80

She handed the card to me, and all I saw was a typical business card, with print in both Arabic and English. I said, “Okay? What did you find?”

She smiled and said, “You’re the smart one. Read the fine print. Read the name.”

The English at the bottom said Tariq bin Abdul-Aziz, the guy who we believed was the financier. Holy shit.

I said, “All right, lone wolf! That’s what I wanted to see.”

She smiled and said, “That’s not the best part. Flip it over.”

I did so and saw Arabic writing in blue ink.

I looked up at her, and she said, “Lone Wolf did good.”

I broke into a grin and said, “Oh yeah, Lone Wolf did very good.” I called the Taskforce intel cell.

They answered with some stupid cover organization like, “Pete’s Flowers,” and I said, “Go encrypted.”

They did, and I said, “This is Pike.” I handed the card to Knuckles and said, “I’m about to send you a picture of Arabic writing. I want an answer of what it is while I wait.”

Knuckles pulled out his phone, took a photo, then gave me a thumbs-up. I said, “It’s on the way.”

A minute later, the analyst came back. “It’s an address. The Cottages at Patriots Point, in Mount Pleasant, South Carolina.”

Jesus Christ.

“Does it have a number? A cottage number?”

“Nope, not from what I can see.”

“Get me Colonel Hale.”

“He’s in an O&I update with the teams. I’ll have him call you as soon as he’s done.”

“Get me Colonel Hale right fucking now. This is a Prairie Fire.”

Prairie Fire was the code word for an Operator or team in dire straights and about to be overrun, which caused the entire Taskforce to stop whatever they were doing to help. I was misusing it here, but I knew it would get me Kurt.

He said, “Roger that. Stand by.”

Knuckles looked at me with a question. I said, “It’s an address for vacation cottages in Mount Pleasant, South Carolina. They’re still on the hunt.”

Kurt came on the line, using his command voice. He said, “Pike, what’s the Prairie Fire? Earlier you said everything went damn near perfect.”

“Sir, we found a business card with an address scribbled in Arabic for rental cottages in Mount Pleasant, South Carolina.”

“So? What’s the emergency?”

I realized he didn’t see the significance. I wouldn’t have either, except I lived there. “It’s the town across the Cooper River from the Charleston peninsula. The business card is from Tariq bin Abdul-Aziz. This isn’t done yet. They’re going to attack the Port of Charleston.”

“Whoa. Wait a minute. Mount Pleasant is actually Charleston?”

“Yes, sir. As far as the port is concerned, it is.”

“Where’d you find the card?”

“On the body of a dead terrorist.”

“But you think they might still be operational without him?”

“I do. At the least, we should act like they are.”

“Okay, okay, well, you live there. What’s your assessment for an attack?” Before I could answer, he said, “Hang on,” then yelled down the hall. Five seconds later, the phone gave an audible click, and Kurt said, “I’ve got an analyst on speaker. Go ahead.”

I said, “The port is actually separated, with a cruise and shipping terminal on the Charleston side of the river, and another shipping terminal on the Mount P side, at the end of Long Point Road. There is no shortage of targets, but I don’t think this is going to be another suicide cell. I think it’s going to be something like the others, where the ship is the missile, like in Houston and Los Angeles. Get the intel cell working on any connections between the tanker that went off and the container ship that had the dirty bomb, then cross-reference that with anything coming into the port.”

I heard an unknown voice say, “We’re already working that. We have some connections with a Saudi Arabian company, and we can run that against the Port of Charleston shipping schedule. All of that is available.”

Kurt said, “I’ll get the word out to the port, getting all responsible authorities on high alert for an attack.”

I said, “This is exactly why they’ve targeted the ports. They’ve got a thousand different agencies in charge, from the civilian company contracted for security to DHS on the federal side mucking up everything with layers of bureaucracy. In between, there’s the Coast Guard, individual port authority, Army Corps of Engineers, and God knows who else. They’ll never be able to coordinate.”

“They’ve done fine since 9/11.”

“Seriously? They’ve done fine because nobody’s attacked them. Sir, we’ve had three separate attacks, and if it hadn’t been for us, all three would have succeeded. What scares me is that every one has been different. The terrorists aren’t stupid. They saw what happened after 9/11. They know we react to a specific attack, putting a Band-Aid on to prevent the same event from succeeding, but go no further. Tell the authorities to think outside the box for threats. These guys started with a conventional attack, and they’ve amped up the imagination with each strike.”

“I understand, Pike. I get it. When will you be back? The intel cell could use your team’s input. You know more about these guys than anyone, and if we’re going to find that vulnerability you’re afraid of, it’ll probably come from you.”

The statement confused me, and I let him know it. “Back there? Sir, I’m not coming back. Send me the Rock Star bird with my team, and get the hacking cell to explore those cottage rentals. Tell them to look for anything out of the ordinary for a recent rental—Arabic names, foreign persons, paid in cash, anything—and give me the information when we land. I’m going hunting.”

I heard a sigh, then, “Pike, I can’t authorize an official Taskforce action on US soil. I’ve already stretched it with your ‘vacation.’ You have the FBI HRT sitting right there. I’ll use them. It’s their jurisdiction. We’ll point the way, but they’ll do the arrests.”

I squeezed my hands into fists, almost crushing the phone, but waited before I answered in anger. When I did, it was with a calm voice. “Sir, you just told me my team knows more about these guys than anyone else, and on top of that, it’s in my hometown. I know that area inside and out. Shit, I even know the floor plan of the cottages because I’ve stayed there with Jennifer. It makes no sense to try to turn the FBI onto this. They’ll spend the next forty-eight hours getting warrants and planning.”

“That’s the way the world works, Pike. I don’t like it either.”

“Sir, don’t make me say the obvious.”

He paused; then I heard, “You’re telling me there may be a hit before then, and we could have prevented it.”

“Yes. Like we did the last two.”

He paused again, and I knew I was playing dirty pool by pulling on his sense of mission. His reason for existence. But it was the only card I had. He said, “Okay, I’ll send the bird, and the team, but you hit the ground and do nothing. I’m going to have to clear this with the president himself.”

“Roger all, sir.”

“Pike, I mean it.”

“Sir, I understand. I won’t do anything without talking to you first. Just get that port on alert and see if you can find some connections between the previous ship attacks. Maybe none of this will be necessary.”

“Will do. And you might be right about that. Best case you wiped out the cell planning the attack. The guy with the card was probably the one who was executing the plan, and you killed him.”

“Maybe, but maybe not. Tariq is more than a financier. I think he’s an operational planner, and he’s the one that got them the passports, explosives, and everything else. And that asshole Anwar is still on the loose, and he was the one who set off the Houston attack.”