THAT THURSDAY EVENING AT SIX O’CLOCK EXACTLY, HALA AND TARIQ’S attack team convened on the upper level of the Chinatown municipal parking garage on H Street.
There were eight of them in all, four couples who arrived separately and would also travel in their own vehicles to the target site. Everyone wore Western business dress, as they had been instructed to do. The men’s jackets and women’s tops were specially cut to conceal the identical Sig Sauer pistols they’d all been issued.
Only Tariq was unarmed. He’d resisted his part in the assignment, but Hala had insisted he be there. He handed around earbuds, transmitters, and laminated conference badges while she began the briefing.
“I’ll make this as fast as possible,” Hala said. “The U.S. secretary of the interior, Justin Pileggi, is scheduled to address the World Alternative Energy Expo at seven thirty tonight. Pileggi will have a full security detail, of course, and they’ll keep him moving around the convention center. His remarks may or may not start on time. We need to keep ourselves just as unpredictable,” she said. “Anyone watching out for an assassin will have seven of us to contend with. No one can stop us.”
There were a few approving smiles around the circle. A few nervous expressions as well. But they all got the plan.
“If at any time you have a clear shot, you’re to take it,” Hala went on. “At that point, the rest of you should know what to do. Escape, if you’re able. And if not—”
She held up the cyanide capsule from her pocket in one hand and her Sig in the other.
“Those are the options. Any questions?”
No one was smiling now.
“I have a question,” one of the men said. He was the tallest in the group, with a heavy brow and an aggressive stare. “What about the arrests at Masjid Al-Qasim the other night?”
Hala kept her face expressionless, but the question surprised her. She hadn’t realized anyone even knew about the mosque, much less Uncle’s disappearance.
“What about them?” she said.
“Well, it’s troubling, isn’t it?”
The rest of the group remained perfectly still, their eyes darting between Hala and the man. This one wasn’t just obnoxious, she realized. He was dangerous. He’d have to be dealt with accordingly, but now was not the time.
“There were arrests, it’s true,” she said. “There have been murders and suicides as well. Bombings, too. We’re at war, if you haven’t noticed.”
“But who’s in charge now?” he asked. “Who is the leader here in Washington?”
“I am,” Hala said without hesitation. “This is how The Family works. One falls, and another is there to take his place. Washington will be brought to its knees, make no mistake about it. Where’s your loyalty, brother?”
“Don’t preach at me, sister,” he shot back. “My loyalty is to Allah, and to The Family. Not to you. Do you even know if this assignment is meant to proceed?”
The truth was, Hala didn’t know. There had been no word either way.
But she never got to answer the insolent man’s question. Before anyone realized it was happening, three stun grenades skittered across the cement floor and went off in a shattering volley of noise.
Suddenly men in gas masks and dark uniforms were streaming out of the stairwells, carrying M16s and AR15 assault weapons.
Two more flash bangs went off almost right away. One of them detonated at Hala’s feet, and she was completely deaf before she’d even started to run away.