around his robe.

"Transmit the tape, Jamal."

"Yes, Teacher."

Sabbah went over to the bomb. A flat, olive drab metal case lay on the floor under the window. He unlatched the lid and opened it. The bomb looked like a fat silver cylinder with a round, steel ball at one end. There was a control panel with a digital counter. Wires ran from one end of the panel to a battery and then out of sight into the container. A second battery was hidden below the first. The counter was active. A row of green digital zeros looked back at him.

Waiting.

The bomb was simple to arm. It had been designed for covert ops or a battlefield situation. The operator wasn't expected to know complex programming. Jamal had studied nuclear physics in Islamabad and knew his way around atomic devices and their electronics. It had been a simple matter to bypass the safety lockouts. The counter would tick off minutes and seconds and tenths of a second until detonation. All that was required was to set the desired time and start the timer. Jamal had linked the timer to the Atomic Clock in Colorado. It would count down to the exact instant of the eclipse with perfect accuracy.

Hassan-i-Sabbah entered the time the eclipse would begin: 3:42:08 P.M. He activated the timer. The readout went from green to red. The numbers blinked and began their descent toward zero.

Sabbah closed the lid.

"Are you afraid, Jamal?"

"Yes, Teacher. A little."

"You have been a good servant, Jamal. You are truthful. Allah is pleased with you. We will enter Paradise together."

Sabbah looked out the window at the towering city across the way.

"Paradise awaits us," he said.

CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

The video went viral minutes after Al-Jazeera posted it. Elizabeth Harker watched with Stephanie. She watched Sabbah cut his arm, listened to his words, watched his eyes. Dead eyes. She looked at her watch. The time was 3:20 P.M. Twenty-two minutes and seconds to the solar eclipse. In her gut Elizabeth was sure Hassan would push the button at that exact moment.

"Freeze, Steph." Stephanie halted the video playback. The Manhattan skyline was clearly visible through the window.

"He's high up. He's got to be in an apartment near the team. Give me an angle across the river to the UN."

Stephanie manipulated her computer. A red line of sight appeared to the UN Plaza, interposed as if the wall and window behind Hassan did not exist. She entered commands, her fingers a blur on the keyboard. Green readouts appeared in a column on the left of the screen. A set of GPS coordinates blinked in red.

"Twelfth floor. He's on the twelfth floor, facing the river."

Elizabeth activated the radio link.

"Nick. We know where he is. Twelfth floor, one of those apartment complexes."

"Roger that. Which building?"

"The one on the left as you face east. I'll send NYPD for backup, I don't know how many. Don't get shot by mistake. You have less than twenty minutes to find him."

Nick looked up at the rows of windows.

"We're on it. Keep the link open."

"Roger. Good luck, Nick."

Elizabeth picked up her phone and dialed a number few people had. She prayed the man on the other end would answer.

"Yes."

"Mister President, this is Director Harker."

"Harker? I thought you were still in Bethesda."

"Yes, sir, I was. Now I'm back.” She glanced at her watch. "Sir, there is a nuclear device set to detonate in nineteen minutes, located near the UN on the other side of the river. You must evacuate immediately to the west. You must be at least three miles away for safety, farther if possible."

"A confirmed threat? Director, I am about to address the General Assembly."

"Mister President. That is not an option." Her voice left no room for argument. "This is a confirmed threat. My team is on the site as we speak."

Stephanie watched Elizabeth. She'd just told the President of the United States what to do.

"Very well. Keep me informed." Rice broke the connection.

"I wonder if he'll let the others know?"

"I don't know, Steph. He has to, I think."

"What if Sabbah finds out? Can he set it off then?"

"I don't know. Let's hope we don't find out."

CHAPTER SEVENTY

Carter spoke into his headset. "Twelfth floor, that building." He pointed. The team was spread out along the boardwalk. They ran. They reached the complex and Nick held up his hand, short of the entrance.

"How should we do this? Sabbah has to have people protecting him."

Monroe looked up. Rows of windows looked back.

Carter glanced at his watch.

