“Only if you can track her without being spotted.”
“It would be easier in the woods, you know. I’m trained in that particular skill.”
“Brian, what do you think we’ve been doing here?” Pete inquired gently.
“Oh, is that what it is?”
“First get new shoes,” Dominic advised.
“Yeah, I know These are just about dead.” The canvas uppers were separating from the rubber bottoms, and the bottoms were pretty shot, too. He hated doing it. He’d put a lot of miles in his running shoes, and a man can be sentimental about such things, which was frequently a matter of annoyance to his spouse.
“We’ll hit the mall early. Foot Locker right next to the place they rent strollers,” Dom reminded his brother.
“Yeah, I know. Okay, Pete, any advice on Michelle?” Brian asked. “You know, if we’re out on a mission, we usually get a mission brief.”
“That’s a fair question, Captain. I’d suggest you look for her at Victoria’s Secret, just across from The Gap. If you get close enough without being spotted, you win. If she says your name when you’re more than ten feet away, you lose.”
“This isn’t strictly fair,” Dominic pointed out. “She knows what we look like—especially height and weight. A real bad guy wouldn’t have that information in his pocket. You can fake being taller, but not being shorter.”
“And my ankles can’t take high heels, y’know?” Brian added.
“You don’t have the legs for it anyway, Aldo,” Alexander needled. “Who ever said this job was easy?”
Except we still don’t know what the fucking job is, Brian didn’t respond. “Fair enough, we improvise, adapt, and overcome.”
“Who are you now, Dirty Harry?” Dominic asked, finishing off his McMuffin.
“In the Corps, he’s our favorite civilian, bro. Probably would have made a pretty good gunny.”
“Especially with his .44 Smith.”
“Kinda noisy for a handgun. Kinda tough on the hand, too. Except maybe the Auto-Mag. Ever shot one of those?”
“No, but I handled the one in the gun locker at Quantico. Damned thing ought to come with a trailer to haul it around with, but I bet it makes nice holes.”
“Yeah, but if you want to conceal it, you better be Hulk Hogan.”
“I hear that, Aldo.” As a practical matter, the fanny packs they used didn’t so much conceal a pistol as make it more convenient to carry. Any cop knew what it was on first sight, though few civilians recognized it. Both brothers carried a loaded pistol and a spare magazine in their packs, when they wore them. Pete wanted them to do so today just to make it harder to track Michelle Peters without being spotted. Well, you expected such things of training officers, didn’t you?
THE SAME day began five miles away at Holiday Inn Express, and on this day, unlike the others, they all unrolled their prayer rugs and, as one man, said their morning Salat for what they all expected to be the last time. It took but a few minutes and then they all washed, to purify themselves for their task. Zuhayr even took the time to shave around his new beard, neatly trimming the part he wanted to wear into eternity, until, when satisfied, he dressed.
It wasn’t until they were completely ready that they realized it was hours short of the proper time. Abdullah walked up the hill to Dunkin’ Donuts for breakfast and coffee, this time even returning with a newspaper, which circulated its way around both rooms while the men drank their coffee and smoked their cigarettes.
Fanatics they might seem to their enemies, but they remained human, and the tension of the moment was unpleasant, and getting only worse by the minute. The coffee only pumped more caffeine into their systems, making hands shake and eyes narrow on the TV news. They checked their watches every few seconds, willing unsuccessfully for the hands to turn faster around the dials, then drank more of the coffee.
“NOW WE’RE getting excited, too?” Jack asked Tony at The Campus. He gestured at his workstation. “What’s here that I don’t see, buddy?”
Will rocked back in his chair. “It’s a combination of things. Maybe it’s real. Maybe it’s just a coincidence. Maybe it’s just a construct in the minds of professional analysts. You know how you tell what it really is?”
“Wait a week, look back, and see if anything actually happened?”
That was enough to make Tony Wills laugh. “Junior, you are learning the spook business. Jesus, I’ve seen more predictions go wrong in the intelligence business than they have on Preakness day at Pimlico. You see, unless you do know, you just don’t know, but people in the business don’t like to think that way.”
“I remember when I was a kid, Dad used to get in shitty moods sometimes—”
“He was in CIA during the Cold War. The big shots were always asking for predictions that nobody could really give—at least not that meant anything. Your father was usually the guy who said, ‘Wait awhile and you’ll see for yourselves,’ and that really pissed them off, but, you know, he was usually right, and there weren’t any disasters on his watch.”
“Will I ever be that good?”
“It’s a lot to hope for, kid, but you never know. You’re lucky to be here. At least the Senator knows what ‘don’t know’ means. It means his people are honest, and they know they’re not God.”
“Yeah, I remember that from the White House. It always amazed me how many people in D.C. thought they really were.”
DOMINIC DID the driving. It was a pleasant three or four miles down the hillside into town.
“Victoria’s Secret? Suppose we’ll bag her buying a nightie?” Brian wondered.
“We can only dream,” Dominic said, turning left onto Rio Road. “We’re early. Get your shoes first?”
“Makes sense. Park by the Belk’s men’s store.”
“Roger that, Skipper.”
“IS IT time?” Rafi asked. He’d done so three times in the past thirty minutes.
Mustafa checked his watch: 11:48. Close enough. He nodded.
“My friends, pack your things.”
Their weapons were not loaded, but placed inside shopping bags. Assembled, they were too bulky and too obvious. Each man had twelve loaded magazines, with thirty rounds each, taped together in six pairs. Every weapon had a large sound suppressor tapped to screw onto the barrel. The purpose of these wasn’t so much silence as control. He remembered what Juan had told him back in New Mexico. These weapons tended to jerk off target, climbing high and right. But he’d already gone over the weapons issues with his friends, and they all knew how to shoot, had all shot these things when they’d gotten them, and so they should know what to expect. Besides, they were going to what American soldiers called a target-rich environment.
Zuhayr and Abdullah carried out their travel things, locking them into the trunk of their rented Ford. On reflection, Mustafa decided to put the guns there, too, and so all four of them, each carrying his shopping bag, walked out to the car and set the bags standing up on the floor of the trunk. With that done, Mustafa got into the car, unthinkingly bringing the room key in his pocket. The drive was not a long one. The objective was already in sight.
The parking lot had the usual entrance points. He chose the northwest entrance, next to the Belk’s men’s store, where they could park close in. There, he switched off the engine and said his last prayer of the morning. The other three did much the same, getting out and walking to the back of the car. Mustafa popped the trunk. They were less than fifty meters from the door. Strictly speaking, there was little point in concealment, but Mustafa remembered the security desk. To delay police response, it had to begin there. So, he told them to keep their weapons in the shopping bags, and, bags dangling from their left hands, they walked to the door.
It was a Friday, not so busy a shopping day as Saturday, but close enough for their purposes. They came inside, passing the LensCrafters, which was busy—most of these people would probably escape unhurt, which was regrettable, but the main shopping area was still before them.
BRIAN AND Dominic were in the Foot Locker store, but Brian didn’t see anything he liked. The Stride Rite next door was only for kids, so the twins proceeded forward, turning right. American Eagle Outfitters would doubtless have something, maybe in leather, with high tops that would be easier on the ankles.
TURNING LEFT, Mustafa passed a toy store and various clothing businesses on his way to the Center Court. His eyes were sweeping the area rapidly. Perhaps a hundred people in his immediate sight, and judging by K*B Toys, the retail stores would all be well peopled. He passed the Sunglass Hut and turned right for the security office. It was conveniently located, just a few steps from the restrooms. All four went into the men’s room together.