Conference Room 4, CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia
“We’re estimating approximately one-hundred-twenty hostiles inside the warehouse. Our units are redeploying right now, but it’s going to take some time. We had assumed the target would be in New York City, not Newark. A few units are on scene but we’re keeping a low profile, just in case others are still arriving. We want to try and catch them all in one shot.”
Morrison watched the talking heads on the screen, glancing down at his phone, the secure message from Leroux about the second tracking device causing him to bite his lip.
Is that a signal from Kane to hit them now?
“What’s inside?” asked the Secretary of Homeland Security.
“Infrared suggests over two dozen vehicles, mostly vans and SUVs, and what could be a lot of small arms and submachine guns,” replied the Director of the FBI, Bob Waters.
Dozens of vehicles.
He scrutinized the image from the drone, the outlines of the vehicles plain to see if you knew what to look for.
He did.
And all of them were parked neatly, all facing the large doors that lined one side of the warehouse, each with a cluster of men standing in front of them, clusters that continued to grow as the men gathered in the center continued to disperse.
And if they assumed five to six men per vehicle, at most 150 terrorists were expected.
And he had to hope at least some were still stuck in Europe.
The FBI was waiting for terrorists who were never going to arrive.
He decided he could wait no longer.
“Based upon the number and positioning of those vehicles, and the redistribution of the personnel inside, it looks to me like they’re preparing to leave.”
“That’s not our assessment,” replied Waters, his voice tinged with his usual attitude when dealing with Morrison, the man still pissed that Morrison had beaten him out for a job years ago.
“Can we take that chance? Perhaps it’s better to hit them now and not risk them leaving.”
“This is an FBI operation. While we’re happy to have CIA observing, we’ll run the show.”
Morrison kept his facial expression in check. “Not trying to piss in your Corn Flakes, Bob, but this is the heaviest concentration of known terrorists we’ve ever had on home soil. All I’m saying is we should consider what might happen if we wait too long.”
“If they leave, we’ll stop them.”
“And if some escape?”
“We found them once, we’ll find them again.”
“You found them? Interesting. I’ll let my man inside that warehouse know who to thank.”
Waters turned a delightful shade of red before President Starling cleared his throat. “Leif, I appreciate everything the CIA has done thus far, but this is the FBI’s jurisdiction now. I have to go with them on this. We can’t risk tipping them off before everyone has arrived.”
“Of course, sir. I apologize. My concern is that they may leave first.”
“Then we stop them,” said Waters, having regained his voice.
“It could be a blood bath since we barely have any units in position.”
Waters glared at the camera, his words seething. “I’m aware of that.”
President Starling cut in again. “Gentlemen, let’s hope they don’t leave before our teams are in position, and if this does turn ugly, pray it’s mostly their blood that is spilled.”
“Amen to that, Mr. President.”