Call It Treason (The Adam Drake series Book 4) Page 20

  “Liz, I changed my mind. I’m coming over.”

  CHAPTER 59

  Drake drove to her condo in Arlington and got there in twenty minutes.

  “Hope you don’t mind seeing me in tights and a sweatshirt,” she said when she opened the door. “When you said you weren’t coming, I thought I’d go for a run.”

  Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She looked great.

  “I like the ponytail.”

  She led him to the kitchen and asked over her shoulder, “Would you like a beer or a glass of wine?”

  “I’ve been drinking beer with Mike, I’m fine for now,” he said, as he took off his coat and laid it over the arm of her white leather sofa. Remembering the last time they’d been on the sofa, he turned to the kitchen where she was pouring herself a glass of wine and took a seat at the kitchen counter. He didn’t need any more distractions at the moment.

  “Remember when you told me about the white van across the river when the plane in Philadelphia was shot down, and that the drone hadn’t been able to spot the missile in time?”

  “Yes, the drone had thermal imaging and should have seen inside the van,” she said and leaned a hip against the other side of the counter. “Why?”

  “What could have prevented the thermal imaging from detecting the missile and whoever launched it?”

  “I suppose some kind of infrared shielding could have been used.”

  “And what would that look like?”

  “From what I remember from briefings at DHS, NASA developed infrared blocking technology. Commercial applications use two sheets of polyurethane with an inner layer of insulation to prevent conductive heat flow. It comes in sheets of the material.”

  “Liz, that’s what we saw at the camp!” he said. “Remember that white van we walked by? They were putting up sheets of something in the back of that van. I think that was the van the terrorists used in Philly.”

  “Oh my God,” she said. “If you’re right, we’ve found them.”

  “There’s something else. If they were shielding that van on Saturday when we were there, they knew the president was putting drones up over the airports. I don’t recall hearing about the drones until after the third plane was shot down. How did they know about it on Saturday?”

  “Senator Hazelton was briefed on the president’s decision on Friday. Other than the Air Force and the people around the president, it was a pretty small group. They couldn’t have known,” she said.

  “Then they have someone inside,” Drake said. “If I’m right about the van at the camp, who do I tell? I haven’t had much luck in the past getting anyone to listen to me, even you.”

  “That was before I got to know you,” she said with a smile, “and you turned out to be right. How about Special Agent Perkins? I know her, she’ll listen to me and she’s with the Counterterrorism Division.”

  “If you think she’ll listen. Is it too late to call her tonight?”

  Liz looked at the time on her microwave. “It’s only eleven, early in D.C. Let me call her again. I left a message for her when we wanted to know why CTD was involved in a suicide or embezzlement investigation, and she hasn’t called me back.”

  Drake watched her enter the FBI agent’s numbers on her iPhone with one hand and let her hair loose from the band holding her ponytail with the other. He was admiring her silhouette as she stood at her balcony window holding the phone, when she turned to him with a puzzled look on her face.

  “She wants to know if we can meet her tonight.”

  Drake nodded yes, and when she ended the call, he asked, “What’d she say?”

  “She’s been busy with another ‘suicide’. John Prescott apparently killed his wife and then himself.”

  Special Agent Kate Perkins was sitting in a booth at an all-night diner in Arlington when they arrived. She wore a blue half-zip pullover with a small FBI logo in gold and when she stood, they saw she had on khaki pants and blue Nikes.

  “Thanks for meeting me here,” she said, “I didn’t have time for lunch or dinner and I’m starved.”

  “Are you working the Hassan case and now the Prescott case as well?” Liz asked.

  “No, I’m just helping out and reviewing them for CTD. You guys want something to eat?”

  “I’ll have coffee,” Drake said. “You want anything, Liz?”

  “Coffee and cream, thanks.”

  “Why is CTD interested in Hassan and Prescott, Agent Perkins?” Drake asked.

