Abuse of Power - Michael Savage [7]
“You okay?” Jack asked.
The rookie blinked several times, looking dazed. “I think so.” He touched the side of his head, then the back. “I’m bleeding, aren’t I? Feels like I blew out an ear—”
“That’s just the concussion. You got clocked in the neck.”
Jack gave him a pat on the arm. As he was turning to look back to where he had left Max he saw the door of the cruiser fly open and Leon Thomas stumble out. He was covered with a thousand tiny pieces of shattered glass but that didn’t stop him from running into the man-made mist, his hands cuffed behind him.
“Hey!” somebody shouted—
—and Leon picked up speed.
He didn’t get far. Twenty yards away a uniform broadsided him, taking him down like a defensive tackle, two more piling on for good measure. A moment later they had him on his feet, roughly shoving him toward another cruiser. One of them swatted him across the back of the head as they threw the door open and pushed him inside.
Even before the show was over, Jack turned away, shifting his attention to the center of the blast. The dust was starting to settle and through the haze he saw a crater. Half the building behind it was in shreds, a hotel that had been abandoned and was ironically scheduled for demolition. Though the spotlights had been taken out in the blast patches of fire were rising from the building and the shop beside it, lighting the night. A water main had ruptured in the center of the street and was spitting an ineffectual fountain toward the crater. Rivulets followed cracks in the asphalt, creating an odd, shimmering effect.
There was no sign of Drabinsky, his suit, or the robot.
Feeling dread, Jack scanned the perimeter, searching for Maxine. With relief that brought tears to his eyes, he saw her climbing to her feet, staring down at her battered video camera in limp shock.
As if suddenly remembering she had a coworker, she froze halfway to her feet, turned suddenly, and peered along the street. She made eye contact with Jack and, as though she had completed a minichecklist—camera, partner—she collapsed.
Dodging flaming pieces of fabric and paper that were floating carelessly from above, Jack made his way toward ground zero.
3
The line was picked up after three rings. The cell phones were encrypted using a Twofish algorithm and a 4096-bit Diffie-Hellman key exchange.
No one would be listening in.
“We have a problem,” the caller said. “There was an incident downtown.”
A pause. “The carjacking?”
“You heard about it.”
“It’s all over the news. Don’t tell me that was us.”
“The car was stolen from one of our assets, Abdal al-Fida. He decided to take a little trip off the reservation.”
“What’s our exposure?”
“He’s alive but he isn’t in custody, so I think we’re in the clear. He outsourced the supplies he used, but that’ll be taken care of by morning.”
“Where is he?”
“Still in the city. He’s been in contact and, to his credit, he seems remorseful. What would you like me to do with him?”
“What I’d like and what’s prudent are very different things. Can we rely on his cooperation?”
“I think so.”
“Good. I’d rather we not do this here. Wipe all trace of him and send him home. We’ll deal with him later.”
“Why not deal with him now?”
“He’s one of Zuabi’s recruits. Things could get sticky.”
“What about the investigation? The scrutiny could compromise our operation.”
“I’m aware of that, but it’s too late to pull the plug. Point Justice in another direction and hand them someone of interest. Make sure it’s homegrown. The White House will jump all over that.”
“How can you be sure?”
“It’s good PR. Better a few local crazies than some Islamic bogeyman.” A pause. “Maybe we can even work this to our advantage.”
“How?”
“Use it to tie up FBI resources while we do what has to be done. Zuabi says his man is already headed to Bulgaria to secure delivery.”
“Who did he send?”
“The one I told you about, Hassan Haddad. The