The Hammer of God

“These guys duped us and the entire world, except for you and Ross. The message the NSA intercepted with Roosevelt and Mahgra was obviously a plant. The failed attack on the TR was just a dirty bomb suicide decoy. That and the premature Al Jazeera video were all part of a massive deception to get us to stop looking for the bomb and drop our guard.”

“Sun Tzu — all warfare is based on deception.”

Bill snapped his fingers as he remembered the reference. “Hence, when able to attack, we must seem unable.”

“I’m impressed, sir.”

“I studied Tzu when I played ball in college. Used many of his strategies.”

“Well, it seems the terrorists studied The Art of War before this game, sir.”

“Why couldn’t these guys have stuck to just reading the Koran.”

“Oh, I see now, it was only the photocopy that didn’t have the street address…” As Ralph turned to Rashani to explain the discrepancy, he felt a sharp pain in his chest. Number 1 then jerked the scarab up in strong pulls, ripping open Ralph’s ribcage. He finished off his work by slashing the policeman’s throat, leaving him to fall back onto the floor of the trailer.

Number 1 turned and nodded to Number 5, who was screwing a silencer onto his pistol. He stepped out of the trailer to summon the other officer, shedding his blood-splattered jacket along the way. He checked the side-view mirror of the lighting truck to be sure that he was clean.

“Officer? Officer Chesney would like you to join him in my trailer. There’s seems to be a problem with the permit.”

Sammy watched as the producer escorted the cop into the trailer. From this distance, he couldn’t hear the dull pops the silenced weapon made. He did see the trailer rock once, but figured it was normal when people went to one side or another. He returned to dishing out the crew lunch.

“Take the BQE,” Hiccock said. “I used to live here.” Just then, Bridgestone’s phone chimed, indicating that there was a voicemail. He retrieved the message as Bill watched his expressions. “Well?”

“Ross said Rodney was on the move with a case too small to be the nuke.”

“Was he headed out of town or carrying something else?”

“We’ll know soon. Ross was making a move on him. We must have been in the tunnel when he called. Anyway, you know the reason I asked for Palumbo was for cover, in case we had to deal with locals. Flashing an FBI card could keep a lot of nosy cops out of our business. I don’t suppose you have any official looking I.D. on ya?”

“Well let’s see.” Bill opened his wallet and rifled through his I.D. cards. “Office of Homeland Security, no, National Security Agency, no, Defense Intelligence, nah, Central Intelligence, uh uh, Oh here we go, Federal Bureau of I. By the way, on this case I am the lead agency for all these agencies, so since they all are working for and reporting to me, I get to hold all the cards, so to speak.”

“Cool!”

Customs Agent Hector DeNardo was scanning the last container of the current tier when the radiation monitor in his hand registered low-level contamination. He quickly got out his handheld scanner and waved it past the decal on the door. In an instant, the shipping history of the container was displayed on the device’s four-inch display. He relaxed a bit when he saw it was from Teva Radiological Industries Ltd. Petah Tikva, Israel. Still he’d report it, after lunch.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

D.o.a. In Jersey City

Sometimes Allah smiles on you and sometimes he’s looking the other way. It was a fast shootout as the two Jersey City cops stopped and fought it out with the guy dragging the dead body down the alleyway. They happened upon him by accident while investigating a call on a gas leak. Since the dead guy with half his head missing had no I.D., the only thing they found was the set of car keys in his pocket. As other cops and investigators arrived, they pushed the button on the key ring. A half a block away, a Cadillac Seville beeped and its lights flashed. Three minutes later, the NCIC sent a flag to Homeland Security. As a major member of government, all Bill’s friends and family were on a watch list. The inquiry tripped an alarm and the Secret Service detail assigned to Bill was signaled. They were embarrassed and professionally crushed that Bill had eluded them and wasn’t in his suite. Furthermore, the one agent assigned to Janice and the Hiccocks almost gave his mom a heart attack when they rushed to the row in the theater and ascertained that the dead man on the street in Jersey City wasn’t the registered owner of the Caddy, the senior Hiccock.

Bill’s encrypted phone started to oscillate, the signal that indicated flash traffic. At the risk of exposing their location, he had to answer it.

“Mr. Hiccock, Brooke Burrell, sir. We’ve got a dead John Doe who had the keys to your father’s car on him. Do you know why your father’s car would be in Jersey City?”

“Oh, dear god. How did he die?”

“Gunshot to the head, sir. Not pretty and the body had no I.D., sir.”