  Perkins turned to Liz. “I don’t know a lot about Mr. Drake, although I have heard some of the stories about him. From now on, whatever I tell you, Liz, is being provided as a courtesy to you as Senator Hazelton’s advisor on matters of national security and his chairmanship of the Senate Intelligence Committee, is that understood? If you want to have him here, that’s up to you.”

  “Understood,” Liz said.

  “I was called in when Hassan’s suicide note mentioned Sheik Qasseer. We keep an eye on organizations we believe are fronts for the Muslim Brotherhood or allied with them. The American Muslim Youth Camp Foundation has been under investigation as a Muslim Brotherhood front for some time. We wanted to know more about the money flowing through the foundation.”

  “Have you examined its books?” Drake asked.

  “I met with John Prescott earlier today and requested copies of any audits that were done of their finances. He stalled me. Tonight, I learn he’s dead.”

  “So your interest in the foundation is to see if it’s a front for the Muslim Brotherhood. Are you involved in the search for Allah’s Sword and finding the missiles they’re using?” Drake asked.

  “Not directly, why?”

  Drake checked with Liz and she nodded to go ahead. “We visited the foundation’s youth camp in West Virginia last Saturday. I noticed a white delivery van and two guys hanging sheets of something in its cargo bay. I think it was the van that was used in Philadelphia to shoot down the second plane.”

  “What did the stuff they were hanging look like?” Agent Perkins quickly asked.

  “Silver sheet off a roll, about four feet wide. They weren’t tacking it up or using a staple gun, so it must have had an adhesive backing of some kind.”

  “Did you see it too, Liz?” Agent Perkins asked.

  “I didn’t pay as much attention to what they were hanging as Adam did, but I did see them doing it.”

  “There are two kinds of infrared blockers commercially available. It could be either one of them. That would explain why the drone didn’t spot the missile. These products will reflect about 80% of solar energy when it’s installed in the windows of buildings. It would do the same with thermal imaging, keeping the heat from bodies from being identified by thermal imaging.”

  “Adam also wondered how the terrorists knew to use shielding, when it wasn’t public knowledge that the president had ordered drones to protect our major airports,” Liz added.

  The FBI agent sat back to process what she was hearing. “With your experience at DHS, Liz, do you think there’s enough evidence to warrant a raid on this camp?”

  “It fits, Kate. Sheik Qasseer is a radical Islamist. I understand he’s on a short list of proxies for Iran the CIA thinks might be responsible for the attacks on the jetliners. He’s contributed a lot of money to the foundation, and he has a small army of followers in these youth camps all around the country.”

  Agent Perkins started to get out of the booth when she saw the waiter bringing her breakfast. “Looks like I’m not going to get anything to eat right away. I need to report in and while I’m gone, stay out of my food.”

  CHAPTER 60

  Agent Perkins returned to the diner and asked for her food to be wrapped to go; she had to go back to FBI headquarters. She was assisting in the plan for a raid on the camp in West Virginia, based on the information they had provided abou
t the white delivery van. She would contact them later to provide a recorded statement about what they’d seen at the camp.

  Drake drove Liz back to her condo. Before she got out of the Tahoe, they sat in front of the Camden Yard Potomac building and talked a little longer.

  “When is Senator Hazelton meeting with Director Willard tomorrow?” Drake asked.

  “Eight o’clock. He’s invited to have breakfast in the Director’s private dining room.”

  “Why the special treatment?”

  “Willard’s a gifted politician, not a career intelligence officer. The CIA is always lobbying to remain at the top of the intelligence community food chain.”

  “Will Willard give the senator what he’s asking for?”

  “Probably, Senator Hazelton has a lot of influence as the chairman of the Intelligence Committee. Willard needs his support.”

  “Will you call me as soon as he gets back to your office?”

  “Of course,” she said. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

  “Of course,” he smiled. “I’ll be around until we know what Agent Perkins finds at the West Virginia camp. Mike’s agreed to stay a couple more days, and I’ve developed a hunger for crab cakes.”