Nineteen minutes.

"We have to go in quiet." Monroe gestured at the building.

Nick nodded. "Ronnie, elevator or stairs? I'd have people on both."

"The elevator is faster but it's exposed. Big ding when it reaches the floor. An open hallway. They'll have the floors covered and pick us off as soon as we step out. If they're there."

"They're there, count on it. We'll go with the stairs. I'll take point, Ronnie you next, then Selena. Lucas, guard our backs. Safeties off."

They pushed open the doors and ran into the lobby. Nick held up his ID with the gold badge as they came in. Behind the lobby desk a startled security guard stared open-mouthed at the guns. He got to his feet. He was around fifty. His belly protruded over his gun belt. Ex-cop, Nick figured. Could be good or bad. Nick watched his hand and hoped he didn't try for his gun. There wasn't time to argue.

"Federal agents," Nick told him. "There's a situation on the twelfth floor. In a few minutes this place will be full of cops. Tell them what we look like and send them up to twelve. Tell them there are armed hostiles. They may hear gunfire. Shut down the elevators now and tell them to use the stairs. And tell them not to shoot us."

"What...?"

"You got what I said? Just do it. Where are the stairs?"

"There." The guard pointed.

They sprinted across the lobby and opened the door to the stairwell. It should have been brightly lit. It wasn't.

The stairwell was open all the way to the roof. The stairs rose a half floor to a landing, then back and up to the next floor. The lights were out. The emergency lighting was out except for exit signs on each floor casting a soft red glow. There was just enough light to see by. There were dark patches of shadow. Anything could be in those shadows. Anything probably was.

Seventeen minutes.

They climbed, quick steps. Their footfalls echoed in the space. They passed the next floor. A large white number two was painted on the cement. There were closed entry doors on either side of the landing. They climbed past the next floor, numbered three.

Sixteen minutes.

They started toward four. The first attacker was silent, dressed in gray. He came out of the shadows with something dark in his right hand. Nick shot him. The MP-5 shattered the silence of the confined space. The body tumbled past them down the stairs.

"They know we're here now. Move."

Floor five. The doors opened before they reached the landing. Three more men came out, firing into the stairwell. Pistols, not knives. The assassins had gone modern.

Selena couldn't get a clear shot. The stairwell filled with concrete chips and fragments of metal. Above her, Nick and Ronnie fired. She smelled cordite and heated brass. She reached the landing. Bodies lay on the cement. Her steps made footprints in blood.

She heard Monroe behind her. They ran up the stairs.

At the seventh floor they left three more dead. Selena's legs ached by the time they reached the eleventh floor and the next attack. This time, it came from below. Monroe crouched on the steps and fired down the stairwell. Selena saw figures below, muzzle flashes. She fired. She kept firing. Someone toppled backwards. She reached for a magazine.

A shot and Monroe went down, headfirst on the steps. She heard shots above. A figure leapt over Monroe and came straight at her. She threw the gun at him and he was on her. Kick to the leg, she blocked, parried with a stiff armed strike, landed, felt a blow to her kidney, countered with a forearm strike, felt her left arm go numb from a hard blow to her neck, drove her right fist up under his ribcage to strike at the heart. 

The man went down, convulsing.

Selena ignored him. She bent and felt Monroe's neck for a pulse. Erratic. Still alive. Unconscious. Her arm tingled as feeling flowed back in. She picked up her MP-5 and inserted a new magazine. She worked the bolt and breathed.

Ready.

Her pulse hammered. She was wired, like being plugged into a high power line. Above her it was suddenly quiet.

"Selena. Lucas."

Nick's voice. She yelled up the stairs. "Monroe's hit and down. I'm coming up."

She stepped over bodies on the stairs. They were at the twelfth floor. Nick looked at his watch.

Seven minutes.

"We'll come back for him. Get ready."

They crowded to the side. Nick pulled the door open. The opposite wall exploded with dust and fragments of concrete. Nick and Ronnie reached around the door and cut loose. The air filled with shiny brass casings bouncing end over end.