True Faith and Allegiance

Jack said, “We will have a need for tech support. I’ll want to run a full surveillance package on this guy, and we don’t know what we’re up against yet. If Gavin could come along, it would be helpful.”

Clark gave Gavin a hard look. “Let me make myself perfectly clear. Tech… support… only.”

Gavin said, “Trust me, I’ll stay out of trouble.”

Jack said, “If tailing Dalca, getting some cams and mics on him, and searching his computers doesn’t pan out, maybe we can turn up the heat, confront him, and make him think we have more knowledge than we really do.”

Gerry said, “Bluff, you mean. John, what do you think?”

Clark said, “I like it. We’ve certainly pulled it off before. Gavin and Ryan seem as certain about this call as can be.

“I know a guy in Romania, ex-Army. He was a founding member of their Brigada Antiteroristă, the USLA, back in the late seventies, and he’s worked as a fixer for foreign media and business interests traveling in Bucharest. I’ll reach out to him and try to hire him to help you guys out with translation and logistics.”

“Sounds perfect,” Ding said.

Gerry called Dominic into the conference room, while Clark called Adara and Midas, both taking a lunch break in his farmhouse kitchen in Maryland, putting them on speakerphone. He then told all three about Jack and Chavez’s plan to go to Bucharest to tail a personality implicated in the OPM breach.

Gerry added, “Ding, I want you to take Midas along. He’s new here, obviously, but he’s got experience in advanced force operations with Delta’s recce squadron, which is all about going in light and covert for recon and such.”

Chavez said, “Happy to have you on board.”

Midas replied over the phone. “I appreciate the opportunity.”

Dom was sitting right next to Chavez. “And me as well, I assume.”

Gerry and Clark exchanged a look, and Dom realized it had to do with him. “Something wrong?”

“Not exactly,” Gerry said. “We have another role for you right now.”

Dom stiffened. “What role?”

“We are going to use you domestically to try to help the FBI run down these terror cells. Dan Murray requested you specifically. If we can get a handhold on a live terrorist, we might be able to get him to talk faster than the DoJ ever could.”

Dom went from defensive to excited in an instant. “That is a good idea.”

Clark said, “Adara, do you remember when I told you, in no uncertain terms, that I’d make sure you and Dom wouldn’t be working together, at least at first?”

Adara’s voice over the speakerphone was hesitant. “You mean just last week? Yes, I recall that conversation.”

“Well… forget I said that. I need Dom in the USA on this because of his FBI credentials. And I need Midas overseas because of his experience. No offense, but his Delta Force background trumps your Navy background when it comes to covert reconnaissance.”

Adara said, “I’d be a fool to argue that logic.”

Dom stiffened up again. Coming to terms with the fact he’d be operational with his own girlfriend.

Adara, on the other hand, was already making plans. “I’ll start requisitioning surveillance gear from outfitting. I’m sure we’re going to have to bring some tech into this.”

Clark said, “Good, Adara. As soon as there is another attack, you and Dom will travel to it. You might have to go commercial if the Gulfstream isn’t back from Europe yet.”

Adara asked, “And what about you, John?”

“I’ll remain here at the office, but be ready to help in any capacity necessary.”

The meeting ended, and everyone in the office, save for Gerry and Clark, shuffled out seconds later, all focused on their missions. The two older men sat there quietly, until Clark said, “This means we’re just waiting on another military or intelligence officer to get murdered by terrorists somewhere in the country.”

Gerry nodded. “You better help Dom and Adara get prepped. The way things are going, I doubt they’ll have much time at all before they’re off.”

49

Walid “Wally” Hussein left the Ahlul Bayt Mosque in Brooklyn at seven-thirty, following a small group out after morning prayers. He turned right on Atlantic and headed back for his car, checking his phone for any missed calls as he strolled.

His Chevy Suburban was parked on the street and he climbed in, fired the engine, then pulled out into traffic.

Hussein was a thirty-eight-year-old special agent for the FBI, and he worked in the Counterterrorism Division of the New York field office in Lower Manhattan. His morning drive was always something of a pain in the ass, but he was a lifelong resident of Brooklyn, so a half-hour commute to go the three miles from his mosque to his office didn’t faze him like it would some FBI transplant from Nebraska.

He listened to his voice mail as he drove north, a message from a fellow special agent at the field office telling him they’d received something promising on the tip line, so he needed to haul ass into work so they could check it out.

Hussein looked at the bumper-to-bumper traffic in front of him on Adams and he called the other agent back.

“Special Agent Lunetti.”