  It was Liz’s turn to smile. “I’m glad you liked my cooking,” she said and kissed him before jumping out and running inside.

  Casey was still in the lounge at the hotel when he got back, watching a hockey game being played on the West Coast.

  “Thought I’d stay up and see when you made it back,” Casey grinned.

  “I didn’t know you liked hockey,” Drake said as he sat down.

  “I don’t. Don’t know the rules, can’t find the puck half the time, but I like the way these boys fight. Did you know they had a hockey team in Phoenix?”

  “Sure, the Coyotes,” Drake said. “Liz and I met with Special Agent Perkins. She got called out on a murder/suicide after she finished with us. Guess who’s dead now?”

  “You want a beer?” Casey said and waved to the bartender as he kept watching the hockey game. “Who’s dead?”

  “John Prescott, the chairman of the board of the American Muslim Youth Camp Foundation. They say he killed his wife and then shot himself.”

  Casey turned his back to the flat screen carrying the hockey game. “A man like that does not shoot his wife. He makes sure he has a pre-nup and then divorces her. First Mark Hassan, the head of his Middle East Division and now the head man himself. This has to be related to the foundation and the camps they run.”

  “Or terrorists using MANPADS to shoot down jetliners,” Drake said. “The FBI is going to raid the West Virginia camp sometime today.”

  “You think they’ll find anything? After losing four of their guys when they came gunning for us, they’ll have cleared out and relocated somewhere else.”

  “Yes, but maybe they’ll find something at the camp. If nothing else, they’ll see the shooting range and the training facility and take a little more interest in these camps.”

  Two glasses of beer and a bowl of peanuts were delivered to their table.

  “Cheers,” Casey said. Then he asked, “Did Agent Perkins say anything about the other Hassan, the one we saw meeting with Mark Hassan?”

  “She didn’t mention him and neither did I. Why?”

  “When I watched them sitting together, dead Hassan seemed to defer to live Hassan. They got together as soon as you left dead Hassan’s office. Live Hassan’s the man we need to talk to.”

  “Let’s wait and see what Liz and my father-in-law find out about him,” Drake said. “Senator Hazelton is having breakfast with the Director of the CIA tomorrow. I’d like to know as much about him as possible before we take him on.”

  “You want me to have Kevin see what he can find? If he is a moneyman for the Muslim Brotherhood, his financials will be interesting.”

  “Good idea, and have him take a look at his firm too. If it’s buying Gembala Porsches for all their guys, I might have to see if they have an opening,” Drake joked.

  “Is that what it’s going to take to get you to take me up on my offer to work for my company?” Casey asked.

  “Hmm, I hadn’t thought of that. Let’s finish our beer and get some sleep. My eyes are getting heavy. I’ll dream about my new Porsche and see if that persuades me.”

  “I have a feeling a new car won’t be the only thing you’ll be dreaming about tonight.”

  “There you go again,” Drake said, mimicking President Reagan.

  CHAPTER 61

  Wednesday morning was cold, with another storm front promising more snow for the capital and another day off for federal employees. Drake and Casey opted for a good workout in the hotel’s fitness center and breakfast, before tackling their individual assignments for the day.

  Casey’s task was to work with Kevin and hack into the London-based investment firm of Wyse & Williams and learn as much about Mohamed Hassan as possible. They wanted to see if his financial transactions would tell them who the man really worked for—his firm or the Muslim Brotherhood.

  Drake’s assignment was to see if Senator Hazelton pried anything out of the CIA about Mohamed Hassan. He left the hotel at 9:00 a.m. and drove to Capitol Hill. He was lucky to find a parking space in the underground parking garage four blocks from the Dirksen Senate Office Building.

  After a brisk walk under lowering clouds, he passed through a vigorous security screening and finally reached the senator’s office on the second floor. Liz was waiting for him.

