Patriot, M.A. Rothman [reading like a writer TXT] 📗

hundred percent certainty, that the photo was of Mohammad Hakimi. “That’s him right before the 2005 London bombings, at Heathrow.”

Christina stepped around the desk and studied the collage of pictures. “One of the worst attacks in London history.”

“Fifty-six people killed.”

“I thought those were all suicide bombings?”

“They were. He was part of the advanced team that scouted out the locations. He left just before the bombings started. Hopped a flight to Karachi, where he vanished.” Connor tapped a color photograph. “Popped up again ten years later in Yemen, when four suicide bombers killed one hundred and forty-two people in Sana’a.”

Christina crossed her arms. “Likes to send others to do his dirty work, doesn’t he?”

“Definitely seems like it.”

“Okay, so where is he now?”

Connor pointed to a map of the East China Sea. He’d drawn a circle around where the GPS coordinates had placed Hakimi when he made his call. “As of four days ago, he was here.”

Christina snapped her fingers. “You know, there was an email…” She trailed off and shuffled through the pile of papers Connor had taken from the envelope. “Yeah, here.” She handed him a sheet of paper.

Deep Sea Research and Salvage

58-1 Nazeuragami, Amami 894-0068, Kagoshima Prefecture

Mr. Mohammad Hakimi:

This is in regards to the salvage operation we conducted on your behalf 152 kilometers southeast of Kikaijima Island. The payment that you provided was not honored by your banking institution.

We regret that you must be charged a ten percent late penalty. Payment in full, including the penalty, must be received by us within the next thirty days or we will have to contact our attorneys on this matter.

Your assistance in this matter is appreciated.

Sincerely yours,

Yoshi Takahashi

Executive Director, DSRS

“Utah pulled that off a server cluster in Tokyo,” Christina said.

“Okay, so what’s a hundred and fifty kilometers off of Kikaijima?”

“Something worth salvaging, apparently.”

“Hakimi said something about it ‘being intact.’”

“Lot of wrecks out there,” Christina said. “Subs, destroyers, planes, you name it. I’m sure there’s a ton of ordnance scattered all over the bottom of the ocean. But what would be down there that anyone would find worth picking up? I mean, if they wanted an unexploded bomb, it would be easier to just build one with fertilizer and ammonium nitrate.”

“You’d think so.” Connor rubbed the back of his neck. “I feel like I’m grasping at straws here.”

“No luck on the FISA warrant?”

A warrant from the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Court would allow Connor to dig deeper through the local telephone records and pinpoint exactly where the phone call Hakimi had made went to. Abdullah’s phone number in New York City had returned with over a thousand references, meaning it was being used for lots of international communications. He clenched his jaw as he thought of the red tape holding him back from investigating who this guy was. For all Connor knew, the name could be an alias. He’d thought about handing the case off to the FBI or Homeland, but without knowing what exactly he was handing off, there wasn’t yet much point to approaching the sister agencies.

“Nope. Pennington shut me down cold.”

Christina slapped the printout with the back of her hand. “Well, you didn’t have this before. Maybe it’ll help.”

“Maybe. But I’m not looking forward to going back up there.”

“Better you than me.”

“Thanks.” Connor leaned back. “I really need to know where that phone call went.”

“What if it went nowhere?”

Connor raised an eyebrow. “Hmmm?”

“I mean, what if the call was just a decoy? Those bastards all know we listen to their phone calls; we know they’ve had conversations specifically to throw us off and get us looking in the wrong direction. He even said in his call that he couldn’t talk long, right? Have you thought about that?”

Connor paused. “No. No, I hadn’t, but I should’ve.” He looked up at the tiled ceiling, working through that rabbit trail. It was definitely possible, but what would Hakimi gain by tricking them into looking deeper into his history, or the East China Sea, or any of it? He’d have been better off not making the phone call at all and just showing up out of nowhere. Now he had a big red flag on his name. Connor had already made sure his face had been loaded into every facial recognition database in the country, as well as at Interpol.

“Everything that Hakimi’s been a part of so far has been some kind of suicide bombing of soft targets,” Connor said. “From the intel I’ve seen, none of those attacks were telegraphed beforehand. It’s clear that he orchestrated much if not all of those operations and was close at hand to supervise them all.”

Christina nodded. “Okay, so work through that. Figure that he knows we know him. And he knows we’d be listening to his phone calls. He’s not dumb, he’s crazy. You think he’s going to show up in New York with a bunch of suicide bombers and wreak havoc on the city?”

“It’s not outside the realm of possibility. And if that is what he’s planning, I need that warrant so I know where he’ll be. I can stop all this before it even gets off the ground.”

“You’re extrapolating a lot from a thirty-second phone call,” Christina said. “It could just be nothing. It could be he’s just found the perfect present for his niece or something and he’s planning on giving it to her on Ramadan.”

Connor glared at her. “You don’t really believe that.”

“No, I’m just playing devil’s advocate here. You know Pennington is going to say the exact same things. I just want you to be ready for him.”

For someone who had only worked for the agency for a year, Christina could navigate the politics of the intelligence world with the grace of a seasoned operator.

She tapped Hakimi’s picture. “If you’re going full speed ahead on this guy, you need real evidence. And you’ll lose credibility every time you go to Pennington without one-hundred-percent confirmation.”

Connor slammed the heel of his hand against the desk and