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

system glitched and wouldn’t turn off. It flooded the place and forced them to shut down—so there was practically no one around. The athletics complex to the north was also shut down, because of the threat level caused by the New York bombings. When the attacks finally started, the initial reports came in from the residents a quarter mile to the northwest of West Point Military Academy. They were complaining about the excessive noise coming from the school running training ops. Can you believe that? It took 911 dispatchers about ten minutes to put it together that the mint was under attack.”

“Information only flows as fast as the human who believes it,” Connor said. “Can’t tell you how many times people have screwed up responses to critical situations because they either didn’t believe the reports, or they wanted additional confirmation before making a decision.”

“Regardless,” Thompson said, “they got away with a ton of money.”

Brice nodded. “Well, more accurately, it was gold and platinum bullion, not money. But yeah, they got away with tons of it. Literally.” He tapped in another command, and the images of the plane vanished, replaced by a bird’s-eye view of a helicopter parked in a clearing surrounded by forest.

“That the elusive first chopper?” Richards asked, taking his feet off the table and sitting forward in his chair.

“That’s right, found in a field three miles from the airport, abandoned and torched. The FBI’s forensic teams are working on the black box to see if there’s any usable information, but I doubt they’ll find anything.”

“I’m telling you, the entire thing was a shell game, right from the beginning.” Connor set his empty mug on the table. “Hakimi has never made contacts prior to any other attack he’s done. Ever. So why the hell would he call Khan to let him know about this one? And he used the correct keywords so the system would pick up on the conversation and flag it for review.”

“Maybe he just got careless,” Richards said.

Connor shook his head. “No, I don’t think so, not with something like this. We know Müller’s people supplied the explosives used in the New York bombings. My guess is they handed the supplies over to Khan’s people with no preset conditions other than to cause chaos—which is exactly what they did. If Müller was here,” Connor raised a finger, “and that’s a big if, he’d want to be as far away from that bullion as possible during transport.”

“Why?” Annie said. “If I’d spent the time and resources to plan and execute something this big, I’d want to keep an eye on it.”

“It’s like a military general putting together operational orders in theater. He plans some really detailed and important missions, but he doesn’t actually go in with the boots on the ground. He’s too important. If he’s with the shipment, and it’s stopped, he’s toast. If he’s somewhere else… well, there’s always more money to steal.”

Richards leaned forward. “So you’re saying Müller might still be in-country?”

Connor shrugged. “It’s possible. If he is, he won’t be for long.”

“And none of the captured attackers from the mint are talking,” Brice said. “I’ve got taps on all of the bureau’s interrogation rooms. They’re doing a decent job —none of the prisoners are at the same location, so there’s no chance of contact between them. And they haven’t released that they have any suspects in custody.”

“They’ll probably wait until the last minute,” Thompson said. “That way no high-priced lawyers have the chance to jump all over the case. A case like this is liable to make them millions in fees. It’ll be tied up in the courts for years.”

“You don’t think Müller will send in his own attorneys?” Annie asked. “Hell, I’d just send me.”

“You?” Richards said.

Annie drew her thumb across her throat. “No loose ends.”

“She’s got a point,” Connor said. “I think someone’s going to want to make the case to put them in an air-tight maximum security box, somewhere that Müller can’t get to. Even if we don’t get anything from them now, it doesn’t mean we won’t later. Unless they’re dead, of course.”

“What, like put them in Gitmo?” Richards said.

Connor got up to refill his coffee. “Something like that. Actually, the more I think about it, the more I think Annie has a point.”

“Why thank you,” she said, smiling and flicking her hair.

Connor grinned at the enigmatic and dangerous flirt. “You’re welcome.” He blew softly on his fresh coffee before taking a sip. “With something like this, loose ends are everywhere. These guys the FBI’s got, they aren’t long for this Earth if Müller has anything to do with it. He obviously didn’t know about us, but he’d thought out everything else, almost perfectly. He’s probably got a plan to off all of them.”

“He did get away with a little over two hundred million in gold and platinum,” Brice said.

“Well, at this point I don’t care about the money,” Connor said.

Richards scoffed. “Don’t care about the money?”

Connor shrugged. “Two hundred million is a drop in the bucket in the grand scheme of things.” He turned to Brice. “How many security guards and officers were killed during the attack?”

Brice hesitated. “Eleven guards, four officers.”

“And how many victims in New York?”

“They’re still being counted.”

“That’s what I care about—the lives Müller’s destroyed so he can have a big payday.”

“I say we hunt down the bastard and put one right between his eyes,” Annie said.

“I was thinking about bringing justice and closure to the victims’ families,” Connor said, “but maybe she’s right. Taking him out is the only to ensure they get whatever measure of justice they’re due. Müller’s the type who probably would never serve a day in jail.

“Finding Müller is our number one priority,” Richards agreed. “After the ass-kicking we took, he deserves nothing less.”

Thompson raised a hand. “Let’s not forget about our victory.” He nodded to Annie. “Annie saved I don’t know how many lives yesterday. Brice, you too. Both of you did a fantastic job.”

Annie lifted her bandaged arm.