  “They let me know you were coming,” she said, and led him to her office.

  Drake followed, nodding to each of the secretaries who looked up and smiled as he passed them. From the unspoken greetings he was receiving, he suspected they either knew he was the senator’s son-in-law or that he enjoyed being in the presence of the woman he was following, possibly both.

  There were yellow and red tulips in a vase on her desk and the famous lithograph of Washington at the Battle of Trenton on one wall.

  “I haven’t been here long enough,” she said when she saw him standing and inspecting the lithograph, “to bring in some of my own. The senator loaned me that until I do.”

  “It’s nice,” he said. “Washington at Trenton is fitting for the work you’re doing.”

  “Were you able to get some sleep?”

  The mention of sleep prompted an involuntary yawn and a smile. “Not much, I couldn’t shut off my mind. We’re overlooking something.”

  “About the foundation and the camps?” she asked.

  Drake waited for her to sit and then sat down in the chair in front of her desk. “That and the deaths of John Prescott and the head of his Middle East division. Both were smart and experienced men. If they were involved with terrorists, they were smart enough to have stayed in the shadows and not risk being caught. Why kill themselves?”

  “Traitors aren’t always smart,” she said. “Aldrich Ames lived well above his means, and was caught. He should have known sooner or later the CIA would notice his lavish lifestyle.”

  “Is the senator back from his meeting at Langley?”

  She pushed a button on her phone console and asked her assistant, “Sheila, has Senator Hazelton returned?”

  “Just now,” Drake heard over the console speaker.

  “Does he have a minute to see us?”

  “His next appointment is in fifteen minutes. Come on down.”

  Drake walked beside her as they walked to the large ceremonial office, where Senator Hazelton stood behind his desk reading a file.

  Without looking up, he waved for them to come and kept reading.

  “Director Willard said he’d have this delivered by the time I got back to my office. It just arrived. Close the doors, so we can talk,” he said.

  They sat in the two dark brown leather chairs in front of hi
s desk, as he continued to stand and read from the file.

  “Tell me again, Liz, where you saw this man?” he asked.

  “I haven’t seen him, but I saw the car he owns. It followed us to West Virginia last Saturday.”

  “But you’ve seen him?” he asked Drake.

  “Yes sir. I went to see Mark Hassan at Prescott’s office two days ago, the day before he died. He met Mohamed Hassan a couple of blocks away in a hotel lounge right after I left. Mike was there and took photos of the two on his cell phone.”

  “You were following him?”

  “We were,” Drake admitted. “After Mark Hassan warned me that D.C. could be a dangerous place, I wanted to know more about the man who just threatened me.”

  Senator Hazelton laughed. “He didn’t know much about you, did he? Well, from what I see here, you were right to be suspicious of him. Mark Hassan’s cousin is Mohamed Hassan, and the CIA has a file on both of them. Director Willard made me promise I wouldn’t provide Mohamed’s file to anyone, but I’ll tell you two the high points. Mohamed Hassan is more than just an investment banker. He’s an operative of the Muslim Brotherhood.”

  “By operative, do you mean a moneyman for them?” Drake asked.

  “No, I mean the CIA believes he’s a regular James Bond. They attribute a number of assassinations and bombings to him, or associates he directs. They agree with Interpol’s assessment, but don’t have any independent evidence of their own.”

  “If that’s all they have on him, why is their file so secret?” Liz asked. “I learned that much from one of my contacts.”

  “Because that’s not all they have, Liz,” Senator Hazelton said and sat down. “They’ve discovered that his lover here in D.C. is Layla Nebit, the president’s advisor.”

  In the silence that followed, the synapses in Drake’s brain fired off and made the connections; Nebit would have known the president was ordering drones over the airports. Mohamed Hassan could have learned about the drone protecting the airport in Philadelphia. Nebit to Hassan, Hassan to the terrorists at the camp who shielded the delivery van with infrared material. The dots all connected.